The Impetuosity of the Squire bore down all before him; and Sophia, as her Aunt very wisely foresaw, was not able to resist him. She agreed, therefore, to see Blifil, tho’ she had scarce Spirits or Strength sufficient to utter her Assent. Indeed, to give a peremptory Denial to a Father whom she so tenderly loved, was no easy Task. Had this Circumstance been out of the Case, much less Resolution than what she was really Mistress of, would, perhaps, have served her; but it is no unusual Thing to ascribe those Actions entirely to Fear, which are in a great Measure produced by Love.
In Pursuance, therefore, of her Father’s peremptory Command, Sophia now admitted Mr. Blifil’s Visit. Scenes, like this, when painted at large, afford, as we have observed, very little Entertainment to the Reader. Here, therefore, we shall strictly adhere to a Rule of Horace; by which Writers are directed to pass over all those Matters, which they despair of placing in a shining Light.1 A Rule, we conceive, of excellent Use as well to the Historian as to the Poet; and which, if followed, must, at least, have this good Effect, that many a great Evil (for so all great Books are called) would thus be reduced to a small one.
It is possible the great Art used by Blifil at this Interview would have prevailed on Sophia to have made another Man in his Circumstances her Confident, and to have revealed the whole Secret of her Heart to him; but she had contracted so ill an Opinion of this young Gentleman, that she was resolved to place no Confidence in him: For Simplicity, when set on its Guard, is often a Match for Cunning. Her Behaviour to him, therefore, was entirely forced, and indeed such as is generally prescribed to Virgins upon the second formal Visit from one who is appointed for their Husband.
But tho’ Blifil declared himself to the Squire perfectly satisfied with his Reception; yet that Gentleman, who in Company with his Sister had overheard all, was not so well pleased. He resolved, in Pursuance of the Advice of the sage Lady, to push Matters as forward as possible; and addressing himself to his intended Son-in-Law in the hunting Phrase, he cry’d after a loud Holla, ‘Follow her, Boy, follow her; run in, run in, that’s it, Honeys. Dead, dead, dead.—Never be bashful, nor stand shall I, shall I?— Allworthy and I can finish all Matters between us this Afternoon, and let us ha’ the Wedding To-morrow.’
Blifil having conveyed the utmost Satisfaction into his Countenance, answered; ‘As there is nothing, Sir, in this World, which I so eagerly desire as an Alliance with your Family, except my Union with the most amiable and deserving Sophia, you may easily imagine how impatient I must be to see myself in Possession of my two highest Wishes. If I have not therefore importuned you on this Head, you will impute it only to my Fear of offending the Lady, by endeavouring to hurry on so blessed an Event, faster than a strict Compliance with all the Rules of Decency and Decorum will permit. But if by your Interest, Sir, she might be induced to dispense with any Formalities’—
‘Formalities! with a Pox!’ answered the Squire, ‘Pooh, all Stuff and Nonsense. I tell thee, she shall ha’ thee To-Morrow; you will know the World better hereafter, when you come to my Age. Women never gi’ their Consent, Man, if they can help it, ’tis not the Fashion. If I had staid for her Mother’s Consent, I might have been a Batchelor to this Day——To her, to her, co to her, that’s it, you jolly Dog. I tell thee shat ha’ her To-morrow Morning.’
Blifil suffered himself to be overpowered by the forcible Rhetoric of the Squire; and it being agreed that Western should close with Allworthy that very Afternoon, the Lover departed home, having first earnestly begged that no Violence might be offered to the Lady by this Haste, in the same Manner as a Popish Inquisitor begs the Lay Power to do no Violence to the Heretic, delivered over to it, and against whom the Church hath passed Sentence.
And to say the Truth, Blifil had passed Sentence against Sophia; for however pleased he had declared himself to Western, with his Reception, he was by no means satisfied, unless it was that he was convinced of the Hatred and Scorn of his Mistress; and this had produced no less reciprocal Hatred and Scorn in him. It may, perhaps, be asked, Why then did he not put an immediate End to all further Courtship? I answer, for that very Reason, as well as for several others equally good, which we shall now proceed to open to the Reader.
