Chapter vii.

In which the author himself makes his appearance on the stage.

Though Mr Allworthy was not of himself hasty to see things in a

disadvantageous light, and was a stranger to the public voice, which

seldom reaches to a brother or a husband, though it rings in the ears

of all the neighbourhood; yet was this affection of Mrs Blifil to Tom,

and the preference which she too visibly gave him to her own son, of

the utmost disadvantage to that youth.

For such was the compassion which inhabited Mr Allworthy's mind, that

nothing but the steel of justice could ever subdue it. To be

unfortunate in any respect was sufficient, if there was no demerit to

counterpoise it, to turn the scale of that good man's pity, and to

engage his friendship and his benefaction.

When therefore he plainly saw Master Blifil was absolutely detested

(for that he was) by his own mother, he began, on that account only,

to look with an eye of compassion upon him; and what the effects of

compassion are, in good and benevolent minds, I need not here explain

to most of my readers.

Henceforward he saw every appearance of virtue in the youth through

the magnifying end, and viewed all his faults with the glass inverted,

so that they became scarce perceptible. And this perhaps the amiable

temper of pity may make commendable; but the next step the weakness of

human nature alone must excuse; for he no sooner perceived that

preference which Mrs Blifil gave to Tom, than that poor youth (however

innocent) began to sink in his affections as he rose in hers. This, it

is true, would of itself alone never have been able to eradicate Jones

from his bosom; but it was greatly injurious to him, and prepared Mr

Allworthy's mind for those impressions which afterwards produced the

mighty events that will be contained hereafter in this history; and to

which, it must be confest, the unfortunate lad, by his own wantonness,

wildness, and want of caution, too much contributed.

In recording some instances of these, we shall, if rightly understood,

afford a very useful lesson to those well-disposed youths who shall

hereafter be our readers; for they may here find, that goodness of

heart, and openness of temper, though these may give them great

comfort within, and administer to an honest pride in their own minds,

will by no means, alas! do their business in the world. Prudence and

circumspection are necessary even to the best of men. They are indeed,

as it were, a guard to Virtue, without which she can never be safe. It

is not enough that your designs, nay, that your actions, are

intrinsically good; you must take care they shall appear so. If your

inside be never so beautiful, you must preserve a fair outside also.

This must be constantly looked to, or malice and envy will take care

to blacken it so, that the sagacity and goodness of an Allworthy will

not be able to see through it, and to discern the beauties within. Let

this, my young readers, be your constant maxim, that no man can be

good enough to enable him to neglect the rules of prudence; nor will

Virtue herself look beautiful, unless she be bedecked with the outward

ornaments of decency and decorum. And this precept, my worthy

disciples, if you read with due attention, you will, I hope, find

sufficiently enforced by examples in the following pages.

I ask pardon for this short appearance, by way of chorus, on the

stage. It is in reality for my own sake, that, while I am discovering

the rocks on which innocence and goodness often split, I may not be

misunderstood to recommend the very means to my worthy readers, by

which I intend to show them they will be undone. And this, as I could

not prevail on any of my actors to speak, I myself was obliged to

declare.