TOM JONES
PART 4
Chapter vii. — A short sketch of that felicity which prudent couples may extract from hatred: with a short apology for those people who overlook imperfections in their friends.
Though the
captain had effectually demolished poor Partridge, yet had he not reaped the
harvest he hoped for, which was to turn the foundling out of Mr Allworthy’s
house.
On the
contrary, that gentleman grew every day fonder of little Tommy, as if he intended
to counterbalance his severity to the father with extraordinary fondness and
affection towards the son.
This a
good deal soured the captain’s temper, as did all the other daily instances of
Mr Allworthy’s generosity; for he looked on all such largesses to be
diminutions of his own wealth.
In this,
we have said, he did not agree with his wife; nor, indeed, in anything else:
for though an affection placed on the understanding is, by many wise persons,
thought more durable than that which is founded on beauty, yet it happened
otherwise in the present case. Nay, the understandings of this couple were
their principal bone of contention, and one great cause of many quarrels, which
from time to time arose between them; and which at last ended, on the side of
the lady, in a sovereign contempt for her husband; and on the husband’s, in an
utter abhorrence of his wife.
As these
had both exercised their talents chiefly in the study of divinity, this was,
from their first acquaintance, the most common topic of conversation between
them. The captain, like a well-bred man, had, before marriage, always given up
his opinion to that of the lady; and this, not in the clumsy awkward manner of
a conceited blockhead, who, while he civilly yields to a superior in an argument,
is desirous of being still known to think himself in the right. The captain, on
the contrary, though one of the proudest fellows in the world, so absolutely
yielded the victory to his antagonist, that she, who had not the least doubt of
his sincerity, retired always from the dispute with an admiration of her own
understanding and a love for his.
But though
this complacence to one whom the captain thoroughly despised, was not so uneasy
to him as it would have been had any hopes of preferment made it necessary to
show the same submission to a Hoadley, or to some other of great reputation in
the science, yet even this cost him too much to be endured without some motive.
Matrimony, therefore, having removed all such motives, he grew weary of this
condescension, and began to treat the opinions of his wife with that
haughtiness and insolence, which none but those who deserve some contempt
themselves can bestow, and those only who deserve no contempt can bear.
When the
first torrent of tenderness was over, and when, in the calm and long interval
between the fits, reason began to open the eyes of the lady, and she saw this
alteration of behaviour in the captain, who at length answered all her
arguments only with pish and pshaw, she was far from enduring the indignity
with a tame submission. Indeed, it at first so highly provoked her, that it
might have produced some tragical event, had it not taken a more harmless turn,
by filling her with the utmost contempt for her husband’s understanding, which
somewhat qualified her hatred towards him; though of this likewise she had a
pretty moderate share.
The
captain’s hatred to her was of a purer kind: for as to any imperfections in her
knowledge or understanding, he no more despised her for them, than for her not
being six feet high. In his opinion of the female sex, he exceeded the
moroseness of Aristotle himself: he looked on a woman as on an animal of
domestic use, of somewhat higher consideration than a cat, since her offices
were of rather more importance; but the difference between these two was, in
his estimation, so small, that, in his marriage contracted with Mr Allworthy’s
lands and tenements, it would have been pretty equal which of them he had taken
into the bargain. And yet so tender was his pride, that it felt the contempt
which his wife now began to express towards him; and this, added to the surfeit
he had before taken of her love, created in him a degree of disgust and
abhorrence, perhaps hardly to be exceeded.
One
situation only of the married state is excluded from pleasure: and that is, a
state of indifference: but as many of my readers, I hope, know what an
exquisite delight there is in conveying pleasure to a beloved object, so some
few, I am afraid, may have experienced the satisfaction of tormenting one we
hate. It is, I apprehend, to come at this latter pleasure, that we see both
sexes often give up that ease in marriage which they might otherwise possess,
though their mate was never so disagreeable to them. Hence the wife often puts
on fits of love and jealousy, nay, even denies herself any pleasure, to disturb
and prevent those of her husband; and he again, in return, puts frequent
restraints on himself, and stays at home in company which he dislikes, in order
to confine his wife to what she equally detests. Hence, too, must flow those
tears which a widow sometimes so plentifully sheds over the ashes of a husband
with whom she led a life of constant disquiet and turbulency, and whom now she
can never hope to torment any more.
But if
ever any couple enjoyed this pleasure, it was at present experienced by the
captain and his lady. It was always a sufficient reason to either of them to be
obstinate in any opinion, that the other had previously asserted the contrary.
If the one proposed any amusement, the other constantly objected to it: they
never loved or hated, commended or abused, the same person. And for this
reason, as the captain looked with an evil eye on the little foundling, his
wife began now to caress it almost equally with her own child.
