Caiet Seminar Lit.engl. 1.2_20.02 2016 for Students

8/19/2019 Caiet Seminar Lit.engl. 1.2_20.02 2016 for Students

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Culea Mihaela

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ROMÂNIA

MINISTERUL EDUCAŢIEI ȘI CERCETĂRIIȘTIINȚIFICE

UNIVERSITATEA „VASILE ALECSANDRI” DINBACĂU

FACULTATEA DE LITERE Str. Spiru Haret, nr. 8, Bacău, 600114

Tel./ fax ++40-234-588884

www.ub.ro; e-mail: litere @ub.ro

THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLISH NOVEL AND ROMANTIC POETRY

SEMINAR WORKBOOK: TEXTS FOR ANALYSIS

PHILOLOGY STUDENTS, I YEAR, II SEMESTER

PhD Lecturer MIHAELA CULEA

2016

http://www.ub.ro/

mailto:[email protected]

mailto:[email protected]

http://www.ub.ro/



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CONTENTS

I. The eighteenth-century English novel

1. Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

2. Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift

3.

Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson

4. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding

5. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne

6. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I. English Romantic poetry - selection

1. The Tyger by William Blake

2. Tintern Abbey by W. Wordsworth

3.

Kubla Khan by S. Coleridge4. To Night by P. B. Shelley

5. Ode on a Grecian Urn by J. Keats

6. She Walks in Beauty by G. G. Byron



Culea Mihaela

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The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe (1719)

by Daniel Defoe

TEXTS FOR ANALYSIS IN CLASS – 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21

THE REST OF THE TEXTS – COMPULSORY READING FOR THE EXAMINATION

1. “My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel against what heforesaw was my design. He called me one morning (…) and expostulated very warmly with me

upon this subject. He asked me what reasons, more than a mere wandering inclination, I had for

leaving father’s house and my native country, where I might be well introduced, and had aprospect of raising my fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease and pleasure. He

told me it was men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or of aspiring, superior fortunes on the

other, who went abroad upon adventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous inundertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were all either too far above

me or too far below me; that mine was the middle state, or what might be called the upper

station of low life, which he had found, by long experience, was the best state in the world, the

most suited to human happiness, not exposed to the miseries and hardships, the labour and

sufferings of the mechanic part of mankind, and not embarrassed with the pride, luxury,

ambition, and envy of the upper part of mankind.” (Daniel Defoe, The Life and Adventures of

Robinson Crusoe, pp. 1–2)

- Discuss the fragment in relation to the importance of social status.

- What features are associated with the social strata mentioned in the text?

2. a). “ (...) in a word, that as he would do very kind things for me if I would stay and

settle at home as he directed, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes as to

give me any encouragement to go away; and to close all, he told me I had my elder broth-

er for an example, to whom he had used the same earnest persuasions to keep him from

going into the Low Country wars, but could not prevail, his young desires prompting him

to run into the army, where he was killed; and though he said he would not cease to pray

for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if I did take this foolish step, God would

not bless me, and I should have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his

counsel when there might be none to assist in my recovery.” (p. 5)

b) “I was sincerely affected with this discourse, and, indeed, who could be otherwise? and I re-

solved not to think of going abroad any more, but to settle at home according to my father’s de-

sire. But alas! a few days wore it all off; and, in short, to prevent any of my father’s further im-portunities, in a few weeks after I resolved to run quite away from him. However, I did not act

quite so hastily as the first heat of my resolution prompted; but I took my mother at a time when

I thought her a little more pleasant than ordinary, and told her that my thoughts were so entirely

bent upon seeing the world that I should never settle to anything with resolution enough to go

through with it, and my father had better give me his consent than force me to go without it; that

I was now eighteen years old, which was too late to go apprentice to a trade or clerk to an attor-

ney; that I was sure if I did I should never serve out my time, but I should certainly run away

from my master before my time was out, and go to sea; and if she would speak to my father to let

me go one voyage abroad, if I came home again, and did not like it, I would go no more; and Iwould promise, by a double diligence, to recover the time that I had lost.” (p. 6)



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c) “It was not till almost a year after this that I broke loose, though, in the meantime, I continued

obstinately deaf to all proposals of settling to business, and frequently expostulated with my fa-

ther and mother about their being so positively determined against what they knew my inclina-

tions prompted me to. But being one day at Hull, where I went casually, and without any pur-

pose of making an elopement at that time; but, I say, being there, and one of my companions be-

ing about to sail to London in his father’s ship, and prompting me to go with them with thecommon allurement of seafaring men, that it should cost me nothing for my passage, I consulted

neither father nor mother any more, nor so much as sent them word of it; but leaving them to

hear of it as they might, without asking God’s blessing or my father’s, without any considerationof circumstances or consequences, and in an ill hour, God knows, on the 1 st of September 1651, I

went on board a ship bound for London. Never any young adventurer’s misfortunes, I believe,

began sooner, or continued longer than mine. The ship was no sooner out of the Humber than

the wind began to blow and the sea to rise in a most frightful manner; and, as I had never been at

sea before, I was most inexpressibly sick in body and terrified in mind. I began now seriously to

reflect upon what I had done, and how justly I was overtaken by the judgment of Heaven for my

wicked leaving my father’s house, and abandoning my duty. All the good counsels of my parents,

my father’s tears and my mother’s entreaties, came now fresh into my mind; and my conscience,

which was not yet come to the pitch of hardness to which it has since, reproached me with the

contempt of advice, and the breach of my duty to God and my father.” (pp. 7-8)

d) “(…) All this while the storm increased, and the sea went very high, though nothing like what I

have seen many times since; no, nor what I saw a few days after; but it was enough to affect me

then, who was but a young sailor, and had never known anything of the matter. I expected every

wave would have swallowed us up, and that every time the ship fell down, as I thought it did, in

the trough or hollow of the sea, we should never rise more; in this agony of mind, I made many

vows and resolutions that if it would please God to spare my life in this one voyage, if ever I got

once my foot upon dry land again, I would go directly home to my father, and never set it into a

ship again while I lived; that I would take his advice, and never run myself into such miseries asthese any more. Now I saw plainly the goodness of his observations about the middle station of

life, how easy, how comfortably he had lived all his days, and never had been exposed to tem-

pests at sea or troubles on shore; and I resolved that I would, like a true repenting prodigal, go

home to my father.” (pp. 8-9)

e) “In a word, as the sea was returned to its smoothness of surface and settled calmness by the

abatement of that storm, so the hurry of my thoughts being over, my fears and apprehensions of

being swallowed up by the sea being forgotten, and the current of my former desires returned, I

entirely forgot the vows and promises that I made in my distress. I found, indeed, some intervals

of reflection; and the serious thoughts did, as it were, endeavour to return again sometimes; but

I shook them off, and roused myself from them as it were from a distemper, and applying myself

to drinking and company, soon mastered the return of those fits - for so I called them; and I had

in five or six days got as complete a victory over conscience as any young fellow that resolved

not to be troubled with it could desire.” (p. 10)

- What is a travelogue (see Dictionary of Literary Terms)? In what ways is this novel a

travelogue?

-

What do these fragments reveal about the character’s determination to go to sea andhis subsequent troubles during his travels? Focus on his father’s apprehension abouthis going away from home (text a), Crusoe’s yearning to go to sea (b) and his

“inclination” to seafaring (c), his decision to “elope” from home (c), his first distressand the subsequent remorse and repentance (c and d) or the ‘silencing’ of his

conscience (e).



