3. CHAPTER III.
Containing two defiances to the critics
The squire having settled matters with his sister, as we have seen
in the last chapter, was so greatly impatient to communicate the
proposal to Allworthy, that Mrs. Western had the utmost difficulty
to prevent him from visiting that gentleman in his sickness, for
this purpose.
Mr. Allworthy had been engaged to dine with Mr. Western at the
time when he was taken ill. He was therefore no sooner discharged
out of the custody of physic, but he thought (as was usual with him on
all occasions, both the highest and the lowest) of fulfilling his
engagement.
In the interval between the time of the dialogue in the last
chapter, and this day of public entertainment, Sophia had, from
certain obscure hints thrown out by her aunt, collected some
apprehension that the sagacious lady suspected her passion for
Jones. She now resolved to take this opportunity of wiping out all
such suspicions, and for that purpose to put an entire constraint on
her behaviour.
First, she endeavoured to conceal a throbbing melancholy heart
with the utmost sprightliness in her countenance, and the highest
gaiety in her manner. Secondly, she addressed her whole discourse to
Mr. Blifil, and took not the least notice of poor Jones the whole day.
The squire was so delighted with this conduct of his daughter,
that he scarce eat any dinner, and spent almost his whole time in
watching opportunities of conveying signs of his approbation by
winks and nods to his sister; who was not at first altogether so
pleased with what she saw as was her brother.
In short, Sophia so greatly overacted her part, that her aunt was at
first staggered, and began to suspect some affectation in her niece;
but as she was herself a woman of great art, so she soon attributed
this to extreme art in Sophia. She remembered the many hints she had
given her niece concerning her being in love, and imagined the young
lady had taken this way to rally her out of her opinion, by an
overacted civility: a notion that was greatly corroborated by the
excessive gaiety with which the whole was accompanied. We cannot
here avoid remarking, that this conjecture would have been better
founded had Sophia lived ten years in the air of Grosvenor Square,
where young ladies do learn a wonderful knack of rallying and
playing with that passion, which is a mighty serious thing in woods
and groves an hundred miles distant from London.
To say the truth, in discovering the deceit of others, it matters
much that our own art be wound up, if I may use the expression, in the
same key with theirs: for very artful men sometimes miscarry by
fancying others wiser, or, in other words, greater knaves, than they
really are. As this observation is pretty deep, I will illustrate it
by the following short story. Three countrymen were pursuing a
Wiltshire thief through Brentford. The simplest of them seeing "The
Wiltshire House," written under a sign, advised his companions to
enter it, for there most probably they would find their countryman.
The second, who was wiser, laughed at this simplicity; but the
third, who was wiser still, answered, "Let us go in, however, for he
may think we should not suspect him of going amongst his own
countrymen." They accordingly went in and searched the house, and by
that means missed overtaking the thief, who was at that time but a
little way before them; and who, as they all knew, but had never
once reflected, could not read.
The reader will pardon a digression in which so invaluable a
secret is communicated, since every gamester will agree how
necessary it is to know exactly the play of another, in order to
countermine him. This will, moreover, afford a reason why the wiser
man, as is often seen, is the bubble of the weaker, and why many
simple and innocent characters are so generally misunderstood and
misrepresented; but what is most material, this will account for the
deceit which Sophia put on her politic aunt.
Dinner being ended, and the company retired into the garden, Mr.
Western, who was thoroughly convinced of the certainty of what his
sister had told him, took Mr. Allworthy aside, and very bluntly
proposed a match between Sophia and young Mr. Blifil.
Mr. Allworthy was not one of those men whose hearts flutter at any
unexpected and sudden tidings of worldly profit. His mind was, indeed,
tempered with that philosophy which becomes a man and a Christian.
He affected no absolute superiority to all pleasure and pain, to all
joy and grief; but was not at the same time to be discomposed and
ruffled by every accidental blast, by every smile or frown of fortune.
He received, therefore, Mr. Western's proposal without any visible
emotion, or without any alteration of countenance. He said the
alliance was such as he sincerely wished; then launched forth into a
very just encomium on the young lady's merit; acknowledged the offer
to be advantageous in point of fortune; and after thanking Mr. Western
for the good opinion he had professed of his nephew, concluded, that
if the young people liked each other, he should be very desirous to
complete the affair.
Western was a little disappointed at Mr. Allworthy's answer, which
was not so warm as he expected. He treated the doubt whether the young
people might like one another with great contempt, saying, "That
parents were the best judges of proper matches for their children:
that for his part he should insist on the most resigned obedience from
his daughter: and if any young fellow could refuse such a
bed-fellow, he was his humble servant, and hoped there was no harm
done."
Allworthy endeavoured to soften this resentment by many eulogiums on
Sophia, declaring he had no doubt but that Mr. Blifil would very
gladly receive the offer; but all was ineffectual; he could obtain
no other answer from the squire but- "I say no more- I humbly hope
there's no harm done- that's all." Which words he repeated at least a
hundred times before they parted.
Allworthy was too well acquainted with his neighbour to be
offended at this behaviour; and though he was so averse to the
rigour which some parents exercise on their children in the article of
marriage, that he had resolved never to force his nephew's
inclinations, he was nevertheless much pleased with the prospect of
this union; for the whole country resounded the praises of Sophia, and
he had himself greatly admired the uncommon endowments of both her
mind and person. To which I believe we may add, the consideration of
her vast fortune, which, though he was too sober to be intoxicated
with it, he was too sensible to despise.
And here, in defiance of all the barking critics in the world, I
must and will introduce a digression concerning true wisdom, of
which Mr. Allworthy was in reality as great a pattern as he was of
goodness.
True wisdom then, notwithstanding all which Mr. Hogarth's poor
poet may have writ against riches, and in spite of all which any
rich well-fed divine may have preached against pleasure, consists
not in the contempt of either of these. A man may have as much
wisdom in the possession of an affluent fortune, as any beggar in
the streets; or may enjoy a handsome wife or a hearty friend, and
still remain as wise as any sour popish recluse, who buries all his
social faculties, and starves his belly while he well lashes his back.
To say truth, the wisest man is the likeliest to possess all worldly
blessings in an eminent degree; for as that moderation which wisdom
prescribes is the surest way to useful wealth, so can it alone qualify
us to taste many pleasures. The wise man gratifies every appetite
and every passion, while the fool sacrifices all the rest to pall
and satiate one.
It may be objected, that very wise men have been notoriously
avaricious. I answer, Not wise in that instance. It may likewise be
said, That the wisest men have been in their youth immoderately fond
of pleasure. I answer, They were not wise then.
Wisdom, in short, whose lessons have been represented as so hard
to learn by those who never were at her school, only teaches us to
extend a simple maxim universally known and followed even in the
lowest life, a little farther than that life carries it. And this
is, not to buy at too dear a price.
Now, whoever takes this maxim abroad with him into the grand
market of the world, and constantly applies it to honours, to
riches, to pleasures, and to every other commodity which that market
affords, is, I will venture to affirm, a wise man, and must be so
acknowledged in the worldly sense of the word; for he makes the best
of bargains, since in reality he purchases everything at the price
only of a little trouble, and carries home all the good things I
have mentioned, while he keeps his health, his innocence, and his
reputation, the common prices which are paid for them by others,
entire and to himself.
From this moderation, likewise, he learns two other lessons, which
complete his character. First, never to be intoxicated when he hath
made the best bargain, nor dejected when the market is empty, or
when its commodities are too dear for his purchase.
But I must remember on what subject I am writing, and not trespass
too far on the patience of a good-natured critic. Here, therefore, I
put an end to the chapter.