Chapter ii.
A short hint of what we can do in the sublime, and a description ofMiss Sophia Western.
Hushed be every ruder breath. May the heathen ruler of the windsconfine in iron chains the boisterous limbs of noisy Boreas, and thesharp-pointed nose of bitter-biting Eurus. Do thou, sweet Zephyrus,rising from thy fragrant bed, mount the western sky, and lead on thosedelicious gales, the charms of which call forth the lovely Flora fromher chamber, perfumed with pearly dews, when on the 1st of June, herbirth-day, the blooming maid, in loose attire, gently trips it overthe verdant mead, where every flower rises to do her homage, till thewhole field becomes enamelled, and colours contend with sweets whichshall ravish her most.
So charming may she now appear! and you the feathered choristers ofnature, whose sweetest notes not even Handel can excell, tune yourmelodious throats to celebrate her appearance. From love proceeds yourmusic, and to love it returns. Awaken therefore that gentle passion inevery swain: for lo! adorned with all the charms in which nature canarray her; bedecked with beauty, youth, sprightliness, innocence,modesty, and tenderness, breathing sweetness from her rosy lips, anddarting brightness from her sparkling eyes, the lovely Sophia comes!
Reader, perhaps thou hast seen the statue of the _Venus de Medicis_.Perhaps, too, thou hast seen the gallery of beauties at Hampton Court.Thou may'st remember each bright Churchill of the galaxy, and all thetoasts of the Kit-cat. Or, if their reign was before thy times, atleast thou hast seen their daughters, the no less dazzling beauties ofthe present age; whose names, should we here insert, we apprehend theywould fill the whole volume.
Now if thou hast seen all these, be not afraid of the rude answerwhich Lord Rochester once gave to a man who had seen many things. No.If thou hast seen all these without knowing what beauty is, thou hastno eyes; if without feeling its power, thou hast no heart.
Yet is it possible, my friend, that thou mayest have seen all thesewithout being able to form an exact idea of Sophia; for she did notexactly resemble any of them. She was most like the picture of LadyRanelagh: and, I have heard, more still to the famous dutchess ofMazarine; but most of all she resembled one whose image never candepart from my breast, and whom, if thou dost remember, thou hastthen, my friend, an adequate idea of Sophia.
But lest this should not have been thy fortune, we will endeavour withour utmost skill to describe this paragon, though we are sensible thatour highest abilities are very inadequate to the task.
Sophia, then, the only daughter of Mr Western, was a middle-sizedwoman; but rather inclining to tall. Her shape was not only exact, butextremely delicate: and the nice proportion of her arms promised thetruest symmetry in her limbs. Her hair, which was black, was soluxuriant, that it reached her middle, before she cut it to complywith the modern fashion; and it was now curled so gracefully in herneck, that few could believe it to be her own. If envy could find anypart of the face which demanded less commendation than the rest, itmight possibly think her forehead might have been higher withoutprejudice to her. Her eyebrows were full, even, and arched beyond thepower of art to imitate. Her black eyes had a lustre in them, whichall her softness could not extinguish. Her nose was exactly regular,and her mouth, in which were two rows of ivory, exactly answered SirJohn Suckling's description in those lines:--
Her lips were red, and one was thin, Compar'd to that was next her chin. Some bee had stung it newly.
Her cheeks were of the oval kind; and in her right she had a dimple,which the least smile discovered. Her chin had certainly its share informing the beauty of her face; but it was difficult to say it waseither large or small, though perhaps it was rather of the formerkind. Her complexion had rather more of the lily than of the rose; butwhen exercise or modesty increased her natural colour, no vermilioncould equal it. Then one might indeed cry out with the celebrated DrDonne:
--Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought That one might almost say her body thought.
Her neck was long and finely turned: and here, if I was not afraid ofoffending her delicacy, I might justly say, the highest beauties ofthe famous _Venus de Medicis_ were outdone. Here was whiteness whichno lilies, ivory, nor alabaster could match. The finest cambric mightindeed be supposed from envy to cover that bosom which was much whiterthan itself.--It was indeed,
_Nitor splendens Pario marmore purius_.
A gloss shining beyond the purest brightness of Parian marble.
Such was the outside of Sophia; nor was this beautiful frame disgracedby an inhabitant unworthy of it. Her mind was every way equal to herperson; nay, the latter borrowed some charms from the former; for whenshe smiled, the sweetness of her temper diffused that glory over hercountenance which no regularity of features can give. But as there areno perfections of the mind which do not discover themselves in thatperfect intimacy to which we intend to introduce our reader with thischarming young creature, so it is needless to mention them here: nay,it is a kind of tacit affront to our reader's understanding, and mayalso rob him of that pleasure which he will receive in forming his ownjudgment of her character.
It may, however, be proper to say, that whatever mentalaccomplishments she had derived from nature, they were somewhatimproved and cultivated by art: for she had been educated under thecare of an aunt, who was a lady of great discretion, and wasthoroughly acquainted with the world, having lived in her youth aboutthe court, whence she had retired some years since into the country.By her conversation and instructions, Sophia was perfectly well bred,though perhaps she wanted a little of that ease in her behaviour whichis to be acquired only by habit, and living within what is called thepolite circle. But this, to say the truth, is often too dearlypurchased; and though it hath charms so inexpressible, that theFrench, perhaps, among other qualities, mean to express this, whenthey declare they know not what it is; yet its absence is wellcompensated by innocence; nor can good sense and a natural gentilityever stand in need of it.
History of Tom Jones, a Foundling Page 36