Culea Mihaela

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3. “(…) with this stock I went on shore in the Brazils. I had not been long here before I was

recommended to the house of a good honest man like himself, who had an INGENIO, as they call

it (that is, a plantation and a sugarhouse). I lived with him some time, and acquainted myself by

that means with the manner of planting and making of sugar; and seeing how well the planters

lived, and how they got rich suddenly, I resolved, if I could get a licence to settle there, I wouldturn planter among them: resolving in the meantime to find out some way to get my money,

which I had left in London, remitted to me. To this purpose, getting a kind of letter of

naturalisation, I purchased as much land that was uncured as my money would reach, and

formed a plan for my plantation and settlement; such a one as might be suitable to the stock

which I proposed to myself to receive from England. I had a neighbour, a Portuguese, of Lisbon,

but born of English parents, whose name was Wells, and in much such circumstances as I was. I

call him my neighbour, because his plantation lay next to mine, and we went on very sociably

together. My stock was but low, as well as his; and we rather planted for food than anything else,

for about two years. However, we began to increase, and our land began to come into order; so

that the third year we planted some tobacco, and made each of us a large piece of ground ready

for planting canes in the year to come. But we both wanted help; and now I found, more than

before, I had done wrong in parting with my boy Xury. But, alas! for me to do wrong that never

did right, was no great wonder. I hail no remedy but to go on: I had got into an employment quite

remote to my genius, and directly contrary to the life I delighted in, and for which I forsook my

father’s house, and broke through all his good advice. Nay, I was coming into the very middle

station, or upper degree of low life, which my father advised me to before, and which, if I

resolved to go on with, I might as well have stayed at home, and never have fatigued myself in the

world as I had done; and I used often to say to myself, I could have done this as well in England,

among my friends, as have gone five thousand miles off to do it among strangers and savages, in

a wilderness, and at such a distance as never to hear from any part of the world that had the

least knowledge of me. In this manner I used to look upon my condition with the utmost regret. Ihad nobody to converse with, but now and then this neighbour; no work to be done, but by the

labour of my hands; and I used to say, I lived just like a man cast away upon some desolate island,

that had nobody there but himself. But how just has it been - and how should all men reflect, that

when they compare their present conditions with others that are worse, Heaven may oblige

them to make the exchange, and be convinced of their former felicity by their experience - I say,

how just has it been, that the truly solitary life I reflected on, in an island of mere desolation,

should be my lot, who had so often unjustly compared it with the life which I then led, in which,

had I continued, I had in all probability been exceeding prosperous and rich.” (pp. 43-45)

- What stages of the protagonist’s life can you identify?

- What is his main activity?

-

How do his social status and financial situation relate to his inner life?

4. “I had been now thirteen days on shore, and had been eleven times on board the ship, inwhich time I had brought away all that one pair of hands could well be supposed capable to

bring; though I believe verily, had the calm weather held, I should have brought away the whole

ship, piece by piece. But preparing the twelfth time to go on board, I found the wind began to

rise: however, at low water I went on board, and though I thought I had rummaged the cabin so

effectually that nothing more could be found, yet I discovered a locker with drawers in it, in one

of which I found two or three razors, and one pair of large scissors, with some ten or a dozen of

good knives and forks: in another I found about thirty-six pounds value in money - some

European coin, some Brazil, some pieces of eight, some gold, and some silver. I smiled to myselfat the sight of this money: ‘O drug!’ said I, aloud, ‘what art thou good for? Thou art not worth to



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me - no, not the taking off the ground; one of those knives is worth all this heap; I have no

manner of use for thee - e’en remain where thou art, and go to the bottom as a creature whose

life is not worth saying.’ However, upon second thoughts I took it away; (…)” (pp. 72 -3)

-

What is the value of money given his condition/situation?

5.

“I consulted several things in my situation, which I found would he proper for me: 1st,health and fresh water, I just now mentioned; 2ndly, shelter from the heat of the sun; 3rdly,

security from ravenous creatures, whether man or beast; 4thly, a view to the sea, that if God sent

any ship in sight, I might not lose any advantage for my deliverance, of which I was not willing to

banish all my expectation yet. In search of a place proper for this, I found a little plain on the side

of a rising hill, whose front towards this little plain was steep as a house-side, so that nothing

could come down upon me from the top. On the one side of the rock there was a hollow place,

worn a little way in, like the entrance or door of a cave but there was not really any cave or way

into the rock at all. On the flat of the green, just before this hollow place, I resolved to pitch my

tent. This plain was not above a hundred yards broad, and about twice as long, and lay like a

green before my door; and, at the end of it, descended irregularly every way down into the low

ground by the seaside. It was on the N.N.W. side of the hill; so that it was sheltered from the heat

every day, till it came to a W. and by S. sun, or thereabouts, which, in those countries, is near the

setting. Before I set up my tent I drew a half-circle before the hollow place, which took in about

ten yards in its semi-diameter from the rock, and twenty yards in its diameter from its beginning

and ending. In this half-circle I pitched two rows of strong stakes, driving them into the ground

till they stood very firm like piles, the biggest end being out of the ground above five feet and a

half, and sharpened on the top. The two rows did not stand above six inches from one another.

Then I took the pieces of cable which I had cut in the ship, and laid them in rows, one upon

another, within the circle, between these two rows of stakes, up to the top, placing other stakes

in the inside, leaning against them, about two feet and a half high, like a spur to a post; and this

fence was so strong, that neither man nor beast could get into it or over it. This cost me a greatdeal of time and labour, especially to cut the piles in the woods, bring them to the place, and

drive them into the earth. The entrance into this place I made to be, not by a door, but by a short

ladder to go over the top; which ladder, when I was in, I lifted over after me; and so I was

completely fenced in and fortified, as I thought, from all the world, and consequently slept secure

in the night, which otherwise I could not have done; though, as it appeared afterwards, there was

no need of all this caution from the enemies that I apprehended danger from. Into this fence or

fortress, with infinite labour, I carried all my riches, all my provisions, ammunition, and stores, of

which you have the account above; and I made a large tent, which to preserve me from the rains

that in one part of the year are very violent there, I made double - one smaller tent within, and

one larger tent above it; and covered the uppermost with a large tarpaulin, which I had saved

among the sails.

And now I lay no more for a while in the bed which I had brought on shore, but in a hammock,

which was indeed a very good one, and belonged to the mate of the ship. Into this tent I brought

all my provisions, and everything that would spoil by the wet; and having thus enclosed all my

goods, I made up the entrance, which till now I had left open, and so passed and repassed, as I

said, by a short ladder.

When I had done this, I began to work my way into the rock, and bringing all the earth and

stones that I dug down out through my tent, I laid them up within my fence, in the nature of a

terrace, so that it raised the ground within about a foot and a half; and thus I made me a cave,

just behind my tent, which served me like a cellar to my house.” (pp. 74-76)

-

Describe the preparations for building a shelter. What does the process showabout the character?



Culea Mihaela

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- Can we also interpret the text from the perspective of the cult of property? Also

identify other fragments in the novel that can confirm this statement.