The reader
will be apt to conceive, that this behaviour between the husband and wife did
not greatly contribute to Mr Allworthy’s repose, as it tended so little to that
serene happiness which he had designed for all three from this alliance; but
the truth is, though he might be a little disappointed in his sanguine
expectations, yet he was far from being acquainted with the whole matter; for,
as the captain was, from certain obvious reasons, much on his guard before him,
the lady was obliged, for fear of her brother’s displeasure, to pursue the same
conduct. In fact, it is possible for a third person to be very intimate, nay
even to live long in the same house, with a married couple, who have any
tolerable discretion, and not even guess at the sour sentiments which they bear
to each other: for though the whole day may be sometimes too short for hatred,
as well as for love; yet the many hours which they naturally spend together,
apart from all observers, furnish people of tolerable moderation with such
ample opportunity for the enjoyment of either passion, that, if they love, they
can support being a few hours in company without toying, or if they hate,
without spitting in each other’s faces.
It is
possible, however, that Mr Allworthy saw enough to render him a little uneasy;
for we are not always to conclude, that a wise man is not hurt, because he doth
not cry out and lament himself, like those of a childish or effeminate temper.
But indeed it is possible he might see some faults in the captain without any
uneasiness at all; for men of true wisdom and goodness are contented to take
persons and things as they are, without complaining of their imperfections, or
attempting to amend them. They can see a fault in a friend, a relation, or an
acquaintance, without ever mentioning it to the parties themselves, or to any
others; and this often without lessening their affection. Indeed, unless great
discernment be tempered with this overlooking disposition, we ought never to
contract friendship but with a degree of folly which we can deceive; for I hope
my friends will pardon me when I declare, I know none of them without a fault;
and I should be sorry if I could imagine I had any friend who could not see
mine. Forgiveness of this kind we give and demand in turn. It is an exercise of
friendship, and perhaps none of the least pleasant. And this forgiveness we
must bestow, without desire of amendment. There is, perhaps, no surer mark of
folly, than an attempt to correct the natural infirmities of those we love. The
finest composition of human nature, as well as the finest china, may have a
flaw in it; and this, I am afraid, in either case, is equally incurable;
though, nevertheless, the pattern may remain of the highest value.
Upon the
whole, then, Mr Allworthy certainly saw some imperfections in the captain; but
as this was a very artful man, and eternally upon his guard before him, these
appeared to him no more than blemishes in a good character, which his goodness
made him overlook, and his wisdom prevented him from discovering to the captain
himself. Very different would have been his sentiments had he discovered the
whole; which perhaps would in time have been the case, had the husband and wife
long continued this kind of behaviour to each other; but this kind Fortune took
effectual means to prevent, by forcing the captain to do that which rendered
him again dear to his wife, and restored all her tenderness and affection
towards him.
Chapter viii. — A receipt to regain the lost affections of a wife, which hath never been known to fail in the most desperate cases.
The
captain was made large amends for the unpleasant minutes which he passed in the
conversation of his wife (and which were as few as he could contrive to make
them), by the pleasant meditations he enjoyed when alone.
These
meditations were entirely employed on Mr Allworthy’s fortune; for, first, he
exercised much thought in calculating, as well as he could, the exact value of
the whole: which calculations he often saw occasion to alter in his own favour:
and, secondly and chiefly, he pleased himself with intended alterations in the
house and gardens, and in projecting many other schemes, as well for the
improvement of the estate as of the grandeur of the place: for this purpose he
applied himself to the studies of architecture and gardening, and read over
many books on both these subjects; for these sciences, indeed, employed his
whole time, and formed his only amusement. He at last completed a most
excellent plan: and very sorry we are, that it is not in our power to present
it to our reader, since even the luxury of the present age, I believe, would
hardly match it. It had, indeed, in a superlative degree, the two principal
ingredients which serve to recommend all great and noble designs of this
nature; for it required an immoderate expense to execute, and a vast length of
time to bring it to any sort of perfection. The former of these, the immense
wealth of which the captain supposed Mr Allworthy possessed, and which he
thought himself sure of inheriting, promised very effectually to supply; and
the latter, the soundness of his own constitution, and his time of life, which
was only what is called middle-age, removed all apprehension of his not living
to accomplish.
Nothing
was wanting to enable him to enter upon the immediate execution of this plan,
but the death of Mr Allworthy; in calculating which he had employed much of his
own algebra, besides purchasing every book extant that treats of the value of
lives, reversions, &c. From all which he satisfied himself, that as he had
every day a chance of this happening, so had he more than an even chance of its
happening within a few years.
