_ Chapter IV - Consequences of the masquerade.
When Booth rose in the morning he found in his pocket that letter
which had been delivered to him by Colonel Bath, which, had not chance
brought to his remembrance, he might possibly have never recollected.
He had now, however, the curiosity to open the letter, and beginning
to read it, the matter of it drew him on till he perused the whole;
for, notwithstanding the contempt cast upon it by those learned
critics the bucks, neither the subject nor the manner in which it was
treated was altogether contemptible.
But there was still another motive which induced Booth to read the
whole letter, and this was, that he presently thought he knew the
hand. He did, indeed, immediately conclude it was Dr Harrison; for the
doctor wrote a very remarkable one, and this letter contained all the
particularities of the doctor's character.
He had just finished a second reading of this letter when the doctor
himself entered the room. The good man was impatient to know the
success of Amelia's stratagem, for he bore towards her all that love
which esteem can create in a good mind, without the assistance of
those selfish considerations from which the love of wives and children
may be ordinarily deduced. The latter of which, Nature, by very subtle
and refined reasoning, suggests to us to be part of our dear selves;
and the former, as long as they remain the objects of our liking, that
same Nature is furnished with very plain and fertile arguments to
recommend to our affections. But to raise that affection in the human
breast which the doctor had for Amelia, Nature is forced to use a kind
of logic which is no more understood by a bad man than Sir Isaac
Newton's doctrine of colours is by one born blind. And yet in reality
it contains nothing more abstruse than this, that an injury is the
object of anger, danger of fear, and praise of vanity; for in the same
simple manner it may be asserted that goodness is the object of love.
The doctor enquired immediately for his child (for so he often called
Amelia); Booth answered that he had left her asleep, for that she had
had but a restless night. "I hope she is not disordered by the
masquerade," cries the doctor. Booth answered he believed she would be
very well when she waked. "I fancy," said he, "her gentle spirits were
a little too much fluttered last night; that is all."
"I hope, then," said the doctor, "you will never more insist on her
going to such places, but know your own happiness in having a wife
that hath the discretion to avoid those places; which, though perhaps
they may not be as some represent them, such brothels of vice and
debauchery as would impeach the character of every virtuous woman who
was seen at them, are certainly, however, scenes of riot, disorder,
and intemperance, very improper to be frequented by a chaste and sober
Christian matron."
Booth declared that he was very sensible of his error, and that, so
far from soliciting his wife to go to another masquerade, he did not
intend ever to go thither any more himself.
The doctor highly approved the resolution; and then Booth said, "And I
thank you, my dear friend, as well as my wife's discretion, that she
was not at the masquerade last night." He then related to the doctor
the discovery of the plot; and the good man was greatly pleased with
the success of the stratagem, and that Booth took it in such good
part.
"But, sir," says Booth, "I had a letter given me by a noble colonel
there, which is written in a hand so very like yours, that I could
almost swear to it. Nor is the stile, as far as I can guess, unlike
your own. Here it is, sir. Do you own the letter, doctor, or do you
not?"
The doctor took the letter, and, having looked at it a moment, said,
"And did the colonel himself give you this letter?"
"The colonel himself," answered Booth.
"Why then," cries the doctor, "he is surely the most impudent fellow
that the world ever produced. What! did he deliver it with an air of
triumph?"
"He delivered it me with air enough," cries Booth, "after his own
manner, and bid me read it for my edification. To say the truth, I am
a little surprized that he should single me out of all mankind to
deliver the letter to; I do not think I deserve the character of such
a husband. It is well I am not so very forward to take an affront as
some folks."
"I am glad to see you are not," said the doctor; "and your behaviour
in this affair becomes both the man of sense and the Christian; for it
would be surely the greatest folly, as well as the most daring
impiety, to risque your own life for the impertinence of a fool. As
long as you are assured of the virtue of your own wife, it is wisdom
in you to despise the efforts of such a wretch. Not, indeed, that your
wife accuses him of any downright attack, though she hath observed
enough in his behaviour to give offence to her delicacy."
"You astonish me, doctor," said Booth. "What can you mean? my wife
dislike his behaviour! hath the colonel ever offended her?"
"I do not say he hath ever offended her by any open declarations; nor
hath he done anything which, according to the most romantic notion of
honour, you can or ought to resent; but there is something extremely
nice in the chastity of a truly virtuous woman."
"And hath my wife really complained of anything of that kind in the
colonel?"
"Look ye, young gentleman," cries the doctor; "I will have no
quarrelling or challenging; I find I have made some mistake, and
therefore I insist upon it by all the rights of friendship, that you
give me your word of honour you will not quarrel with the colonel on
this account."