6. “After I had been there about ten or twelve days, it came into my thoughts that I shouldlose my reckoning of time for want of books, and pen and ink, and should even forget the

Sabbath days; but to prevent this, I cut with my knife upon a large post, in capital letters - andmaking it into a great cross, I set it up on the shore where I first landed - ‘I came on shore here on

the 30th September 1659.’ Upon the sides of this square post I cut every day a notch with myknife, and every seventh notch was as long again as the rest, and every first day of the month as

long again as that long one; and thus I kept my calendar, or weekly, monthly, and yearly

reckoning of time. In the next place, we are to observe that among the many things which I

brought out of the ship, in the several voyages which, as above mentioned, I made to it, I got

several things of less value, but not at all less useful to me, which I omitted setting down before;

as, in particular, pens, ink, and paper, several parcels in the captain’s, mate’s, gunner’s and

carpenter’s keeping; three or four compasses, some mathematical instruments, dials,

perspectives, charts, and books of navigation, all which I huddled together, whether I might want

them or no; also, I found three very good Bibles, which came to me in my cargo from England,

and which I had packed up among my things; some Portuguese books also; and among them two

or three Popish prayer-books, and several other books, all which I carefully secured. And I must

not forget that we had in the ship a dog and two cats, of whose eminent history I may have

occasion to say something in its place; for I carried both the cats with me; and as for the dog, he

jumped out of the ship of himself, and swam on shore to me the day after I went on shore with

my first cargo, and was a trusty servant to me many years; I wanted nothing that he could fetch

me, nor any company that he could make up to me; I only wanted to have him talk to me, but that

would not do. As I observed before, I found pens, ink, and paper, and I husbanded them to the

utmost; and I shall show that while my ink lasted, I kept things very exact, but after that was

gone I could not, for I could not make any ink by any means that I could devise.” (81-82)- How does he keep track of time’s passing?

- The character mentions several objects. What is their use?

- What is the overall purpose of so many details?

- How can he compensate for the need of communication and companionship?

7. “I now began to consider seriously my condition, and the circumstances I was reduced to;and I drew up the state of my affairs in writing, not so much to leave them to any that were to

come after me. (...) I began to comfort myself as well as I could, and to set the good against the

evil, that I might have something to distinguish my case from worse; and I stated very

impartially, like debtor and creditor, the comforts I enjoyed against the miseries I suffered, thus:

Evil : I am cast upon a horrible, desolate island, void of all hope of recovery.

Good : But I am alive; and not drowned, as all my ship’s company were. Evil : I am singled out and separated, as it were, from all the world, to be miserable.

Good : But I am singled out, too, from all the ship’s crew, to be spared from death; and He that

miraculously saved me from death can deliver me from this condition.

Evil : I am divided from mankind - a solitaire; one banished from human society.

Good : But I am not starved, and perishing on a barren place, affording no sustenance”. (pp. 83–84)

-

Focus on character portrayal. How is it achieved, what features about the character

do we find out?

-

What features of prose style can you identify?



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- How does the narrator endeavour to render events and states in a matter-of-fact

way?

8. a) “This want of tools made every work I did go on heavily; and it was near a whole year

before I had entirely finished my little pale, or surrounded my habitation. The piles, or stakes,

which were as heavy as I could well lift, were a long time in cutting and preparing in the woods,and more, by far, in bringing home; so that I spent sometimes two days in cutting and bringing

home one of those posts, and a third day in driving it into the ground; for which purpose I got a

heavy piece of wood at first, but at last bethought myself of one of the iron crows; which,

however, though I found it, made driving those posts or piles very laborious and tedious work.”(…) (p. 83)

b) “(…) And now I began to apply myself to make such necessary things as I found I most wanted,

particularly a chair and a table; for without these I was not able to enjoy the few comforts I had

in the world; I could not write or eat, or do several things, with so much pleasure without a table:

so I went to work. And here I must needs observe, that as reason is the substance and origin of

the mathematics, so by stating and squaring everything by reason, and by making the most

rational judgment of things, every man may be, in time, master of every mechanic art. I had never

handled a tool in my life; and yet, in time, by labour, application, and contrivance, I found at last

that I wanted nothing but I could have made it, especially if I had had tools. However, I made

abundance of things, even without tools; and some with no more tools than an adze and a

hatchet, which perhaps were never made that way before, and that with infinite labour. For

example, if I wanted a board, I had no other way but to cut down a tree, set it on an edge before

me, and hew it flat on either side with my axe, till I brought it to be thin as a plank, and then dub

it smooth with my adze.” (p. 86)

c) “It might be truly said, that now I worked for my bread. I believe few people have thoughtmuch upon the strange multitude of little things necessary in the providing, producing, curing,

dressing, making, and finishing this one article of bread. I, that was reduced to a mere state ofnature, found this to my daily discouragement; and was made more sensible of it every hour,

even after I had got the first handful of seedcorn, which, as I have said, came up unexpectedly,

and indeed to a surprise.” (p. 151)

- What work ethic does the character develop?

- What qualities does he develop and apply in order to improve his condition?

- What is the difference between man’s natural state and his cultured condition?

- What are the roles of industry, perseverance and rationality in one’s life as shown in thisexample?

- What does he mean by having to work for his bread?

- Which of the following Enlightenment ideas can you identify in these fragments: knowledge

through sensation and experiment, the glorification of the individual and his wishes, desires and

needs, the pursuit of happiness, the concept of individualism and growing optimism, the cult of

property?

9. “I had, alas! no divine knowledge. What I had received by the good instruction of my

father was then worn out by an uninterrupted series, for eight years, of seafaring wickedness,

and a constant conversation with none but such as were, like myself, wicked and profane to the

last degree. I do not remember that I had, in all that time, one thought that so much as tended

either to looking upwards towards God, or inwards towards a reflection upon my own ways; but

a certain stupidity of soul, without desire of good, or conscience of evil, had entirely

overwhelmed me; and I was all that the most hardened, unthinking, wicked creature among ourcommon sailors can be supposed to be; not having the least sense, either of the fear of God in



Culea Mihaela

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danger, or of thankfulness to God in deliverance. In the relating what is already past of my story,

this will be the more easily believed when I shall add, that through all the variety of miseries that

had to this day befallen me, I never had so much as one thought of it being the hand of God, or

that it was a just punishment for my sin - my rebellious behaviour against my father - or my

present sins, which were great - or so much as a punishment for the general course of my wicked

life. When I was on the desperate expedition on the desert shores of Africa, I never had so muchas one thought of what would become of me, or one wish to God to direct me whither I should go,

or to keep me from the danger which apparently surrounded me, as well from voracious

creatures as cruel savages. But I was merely thoughtless of a God or a Providence, acted like a

mere brute, from the principles of nature, and by the dictates of common sense only, and, indeed,

hardly that. When I was delivered and taken up at sea by the Portugal captain, well used, and

dealt justly and honourably with, as well as charitably, I had not the least thankfulness in my

thoughts.

Even the earthquake, though nothing could be more terrible in its nature, or more immediately

directing to the invisible Power which alone directs such things, yet no sooner was the first fright

over, but the impression it had made went off also. I had no more sense of God or His judgments -

much less of the present affliction of my circumstances being from His hand - than if I had been

in the most prosperous condition of life. But now, when I began to be sick, and a leisurely view of

the miseries of death came to place itself before me; when my spirits began to sink under the

burden of a strong distemper, and nature was exhausted with the violence of the fever;

conscience, that had slept so long, began to awake, and I began to reproach myself with my past

life, in which I had so evidently, by uncommon wickedness, provoked the justice of God to lay me

under uncommon strokes, and to deal with me in so vindictive a manner. These reflections

oppressed me for the second or third day of my distemper; and in the violence, as well of the

fever as of the dreadful reproaches of my conscience, extorted some words from me like praying

to God, though I cannot say they were either a prayer attended with desires or with hopes: it was

rather the voice of mere fright and distress. My thoughts were confused, the convictions greatupon my mind, and the horror of dying in such a miserable condition raised vapours into my

head with the mere apprehensions; and in these hurries of my soul I knew not what my tongue

might express. But it was rather exclamation, such as, ‘Lord, what a miserable creature am I! If I

should be sick, I shall certainly die for want of help; and what will become of me!’ Then the tears

burst out of my eyes, and I could say no more for a good while. In this interval the good advice of

my father came to my mind, and presently his prediction, which I mentioned at the beginning of

this story - viz. that if I did take this foolish step, God would not bless me, and I would have

leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel when there might be none to assist

in my recovery. ‘Now,’ said I, aloud, ‘my dear father’s words are come to pass; God’s justice has

overtaken me, and I have none to help or hear me. I rejected the voice of Providence, which had

mercifully put me in a posture or station of life wherein I might have been happy and easy; but I

would neither see it myself nor learn to know the blessing of it from my parents. I left them to

mourn over my folly, and now I am left to mourn under the consequences of it. I abused their

help and assistance, who would have lifted me in the world, and would have made everything

easy to me; and now I have difficulties to struggle with, too great for even nature itself to

support, and no assistance, no help, no comfort, no advice.’ Then I cried out, ‘Lord, be my help,for I am in great distress.’ This was the first prayer, if I may call it so, that I had made for many

years.” (pp. 112- 116)

-

What causes the awakening of his religious sense?