But while
the captain was one day busied in deep contemplations of this kind, one of the
most unlucky as well as unseasonable accidents happened to him. The utmost
malice of Fortune could, indeed, have contrived nothing so cruel, so
mal-a-propos, so absolutely destructive to all his schemes. In short, not to
keep the reader in long suspense, just at the very instant when his heart was
exulting in meditations on the happiness which would accrue to him by Mr
Allworthy’s death, he himself—died of an apoplexy.
This
unfortunately befel the captain as he was taking his evening walk by himself,
so that nobody was present to lend him any assistance, if indeed, any
assistance could have preserved him. He took, therefore, measure of that
proportion of soil which was now become adequate to all his future purposes,
and he lay dead on the ground, a great (though not a living) example of the
truth of that observation of Horace:
Tu secanda marmora
Locas sub ipsum funus; et sepulchri
Immemor, struis domos.
Which
sentiment I shall thus give to the English reader: “You provide the noblest
materials for building, when a pickaxe and a spade are only necessary: and
build houses of five hundred by a hundred feet, forgetting that of six by two.”
Chapter ix. — A proof of the infallibility of the foregoing receipt, in the lamentations of the widow; with other suitable decorations of death, such as physicians, &c., and an epitaph in the true stile.
Mr
Allworthy, his sister, and another lady, were assembled at the accustomed hour
in the supper-room, where, having waited a considerable time longer than usual,
Mr Allworthy first declared he began to grow uneasy at the captain’s stay (for
he was always most punctual at his meals); and gave orders that the bell should
be rung without the doors, and especially towards those walks which the captain
was wont to use.
All these
summons proving ineffectual (for the captain had, by perverse accident, betaken
himself to a new walk that evening), Mrs Blifil declared she was seriously
frightened. Upon which the other lady, who was one of her most intimate
acquaintance, and who well knew the true state of her affections, endeavoured
all she could to pacify her, telling her—To be sure she could not help being
uneasy; but that she should hope the best. That, perhaps the sweetness of the
evening had inticed the captain to go farther than his usual walk: or he might
be detained at some neighbour’s. Mrs Blifil answered, No; she was sure some
accident had befallen him; for that he would never stay out without sending her
word, as he must know how uneasy it would make her. The other lady, having no
other arguments to use, betook herself to the entreaties usual on such
occasions, and begged her not to frighten herself, for it might be of very ill
consequence to her own health; and, filling out a very large glass of wine,
advised, and at last prevailed with her to drink it.
Mr
Allworthy now returned into the parlour; for he had been himself in search
after the captain. His countenance sufficiently showed the consternation he was
under, which, indeed, had a good deal deprived him of speech; but as grief
operates variously on different minds, so the same apprehension which depressed
his voice, elevated that of Mrs Blifil. She now began to bewail herself in very
bitter terms, and floods of tears accompanied her lamentations; which the lady,
her companion, declared she could not blame, but at the same time dissuaded her
from indulging; attempting to moderate the grief of her friend by philosophical
observations on the many disappointments to which human life is daily subject,
which, she said, was a sufficient consideration to fortify our minds against
any accidents, how sudden or terrible soever. She said her brother’s example
ought to teach her patience, who, though indeed he could not be supposed as
much concerned as herself, yet was, doubtless, very uneasy, though his
resignation to the Divine will had restrained his grief within due bounds.
“Mention
not my brother,” said Mrs Blifil; “I alone am the object of your pity. What are
the terrors of friendship to what a wife feels on these occasions? Oh, he is
lost! Somebody hath murdered him—I shall never see him more!”—Here a torrent of
tears had the same consequence with what the suppression had occasioned to Mr
Allworthy, and she remained silent.
At this
interval a servant came running in, out of breath, and cried out, The captain
was found; and, before he could proceed farther, he was followed by two more,
bearing the dead body between them.
Here the
curious reader may observe another diversity in the operations of grief: for as
Mr Allworthy had been before silent, from the same cause which had made his
sister vociferous; so did the present sight, which drew tears from the
gentleman, put an entire stop to those of the lady; who first gave a violent
scream, and presently after fell into a fit.
The room
was soon full of servants, some of whom, with the lady visitant, were employed
in care of the wife; and others, with Mr Allworthy, assisted in carrying off
the captain to a warm bed; where every method was tried, in order to restore
him to life.
And glad
should we be, could we inform the reader that both these bodies had been
attended with equal success; for those who undertook the care of the lady
succeeded so well, that, after the fit had continued a decent time, she again
revived, to their great satisfaction: but as to the captain, all experiments of
bleeding, chafing, dropping, &c., proved ineffectual. Death, that
inexorable judge, had passed sentence on him, and refused to grant him a
reprieve, though two doctors who arrived, and were fee’d at one and the same
instant, were his counsel.
