To deny the existence of a passion of which we often
see manifest instances, seems to be very strange and
absurd; and can indeed proceed only from that self-admonition
which we have mentioned above: but how unfair
is this! Doth the man who recognizes in his own
heart no traces of avarice or ambition, conclude,
therefore, that there are no such passions in human
nature? Why will we not modestly observe the same
rule in judging of the good, as well as the evil of
others? Or why, in any case, will we, as Shakespear
phrases it, “put the world in our own person?”
Predominant vanity is, I am afraid, too much concerned
here. This is one instance of that adulation
which we bestow on our own minds, and this almost
universally. For there is scarce any man, how
much soever he may despise the character of a flatterer,
but will condescend in the meanest manner to flatter
himself.
To those therefore I apply for the truth of the above
observations, whose own minds can bear testimony to
what I have advanced.
Examine your heart, my good reader, and resolve whether
you do believe these matters with me. If you
do, you may now proceed to their exemplification in
the following pages: if you do not, you have,
I assure you, already read more than you have understood;
and it would be wiser to pursue your business, or
your pleasures (such as they are), than to throw away
any more of your time in reading what you can neither
taste nor comprehend. To treat of the effects
of love to you, must be as absurd as to discourse
on colours to a man born blind; since possibly your
idea of love may be as absurd as that which we are
told such blind man once entertained of the colour
scarlet; that colour seemed to him to be very much
like the sound of a trumpet: and love probably
may, in your opinion, very greatly resemble a dish
of soup, or a surloin of roast-beef.
The character of Mrs Western. Her great learning
and knowledge of the world, and an instance of the
deep penetration which she derived from those advantages.
The reader hath seen Mr Western, his sister, and daughter,
with young Jones, and the parson, going together to
Mr Western’s house, where the greater part of
the company spent the evening with much joy and festivity.
Sophia was indeed the only grave person; for as to
Jones, though love had now gotten entire possession
of his heart, yet the pleasing reflection on Mr Allworthy’s
recovery, and the presence of his mistress, joined
to some tender looks which she now and then could
not refrain from giving him, so elevated our heroe,
that he joined the mirth of the other three, who were
perhaps as good-humoured people as any in the world.