- What stages of this moral process can we identify?

-

What are the effects of the awakening of his conscience and religious sense?



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10. “JULY 4. - In the morning I took the Bible; and beginning at the New Testament, I began

seriously to read it, and imposed upon myself to read a while every morning and every night; not

tying myself to the number of chapters, but long as my thoughts should engage me. It was not

long after I set seriously to this work till I found my heart more deeply and sincerely affected

with the wickedness of my past life. The impression of my dream revived; and the words, ‘All

these things have not brought thee to repentance,’ ran seriously through my thoughts. I wasearnestly begging of God to give me repentance, when it happened providentially, the very day,

that, reading the Scripture, I came to these words: ‘He is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give

repentance and to give remission.’ I threw down the book; and with my heart as well as my

hands lifted up to heaven, in a kind of ecstasy of joy, I cried out aloud, ‘Jesus, thou son of David!Jesus, thou exalted Prince and Saviour! give me repentance!’ This was the first time I could say, in

the true sense of the words, that I prayed in all my life; for now I prayed with a sense of my

condition, and a true Scripture view of hope, founded on the encouragement of the Word of God;

and from this time, I may say, I began to hope that God would hear me. Now I began to construe

the words mentioned above, ‘Call on Me, and I will deliver thee,’ in a different sense from what I

had ever done before; for then I had no notion of anything being called DELIVERANCE, but my

being delivered from the captivity I was in; for though I was indeed at large in the place, yet the

island was certainly a prison to me, and that in the worse sense in the world. But now I learned

to take it in another sense: now I looked back upon my past life with such horror, and my sins

appeared so dreadful, that my soul sought nothing of God but deliverance from the load of guilt

that bore down all my comfort. As for my solitary life, it was nothing. I did not so much as pray to

be delivered from it or think of it; it was all of no consideration in comparison to this. And I add

this part here, to hint to whoever shall read it, that whenever they come to a true sense of things,

they will find deliverance from sin a much greater blessing than deliverance from affliction.” (pp.

122- 124)

- What does he begin to understand in relation to his past and current situation?

-

What is the role of repentance in this process?- How would you interpret his transformation?

- Comment upon his awareness of guilt and sin.

- What kinds of deliverance does he yearn for?

11. “The rainy season of the autumnal equinox was now come, and I kept the 30th of

September in the same solemn manner as before, being the anniversary of my landing on the

island, having now been there two years, and no more prospect of being delivered than the first

day I came there, I spent the whole day in humble and thankful acknowledgments of the many

wonderful mercies which my solitary condition was attended with, and without which it might

have been infinitely more miserable. I gave humble and hearty thanks that God had been pleased

to discover to me that it was possible I might be more happy in this solitary condition than I

should have been in the liberty of society, and in all the pleasures of the world; that He could

fully make up to me the deficiencies of my solitary state, and the want of human society, by His

presence and the communications of His grace to my soul; supporting, comforting, and

encouraging me to depend upon His providence here, and hope for His eternal presence

hereafter.

It was now that I began sensibly to feel how much more happy this life I now led was, with all its

miserable circumstances, than the wicked, cursed, abominable life I led all the past part of my

days; and now I changed both my sorrows and my joys; my very desires altered, my affections

changed their gusts, and my delights were perfectly new from what they were at my first coming,

or, indeed, for the two years past.



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11

Before, as I walked about, either on my hunting or for viewing the country, the anguish of my

soul at my condition would break out upon me on a sudden, and my very heart would die within

me, to think of the woods, the mountains, the deserts I was in, and how I was a prisoner, locked

up with the eternal bars and bolts of the ocean, in an uninhabited wilderness, without

redemption. In the midst of the greatest composure of my mind, this would break out upon me

like a storm, and make me wring my hands and weep like a child. Sometimes it would take me inthe middle of my work, and I would immediately sit down and sigh, and look upon the ground for

an hour or two together; and this was still worse to me, for if I could burst out into tears, or vent

myself by words, it would go off, and the grief, having exhausted itself, would abate.

But now I began to exercise myself with new thoughts: I daily read the word of God, and applied

all the comforts of it to my present state. One morning, being very sad, I opened the Bible upon

these words, ‘I will never, never leave thee, nor forsake thee.’ Immediately it occurred that thesewords were to me; why else should they be directed in such a manner, just at the moment when I

was mourning over my condition, as one forsaken of God and man? ‘Well, then,’ said I, ‘if God

does not forsake me, of what ill consequence can it be, or what matters it, though the world

should all forsake me, seeing on the other hand, if I had all the world, and should lose the favour

and blessing of God, there would be no comparison in the loss?’

From this moment I began to conclude in my mind that it was possible for me to be more happy

in this forsaken, solitary condition than it was probable I should ever have been in any other

particular state in the world; and with this thought I was going to give thanks to God for bringing

me to this place.” (pp. 144-146)

- Identify all the adjectives that have opposed meanings for characterising his past

and present condition, happiness and misery.

- Does he find happiness in misery? In what ways can we speak about thankfulness

for suffering?

- How does he reinterpret the past, the present and in wheat terms does he envisage

the prospects of the future?- Link these ideas with what happens in the rest of the novel from that moment on.

12. “In the middle of this work I finished my fourth year in this place, and kept myanniversary with the same devotion, and with as much comfort as ever before; for, by a constant

study and serious application to the Word of God, and by the assistance of His grace, I gained a

different knowledge from what I had before. I entertained different notions of things. I looked

now upon the world as a thing remote, which I had nothing to do with, no expectations from,

and, indeed, no desires about: in a word, I had nothing indeed to do with it, nor was ever likely to

have, so I thought it looked, as we may perhaps look upon it hereafter - viz. as a place I had lived

in, but was come out of it; and well might I say, as Father Abraham to Dives, ‘Between me andthee is a great gulf fixed.’ In the first place, I was removed from all the wickedness of the world here; I had neither the lusts

of the flesh, the lusts of the eye, nor the pride of life. I had nothing to covet, for I had all that I was

now capable of enjoying; I was lord of the whole manor; or, if I pleased, I might call myself king

or emperor over the whole country which I had possession of: there were no rivals; I had no

competitor, none to dispute sovereignty or command with me: I might have raised ship-loadings

of corn, but I had no use for it; so I let as little grow as I thought enough for my occasion. I had

tortoise or turtle enough, but now and then one was as much as I could put to any use: I had

timber enough to have built a fleet of ships; and I had grapes enough to have made wine, or to

have cured into raisins, to have loaded that fleet when it had been built.



