Amelia – Complete

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.

Chapter iv. – A dialogue between Booth and Amelia

The next morning early, Booth went by appointment and waited on Colonel James; whence he returned to Amelia in that kind of disposition which the great master of human passion would describe in Andromache, when he tells us she cried and smiled at the same instant.

Amelia plainly perceived the discomposure of his mind, in which the opposite affections of joy and grief were struggling for the superiority, and begged to know the occasion; upon which Booth spoke as follows: —

“My dear,” said he, “I had no intention to conceal from you what hath past this morning between me and the colonel, who hath oppressed me, if I may use that expression, with obligations. Sure never man had such a friend; for never was there so noble, so generous a heart – I cannot help this ebullition of gratitude, I really cannot.” Here he paused a moment, and wiped his eyes, and then proceeded: “You know, my dear, how gloomy the prospect was yesterday before our eyes, how inevitable ruin stared me in the face; and the dreadful idea of having entailed beggary on my Amelia and her posterity racked my mind; for though, by the goodness of the doctor, I had regained my liberty, the debt yet remained; and, if that worthy man had a design of forgiving me his share, this must have been my utmost hope, and the condition in which I must still have found myself need not to be expatiated on. In what light, then, shall I see, in what words shall I relate, the colonel’s kindness? O my dear Amelia! he hath removed the whole gloom at once, hath driven all despair out of my mind, and hath filled it with the most sanguine, and, at the same time, the most reasonable hopes of making a comfortable provision for yourself and my dear children. In the first place, then, he will advance me a sum of money to pay off all my debts; and this on a bond to be repaid only when I shall become colonel of a regiment, and not before. In the next place, he is gone this very morning to ask a company for me, which is now vacant in the West Indies; and, as he intends to push this with all his interest, neither he nor I have any doubt of his success. Now, my dear, comes the third, which, though perhaps it ought to give me the greatest joy, such is, I own, the weakness of my nature, it rends my very heartstrings asunder. I cannot mention it, for I know it will give you equal pain; though I know, on all proper occasions, you can exert a manly resolution. You will not, I am convinced, oppose it, whatever you must suffer in complying. O my dear Amelia! I must suffer likewise; yet I have resolved to bear it. You know not what my poor heart hath suffered since he made the proposal. It is love for you alone which could persuade me to submit to it. Consider our situation; consider that of our children; reflect but on those poor babes, whose future happiness is at stake, and it must arm your resolution. It is your interest and theirs that reconciled me to a proposal which, when the colonel first made it, struck me with the utmost horror; he hath, indeed, from these motives, persuaded me into a resolution which I thought impossible for any one to have persuaded me into. O my dear Amelia! let me entreat you to give me up to the good of your children, as I have promised the colonel to give you up to their interest and your own. If you refuse these terms we are still undone, for he insists absolutely upon them. Think, then, my love, however hard they may be, necessity compels us to submit to them. I know in what light a woman, who loves like you, must consider such a proposal; and yet how many instances have you of women who, from the same motives, have submitted to the same!”

“What can you mean, Mr. Booth?” cries Amelia, trembling.

“Need I explain my meaning to you more?” answered Booth. – “Did I not say I must give up my Amelia?”

“Give me up!” said she.

“For a time only, I mean,” answered he: “for a short time perhaps. The colonel himself will take care it shall not be long – for I know his heart; I shall scarce have more joy in receiving you back than he will have in restoring you to my arms. In the mean time, he will not only be a father to my children, but a husband to you.”

“A husband to me!” said Amelia.

“Yes, my dear; a kind, a fond, a tender, an affectionate husband. If I had not the most certain assurances of this, doth my Amelia think I could be prevailed on to leave her? No, my Amelia, he is the only man on earth who could have prevailed on me; but I know his house, his purse, his protection, will be all at your command. And as for any dislike you have conceived to his wife, let not that be any objection; for I am convinced he will not suffer her to insult you; besides, she is extremely well bred, and, how much soever she may hate you in her heart, she will at least treat you with civility.

“Nay, the invitation is not his, but hers; and I am convinced they will both behave to you with the greatest friendship; his I am sure will be sincere, as to the wife of a friend entrusted to his care; and hers will, from good-breeding, have not only the appearances but the effects of the truest friendship.”

“I understand you, my dear, at last,” said she (indeed she had rambled into very strange conceits from some parts of his discourse); “and I will give you my resolution in a word – I will do the duty of a wife, and that is, to attend her husband wherever he goes.”

Booth attempted to reason with her, but all to no purpose. She gave, indeed, a quiet hearing to all he said, and even to those parts which most displeased her ears; I mean those in which he exaggerated the great goodness and disinterested generosity of his friend; but her resolution remained inflexible, and resisted the force of all his arguments with a steadiness of opposition, which it would have been almost excusable in him to have construed into stubbornness.

The doctor arrived in the midst of the dispute; and, having heard the merits of the cause on both sides, delivered his opinion in the following words.

“I have always thought it, my dear children, a matter of the utmost nicety to interfere in any differences between husband and wife; but, since you both desire me with such earnestness to give you my sentiments on the present contest between you, I will give you my thoughts as well as I am able. In the first place then, can anything be more reasonable than for a wife to desire to attend her husband? It is, as my favourite child observes, no more than a desire to do her duty; and I make no doubt but that is one great reason of her insisting on it. And how can you yourself oppose it? Can love be its own enemy? or can a husband who is fond of his wife, content himself almost on any account with a long absence from her?”

