Генри Филдинг
Amelia – Complete
VOL. III
BOOK IX
Chapter i. – In which the history looks backwards
Before we proceed farther with our history it may be proper to look back a little, in order to account for the late conduct of Doctor Harrison; which, however inconsistent it may have hitherto appeared, when examined to the bottom will be found, I apprehend, to be truly congruous with all the rules of the most perfect prudence as well as with the most consummate goodness.
We have already partly seen in what light Booth had been represented to the doctor abroad. Indeed, the accounts which were sent of the captain, as well by the curate as by a gentleman of the neighbourhood, were much grosser and more to his disadvantage than the doctor was pleased to set them forth in his letter to the person accused. What sense he had of Booth’s conduct was, however, manifest by that letter. Nevertheless, he resolved to suspend his final judgment till his return; and, though he censured him, would not absolutely condemn him without ocular demonstration.
The doctor, on his return to his parish, found all the accusations which had been transmitted to him confirmed by many witnesses, of which the curate’s wife, who had been formerly a friend to Amelia, and still preserved the outward appearance of friendship, was the strongest. She introduced all with – “I am sorry to say it; and it is friendship which bids me speak; and it is for their good it should be told you.” After which beginnings she never concluded a single speech without some horrid slander and bitter invective.
Besides the malicious turn which was given to these affairs in the country, which were owing a good deal to misfortune, and some little perhaps to imprudence, the whole neighbourhood rung with several gross and scandalous lies, which were merely the inventions of his enemies, and of which the scene was laid in London since his absence.
Poisoned with all this malice, the doctor came to town; and, learning where Booth lodged, went to make him a visit. Indeed, it was the doctor, and no other, who had been at his lodgings that evening when Booth and Amelia were walking in the Park, and concerning which the reader may be pleased to remember so many strange and odd conjectures.
Here the doctor saw the little gold watch and all those fine trinkets with which the noble lord had presented the children, and which, from the answers given him by the poor ignorant, innocent girl, he could have no doubt had been purchased within a few days by Amelia.
This account tallied so well with the ideas he had imbibed of Booth’s extravagance in the country, that he firmly believed both the husband and wife to be the vainest, silliest, and most unjust people alive. It was, indeed, almost incredible that two rational beings should be guilty of such absurdity; but, monstrous and absurd as it was, ocular demonstration appeared to be the evidence against them.
The doctor departed from their lodgings enraged at this supposed discovery, and, unhappily for Booth, was engaged to supper that very evening with the country gentleman of whom Booth had rented a farm. As the poor captain happened to be the subject of conversation, and occasioned their comparing notes, the account which the doctor gave of what he had seen that evening so incensed the gentleman, to whom Booth was likewise a debtor, that he vowed he would take a writ out against him the next morning, and have his body alive or dead; and the doctor was at last persuaded to do the same. Mr. Murphy was thereupon immediately sent for; and the doctor in his presence repeated again what he had seen at his lodgings as the foundation of his suing him, which the attorney, as we have before seen, had blabbed to Atkinson.
But no sooner did the doctor hear that Booth was arrested than the wretched condition of his wife and family began to affect his mind. The children, who were to be utterly undone with their father, were intirely innocent; and as for Amelia herself, though he thought he had most convincing proofs of very blameable levity, yet his former friendship and affection to her were busy to invent every excuse, till, by very heavily loading the husband, they lightened the suspicion against the wife.
In this temper of mind he resolved to pay Amelia a second visit, and was on his way to Mrs. Ellison when the serjeant met him and made himself known to him. The doctor took his old servant into a coffee-house, where he received from him such an account of Booth and his family, that he desired the serjeant to shew him presently to Amelia; and this was the cordial which we mentioned at the end of the ninth chapter of the preceding book.
The doctor became soon satisfied concerning the trinkets which had given him so much uneasiness, and which had brought so much mischief on the head of poor Booth. Amelia likewise gave the doctor some satisfaction as to what he had heard of her husband’s behaviour in the country; and assured him, upon her honour, that Booth could so well answer every complaint against his conduct, that she had no doubt but that a man of the doctor’s justice and candour would entirely acquit him, and would consider him as an innocent unfortunate man, who was the object of a good man’s compassion, not of his anger or resentment.