12

But all I could make use of was all that was valuable: I had enough to eat and supply my wants,

and what was all the rest to me? If I killed more flesh than I could eat, the dog must eat it, or

vermin; if I sowed more corn than I could eat, it must be spoiled; the trees that I cut down were

lying to rot on the ground; I could make no more use of them but for fuel, and that I had no

occasion for but to dress my food. In a word, the nature and experience of things dictated to me,

upon just reflection, that all the good things of this world are no farther good to us than they arefor our use; and that, whatever we may heap up to give others, we enjoy just as much as we can

use, and no more. The most covetous, griping miser in the world would have been cured of the

vice of covetousness if he had been in my case; for I possessed infinitely more than I knew what

to do with. I had no room for desire, except it was of things which I had not, and they were but

trifles, though, indeed, of great use to me. I had, as I hinted before, a parcel of money, as well gold

as silver, about thirty-six pounds sterling. Alas! there the sorry, useless stuff lay; I had no more

manner of business for it; and often thought with myself that I would have given a handful of it

for a gross of tobacco-pipes; or for a hand-mill to grind my corn; nay, I would have given it all for

a sixpenny- worth of turnip and carrot seed out of England, or for a handful of peas and beans,

and a bottle of ink. As it was, I had not the least advantage by it or benefit from it; but there it lay

in a drawer, and grew mouldy with the damp of the cave in the wet seasons; and if I had had the

drawer full of diamonds, it had been the same case - they had been of no manner of value to me,

because of no use.” (pp. 164-166)

- What does he mean by beginning to “entertain different notions of things”?

- In his solitary condition, what does it mean that he “looked now upon the world as

a thing remote”?

- What does he understand about the use-value of things and possessions? Give

examples.

- What does he understand about human greed?

13.

“I descended a little on the side of that delicious vale, surveying it with a secret kind ofpleasure, though mixed with my other afflicting thoughts, to think that this was all my own; that I

was king and lord of all this country indefensibly, and had a right of possession; and if I could

convey it, I might have it in inheritance as completely as any lord of a manor in England. I saw

here abundance of cocoa trees, orange, and lemon, and citron trees; but all wild, and very few

bearing any fruit, at least not then. However, the green limes that I gathered were not only

pleasant to eat, but very wholesome; and I mixed their juice afterwards with water, which made

it very wholesome, and very cool and refreshing. I found now I had business enough to gather

and carry home; and I resolved to lay up a store as well of grapes as limes and lemons, to furnish

myself for the wet season, which I knew was approaching. In order to do this, I gathered a great

heap of grapes in one place, a lesser heap in another place, and a great parcel of limes and

lemons in another place; and taking a few of each with me, I travelled homewards; resolving to

come again, and bring a bag or sack, or what I could make, to carry the rest home. Accordingly,

having spent three days in this journey, I came home (so I must now call my tent and my cave);

but before I got thither the grapes were spoiled; the richness of the fruit and the weight of the

juice having broken them and bruised them, they were good for little or nothing; as to the limes,

they were good, but I could bring but a few. (...)However, I was so enamoured of this place, that I

spent much of my time there for the whole of the remaining part of the month of July; and

though upon second thoughts, I resolved not to remove, yet I built me a little kind of a bower, and

surrounded it at a distance with a strong fence, being a double hedge, as high as I could reach,

well staked and filled between with brushwood; and here I lay very secure, sometimes two or

three nights together; always going over it with a ladder; so that I fancied now I had my country



Culea Mihaela

13

house and my sea-coast house; and this work took me up to the beginning of August.” (pp. 128 -

129)

- How does his sense of property become obvious?

-

Given the historical context, can we connect it with any other human practices

external to the text as such?

-

Does he have more shelters?- Comment upon his feelings of belongingness to the place.

14. “And now I saw how easy it was for the providence of God to make even the mostmiserable condition of mankind worse. Now I looked back upon my desolate, solitary island as

the most pleasant place in the world and all the happiness my heart could wish for was to be but

there again. I stretched out my hands to it, with eager wishes - ‘O happy desert!’ said I, ‘I shallnever see thee more. O miserable creature! whither am going?’ Then I reproached myself withmy unthankful temper, and that I had repined at my solitary condition; and now what would I

give to be on shore there again! Thus, we never see the true state of our condition till it is

illustrated to us by its contraries, nor know how to value what we enjoy, but by the want of it. It

is scarcely possible to imagine the consternation I was now in, being driven from my beloved

island (for so it appeared to me now to be) into the wide ocean, almost two leagues, and in the

utmost despair of ever recovering it again.” (p. 179)

- In what way does his perception of the island change from a prison into a home?

- In what terms does he describe the island?

- What does he understand about the human being’s indifference or disregard forwhat he possesses?

15. “When I came to the place my very blood ran chill in my veins, and my heart sunk within

me, at the horror of the spectacle; indeed, it was a dreadful sight, at least it was so to me, though

Friday made nothing of it. The place was covered with human bones, the ground dyed with theirblood, and great pieces of flesh left here and there, half-eaten, mangled, and scorched; and, in

short, all the tokens of the triumphant feast they had been making there, after a victory over

their enemies. I saw three skulls, five hands, and the bones of three or four legs and feet, and

abundance of other parts of the bodies; and Friday, by his signs, made me understand that they

brought over four prisoners to feast upon; that three of them were eaten up, and that he,

pointing to himself, was the fourth; that there had been a great battle between them and their

next king, of whose subjects, it seems, he had been one, and that they had taken a great number

of prisoners; all which were carried to several places by those who had taken them in the fight, in

order to feast upon them, as was done here by these wretches upon those they brought hither.”

(pp. 158–9)

- How is the description made vivid linguistically?

- What are its purposes?

16. “I cannot explain, by any possible energy of words, what a strange longing I felt in my soul

upon this sight, breaking out sometimes thus: ‘Oh that there had been but one or two, nay, or butone soul saved out of this ship, to have escaped to me, that I might but have had one companion,

one fellow-creature, to have spoken to me and to have conversed with!’ In all the time of my

solitary life I never felt so earnest, so strong a desire after the society of my fellow- creatures, or

so deep a regret at the want of it.” (pp. 240 - 241)

- After more than twenty years on the island, he feels overwhelmed by the desperate need of

communication with another human being. What does he understand about companionship, theneed to communicate and human society and what is the message for the readers?



14

17. “It came very warmly upon my thoughts, and indeed irresistibly, that now was the time to

get me a servant, and, perhaps, a companion or assistant; and that I was plainly called by

Providence to save this poor creature’s life. I immediately ran down the ladders with all possibleexpedition, fetched my two guns, for they were both at the foot of the ladders, as I observed

before, and getting up again with the same haste to the top of the hill, I crossed towards the sea;and having a very short cut, and all down hill, placed myself in the way between the pursuers

and the pursued, hallowing aloud to him that fled, who, looking back, was at first perhaps as

much frightened at me as at them; but I beckoned with my hand to him to come back; and, in the

meantime, I slowly advanced towards the two that followed; then rushing at once upon the

foremost, I knocked him down with the stock of my piece. (…)beckoned to him again to come to

me, and gave him all the signs of encouragement that I could think of; and he came nearer and

nearer, kneeling down every ten or twelve steps, in token of acknowledgment for saving his life. I

smiled at him, and looked pleasantly, and beckoned to him to come still nearer; at length he came

close to me; and then he kneeled down again, kissed the ground, and laid his head upon the

ground, and taking me by the foot, set my foot upon his head; this, it seems, was in token of

swearing to be my slave for ever. (…)Then, calling away, I carried him, not to my castle, but quiteaway to my cave, on the farther part of the island: so I did not let my dream come to pass in that

part, that he came into my grove for shelter.