Tho’ Mr. Blifil was not of the Complexion of Jones, nor ready to eat every Woman he saw; yet he was far from being destitute of that Appetite which is said to be the common Property of all Animals. With this, he had likewise that distinguishing Taste, which serves to direct Men in their Choice of the Object, or Food of their several Appetites; and this taught him to consider Sophia as a most delicious Morsel, indeed to regard her with the same Desires which an Ortolan inspires into the Soul of an Epicure.2 Now the Agonies which affected the Mind of Sophia rather augmented than impaired her Beauty; for her Tears added Brightness to her Eyes, and her Breasts rose higher with her Sighs. Indeed no one hath seen Beauty in its highest Lustre, who hath never seen it in Distress. Blifil therefore looked on this human Ortolan with greater Desire than when he viewed her last; nor was his Desire at all lessened by the Aversion which he discovered in her to himself. On the contrary, this served rather to heighten the Pleasure he proposed in rifling her Charms, as it added Triumph to Lust: nay, he had some further Views, from obtaining the absolute Possession of her Person, which we detest too much even to mention; and Revenge itself was not without its Share in the Gratifications which he promised himself. The rivalling poor Jones, and supplanting him in her Affections, added another Spur to his Pursuit, and promised another additional Rapture to his Enjoyment.
Besides all these Views, which to some scrupulous Persons may seem to savour too much of Malevolence, he had one Prospect, which few Readers will regard with any great Abhorrence. And this was the Estate of Mr. Western; which was all to be settled on his Daughter and her Issue; for so extravagant was the Affection of that fond Parent, that provided his Child would but consent to be miserable with the Husband he chose, he cared not at what Price he purchased him.
For these Reasons Mr. Blifil was so desirous of the Match, that he intended to deceive Sophia, by pretending Love to her; and to deceive her Father and his own Uncle, by pretending he was beloved by her. In doing this, he availed himself of the Piety of Thwackum, who held, that if the End proposed was religious (as surely Matrimony is) it mattered not how wicked were the Means. As, to other Occasions he used to apply the Philosophy of Square, which taught, that the End was immaterial, so that the Means were fair and consistent with moral Rectitude. To say Truth, there were few Occurrences in Life on which he could not draw Advantage from the Precepts of one or other of those great Masters.
Little Deceit was indeed necessary to be practiced on Mr. Western; who thought the Inclinations of his Daughter of as little Consequence, as Blifil himself conceived them to be; but as the Sentiments of Mr. Allworthy were of a very different Kind, so it was absolutely necessary to impose on him. In this, however, Blifil was so well assisted by Western that he succeeded without Difficulty: For as Mr. Allworthy had been assured by her Father, that Sophia had a proper Affection for Blifil, and that all which he had suspected concerning Jones, was entirely false, Blifil had nothing more to do, than to confirm these Assertions; which he did with such Equivocations, that he preserved a Salvo for his Conscience; and had the Satisfaction of conveying a Lie to his Uncle, without the Guilt of telling one. When he was examined touching the Inclinations of Sophia, by Allworthy, who said, ‘he would, on no Account, be accessary to forcing a young Lady into a Marriage contrary to her own Will,’ he answered, ‘That the real Sentiments of young Ladies were very difficult to be understood; that her Behaviour to him was full as forward as he wished it, and that if he could believe her Father, she had all the Affection for him which any Lover could desire. As for Jones,’ said he, ‘whom I am loth to call Villain, tho’ his Behaviour to you, Sir, sufficiently justifies the Appellation, his own Vanity, or perhaps some wicked Views, might make him boast of a Falshood; for if there had been any reality in Miss Western’s Love to him, the Greatnes
s of her Fortune would never have suffered him to desert her, as you are well informed he hath. Lastly, Sir, I promise you I would not myself, for any Consideration, no not for the whole World, consent to marry this young Lady, if I was not persuaded she had all the Passion for me which I desire she should have.’
This excellent Method of conveying a Falshood with the Heart only, without making the Tongue guilty of an Untruth, by the Means of Equivocation and Imposture, hath quieted the Conscience of many a notable Deceiver; and yet when we consider that it is Omniscience on which these endeavour to impose, it may possibly seem capable of affording only a very superficial Comfort; and that this artful and refined Distinction between communicating a Lie, and telling one, is hardly worth the Pains it costs them.