This worthy clergyman, who was not desirous of finding proofs to condemn the captain or to justify his own vindictive proceedings, but, on the contrary, rejoiced heartily in every piece of evidence which tended to clear up the character of his friend, gave a ready ear to all which Amelia said. To this, indeed, he was induced by the love he always had for that lady, by the good opinion he entertained of her, as well as by pity for her present condition, than which nothing appeared more miserable; for he found her in the highest agonies of grief and despair, with her two little children crying over their wretched mother. These are, indeed, to a well-disposed mind, the most tragical sights that human nature can furnish, and afford a juster motive to grief and tears in the beholder than it would be to see all the heroes who have ever infested the earth hanged all together in a string.
The doctor felt this sight as he ought. He immediately endeavoured to comfort the afflicted; in which he so well succeeded, that he restored to Amelia sufficient spirits to give him the satisfaction we have mentioned: after which he declared he would go and release her husband, which he accordingly did in the manner we have above related.
Chapter ii. – In which the history goes forward
We now return to that period of our history to which we had brought it at the end of our last book.
Booth and his friends arrived from the bailiff’s, at the serjeant’s lodgings, where Booth immediately ran up-stairs to his Amelia; between whom I shall not attempt to describe the meeting. Nothing certainly was ever more tender or more joyful. This, however, I will observe, that a very few of these exquisite moments, of which the best minds only are capable, do in reality over-balance the longest enjoyments which can ever fall to the lot of the worst.
Whilst Booth and his wife were feasting their souls with the most delicious mutual endearments, the doctor was fallen to play with the two little children below-stairs. While he was thus engaged the little boy did somewhat amiss; upon which the doctor said, “If you do so any more I will take your papa away from you again.” – “Again! sir,” said the child; “why, was it you then that took away my papa before?” “Suppose it was,” said the doctor; “would not you forgive me?” “Yes,” cries the child, “I would forgive you; because a Christian must forgive everybody; but I should hate you as long as I live.”
The doctor was so pleased with the boy’s answer, that he caught him in his arms and kissed him; at which time Booth and his wife returned. The doctor asked which of them was their son’s instructor in his religion; Booth answered that he must confess Amelia had all the merit of that kind. “I should have rather thought he had learnt of his father,” cries the doctor; “for he seems a good soldier-like Christian, and professes to hate his enemies with a very good grace.”
“How, Billy!” cries Amelia. “I am sure I did not teach you so.”
“I did not say I would hate my enemies, madam,” cries the boy; “I only said I would hate papa’s enemies. Sure, mamma, there is no harm in that; nay, I am sure there is no harm in it, for I have heard you say the same thing a thousand times.”
The doctor smiled on the child, and, chucking him under the chin, told him he must hate nobody 5 and now Mrs. Atkinson, who had provided a dinner for them all, desired them to walk up and partake of it.
And now it was that Booth was first made acquainted with the serjeant’s marriage, as was Dr Harrison; both of whom greatly felicitated him upon it.
Mrs. Atkinson, who was, perhaps, a little more confounded than she would have been had she married a colonel, said, “If I have done wrong, Mrs. Booth is to answer for it, for she made the match; indeed, Mr. Atkinson, you are greatly obliged to the character which this lady gives of you.” “I hope he will deserve it,” said the doctor; “and, if the army hath not corrupted a good boy, I believe I may answer for him.”
While our little company were enjoying that happiness which never fails to attend conversation where all present are pleased with each other, a visitant arrived who was, perhaps, not very welcome to any of them. This was no other than Colonel James, who, entering the room with much gaiety, went directly up to Booth, embraced him, and expressed great satisfaction at finding him there; he then made an apology for not attending him in the morning, which he said had been impossible; and that he had, with the utmost difficulty, put off some business of great consequence in order to serve him this afternoon; “but I am glad on your account,” cried he to Booth, “that my presence was not necessary.”
Booth himself was extremely satisfied with this declaration, and failed not to return him as many thanks as he would have deserved had he performed his promise; but the two ladies were not quite so well satisfied. As for the serjeant, he had slipt out of the room when the colonel entered, not entirely out of that bashfulness which we have remarked him to be tainted with, but indeed, from what had past in the morning, he hated the sight of the colonel as well on the account of his wife as on that of his friend.