Here I gave him bread and a bunch of raisins to eat, and a draught of water, which I found he was

indeed in great distress for, from his running: and having refreshed him, I made signs for him to

go and lie down to sleep, showing him a place where I had laid some rice-straw, and a blanket

upon it, which I used to sleep upon myself sometimes; so the poor creature lay down, and went

to sleep. He was a comely, handsome fellow, perfectly well made, with straight, strong limbs, not

too large; tall, and wellshaped; and, as I reckon, about twenty-six years of age. He had a very

good countenance, not a fierce and surly aspect, but seemed to have something very manly in his

face; and yet he had all the sweetness and softness of a European in his countenance, too,especially when he smiled. His hair was long and black, not curled like wool; his forehead very

high and large; and a great vivacity and sparkling sharpness in his eyes. The colour of his skin

was not quite black, but very tawny; and yet not an ugly, yellow, nauseous tawny, as the

Brazilians and Virginians, and other natives of America are, but of a bright kind of a dun olive-

colour, that had in it something very agreeable, though not very easy to describe. His face was

round and plump; his nose small, not flat, like the negroes; a very good mouth, thin lips, and his

fine teeth well set, and as white as ivory. (…)” (pp. 262- 264)

-

Does he feel the need of a companion or of a servant?

- How does “the creature” first approach his saviour? What does this suggest about

the terms in which their relationship is established/positioned?

-

Focus on Friday’s portrait . What does it suggest about his inner nature?

b) “In a little time I began to speak to him; and teach him to speak to me: and first, I let him know

his name should be Friday, which was the day I saved his life: I called him so for the memory of

the time. I likewise taught him to say Master; and then let him know that was to be my name: I

likewise taught him to say Yes and No and to know the meaning of them. I gave him some milk in

an earthen pot, and let him see me drink it before him, and sop my bread in it; and gave him a

cake of bread to do the like, which he quickly complied with, and made signs that it was very

good for him. I kept there with him all that night; but as soon as it was day I beckoned to him to

come with me, and let him know I would give him some clothes; at which he seemed very glad,

for he was stark naked. As we went by the place where he had buried the two men, he pointedexactly to the place, and showed me the marks that he had made to find them again, making



Culea Mihaela

15

signs to me that we should dig them up again and eat them. At this I appeared very angry,

expressed my abhorrence of it, made as if I would vomit at the thoughts of it, and beckoned with

my hand to him to come away, which he did immediately, with great submission. (…)” (pp. 264-

265)

- In what ways is Crusoe instructing Friday in matters of social conduct and

civilization?- What are the first words he teaches him and what is their significance?

- Does Friday’s submission suggest that a master-servant relationship is taking

shape?

c) “But to return to my new companion. I was greatly delighted with him, and made it my

business to teach him everything that was proper to make him useful, handy, and helpful; but

especially to make him speak, and understand me when I spoke; and he was the aptest scholar

that ever was; and particularly was so merry, so constantly diligent, and so pleased when he

could but understand me, or make me understand him, that it was very pleasant for me to talk to

him. Now my life began to be so easy that I began to say to myself that could I but have been safe

from more savages, I cared not if I was never to remove from the place where I lived. (...)The next

day I set him to work beating some corn out, and sifting it in the manner I used to do, as I

observed before; and he soon understood how to do it as well as I, especially after he had seen

what the meaning of it was, and that it was to make bread of; for after that I let him see me make

my bread, and bake it too; and in a little time Friday was able to do all the work for me as well as

I could do it myself.” (pp. 269 – 274)

- What does the process of domesticating Friday involve?

- Why does Crusoe want to make Friday “useful, handy, and helpful”?

- Can we associate the process with that involving a teacher and a student?

18. “During the long time that Friday had now been with me, and that he began to speak to

me, and understand me, I was not wanting to lay a foundation of religious knowledge in his

mind; particularly I asked him one time, who made him. The creature did not understand me at

all, but thought I had asked who was his father - but I took it up by another handle, and asked

him who made the sea, the ground we walked on, and the hills and woods. He told me, ‘It was

one Benamuckee, that lived beyond all;’ he could describe nothing of this great person, but that

he was very old, ‘much older,’ he said, ‘than the sea or land, than the moon or the stars.’ I askedhim then, if this old person had made all things, why did not all things worship him? He looked

very grave, and, with a perfect look of innocence, said, ‘All things say O to him.’ I asked him if the

people who die in his country went away anywhere? He said, ‘Yes; they all went to Benamuckee.’

Then I asked him whether those they eat up went thither too. He said, ‘Yes.’ From these things, Ibegan to instruct him in the knowledge of the true God; I told him that the great Maker of all

things lived up there, pointing up towards heaven; that He governed the world by the same

power and providence by which He made it; that He was omnipotent, and could do everything

for us, give everything to us, take everything from us; and thus, by degrees, I opened his eyes. He

listened with great attention, and received with pleasure the notion of Jesus Christ being sent to

redeem us; and of the manner of making our prayers to God, and His being able to hear us, even

in heaven. He told me one day, that if our God could hear us, up beyond the sun, he must needs be

a greater God than their Benamuckee, who lived but a little way off, and yet could not hear till

they went up to the great mountains where he dwelt to speak to them. I asked him if ever he

went thither to speak to him. He said, ‘No; they never went that were young men; none wentthither but the old men,’ whom he called their Oowokakee; that is, as I made him explain to me,



16

their religious, or clergy; and that they went to say O (so he called saying prayers), and then

came back and told them what Benamuckee said. By this I observed, that there is priestcraft even

among the most blinded, ignorant pagans in the world; and the policy of making a secret of

religion, in order to preserve the veneration of the people to the clergy, not only to be found in

the Roman, but, perhaps, among all religions in the world, even among the most brutish and

barbarous savages.” (pp. 278-279)- Describe Crusoe’s effort to Christianize Friday and to teach him the Christian

religion as opposed to Friday’s beliefs. - How do you interpret the meaning of “priestcraft” in this context?

19. “I had, God knows, more sincerity than knowledge in all the methods I took for this poor

creature’s instruction, and must acknowledge, what I believe all that act upon the same principlewill find, that in laying things open to him, I really did not know or had not fully considered

before, but which occurred naturally to my mind upon searching into them, for the information

of this poor savage; and I had more affection in my inquiry after things upon this occasion than

ever I felt before: so that, whether this poor wild wretch was better for me or no, I had great

reason to be thankful that ever he came to me; my grief sat lighter, upon me; my habitation grew

comfortable to me beyond measure: and when I reflected that in this solitary life which I have

been confined to, I had not only been moved to look up to heaven myself, and to seek the Hand

that had brought me here, but was now to be made an instrument, under Providence, to save the

life, and, for aught I knew, the soul of a poor savage, and bring him to the true knowledge of

religion and of the Christian doctrine, that he might know Christ Jesus, in whom is life eternal; I

say, when I reflected upon all these things, a secret joy ran through every part of My soul, and I

frequently rejoiced that ever I was brought to this place, which I had so often thought the most

dreadful of all afflictions that could possibly have befallen me.

I continued in this thankful frame all the remainder of my time; and the conversation which

employed the hours between Friday and me was such as made the three years which we livedthere together perfectly and completely happy, if any such thing as complete happiness can be

formed in a sublunary state. This savage was now a good Christian, a much better than I; though

I have reason to hope, and bless God for it, that we were equally penitent, and comforted,

restored penitents. We had here the Word of God to read, and no farther off from His Spirit to

instruct than if we had been in England. I always applied myself, in reading the Scripture, to let

him know, as well as I could, the meaning of what I read; and he again, by his serious inquiries

and questionings, made me, as I said before, a much better scholar in the Scripture knowledge

than I should ever have been by my own mere private reading. Another thing I cannot refrain

from observing here also, from experience in this retired part of my life, viz. how infinite and

inexpressible a blessing it is that the knowledge of God, and of the doctrine of salvation by Christ

Jesus, is so plainly laid down in the Word of God, so easy to be received and understood, that, as

the bare reading the Scripture made me capable of understanding enough of my duty to carry me

directly on to the great work of sincere repentance for my sins, and laying hold of a Saviour for

life and salvation, to a stated reformation in practice, and obedience to all God’s commands, and

this without any teacher or instructor, I mean human; so the same plain instruction sufficiently

served to the enlightening this savage creature, and bringing him to be such a Christian as I have

known few equal to him in my life.” (pp. 282 – 284)

- What does Crusoe mean by instruction?

