The reader may perhaps wonder at hearing nothing of Mr. Jones in
the last chapter. In fact, his behaviour was so different from that of
the persons there mentioned, that we chose not to confound his name
with theirs.
When the good man had ended his speech, Jones was the last who
deserted the room. Thence he retired to his own apartment, to give
vent to his concern; but the restlessness of his mind would not suffer
him to remain long there; he slipped softly therefore to Allworthy's
chamber-door, where he listened a considerable time without hearing
any kind of motion within, unless a violent snoring, which at last his
fears misrepresented as groans. This so alarmed him, that he could not
forbear entering the room; where he found the good man in the bed,
in a sweet composed sleep, and his nurse snoring in the
above-mentioned hearty manner, at the bed's feet. He immediately
took the only method of silencing this thorough bass, whose music he
feared might disturb Mr. Allworthy; and then sitting down by the
nurse, he remained motionless till Blifil and the doctor came in
together and waked the sick man, in order that the doctor might feel
his pulse, and that the other might communicate to him that piece of
news, which, had Jones been apprized of it, would have had great
difficulty of finding its way to Mr. Allworthy's ear at such a season.
When he first heard Blifil tell his uncle this story, Jones could
hardly contain the wrath which kindled in him at the other's
indiscretion, especially as the doctor shook his head, and declared
his unwillingness to have the matter mentioned to his patient. But
as his passion did not so far deprive him of all use of his
understanding, as to hide from him the consequences which any
violent expression towards Blifil might have on the sick, this
apprehension stilled his rage at the present; and he grew afterwards
so satisfied with finding that this news had, in fact, produced no
mischief, that he suffered his anger to die in his own bosom,
without ever mentioning it to Blifil.
The physician dined that day at Mr. Allworthy's; and having after
dinner visited his patient, he returned to the company, and told them,
that he had now the satisfaction to say, with assurance, that his
patient was out of all danger: that he had brought his fever to a
perfect intermission, and doubted not by throwing in the bark to
prevent its return.
This account so pleased Jones, and threw him into such immoderate
excess of rapture, that he might be truly said to be drunk with joy-
an intoxication which greatly forwards the effects of wine; and as he
was very free too with the bottle on this occasion (for he drank many
bumpers to the doctor's health, as well as to other toast) he became
very soon literally drunk.
Jones had naturally violent animal spirits: these being set on float
and augmented by the spirit of wine, produced most extravagant
effects. He kissed the doctor, and embraced him with the most
passionate endearments; swearing that next to Mr. Allworthy himself,
he loved him of all men living. "Doctor," added he, "you deserve a
statue to be erected to you at the public expense, for having
preserved a man, who is not only the darling of all good men who
know him, but a blessing to society, the glory of his country, and
an honour to human nature. D--n me if I don't love him better than my
own soul."
"More shame for you," cries Thwackum. "Though I think you have
reason to love him, for he hath provided very well for you. And
perhaps it might have been better for some folks that he had not lived
to see just reason of revoking his gift."
Jones now looking on Thwackum with inconceivable disdain,
answered, "And doth thy mean soul imagine that any such considerations
could weigh with me? No, let the earth open and swallow her own dirt
(if I had millions of acres I would say it) rather than swallow up
my dear glorious friend."
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tam chari capitis?[4]
The doctor now interposed, and prevented the effects of a wrath
which was kindling between Jones and Thwackum; after which the
former gave a loose to mirth, sang two or three amorous songs, and
fell into every frantic disorder which unbridled joy is apt to
inspire; but so far was he from any disposition to quarrel, that he
was ten times better humoured, if possible, than when he was sober.
To say truth, nothing is more erroneous than the common observation,
that men who are ill-natured and quarrelsome when they are drunk,
are very worthy persons when they are sober: for drink, in reality,
doth not reverse nature, or create passions in men which did not exist
in them before. It takes away the guard of reason, and consequently
forces us to produce those symptoms, which many, when sober, have
art enough to conceal. It heightens and inflames our passions
(generally indeed that passion which is uppermost in our mind), so
that the angry temper, the amorous, the generous, the good-humoured,
the avaricious, and all other dispositions of men, are in their cups
heightened and exposed.