The doctor, on the contrary, on what he had formerly heard from both Amelia and her husband of the colonel’s generosity and friendship, had built so good an opinion of him, that he was very much pleased with seeing him, and took the first opportunity of telling him so. “Colonel,” said the doctor, “I have not the happiness of being known to you; but I have long been desirous of an acquaintance with a gentleman in whose commendation I have heard so much from some present.” The colonel made a proper answer to this compliment, and they soon entered into a familiar conversation together; for the doctor was not difficult of access; indeed, he held the strange reserve which is usually practised in this nation between people who are in any degree strangers to each other to be very unbecoming the Christian character.
The two ladies soon left the room; and the remainder of the visit, which was not very long, past in discourse on various common subjects, not worth recording. In the conclusion, the colonel invited Booth and his lady, and the doctor, to dine with him the next day.
To give Colonel James his due commendation, he had shewn a great command of himself and great presence of mind on this occasion; for, to speak the plain truth, the visit was intended to Amelia alone; nor did he expect, or perhaps desire, anything less than to find the captain at home. The great joy which he suddenly conveyed into his countenance at the unexpected sight of his friend is to be attributed to that noble art which is taught in those excellent schools called the several courts of Europe. By this, men are enabled to dress out their countenances as much at their own pleasure as they do their bodies, and to put on friendship with as much ease as they can a laced coat.
When the colonel and doctor were gone, Booth acquainted Amelia with the invitation he had received. She was so struck with the news, and betrayed such visible marks of confusion and uneasiness, that they could not have escaped Booth’s observation had suspicion given him the least hint to remark; but this, indeed, is the great optic-glass helping us to discern plainly almost all that passes in the minds of others, without some use of which nothing is more purblind than human nature.
Amelia, having recovered from her first perturbation, answered, “My dear, I will dine with you wherever you please to lay your commands on me.” “I am obliged to you, my dear soul,” cries Booth; “your obedience shall be very easy, for my command will be that you shall always follow your own inclinations.” “My inclinations,” answered she, “would, I am afraid, be too unreasonable a confinement to you; for they would always lead me to be with you and your children, with at most a single friend or two now and then.” “O my dear!” replied he, “large companies give us a greater relish for our own society when we return to it; and we shall be extremely merry, for Doctor Harrison dines with us.” “I hope you will, my dear,” cries she; “but I own I should have been better pleased to have enjoyed a few days with yourself and the children, with no other person but Mrs. Atkinson, for whom I have conceived a violent affection, and who would have given us but little interruption. However, if you have promised, I must undergo the penance.” “Nay, child,” cried he, “I am sure I would have refused, could I have guessed it had been in the least disagreeable to you though I know your objection.” “Objection!” cries Amelia eagerly “I have no objection.” “Nay, nay,” said he, “come, be honest, I know your objection, though you are unwilling to own it.” “Good Heavens!” cryed Amelia, frightened, “what do you mean? what objection?” “Why,” answered he, “to the company of Mrs. James; and I must confess she hath not behaved to you lately as you might have expected; but you ought to pass all that by for the sake of her husband, to whom we have both so many obligations, who is the worthiest, honestest, and most generous fellow in the universe, and the best friend to me that ever man had.”
Amelia, who had far other suspicions, and began to fear that her husband had discovered them, was highly pleased when she saw him taking a wrong scent. She gave, therefore, a little in to the deceit, and acknowledged the truth of what he had mentioned; but said that the pleasure she should have in complying with his desires would highly recompense any dissatisfaction which might arise on any other account; and shortly after ended the conversation on this subject with her chearfully promising to fulfil his promise.
In reality, poor Amelia had now a most unpleasant task to undertake; for she thought it absolutely necessary to conceal from her husband the opinion she had conceived of the colonel. For, as she knew the characters, as well of her husband as of his friend, or rather enemy (both being often synonymous in the language of the world), she had the utmost reason to apprehend something very fatal might attend her husband’s entertaining the same thought of James which filled and tormented her own breast.
