15. All Mr. Burchell's Villainy at Once Detected-The Folly of
Being Over-Wise.
THAT evening and a part of the following day was employed in
fruitless attempts to discover our enemies; scarcely a family in the
neighborhood but incurred our suspicions, and each of us had reasons
for our opinion best known to ourselves. As we were in this perplexity,
one of our little boys, who had been playing abroad, brought in a
letter-case, which he found on the green. It was quickly known to
belong to Mr. Burchell, with whom it had been seen, and, upon
examination, contained some hints upon different subjects; but what
particularly engaged our attention was a sealed note, superscribed "The
copy of a letter to be sent to the two ladies at Thornhill Castle." It in
stantly occurred that he was the base informer, and we deliberated
whether the note should not be broken open. I was against it; but
Sophia, who said she was sure that of all men he would be the last to be
guilty of so much baseness, insisted upon its being read. In this she was
seconded by the rest of the family, and,
at their joint solicitation, I read as follows:
"LADIES:
"The bearer will sufficiently satisfy you as to the person from
whom this comes: one at least the friend of innocence, and ready to
prevent its being seduced. I am informed for a truth, that you have
some intention of bringing two young ladies to town, whom I have
some knowledge of, under the character of companions. As I would
neither have simplicity imposed upon, nor virtue contaminated, I must
offer it as my opinion, that the impropriety of such a step will be
attended with dangerous consequences. It has never been my way to
treat the infamous or the lewd with severity; nor should I now have
taken this method of explaining myself, or reproving folly, did it not aim
at guilt. Take, therefore, the admonition of a friend, and seriously
reflect on the consequences of introducing infamy and vice into retreats
where peace and innocence have hitherto resided."
Our doubts were now at an end. There seemed, indeed,
something applicable to both sides in this letter, and its censures might as
well be referred to those to whom it was written, as to us; but the
malicious meaning was obvious, and we went no farther. My wife had
scarcely patience to hear me to the end, but railed at the writer with
unrestrained resentment. Olivia was equally severe, and Sophia seemed
perfectly amazed at
his baseness. As for my part, it appeared to me one of
the vilest instances of unprovoked ingratitude I had met with. Nor could
I account for it in any other manner than by imputing it to his desire of
detaining my youngest daughter in the country, to have the more
frequent opportunities of an interview. In this manner we all sat
ruminating upon schemes of vengeance, when our other little boy came
running in to tell us that Mr. Burchell was approaching at the other end
of the field. It is easier to conceive than describe the complicated
sensations which are felt from a pain of a recent injury, and the pleasure
of approaching vengeance. Though our intentions were only to upbraid
him with his ingratitude, yet it was resolved to do it in a manner that
would be perfectly cutting. For this purpose we agreed to meet him with
our usual smiles, to chat in the beginning with more than ordinary kind
ness, to amuse him a little; and then in the midst of the flattering calm to
burst upon him like an earthquake, and overwhelm him with the sense
of his own baseness. This being resolved upon, my wife undertook to
manage the business herself, as she really had some talents for such an
undertaking. We saw him approach; he entered, drew a chair, and sat
down. "A fine day, Mr. Burchell."-"A very fine day, Doctor; though I
fancy we shall have some rain by the shooting of my corns."-"The
shooting of your horns!" cried my wife, in a loud fit of laughter, and
then asked pardon
for being fond of a joke.-"Dear madam," replied he,
"I pardon you with all my heart; for I protest I should not have thought
it a joke had you not told me."-"Perhaps not, sir," cried my wife,
winking at us, "and yet I dare say you can tell us how many jokes go to
an ounce."-"I fancy, madam," returned Burchell, "you have been reading
a jest-book this morning, that ounce of jokes is so very good a conceit;
and yet, madam, I had rather see half an ounce of understanding."-"I
believe you might," cried my wife, still smiling at us, though the laugh
was against her; "and yet I have seen some men pretend to understand
ing that have very little."-"And no doubt," replied her antagonist, "you
have known ladies set up for wit that had none." I quickly began to find
that my wife was likely to gain but little at this business; so I resolved
to treat him in a style of more severity myself. "Both wit and
understanding," cried I, "are trifles without integrity; it is that which
gives value to every character. The ignorant peasant, without fault, is
greater than the philosopher with many; for what is genius or courage
without a heart? 'An honest man is the noblest work of God.'"