-

What methods does he apply?

- Does he associate this practice of instructing or teaching with a special kind of

mission?-

What is the relationship between the meaning of happiness and Christian faith?



Culea Mihaela

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- What is the role of penitence in this process?

- What do the two characters do in order to approach God’s teaching in both theoryand practice?

20. a)“It would have made a Stoic smile to have seen me and my little family sit down to

dinner. There was my majesty the prince and lord of the whole island; I had the lives of all mysubjects at my absolute command; I could hang, draw, give liberty, and take it away, and no rebels

among all my subjects. Then, to see how like a king I dined, too, all alone, attended by my

servants! Poll, as if he had been my favourite, was the only person permitted to talk to me. My

dog, who was now grown old and crazy, and had found no species to multiply his kind upon, sat

always at my right hand; and two cats, one on one side of the table and one on the other,

expecting now and then a bit from my hand, as a mark of especial favour.” (p. 191)

- Find linguistic evidence to show that his companions have now transformed into subjects and

the island into a kingdom.

- Analyse the use of possessive adjectives in this context.

- How do you interpret this association? What does it show about Crusoe’s mentality?

b) “My island was now peopled, and I thought myself very rich in subjects; and it was a merry

reflection, which I frequently made, how like a king I looked. First of all, the whole country was

my own property, so that I had an undoubted right of dominion. Secondly, my people were

perfectly subjected - I was absolutely lord and lawgiver - they all owed their lives to me, and

were ready to lay down their lives, if there had been occasion for it, for me. It was remarkable,

too, I had but three subjects, and they were of three different religions - my man Friday was a

Protestant, his father was a Pagan and a cannibal, and the Spaniard was a Papist. However, I

allowed liberty of conscience throughout my dominions.” (p. 310)

- Focus on the use of language that describes Crusoe’s ownership.

- How do you interpret his attitude towards his “subjects”?

c)“ In the meantime, I in part settled myself here; for, first of all, I married, and that not either to

my disadvantage or dissatisfaction, and had three children, two sons and one daughter; but my

wife dying, and my nephew coming home with good success from a voyage to Spain, my

inclination to go abroad, and his importunity, prevailed, and engaged me to go in his ship as a

private trader to the East Indies; this was in the year 1694.

In this voyage I visited my new colony in the island, saw my successors the Spaniards, had the

old story of their lives and of the villains I left there; how at first they insulted the poor

Spaniards, how they afterwards agreed, disagreed, united, separated, and how at last the

Spaniards were obliged to use violence with them; (…) Besides this, I shared the lands into partswith them, reserved to myself the property of the whole, but gave them such parts respectively

as they agreed on; and having settled all things with them, and engaged them not to leave the

place, I left them there. From thence I touched at the Brazils, from whence I sent a bark, which I

bought there, with more people to the island; and in it, besides other supplies, I sent seven

women, being such as I found proper for service, or for wives to such as would take them. As to

the Englishmen, I promised to send them some women from England, with a good cargo of

necessaries, if they would apply themselves to planting which I afterwards performed; and the

fellows proved very honest and diligent after they were mastered (...)”. (p. 390)

-

What places does he mention related to his voyages?

- What is the role he assumes in relation to the people on the island? Which are his actions

given this status?-

What is his relation with the Spaniards?



18

- Analyse the ideas associated with his “mastering” of the land and its people as shown in

the fragment. Can we see Crusoe as the prototype of a colonizer?

d) “(...) for they all called me governor … commander of the island.” (p. 344)

- What are the meanings we can associate here with the terms “governor” and

“commander”? - If we consider the entire narrative, do you think there is a clash between the tenets

of the Age of reason or the more general Enlightenment ideals of citizenship, human

rights, equality among people, the glorification of the individual, the idea of democracy,

people’s sovereignty, social justice, scientific rationality, enlightenment by means of

knowledge, reason, science, progress, and respect for humanity and the way in which they

were put in practice, as shown in Defoe’s text ?

21. “All I showed them, all I said to them, was perfectly amazing; but above all, the captain

admired my fortification, and how perfectly I had concealed my retreat with a grove of trees,

which having been now planted nearly twenty years, and the trees growing much faster than in

England, was become a little wood, so thick that it was impassable in any part of it but at that

one side where I had reserved my little winding passage into it. I told him this was my castle and

my residence, but that I had a seat in the country, as most princes have, whither I could retreat

upon occasion (...).” (p. 331)

- In what terms does Crusoe present his shelters on the island?

- Why did he need a “fortification”?

- How do you interpret the fact that he also took pride in his other “ seat in the

country, as most princes have”?

22. “When I took leave of this island, I carried on board, for relics, the great goat-skin cap I

had made, my umbrella, and one of my parrots; also, I forgot not to take the money I formerlymentioned, which had lain by me so long useless that it was grown rusty or tarnished, and could

hardly pass for silver till it had been a little rubbed and handled, as also the money I found in the

wreck of the Spanish ship. And thus I left the island, the 19th of December, as I found by the

ship’s account, in the year 1686, after I had been upon it eight-and-twenty years, two months,

and nineteen days; being delivered from this second captivity the same day of the month that I

first made my escape in the long-boat from among the Moors of Sallee. In this vessel, after a long

voyage, I arrived in England the 11th of June, in the year 1687, having been thirty-five years

absent. When I came to England I was as perfect a stranger to all the world as if I had never been

known there. My benefactor and faithful steward, whom I had left my money in trust with, was

alive, but had had great misfortunes in the world; was become a widow the second time, and

very low in the world. I made her very easy as to what she owed me, assuring her I would give

her no trouble; but, on the contrary, in gratitude for her former care and faithfulness to me, I

relieved her as my little stock would afford; which at that time would, indeed, allow me to do but

little for her; but I assured her I would never forget her former kindness to me; nor did I forget

her when I had sufficient to help her, as shall be observed in its proper place.” (pp. 356-357)

- How many years did Crusoe live on the island?

- How long was he absent from England on the whole?

- How did his long absence affect his acquaintance of the reality back home?

- What did he achieve in return?



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19

Gulliver’s Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World (1726)

by Jonathan Swift

TEXTS FOR ANALYSIS IN CLASS - 3,5,10,14, 16, 17, 20, 22, 27, 31, 32, 34, 35, 36

THE REST OF THE TEXTS – COMPULSORY READING FOR THE EXAMINATION

PART I. A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT

1. “My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire: I was the third of five sons. He sent me to

Emanuel College in Cambridge at fourteen years old, where I resided three years, and applied

myself close to my studies; but the charge of maintaining me, although I had a very scanty

allowance, being too great for a narrow fortune, I was bound apprentice to Mr. James Bates, an

eminent surgeon in London, with whom I continued four years. My father now and then sending

me small sums of money, I laid them out in learning navigation, and other parts of the

mathematics, useful to those who intend to travel, as I always believed it would be, some time or

other, my fortune to do. When I left Mr. Bates, I went down to my father: where, by the assistance

of him and my uncle John, and some other relations, I got forty pounds, and a promise of thirty

pounds a year to maintain me at Leyden: there I studied physic two years and seven months,

knowing it would be useful in long voyages.

