Chapter ix.

Being of a much more tempestuous kind than the former.

Before we proceed with what now happened to our lovers, it may be

proper to recount what had past in the hall during their tender

interview.

Soon after Jones had left Mr Western in the manner above mentioned,

his sister came to him, and was presently informed of all that had

passed between her brother and Sophia relating to Blifil.

This behaviour in her niece the good lady construed to be an absolute

breach of the condition on which she had engaged to keep her love for

Mr Jones a secret. She considered herself, therefore, at full liberty

to reveal all she knew to the squire, which she immediately did in the

most explicit terms, and without any ceremony or preface.

The idea of a marriage between Jones and his daughter, had never once

entered into the squire's head, either in the warmest minutes of his

affection towards that young man, or from suspicion, or on any other

occasion. He did indeed consider a parity of fortune and circumstances

to be physically as necessary an ingredient in marriage, as difference

of sexes, or any other essential; and had no more apprehension of his

daughter's falling in love with a poor man, than with any animal of a

different species.

He became, therefore, like one thunderstruck at his sister's relation.

He was, at first, incapable of making any answer, having been almost

deprived of his breath by the violence of the surprize. This, however,

soon returned, and, as is usual in other cases after an intermission,

with redoubled force and fury.

The first use he made of the power of speech, after his recovery from

the sudden effects of his astonishment, was to discharge a round

volley of oaths and imprecations. After which he proceeded hastily to

the apartment where he expected to find the lovers, and murmured, or

rather indeed roared forth, intentions of revenge every step he went.

As when two doves, or two wood-pigeons, or as when Strephon and

Phyllis (for that comes nearest to the mark) are retired into some

pleasant solitary grove, to enjoy the delightful conversation of Love,

that bashful boy, who cannot speak in public, and is never a good

companion to more than two at a time; here, while every object is

serene, should hoarse thunder burst suddenly through the shattered

clouds, and rumbling roll along the sky, the frightened maid starts

from the mossy bank or verdant turf, the pale livery of death succeeds

the red regimentals in which Love had before drest her cheeks, fear

shakes her whole frame, and her lover scarce supports her trembling

tottering limbs.

Or as when two gentlemen, strangers to the wondrous wit of the place,

are cracking a bottle together at some inn or tavern at Salisbury, if

the great Dowdy, who acts the part of a madman as well as some of his

setters-on do that of a fool, should rattle his chains, and dreadfully

hum forth the grumbling catch along the gallery; the frighted

strangers stand aghast; scared at the horrid sound, they seek some

place of shelter from the approaching danger; and if the well-barred

windows did admit their exit, would venture their necks to escape the

threatening fury now coming upon them.

So trembled poor Sophia, so turned she pale at the noise of her

father, who, in a voice most dreadful to hear, came on swearing,

cursing, and vowing the destruction of Jones. To say the truth, I

believe the youth himself would, from some prudent considerations,

have preferred another place of abode at this time, had his terror on

Sophia's account given him liberty to reflect a moment on what any

otherways concerned himself, than as his love made him partake

whatever affected her.

And now the squire, having burst open the door, beheld an object which

instantly suspended all his fury against Jones; this was the ghastly

appearance of Sophia, who had fainted away in her lover's arms. This

tragical sight Mr Western no sooner beheld, than all his rage forsook

him; he roared for help with his utmost violence; ran first to his

daughter, then back to the door calling for water, and then back again

to Sophia, never considering in whose arms she then was, nor perhaps

once recollecting that there was such a person in the world as Jones;

for indeed I believe the present circumstances of his daughter were

now the sole consideration which employed his thoughts.

Mrs Western and a great number of servants soon came to the assistance

of Sophia with water, cordials, and everything necessary on those

occasions. These were applied with such success, that Sophia in a very

few minutes began to recover, and all the symptoms of life to return.

Upon which she was presently led off by her own maid and Mrs Western:

nor did that good lady depart without leaving some wholesome

admonitions with her brother, on the dreadful effects of his passion,

or, as she pleased to call it, madness.