Allworthy was pretty well satisfied with what Mr. Western and Mr. Blifil told him; and the Treaty was now, at the End of two Days, concluded. Nothing then remained previous to the Office of the Priest, but the Office of the Lawyers, which threatened to take up so much Time, that Western offered to bind himself by all Manner of Covenants, rather than defer the Happiness of the young Couple. Indeed he was so very earnest and pressing, that an indifferent Person might have concluded he was more a Principal in this Match than he really was: But this Eagerness was natural to him on all Occasions; and he conducted every Scheme he undertook in such a Manner, as if the Success of that alone was sufficient to constitute the whole Happiness of his Life.
The joint Importunities of both Father and Son-in-law would probably have prevailed on Mr. Allworthy, who brooked but ill any Delay of giving Happiness to others, had not Sophia herself prevented it, and taken Measures to put a final End to the whole Treaty, and to rob both Church and Law of those Taxes which these wise Bodies have thought proper to receive from the Propagation of the human Species3 in a lawful Manner. Of which in the next Chapter.
CHAPTER VII.
A strange Resolution of Sophia, and a more strange Stratagem of Mrs. Honour.
Tho’ Mrs. Honour was principally attached to her own Interest, she was not without some little Attachment to Sophia. To say Truth, it was very difficult for any one to know that young Lady without loving her. She no sooner, therefore, heard a Piece of News, which she imagined to be of great Importance to her Mistress, than quite forgetting the Anger which she had conceived two Days before, at her unpleasant Dismission from Sophia’s Presence, she ran hastily to inform her of the News.
The Beginning of her Discourse was as abrupt as her Entrance into the Room. ‘O dear Ma’am,’ says she, ‘what doth your La’ship think? To be sure, I am frightened out of my Wits; and yet I thought it my Duty to tell your La’ship, tho’ perhaps it may make you angry, for we Servants don’t always know what will make our Ladies angry; for to be sure, every thing is always laid to the Charge of a Servant. When our Ladies are out of Humour, to be sure, we must be scolded; and to be sure I should not wonder if your La’ship should be out of Humour; nay, it must surprize you certainly, ay, and shock you too.’—‘Good Honour! let me know it without any longer Preface,’ says Sophia; ‘there are few Things, I promise you, which will surprize, and fewer which will shock me.’ ‘Dear Ma’am,’ answered Honour, ‘to be sure, I overheard my Master talking to Parson Supple about getting a Licence this very Afternoon; and to be sure I heard him say your La’ship should be married To-morrow Morning.’ Sophia turned pale at these Words, and repeated eagerly, ‘To-morrow Morning!’—‘Yes, Madam,’ replied the trusty Waiting-Woman, ‘I will take my Oath I heard my Master say so.’ ‘Honour,’ says Sophia, ‘you have both surprized and shocked me to such a Degree, that I have scarce any Breath or Spirits left. What is to be done in my dreadful Situation?’ ‘I wish I was able to advise your La’ship,’ says she. ‘Do, advise me,’ cries Sophia, ‘pray, dear Honour advise me. Think what you would attempt if it was your own Case.’ ‘Indeed, Ma’am,’ cries Honour, ‘I wish your La’ship and I could change Situations; that is, I mean, without hurting your La’ship; for to be sure I don’t wish you so bad as to be a Servant; but because that if so be it was my Case, I should find no Manner of Difficulty in it; for in my poor Opinion, young Squire Blifil is a charming, sweet, handsome Man.’—‘Don’t mention such Stuff,’ cries Sophia.—‘Such Stuff,’ repeated Honour, ‘why there—Well, to be sure what’s one Man’s Meat is another Man’s Poison, and the same is altogether as true of Women.’ ‘Honour,’ says Sophia, ‘rather than submit to be the Wife of that contemptible Wretch, I would plunge a Dagger into my Heart.’ ‘O lud, Ma’am,’ answered the other, ‘I am sure you frighten me out of my Wits now. Let me beseech your La’ship not to suffer such wicked Thoughts to come into your Head. O lud, to be sure I tremble every Inch of me. Dear Ma’am, consider—that to be denied Christian burial, and to have your Corpse buried in the Highway, and a Stake drove through you,1 as Farmer Halfpenny was served at Ox-Cross, and, to be sure, his Ghost hath walked there ever since; for several People have seen him. To be sure it can be nothing but the Devil which can put such wicked Thoughts into the Head of any body; for certainly it is less wicked to hurt all the World than one’s own dear Self, and so I have heard said by more Parsons than one. If your La’ship hath such a violent Aversion, and hates the young Gentleman so very bad, that you can’t bear to think of going into Bed to him; for to be sure there may be such Antipathies in Nature, and one had lieverer2 touch a Toad than the Flesh of some People.———’