These two
doctors, whom, to avoid any malicious applications, we shall distinguish by the
names of Dr Y. and Dr Z., having felt his pulse; to wit, Dr Y. his right arm,
and Dr Z. his left; both agreed that he was absolutely dead; but as to the
distemper, or cause of his death, they differed; Dr Y. holding that he died of
an apoplexy, and Dr Z. of an epilepsy.
Hence
arose a dispute between the learned men, in which each delivered the reasons of
their several opinions. These were of such equal force, that they served both
to confirm either doctor in his own sentiments, and made not the least
impression on his adversary.
To say the
truth, every physician almost hath his favourite disease, to which he ascribes
all the victories obtained over human nature. The gout, the rheumatism, the
stone, the gravel, and the consumption, have all their several patrons in the
faculty; and none more than the nervous fever, or the fever on the spirits. And
here we may account for those disagreements in opinion, concerning the cause of
a patient’s death, which sometimes occur, between the most learned of the
college; and which have greatly surprized that part of the world who have been
ignorant of the fact we have above asserted.
The reader
may perhaps be surprized, that, instead of endeavouring to revive the patient,
the learned gentlemen should fall immediately into a dispute on the occasion of
his death; but in reality all such experiments had been made before their
arrival: for the captain was put into a warm bed, had his veins scarified, his
forehead chafed, and all sorts of strong drops applied to his lips and
nostrils.
The physicians,
therefore, finding themselves anticipated in everything they ordered, were at a
loss how to apply that portion of time which it is usual and decent to remain
for their fee, and were therefore necessitated to find some subject or other
for discourse; and what could more naturally present itself than that before
mentioned?
Our
doctors were about to take their leave, when Mr Allworthy, having given over
the captain, and acquiesced in the Divine will, began to enquire after his
sister, whom he desired them to visit before their departure.
This lady
was now recovered of her fit, and, to use the common phrase, as well as could
be expected for one in her condition. The doctors, therefore, all previous
ceremonies being complied with, as this was a new patient, attended, according
to desire, and laid hold on each of her hands, as they had before done on those
of the corpse.
The case
of the lady was in the other extreme from that of her husband: for as he was
past all the assistance of physic, so in reality she required none.
There is
nothing more unjust than the vulgar opinion, by which physicians are
misrepresented, as friends to death. On the contrary, I believe, if the number
of those who recover by physic could be opposed to that of the martyrs to it,
the former would rather exceed the latter. Nay, some are so cautious on this
head, that, to avoid a possibility of killing the patient, they abstain from
all methods of curing, and prescribe nothing but what can neither do good nor
harm. I have heard some of these, with great gravity, deliver it as a maxim,
“That Nature should be left to do her own work, while the physician stands by
as it were to clap her on the back, and encourage her when she doth well.”
So little
then did our doctors delight in death, that they discharged the corpse after a
single fee; but they were not so disgusted with their living patient;
concerning whose case they immediately agreed, and fell to prescribing with
great diligence.
Whether,
as the lady had at first persuaded her physicians to believe her ill, they had
now, in return, persuaded her to believe herself so, I will not determine; but
she continued a whole month with all the decorations of sickness. During this
time she was visited by physicians, attended by nurses, and received constant
messages from her acquaintance to enquire after her health.
At length
the decent time for sickness and immoderate grief being expired, the doctors
were discharged, and the lady began to see company; being altered only from
what she was before, by that colour of sadness in which she had dressed her
person and countenance.
The
captain was now interred, and might, perhaps, have already made a large
progress towards oblivion, had not the friendship of Mr Allworthy taken care to
preserve his memory, by the following epitaph, which was written by a man of as
great genius as integrity, and one who perfectly well knew the captain.
HERE LIES,
IN EXPECTATION OF A JOYFUL RISING,
THE BODY OF
CAPTAIN JOHN BLIFIL.
LONDON
HAD THE HONOUR OF HIS BIRTH,
OXFORD
OF HIS EDUCATION.
HIS PARTS
WERE AN HONOUR TO HIS PROFESSION
AND TO HIS COUNTRY:
HIS LIFE, TO HIS RELIGION
AND HUMAN NATURE.
HE WAS A DUTIFUL SON,
A TENDER HUSBAND,
AN AFFECTIONATE FATHER,
A MOST KIND BROTHER,
A SINCERE FRIEND,
A DEVOUT CHRISTIAN,
AND A GOOD MAN.
HIS INCONSOLABLE WIDOW
HATH ERECTED THIS STONE,
THE MONUMENT OF
HIS VIRTUES
AND OF HER AFFECTION.
To be continued
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