The squire, perhaps, did not understand this good advice, as it was

delivered in obscure hints, shrugs, and notes of admiration: at least,

if he did understand it, he profited very little by it; for no sooner

was he cured of his immediate fears for his daughter, than he relapsed

into his former frenzy, which must have produced an immediate battle

with Jones, had not parson Supple, who was a very strong man, been

present, and by mere force restrained the squire from acts of

hostility.

The moment Sophia was departed, Jones advanced in a very suppliant

manner to Mr Western, whom the parson held in his arms, and begged him

to be pacified; for that, while he continued in such a passion, it

would be impossible to give him any satisfaction.

“I wull have satisfaction o' thee,” answered the squire; “so doff thy

clothes. _At unt_ half a man, and I'll lick thee as well as wast ever

licked in thy life.” He then bespattered the youth with abundance of

that language which passes between country gentlemen who embrace

opposite sides of the question; with frequent applications to him to

salute that part which is generally introduced into all controversies

that arise among the lower orders of the English gentry at

horse-races, cock-matches, and other public places. Allusions to this

part are likewise often made for the sake of the jest. And here, I

believe, the wit is generally misunderstood. In reality, it lies in

desiring another to kiss your a-- for having just before threatened to

kick his; for I have observed very accurately, that no one ever

desires you to kick that which belongs to himself, nor offers to kiss

this part in another.

It may likewise seem surprizing that in the many thousand kind

invitations of this sort, which every one who hath conversed with

country gentlemen must have heard, no one, I believe, hath ever seen a

single instance where the desire hath been complied with;--a great

instance of their want of politeness; for in town nothing can be more

common than for the finest gentlemen to perform this ceremony every

day to their superiors, without having that favour once requested of

them.

To all such wit, Jones very calmly answered, “Sir, this usage may

perhaps cancel every other obligation you have conferred on me; but

there is one you can never cancel; nor will I be provoked by your

abuse to lift my hand against the father of Sophia.”

At these words the squire grew still more outrageous than before; so

that the parson begged Jones to retire; saying, “You behold, sir, how

he waxeth wrath at your abode here; therefore let me pray you not to

tarry any longer. His anger is too much kindled for you to commune

with him at present. You had better, therefore, conclude your visit,

and refer what matters you have to urge in your behalf to some other

opportunity.”

Jones accepted this advice with thanks, and immediately departed. The

squire now regained the liberty of his hands, and so much temper as to

express some satisfaction in the restraint which had been laid upon

him; declaring that he should certainly have beat his brains out; and

adding, “It would have vexed one confoundedly to have been hanged for

such a rascal.”

The parson now began to triumph in the success of his peace-making

endeavours, and proceeded to read a lecture against anger, which might

perhaps rather have tended to raise than to quiet that passion in some

hasty minds. This lecture he enriched with many valuable quotations

from the antients, particularly from Seneca; who hath indeed so well

handled this passion, that none but a very angry man can read him

without great pleasure and profit. The doctor concluded this harangue

with the famous story of Alexander and Clitus; but as I find that

entered in my common-place under title Drunkenness, I shall not insert

it here.

The squire took no notice of this story, nor perhaps of anything he

said; for he interrupted him before he had finished, by calling for a

tankard of beer; observing (which is perhaps as true as any

observation on this fever of the mind) that anger makes a man dry.

No sooner had the squire swallowed a large draught than he renewed the

discourse on Jones, and declared a resolution of going the next

morning early to acquaint Mr Allworthy. His friend would have

dissuaded him from this, from the mere motive of good-nature; but his

dissuasion had no other effect than to produce a large volley of oaths

and curses, which greatly shocked the pious ears of Supple; but he did

not dare to remonstrate against a privilege which the squire claimed

as a freeborn Englishman. To say truth, the parson submitted to please

his palate at the squire's table, at the expense of suffering now and

then this violence to his ears. He contented himself with thinking he

did not promote this evil practice, and that the squire would not

swear an oath the less, if he never entered within his gates. However,

though he was not guilty of ill manners by rebuking a gentleman in his

own house, he paid him off obliquely in the pulpit: which had not,

indeed, the good effect of working a reformation in the squire

himself; yet it so far operated on his conscience, that he put the

laws very severely in execution against others, and the magistrate was

the only person in the parish who could swear with impunity.