"I do, with all my heart," said Booth; "for, if I did not know your
character, I should absolutely think you was jesting with me. I do not
think you have mistaken my wife, but I am sure she hath mistaken the
colonel, and hath misconstrued some over-strained point of gallantry,
something of the Quixote kind, into a design against her chastity; but
I have that opinion of the colonel, that I hope you will not be
offended when I declare I know not which of you two I should be the
sooner jealous of."
"I would by no means have you jealous of any one," cries the doctor;
"for I think my child's virtue may be firmly relied on; but I am
convinced she would not have said what she did to me without a cause;
nor should I, without such a conviction, have written that letter to
the colonel, as I own to you I did. However, nothing I say hath yet
past which, even in the opinion of false honour, you are at liberty to
resent! but as to declining any great intimacy, if you will take my
advice, I think that would be prudent."
"You will pardon me, my dearest friend," said Booth, "but I have
really such an opinion of the colonel that I would pawn my life upon
his honour; and as for women, I do not believe he ever had an
attachment to any."
"Be it so," said the doctor: "I have only two things to insist on. The
first is, that, if ever you change your opinion, this letter may not
be the subject of any quarrelling or fighting: the other is, that you
never mention a word of this to your wife. By the latter I shall see
whether you can keep a secret; and, if it is no otherwise material, it
will be a wholesome exercise to your mind; for the practice of any
virtue is a kind of mental exercise, and serves to maintain the health
and vigour of the soul."
"I faithfully promise both," cries Booth. And now the breakfast
entered the room, as did soon after Amelia and Mrs. Atkinson.
The conversation ran chiefly on the masquerade; and Mrs. Atkinson gave
an account of several adventures there; but whether she told the whole
truth with regard to herself I will not determine, for, certain it is,
she never once mentioned the name of the noble peer. Amongst the rest,
she said there was a young fellow that had preached a sermon there
upon a stool, in praise of adultery, she believed; for she could not
get near enough to hear the particulars.
During that transaction Booth had been engaged with the blue domino in
another room, so that he knew nothing of it; so that what Mrs.
Atkinson had now said only brought to his mind the doctor's letter to
Colonel Bath, for to him he supposed it was written; and the idea of
the colonel being a lover to Amelia struck him in so ridiculous a
light, that it threw him into a violent fit of laughter.
The doctor, who, from the natural jealousy of an author, imputed the
agitation of Booth's muscles to his own sermon or letter on that
subject, was a little offended, and said gravely, "I should be glad to
know the reason of this immoderate mirth. Is adultery a matter of jest
in your opinion?"
"Far otherwise," answered Booth. "But how is it possible to refrain
from laughter at the idea of a fellow preaching a sermon in favour of
it at such a place?"
"I am very sorry," cries the doctor, "to find the age is grown to so
scandalous a degree of licentiousness, that we have thrown off not
only virtue, but decency. How abandoned must be the manners of any
nation where such insults upon religion and morality can be committed
with impunity! No man is fonder of true wit and humour than myself;
but to profane sacred things with jest and scoffing is a sure sign of
a weak and a wicked mind. It is the very vice which Homer attacks in
the odious character of Thersites. The ladies must excuse my repeating
the passage to you, as I know you have Greek enough to understand
it:--
Os rh' epea phresin esin akosma te, polla te ede
Maps, atar ou kata kosmon epizemenai basileusin,
All'o, ti oi eisaito geloiton Argeiosin
Emmenai
[Footnote: Thus paraphrased by Mr. Pope:
"Awed by no shame, by no respect controll'd,
In scandal busy, in reproaches bold,
With witty malice, studious to defame,
Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim."]
And immediately adds,
----aiskistos de aner ypo Ilion elthe
[Footnote: "He was the greatest scoundrel in the whole army."]
"Horace, again, describes such a rascal:
----Solutos
Qui captat risus hominum famamque dicacis,
[Footnote: "Who trivial bursts of laughter strives to raise,
And courts of prating petulance the praise."--FRANCIS.]
and says of him,
Hic niger est, hunc tu, Romane, caveto."
[Footnote: "This man is black; do thou, O Roman! shun this man."]
"O charming Homer!" said Mrs. Atkinson, "how much above all other
writers!"
"I ask your pardon, madam," said the doctor; "I forgot you was a
scholar; but, indeed, I did not know you understood Greek as well as
Latin."
"I do not pretend," said she, "to be a critic in the Greek; but I
think I am able to read a little of Homer, at least with the help of
looking now and then into the Latin."
