It was now debated whether Mr. Allworthy should be informed of the Death of his Sister: This the Doctor violently opposed; in which, I believe, the whole College would agree with him: But Mr. Blifil said, he had received such positive and repeated Orders from his Uncle, never to keep any Secret from him, for Fear of the Disquietude which it might give him, that he durst not think of Disobedience, whatever might be the Consequence. He said, for his Part, considering the religious and philosophic Temper of his Uncle, he could not agree with the Doctor in his Apprehensions. He was therefore resolved to communicate it to him: For if his Uncle recovered (as he heartily prayed he might) he knew he would never forgive an Endeavour to keep a Secret of this Kind from him.
The Physician was forced to submit to these Resolutions, which the two other learned Gentlemen very highly commended. So together moved Mr. Blifil and the Doctor towards the Sick-Room; where the Physician first entered, and approached the Bed, in order to feel his Patient’s Pulse, which he had no sooner done, than he declared he was much better; that the last Application had succeeded to a Miracle, and had brought the Fever to intermit: So that, he said, there appeared now to be as little Danger as he had before apprehended there were Hopes.
To say the Truth, Mr. Allworthy’s Situation had never been so bad, as the great Caution of the Doctor had represented it: But as a wise General never despises his Enemy, however inferior that Enemy’s Force may be, so neither doth a wise Physician ever despise a Distemper, however inconsiderable. As the former preserves the same strict Discipline, places the same Guards, and employs the same Scouts, though the Enemy be never so weak; so the latter maintains the same Gravity of Countenance, and shakes his Head with the same significant Air, let the Distemper be never so trifling. And both, among many other good ones, may assign this solid Reason for their Conduct, that by these Means the greater Glory redounds to them if they gain the Victory, and the less Disgrace, if by any unlucky Accident they should happen to be conquered.
Mr. Allworthy had no sooner lifted up his Eyes, and thanked Heaven for these Hopes of his Recovery, than Mr. Blifil drew near, with a very dejected Aspect, and having applied his Handkerchief to his Eye, either to wipe away his Tears, or, to do, as Ovid somewhere expresses himself on another Occasion.
Si nullus erit, tamen excute nullum.
If there be none, then wipe away that none.2
he communicated to his Uncle what the Reader hath been just before acquainted with.
Allworthy received the News with Concern, with Patience, and with Resignation. He dropt a tender Tear, then composed his Countenance, and at last cried, ‘The Lord’s Will be done in every Thing.’
He now enquired for the Messenger; but Blifil told him, it had been impossible to detain him a Moment; for he appeared by the great Hurry he was in to have some Business of Importance on his Hands: That he complained of being hurried, and driven and torn out of his Life, and repeated many Times, that if he could divide himself into four Quarters, he knew how to dispose of every one.
Allworthy then desired Blifil to take Care of the Funeral. He said, he would have his Sister deposited in his own Chapel; and as to the Particulars, he left them to his own Discretion, only mentioning the Person whom he would have employed on this Occasion.
CHAPTER IX.
Which, among other Things, may serve as a Comment on that Saying of Æschines, that DRUNKENNESS SHEWS THE MIND OF A MAN, AS A MIRROUR REFLECTS HIS PERSON.1
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 Bark2 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 Toasts) 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 Expence, 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?*3
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 any Thing ungenerous, unfair, or ill-natured, exercised on those 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 shewn 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 every Thing 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.
CHAPTER X.
Shewing the Truth of many Observations of Ovid, and of other more grave Writers, who have proved, beyond Contradiction, that Wine is often the Fore-runner of Incontinency.
Jones retired from the Company, in which we have seen him engaged, into the Fields, where he intended to cool himself by a Walk in the open Air, before he attended Mr. Allworthy. There, whilst he renewed those Meditations on his dear Sophia, which the dangerous Illness of his Friend and Benefactor had for some time interrupted, an Accident happened, which with Sorrow we relate, and with Sorrow, doubtless, will it be read; however, that historic Truth to which we profess so inviolable an Attachment, obliges us to communicate it to Posterity.