And, as she knew that nothing but these thoughts could justify the least unkind, or, indeed, the least reserved behaviour to James, who had, in all appearance, conferred the greatest obligations upon Booth and herself, she was reduced to a dilemma the most dreadful that can attend a virtuous woman, as it often gives the highest triumph, and sometimes no little advantage, to the men of professed gallantry.
In short, to avoid giving any umbrage to her husband, Amelia was forced to act in a manner which she was conscious must give encouragement to the colonel; a situation which perhaps requires as great prudence and delicacy as any in which the heroic part of the female character can be exerted.
Chapter iii. – A conversation between Dr Harrison and others
The next day Booth and his lady, with the doctor, met at Colonel James’s, where Colonel Bath likewise made one of the company.
Nothing very remarkable passed at dinner, or till the ladies withdrew. During this time, however, the behaviour of Colonel James was such as gave some uneasiness to Amelia, who well understood his meaning, though the particulars were too refined and subtle to be observed by any other present.
When the ladies were gone, which was as soon as Amelia could prevail on Mrs. James to depart, Colonel Bath, who had been pretty brisk with champagne at dinner, soon began to display his magnanimity. “My brother tells me, young gentleman,” said he to Booth, “that you have been used very ill lately by some rascals, and I have no doubt but you will do yourself justice.”
Booth answered that he did not know what he meant. “Since I must mention it then,” cries the colonel, “I hear you have been arrested; and I think you know what satisfaction is to be required by a man of honour.”
“I beg, sir,” says the doctor, “no more may be mentioned of that matter. I am convinced no satisfaction will be required of the captain till he is able to give it.”
“I do not understand what you mean by able,” cries the colonel. To which the doctor answered, “That it was of too tender a nature to speak more of.”
“Give me your hand, doctor,” cries the colonel; “I see you are a man of honour, though you wear a gown. It is, as you say, a matter of a tender nature. Nothing, indeed, is so tender as a man’s honour. Curse my liver, if any man – I mean, that is, if any gentleman, was to arrest me, I would as surely cut his throat as – ”
“How, sir!” said the doctor, “would you compensate one breach of the law by a much greater, and pay your debts by committing murder?”
“Why do you mention law between gentlemen?” says the colonel. “A man of honour wears his law by his side; and can the resentment of an affront make a gentleman guilty of murder? and what greater affront can one man cast upon another than by arresting him? I am convinced that he who would put up an arrest would put up a slap in the face.”
Here the colonel looked extremely fierce, and the divine stared with astonishment at this doctrine; when Booth, who well knew the impossibility of opposing the colonel’s humour with success, began to play with it; and, having first conveyed a private wink to the doctor, he said there might be cases undoubtedly where such an affront ought to be resented; but that there were others where any resentment was impracticable: “As, for instance,” said he, “where the man is arrested by a woman.”
“I could not be supposed to mean that case,” cries the colonel; “and you are convinced I did not mean it.”
“To put an end to this discourse at once, sir,” said the doctor, “I was the plaintiff at whose suit this gentleman was arrested.”
“Was you so, sir?” cries the colonel; “then I have no more to say. Women and the clergy are upon the same footing. The long-robed gentry are exempted from the laws of honour.”
“I do not thank you for that exemption, sir,” cries the doctor; “and, if honour and fighting are, as they seem to be, synonymous words with you, I believe there are some clergymen, who in defence of their religion, or their country, or their friend, the only justifiable causes of fighting, except bare self-defence, would fight as bravely as yourself, colonel! and that without being paid for it.”
“Sir, you are privileged,” says the colonel, with great dignity; “and you have my leave to say what you please. I respect your order, and you cannot offend me.”
“I will not offend you, colonel,” cries the doctor; “and our order is very much obliged to you, since you profess so much respect to us, and pay none to our Master.”
“What Master, sir?” said the colonel.
“That Master,” answered the doctor, “who hath expressly forbidden all that cutting of throats to which you discover so much inclination.”
“O! your servant, sir,” said the colonel; “I see what you are driving at; but you shall not persuade me to think that religion forces me to be a coward.”
“I detest and despise the name as much as you can,” cries the doctor; “but you have a wrong idea of the word, colonel. What were all the Greeks and Romans? were these cowards? and yet, did you ever hear of this butchery, which we call duelling, among them?”