"Pray, madam," said the doctor, "how do you like this passage in the
speech of Hector to Andromache:
----Eis oikon iousa ta sautes erga komize,
Iston t elakaten te, kai amphipoloisi keleue
Ergon epoichesthai?
[Footnote: "Go home and mind your own business. Follow your
spinning, and keep your maids to their work."]
"Or how do you like the character of Hippodamia, who, by being the
prettiest girl and best workwoman of her age, got one of the best
husbands in all Troy?--I think, indeed, Homer enumerates her
discretion with her other qualifications; but I do not remember he
gives us one character of a woman of learning.--Don't you conceive
this to be a great omission in that who, by being the prettiest girl
and best workwoman of her age, got one of the best husbands in all
Troy?---I think, indeed, Homer enumerates her discretion with her
other qualifications; but I do not remember Don't you conceive this to
be a great omission in that charming poet? However, Juvenal makes you
amends, for he talks very abundantly of the learning of the Roman
ladies in his time."
"You are a provoking man, doctor," said Mrs. Atkinson; "where is the
harm in a woman's having learning as well as a man?"
"Let me ask you another question," said the doctor. "Where is the harm
in a man's being a fine performer with a needle as well as a woman?
And yet, answer me honestly; would you greatly chuse to marry a man
with a thimble upon his finger? Would you in earnest think a needle
became the hand of your husband as well as a halberd?"
"As to war, I am with you," said she. "Homer himself, I well remember,
makes Hector tell his wife that warlike works--what is the Greek word
--Pollemy--something--belonged to men only; and I readily agree to it.
I hate a masculine woman, an Amazon, as much as you can do; but what
is there masculine in learning?"
"Nothing so masculine, take my word for it. As for your Pollemy, I
look upon it to be the true characteristic of a devil. So Homer
everywhere characterizes Mars."
"Indeed, my dear," cries the serjeant, "you had better not dispute
with the doctor; for, upon my word, he will be too hard for you."
"Nay, I beg _you_ will not interfere," cries Mrs. Atkinson; "I am sure
_you_ can be no judge in these matters."
At which the doctor and Booth burst into a loud laugh; and Amelia,
though fearful of giving her friend offence, could not forbear a
gentle smile.
"You may laugh, gentlemen, if you please," said Mrs. Atkinson; "but I
thank Heaven I have married a man who is not jealous of my
understanding. I should have been the most miserable woman upon earth
with a starched pedant who was possessed of that nonsensical opinion
that the difference of sexes causes any difference in the mind. Why
don't you honestly avow the Turkish notion that women have no souls?
for you say the same thing in effect."
"Indeed, my dear," cries the serjeant, greatly concerned to see his
wife so angry, "you have mistaken the doctor."
"I beg, my dear," cried she, "_you_ will say nothing upon these
subjects--I hope _you_ at least do not despise my understanding."
"I assure you, I do not," said the serjeant; "and I hope you will
never despise mine; for a man may have some understanding, I hope,
without learning."
Mrs. Atkinson reddened extremely at these words; and the doctor,
fearing he had gone too far, began to soften matters, in which Amelia
assisted him. By these means, the storm rising in Mrs. Atkinson before
was in some measure laid, at least suspended from bursting at present;
but it fell afterwards upon the poor serjeant's head in a torrent, who
had learned perhaps one maxim from his trade, that a cannon-ball
always doth mischief in proportion to the resistance it meets with,
and that nothing so effectually deadens its force as a woolpack. The
serjeant therefore bore all with patience; and the idea of a woolpack,
perhaps, bringing that of a feather-bed into his head, he at last not
only quieted his wife, but she cried out with great sincerity, "Well,
my dear, I will say one thing for you, that I believe from my soul,
though you have no learning, you have the best understanding of any
man upon earth; and I must own I think the latter far the more
profitable of the two."
Far different was the idea she entertained of the doctor, whom, from
this day, she considered as a conceited pedant; nor could all Amelia's
endeavours ever alter her sentiments.
The doctor now took his leave of Booth and his wife for a week, he
intending to set out within an hour or two with his old friend, with
whom our readers were a little acquainted at the latter end of the
ninth book, and of whom, perhaps, they did not then conceive the most
favourable opinion.
Nay, I am aware that the esteem which some readers before had for the
doctor may be here lessened; since he may appear to have been too easy
a dupe to the gross flattery of the old gentleman. If there be any
such critics, we are heartily sorry, as well for them as for the
doctor; but it is our business to discharge the part of a faithful
historian, and to describe human nature as it is, not as we would wish
it to be. _