“You speak like an angel, my dear Doctor Harrison,” answered Amelia: “I am sure, if he loved as tenderly as I do, he could on no account submit to it.”

“Pardon me, child,” cries the doctor; “there are some reasons which would not only justify his leaving you, but which must force him, if he hath any real love for you, joined with common sense, to make that election. If it was necessary, for instance, either to your good or to the good of your children, he would not deserve the name of a man, I am sure not that of a husband, if he hesitated a moment. Nay, in that case, I am convinced you yourself would be an advocate for what you now oppose. I fancy therefore I mistook him when I apprehended he said that the colonel made his leaving you behind as the condition of getting him the commission; for I know my dear child hath too much goodness, and too much sense, and too much resolution, to prefer any temporary indulgence of her own passions to the solid advantages of her whole family.”

“There, my dear!” cries Booth; “I knew what opinion the doctor would be of. Nay, I am certain there is not a wise man in the kingdom who would say otherwise.”

“Don’t abuse me, young gentleman,” said the doctor, “with appellations I don’t deserve.”

“I abuse you, my dear doctor!” cries Booth.

“Yes, my dear sir,” answered the doctor; “you insinuated slily that I was wise, which, as the world understands the phrase, I should be ashamed of; and my comfort is that no one can accuse me justly of it. I have just given an instance of the contrary by throwing away my advice.”

“I hope, sir,” cries Booth, “that will not be the case.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the doctor. “I know it will be the case in the present instance, for either you will not go at all, or my little turtle here will go with you.”

“You are in the right, doctor,” cries Amelia.

“I am sorry for it,” said the doctor, “for then I assure you you are in the wrong.”

“Indeed,” cries Amelia, “if you knew all my reasons you would say they were very strong ones.”

“Very probably,” cries the doctor. “The knowledge that they are in the wrong is a very strong reason to some women to continue so.”

“Nay, doctor,” cries Amelia, “you shall never persuade me of that. I will not believe that any human being ever did an action merely because they knew it to be wrong.”

“I am obliged to you, my dear child,” said the doctor, “for declaring your resolution of not being persuaded. Your husband would never call me a wise man again if, after that declaration, I should attempt to persuade you.”

“Well, I must be content,” cries Amelia, “to let you think as you please.”

“That is very gracious, indeed,” said the doctor. “Surely, in a country where the church suffers others to think as they please, it would be very hard if they had not themselves the same liberty. And yet, as unreasonable as the power of controuling men’s thoughts is represented, I will shew you how you shall controul mine whenever you desire it.”

“How, pray?” cries Amelia. “I should greatly esteem that power.”

“Why, whenever you act like a wise woman,” cries the doctor, “you will force me to think you so: and, whenever you are pleased to act as you do now, I shall be obliged, whether I will or no, to think as I do now.”

“Nay, dear doctor,” cries Booth, “I am convinced my Amelia will never do anything to forfeit your good opinion. Consider but the cruel hardship of what she is to undergo, and you will make allowances for the difficulty she makes in complying. To say the truth, when I examine my own heart, I have more obligations to her than appear at first sight; for, by obliging me to find arguments to persuade her, she hath assisted me in conquering myself. Indeed, if she had shewn more resolution, I should have shewn less.”

“So you think it necessary, then,” said the doctor, “that there should be one fool at least in every married couple. A mighty resolution, truly! and well worth your valuing yourself upon, to part with your wife for a few months in order to make the fortune of her and your children; when you are to leave her, too, in the care and protection of a friend that gives credit to the old stories of friendship, and doth an honour to human nature. What, in the name of goodness! do either of you think that you have made an union to endure for ever? How will either of you bear that separation which must, some time or other, and perhaps very soon, be the lot of one of you? Have you forgot that you are both mortal? As for Christianity, I see you have resigned all pretensions to it; for I make no doubt but that you have so set your hearts on the happiness you enjoy here together, that neither of you ever think a word of hereafter.”

Amelia now burst into tears; upon which Booth begged the doctor to proceed no farther. Indeed, he would not have wanted the caution; for, however blunt he appeared in his discourse, he had a tenderness of heart which is rarely found among men; for which I know no other reason than that true goodness is rarely found among them; for I am firmly persuaded that the latter never possessed any human mind in any degree, without being attended by as large a portion of the former.

Thus ended the conversation on this subject; what followed is not worth relating, till the doctor carried off Booth with him to take a walk in the Park.

Chapter v. – A conversation between Amelia and Dr Harrison, with the result

Amelia, being left alone, began to consider seriously of her condition; she saw it would be very difficult to resist the importunities of her husband, backed by the authority of the doctor, especially as she well knew how unreasonable her declarations must appear to every one who was ignorant of her real motives to persevere in it. On the other hand, she was fully determined, whatever might be the consequence, to adhere firmly to her resolution of not accepting the colonel’s invitation.

When she had turned the matter every way in her mind, and vexed and tormented herself with much uneasy reflexion upon it, a thought at last occurred to her which immediately brought her some comfort. This was, to make a confidant of the doctor, and to impart to him the whole truth. This method, indeed, appeared to her now to be so adviseable, that she wondered she had not hit upon it sooner; but it is the nature of despair to blind us to all the means of safety, however easy and apparent they may be.

Having fixed her purpose in her mind, she wrote a short note to the doctor, in which she acquainted him that she had something of great moment to impart to him, which must be an entire secret from her husband, and begged that she might have an opportunity of communicating it as soon as possible.