“Yes, indeed, have I,” cries the colonel. “What else is all Mr. Pope’s Homer full of but duels? Did not what’s his name, one of the Agamemnons, fight with that paultry rascal Paris? and Diomede with what d’ye call him there? and Hector with I forget his name, he that was Achilles’s bosom-friend; and afterwards with Achilles himself? Nay, and in Dryden’s Virgil, is there anything almost besides fighting?”
“You are a man of learning, colonel,” cries the doctor; “but – ”
“I thank you for that compliment,” said the colonel. – “No, sir, I do not pretend to learning; but I have some little reading, and I am not ashamed to own it.”
“But are you sure, colonel,” cries the doctor, “that you have not made a small mistake? for I am apt to believe both Mr. Pope and Mr. Dryden (though I cannot say I ever read a word of either of them) speak of wars between nations, and not of private duels; for of the latter I do not remember one single instance in all the Greek and Roman story. In short, it is a modern custom, introduced by barbarous nations since the times of Christianity; though it is a direct and audacious defiance of the Christian law, and is consequently much more sinful in us than it would have been in the heathens.”
“Drink about, doctor,” cries the colonel; “and let us call a new cause; for I perceive we shall never agree on this. You are a Churchman, and I don’t expect you to speak your mind.”
“We are both of the same Church, I hope,” cries the doctor.
“I am of the Church of England, sir,” answered the colonel, “and will fight for it to the last drop of my blood.”
“It is very generous in you, colonel,” cries the doctor, “to fight so zealously for a religion by which you are to be damned.”
“It is well for you, doctor,” cries the colonel, “that you wear a gown; for, by all the dignity of a man, if any other person had said the words you have just uttered, I would have made him eat them; ay, d – n me, and my sword into the bargain.”
Booth began to be apprehensive that this dispute might grow too warm; in which case he feared that the colonel’s honour, together with the champagne, might hurry him so far as to forget the respect due, and which he professed to pay, to the sacerdotal robe. Booth therefore interposed between the disputants, and said that the colonel had very rightly proposed to call a new subject; for that it was impossible to reconcile accepting a challenge with the Christian religion, or refusing it with the modern notion of honour. “And you must allow it, doctor,” said he, “to be a very hard injunction for a man to become infamous; and more especially for a soldier, who is to lose his bread into the bargain.”
“Ay, sir,” says the colonel, with an air of triumph, “what say you to that?”
“Why, I say,” cries the doctor, “that it is much harder to be damned on the other side.”
“That may be,” said the colonel; “but damn me, if I would take an affront of any man breathing, for all that. And yet I believe myself to be as good a Christian as wears a head. My maxim is, never to give an affront, nor ever to take one; and I say that it is the maxim of a good Christian, and no man shall ever persuade me to the contrary.”
“Well, sir,” said the doctor, “since that is your resolution, I hope no man will ever give you an affront.”
“I am obliged to you for your hope, doctor,” cries the colonel, with a sneer; “and he that doth will be obliged to you for lending him your gown; for, by the dignity of a man, nothing out of petticoats, I believe, dares affront me.”
Colonel James had not hitherto joined in the discourse. In truth, his thoughts had been otherwise employed; nor is it very difficult for the reader to guess what had been the subject of them. Being waked, however, from his reverie, and having heard the two or three last speeches, he turned to his brother, and asked him, why he would introduce such a topic of conversation before a gentleman of Doctor Harrison’s character?
“Brother,” cried Bath, “I own it was wrong, and I ask the doctor’s pardon: I know not how it happened to arise; for you know, brother, I am not used to talk of these matters. They are generally poltroons that do. I think I need not be beholden to my tongue to declare I am none. I have shown myself in a line of battle. I believe there is no man will deny that; I believe I may say no man dares deny that I have done my duty.”
The colonel was thus proceeding to prove that his prowess was neither the subject of his discourse nor the object of his vanity, when a servant entered and summoned the company to tea with the ladies; a summons which Colonel James instantly obeyed, and was followed by all the rest.
But as the tea-table conversation, though extremely delightful to those who are engaged in it, may probably appear somewhat dull to the reader, we will here put an end to the chapter.