"I always held that hackneyed maxim of Pope," returned Mr.
Burchell, "as very unworthy of a man of genius, and a base desertion of
his own superiority. As the reputation of books is raised not by their
freedom from defect, but the greatness of their beauties,
so should that of men be prized not for their exemp
tion from fault, but the size of those virtues they are possessed of. The
scholar may want prudence, the statesman may have pride, and the
champion ferocity; but shall we prefer to these the low mechanic, who
laboriously plods on through life, without censure or applause? We might
as well prefer the tame, correct paintings of the Flemish school to the
erroneous, but sublime animations of the Roman pencil."
"Sir," replied I, "your present observation is just, when there are
shining virtues and minute defects; but when it appears that great vices
are opposed in the same mind to as extraordinary virtues, such a char
acter deserves contempt."
"Perhaps," cried he, "there may be some such monsters as you
describe, of great vices joined to great virtues; yet in my progress
through 'life I never yet found one instance of their existence; on the
contrary, I have ever perceived that where the mind was capacious the
affections were good. And, indeed, Providence seems kindly our
friend in this particular, thus to debilitate the understanding where the
heart is corrupt, and diminish the power where there is the will to do
mischief. This rule seems to extend even to other animals: the little
vermin race are ever treacherous, cruel, and cowardly, while those
endowed with strength and power are generous, brave, and
gentle."
"These observations sound well," returned I, "and
yet it would be easy this moment to point out a man,"
and I fixed my eye steadfastly upon him, "whose head and heart form a
most detestable contrast. Ay, sir," continued I, raising my voice, "and I
am glad to have this opportunity of detecting him in the midst of his
fancied security. Do you know this, sir, this pocketbook?"-"Yes, sir,"
returned he, with a face of impenetrable assurance, "that pocket-book
is mine, and I am glad you have found it."-"And do you know," cried I,
"this letter? Nay, never falter, man, but look me full in the face; I say,
do you know this letter?""That letter," returned he, "yes, it was I that
wrote that letter."-"And how could you," said I, "so basely, so
ungratefully presume to write this letter?"-"And how came you," replied
he, with looks of unparalleled effrontery, "so basely to presume to break
open this letter? Don't you know, now, I could hang you all for this ?
All that I have to do is to swear at the next justice's that you have been
guilty of breaking open the lock of my pocket-book, and so hang you all
up at this door." This piece of unexpected insolence raised me to such a
pitch that I could scarcely govern my passion. "Ungrateful wretch,
begone! and no longer pollute my dwelling with thy baseness; begone,
and never let me see thee again! go from my doors, and the only punish
ment I wish thee is an alarmed conscience, which will be a sufficient
tormentor!" So saying, I threw him his pocket-book, which he took up
with a smile, and, shutting
the clasp with the utmost composure, left us, quite
astonished at the serenity of his assurance. My wife was particularly
enraged that nothing could make him angry, or make him seem ashamed
of his villainies. "My dear," cried I, willing to calm those passions that
had been raised too high among us, "we are not to be surprised that bad
men want shame; they only blush at being detected in doing good, but
glory in their vices."
"Guilt and Shame," says the allegory, "were at first companions,
and in the beginning of their journey inseparably kept together. But
their union was soon found to be disagreeable and inconvenient to both;
Guilt gave Shame frequent uneasiness, and Shame often betrayed the
secret conspiracies of Guilt. After long disagreement, therefore, they at
length consented to part for ever. Guilt boldly walked forward alone to
overtake Fate, that went before in the shape of an executioner; but
Shame being naturally timorous, returned back to keep company with
Virtue, which, in the beginning of their journey, they had left behind.
Thus, my children, after men have travelled through a few stages of
vice, Shame forsakes them, and returns back to wait upon the few
virtues they have still remaining."