It was now a pleasant Evening in the latter End of June, when our Heroe was walking in a most delicious Grove, where the gentle Breezes fanning the Leaves, together with the sweet Trilling of a murmuring Stream, and the melodious Notes of Nightingales, formed all together the most enchanting Harmony. In this Scene, so sweetly accommodated to Love, he meditated on his dear Sophia. While his wanton Fancy roved unbounded over all her Beauties, and his lively Imagination painted the charming Maid in various ravishing Forms, his warm Heart melted with Tenderness, and at length throwing himself on the Ground, by the Side of a gently murmuring Brook, he broke forth into the following Ejaculation.
‘O Sophia, would Heaven give thee to my Arms, how blest would be my Condition! Curst be that Fortune which sets a Distance between us. Was I but possessed of thee, one only Suit of Rags thy whole Estate, is there a Man on Earth whom I would envy! How contemptible would the brightest Circassian Beauty, drest in all the Jewels of the Indies, appear to my Eyes! But why do I mention another Woman? Could I think my Eyes capable of looking at any other with Tenderness, these Hands should tear them from my Head. No, my Sophia, if cruel Fortune separates us for ever, my Soul shall doat on thee alone. The chastest Constancy will I ever preserve to thy Image. Though I should never have Possession of thy charming Person, still shalt thou alone have Possession of my Thoughts, my Love, my Soul. Oh! my fond Heart is so wrapt in that tender Bosom, that the brightest Beauties would for me have no Charms, nor would a Hermit be colder in their Embraces. Sophia, Sophia alone shall be mine. What Raptures are in that Name! I will engrave it on every Tree.’
At these Words he started up, and beheld—not his Sophia—no, nor a Circassian Maid richly and elegantly attired for the Grand Signior’s Seraglio. No; without a Gown, in a Shift that was somewhat of the coarsest, and none of the cleanest, bedewed likewise with some odoriferous Effluvia, the Produce of the Day’s Labour, with a Pitchfork in her Hand, Molly Seagrim approached. Our Heroe had his Penknife in his Hand, which he had drawn for the before-mentioned Purpose of carving on the Bark; when the Girl coming near him, cry’d out with a Smile, ‘You don’t intend to kill me, Squire, I hope!’ ‘Why should you think I would kill you?’ answered Jones. ‘Nay,’ replied she, ‘after your cruel Usage of me when I saw you last, killing me would, perhaps, be too great Kindness for me to expect.’
Here ensued a Parly, which, as I do not think myself obliged to relate it, I shall omit. It is sufficient that it lasted a full Quarter of an Hour, at the Conclusion of which they retired into the thickest Part of the Grove.
Some of my Readers may be inclined to think this Event unnatural. However, the Fact is true; and, perhaps, may be sufficiently accounted for, by suggesting, that Jones probably thought one Woman better than none, and Molly as probably imagined two Men to be better than one. Besides the before-mentioned Motive assigned to the present Behavi
our of Jones, the Reader will be likewise pleased to recollect in his Favour, that he was not at this Time perfect Master of that wonderful Power of Reason, which so well enables grave and wise Men to subdue their unruly Passions, and to decline any of these prohibited Amusements. Wine now had totally subdued this Power in Jones. He was, indeed, in a Condition, in which if Reason had interposed, though only to advise, she might have received the Answer which one Cleostratus gave many Years ago to a silly Fellow, who asked him, if he was not ashamed to be drunk? ‘Are not you,’ said Cleostratus, ‘ashamed to admonish a drunken Man?’1——To say the Truth, in a Court of Justice, Drunkenness must not be an Excuse, yet in a Court of Conscience it is greatly so; and therefore Aristotle, who commends the Laws of Pittacus, by which drunken Men received double Punishment for their Crimes, allows there is more of Policy than Justice in that Law.2 Now, if there are any Transgressions pardonable from Drunkenness, they are certainly such as Mr. Jones was at present guilty of; on which Head I could pour forth a vast Profusion of Learning, if I imagined it would either entertain my Reader, or teach him any Thing more than he knows already. For his Sake, therefore, I shall keep my Learning to myself, and return to my History.
The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics) Page 31