Sophia had been too much wrapt in Contemplation to pay any great Attention to the foregoing excellent Discourse of her Maid; interrupting her therefore, without making any Answer to it, she said, ‘Honour, I am come to a Resolution. I am determined to leave my Father’s House this very Night; and if you have the Friendship for me which you have often professed, you will keep me Company.’ ‘That I will, Ma’am, to the World’s End,’ answered Honour; ‘but I beg your La’ship to consider the Consequence, before you undertake any rash Action. Where can your La’ship possibly go?’ ‘There is,’ replied Sophia, ‘a Lady of Quality in London, a Relation of mine, who spent several Months with my Aunt in the Country; during all which Time she treated me with great Kindness, and expressed so much Pleasure in my Company, that she earnestly desired my Aunt to suffer me to go with her to London. As she is a Woman of very great Note, I shall easily find her out, and I make no Doubt of being very well and kindly received by her.’ ‘I would not have your La’ship too confident of that,’ cries Honour; ‘for the first Lady I lived with used to invite People very earnestly to her House; but if she heard afterwards they were coming, she used to get out of the Way. Besides, tho’ this Lady would be very glad to see your La’ship, as to be sure any body would be glad to see your La’ship; yet when she hears your La’ship is run away from my Master’—‘You are mistaken, Honour,’ says Sophia, ‘she looks upon the Authority of a Father in a much lower Light than I do; for she pressed me violently to go to London with her, and when I refused to go without my Father’s Consent, she laughed me to Scorn, called me silly Country Girl, and said I should make a pure loving Wife, since I could be so dutiful a Daughter. So I have no Doubt but she will both receive me, and protect me too, till my Father, finding me out of his Power, can be brought to some Reason.’
‘Well but, Ma’am,’ answered Honour, ‘how doth your La’ship think of making your Escape? Where will you get any Horses or Conveyance? For as for your own Horse, as all the Servants know a little how Matters stand between my Master and your La’ship, Robin will be hanged before he will suffer it to go out of the Stable without my Master’s express Orders.’ ‘I intend to escape,’ said Sophia, ‘by walking out of the Doors when they are open. I thank Heaven my Legs are very able to carry me. They have supported me many a long Evening, after a Fiddle, with no very agreeable Partner; and surely they will assist me in running from so detestable a Partner for Life.’ ‘O Heaven, Ma’am, doth your La’ship know what you are saying?’ cries Honour, ‘would you think of walking about the Country by Night and alone?’ ‘Not alone,’ answered the Lady, ‘
you have promised to bear me Company.’ ‘Yes, to be sure,’ cries Honour, ‘I will follow your La’ship through the World; but your La’ship had almost as good be alone; for I shall not be able to defend you, if any Robbers, or other Villains, should meet with you. Nay, I should be in as horrible a Fright as your La’ship; for to be certain, they would ravish us both. Besides, Ma’am, consider how cold the Nights are now; we shall be frozen to Death.’ ‘A good brisk Pace,’ answered Sophia, ‘will preserve us from the Cold; and if you cannot defend me from a Villain, Honour, I will defend you; for I will take a Pistol with me. There are two always charged in the Hall.’ ‘Dear Ma’am, you frighten me more and more,’ cries Honour, ‘sure your La’ship would not venture to fire it off! I had rather run any Chance, than your La’ship should do that.’ ‘Why so?’ says Sophia, smiling; ‘would not you, Honour, fire a Pistol at any one who should attack your Virtue?’ ‘To be sure, Ma’am,’ cries Honour, ‘one’s Virtue is a dear Thing, especially to us poor Servants; for it is our Livelihood, as a Body may say;3 yet I mortally hate Fire-arms; for so many Accidents happen by them.’ ‘Well, well,’ says Sophia, ‘I believe I may ensure your Virtue at a very cheap Rate, without carrying any Arms with us; for I intend to take Horses at the very first Town we come to, and we shall hardly be attacked in our Way thither. Look’ee, Honour, I am resolved to go, and if you will attend me, I promise you I will reward you to the very utmost of my Power.’
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