And yet as no nation produces so many drunken quarrels, especially
among the lower people, as England (for indeed, with them, to drink
and to fight together are almost synonymous terms), I would not,
methinks, have it thence concluded, that the English are the
worst-natured people alive. Perhaps the love of glory only is at the
bottom of this; so that the fair conclusion seems to be, that our
countrymen have more of that love, and more of bravery, than any other
plebeians. And this the rather, as there is seldom anything
ungenerous, unfair, or ill-natured, exercised on these occasions: nay,
it is common for the combatants to express good-will for each other
even at the time of the conflict; and as their drunken mirth generally
ends in a battle, so do most of their battles end in friendship.
But to return to our history. Though Jones had shown no design of
giving offence, yet Mr. Blifil was highly offended at a behaviour
which was so inconsistent with the sober and prudent reserve of his
own temper. He bore it too with the greater impatience, as it appeared
to him very indecent at this season; "When," as he said, "the house
was a house of mourning, on the account of his dear mother; and if
it had pleased Heaven to give him some prospect of Mr. Allworthy's
recovery, it would become them better to express the exultations of
their hearts in thanksgiving, than in drunkenness and riots; which
were properer methods to encrease the Divine wrath, than to avert it."
Thwackum, who had swallowed more liquor than Jones, but without any
ill effect on his brain, seconded the pious harangue of Blifil; but
Square, for reasons which the reader may probably guess, was totally
silent.
Wine had not so totally overpowered Jones, as to prevent his
recollecting Mr. Blifil's loss, the moment it was mentioned. As no
person, therefore, was more ready to confess and condemn his own
errors, he offered to shake Mr. Blifil by the hand, and begged his
pardon, saying, "His excessive joy for Mr. Allworthy's recovery had
driven every other thought out of his mind."
Blifil scornfully rejected his hand; and with much indignation
answered, "It was little to be wondered at, if tragical spectacles
made no impression on the blind; but, for his part, he had the
misfortune to know who his parents were, and consequently must be
affected with their loss."
Jones, who, notwithstanding his good humour, had some mixture of the
irascible in his constitution, leaped hastily from his chair, and
catching hold of Blifil's collar, cried out, "D--n you for a rascal,
do you insult me with the misfortune of my birth?" He accompanied
these words with such rough actions, that they soon got the better of
Mr. Blifil's peaceful temper; and a scuffle immediately ensued, which
might have produced mischief, had it not been prevented by the
interposition of Thwackum and the physician; for the philosophy of
Square rendered him superior to all emotions, and he very calmly
smoaked his pipe, as was his custom in all broils, unless when he
apprehended some danger of having it broke in his mouth.
The combatants being now prevented from executing present
vengeance on each other, betook themselves to the common resources
of disappointed rage, and vented their wrath in threats and
defiance. In this kind of conflict, Fortune, which, in the personal
attack, seemed to incline to Jones, was now altogether as favourable
to his enemy.
A truce, nevertheless, was at length agreed on, by the mediation
of the neutral parties, and the whole company again sat down at the
table; where Jones being prevailed on to ask pardon, and Blifil to
give it, peace was restored, and everything seemed in statu
quo.
But though the quarrel was, in all appearance, perfectly reconciled,
the good humour which had been interrupted by it, was by no means
restored. All merriment was now at an end, and the subsequent
discourse consisted only of grave relations of matters of fact, and of
as grave observations upon them; a species of conversation, in
which, though there is much of dignity and instruction, there is but
little entertainment. As we presume therefore to convey only this last
to the reader, we shall pass by whatever was said, till the rest of
the company having by degrees dropped off, left only Square and the
physician together; at which time the conversation was a little
heightened by some comments on what had happened between the two young
gentlemen; both of whom the doctor declared to be no better than
scoundrels; to which appellation the philosopher, very sagaciously
shaking his head, agreed.