Soon after my return from Leyden, I was recommended by my good master, Mr. Bates, to be

surgeon to the Swallow, Captain Abraham Pannel, commander; with whom I continued three

years and a half, making a voyage or two into the Levant, and some other parts. When I came

back I resolved to settle in London; to which Mr. Bates, my master, encouraged me, and by him I

was recommended to several patients. I took part of a small house in the Old Jewry; and being

advised to alter my condition, I married Mrs. Mary Burton, second daughter to Mr. Edmund

Burton, hosier, in Newgate-street, with whom I received four hundred pounds for a portion.But my good master Bates dying in two years after, and I having few friends, my business began

to fail; for my conscience would not suffer me to imitate the bad practice of too many among my

brethren. Having therefore consulted with my wife, and some of my acquaintance, I determined

to go again to sea. I was surgeon successively in two ships, and made several voyages, for six

years, to the East and West Indies, by which I got some addition to my fortune. My hours of

leisure I spent in reading the best authors, ancient and modern, being always provided with a

good number of books; and when I was ashore, in observing the manners and dispositions of the

people, as well as learning their language; wherein I had a great facility, by the strength of my

memory.

The last of these voyages not proving very fortunate, I grew weary of the sea, and intended to

stay at home with my wife and family. I removed from the Old Jewry to Fetter Lane, and from

thence to Wapping, hoping to get business among the sailors; but it would not turn to

account. After three years expectation that things would mend, I accepted an advantageous offer

from Captain William Prichard, master of the Antelope, who was making a voyage to the South

Sea. We set sail from Bristol, May 4, 1699, and our voyage was at first very prosperous.” (pp. 11-

12)

- Identify the details related to the character’s early life, family background, education inthis fragment.

-

How do they relate to the rest of the novel?

2. “He is taller by almost the breadth of my nail, than any of his court; which alone is enough tostrike an awe into the beholders. His features are strong and masculine, with an Austrian lip and



20

arched nose, his complexion olive, his countenance erect, his body and limbs well proportioned,

all his motions graceful, and his deportment majestic. He was then past his prime, being twenty-

eight years and three quarters old, of which he had reigned about seven in great felicity, and

generally victorious. For the better convenience of beholding him, I lay on my side, so that my

face was parallel to his, and he stood but three yards off: however, I have had him since many

times in my hand, and therefore cannot be deceived in the description. His dress was very plainand simple, and the fashion of it between the Asiatic and the European; but he had on his head a

light helmet of gold, adorned with jewels, and a plume on the crest. He held his sword drawn in

his hand to defend himself, if I should happen to break loose; it was almost three inches long; the

hilt and scabbard were gold enriched with diamonds. His voice was shrill, but very clear and

articulate; and I could distinctly hear it when I stood up. The ladies and courtiers were all most

magnificently clad; so that the spot they stood upon seemed to resemble a petticoat spread upon

the ground, embroidered with figures of gold and silver. His imperial majesty spoke often to me,

and I returned answers: but neither of us could understand a syllable. There were several of his

priests and lawyers present (as I conjectured by their habits), who were commanded to address

themselves to me; and I spoke to them in as many languages as I had the least smattering of,

which were High and Low Dutch, Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, and Lingua Franca, but all to no

purpose.”

- the Emperor of Lilliput; his portrait

3. “The emperor had a mind one day to entertain me with several of the country shows, wherein

they exceed all nations I have known, both for dexterity and magnificence. I was diverted with

none so much as that of the rope-dancers, performed upon a slender white thread, extended

about two feet, and twelve inches from the ground. Upon which I shall desire liberty, with the

reader’s patience, to enlarge a little. This diversion is only practised by those persons who are candidates for great employments, and

high favour at court. They are trained in this art from their youth, and are not always of noblebirth, or liberal education. When a great office is vacant, either by death or disgrace (which often

happens,) five or six of those candidates petition the emperor to entertain his majesty and the

court with a dance on the rope; and whoever jumps the highest, without falling, succeeds in the

office. Very often the chief ministers themselves are commanded to show their skill, and to

convince the emperor that they have not lost their faculty. Flimnap, the treasurer, is allowed to

cut a caper on the straight rope, at least an inch higher than any other lord in the whole empire. I

have seen him do the summerset several times together, upon a trencher fixed on a rope which is

no thicker than a common packthread in England. My friend Reldresal, principal secretary for

private affairs, is, in my opinion, if I am not partial, the second after the treasurer; the rest of the

great officers are much upon a par. These diversions are often attended with fatal accidents,

whereof great numbers are on record. I myself have seen two or three candidates break a

limb. But the danger is much greater, when the ministers themselves are commanded to show

their dexterity; for, by contending to excel themselves and their fellows, they strain so far that

there is hardly one of them who has not received a fall, and some of them two or three. I was

assured that, a year or two before my arrival, Flimnap would infallibly have broke his neck, if one

of the king’s cushions, that accidentally lay on the ground, had not weakened the force of his fall.”(pp. 26-27)

- Define allegory (see Dictionary of literary terms).

- This text allegorically refers to the world of politics in King George I’s reign (1714

– 1727). Discuss the dance metaphor for the risks in politics in this fragment or the idea

of rise and fall in politics;- Is politics a “diversion”?



Culea Mihaela

21

- Who could Flimnap be? See

http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/walpole _robert.shtml

4. “There is likewise another diversion, which is only shown before the emperor and empress,

and first minister, upon particular occasions. The emperor lays on the table three fine silkenthreads of six inches long; one is blue, the other red, and the third green. These threads are

proposed as prizes for those persons whom the emperor has a mind to distinguish by a peculiar

mark of his favour. The ceremony is performed in his majesty’s great chamber of state, wherethe candidates are to undergo a trial of dexterity very different from the former, and such as I

have not observed the least resemblance of in any other country of the new or old world. The

emperor holds a stick in his hands, both ends parallel to the horizon, while the candidates

advancing, one by one, sometimes leap over the stick, sometimes creep under it, backward and

forward, several times, according as the stick is advanced or depressed. Sometimes the emperor

holds one end of the stick, and his first minister the other; sometimes the minister has it entirely

to himself. Whoever performs his part with most agility, and holds out the longest in leaping and

creeping, is rewarded with the blue-coloured silk; the red is given to the next, and the green tothe third, which they all wear girt twice round about the middle; and you see few great persons

about this court who are not adorned with one of these girdles.” (p. 27)

- The knightly orders

5. “ (…) for about seventy moons past there have been two struggling parties in this empire,under the names of Tramecksan and Slamecksan, from the high and low heels of their shoes, by

which they distinguish themselves. It is alleged, indeed, that the high heels are most agreeable to

our ancient constitution; but, however this be, his majesty has determined to make use only of

low heels in the administration of the government, and all offices in the gift of the crown, as you

cannot but observe; and particularly that his majesty’s imperial heels are lower at least bya drurr than any of his court (drurr is a measure about the fourteenth part of an inch). The

animosities between these two parties run so high, that they will neither eat, nor drink, nor talk

with each other. We compute the Tramecksan, or high heels, to exceed us in number; but the

power is wholly on our side. We apprehend his imperial highness, the heir to the crown, to have

some tendency towards the high heels; at least we can plainly discover that one of his heels is

higher than the other, which gives him a hobble in his gait.” (p. 37)

- This fragment also allegorically refers to politics during the reign of King George I.

First identify the elements of the surface level of the story and then discuss the deeper

significance of the story (the conflicts between Tories and Whigs; aristocracy vs middle

classes).

6. “Now, in the midst of these intestine disquiets, we are threatened with an invasion from theisland of Blefuscu, which is the other great empire of the universe, almost as large and powerful

as this of his majesty. For as to what we have heard you affirm, that there are other kingdoms

and states in the world inhabited by human creatures as large as yourself, our philosophers are

in much doubt, and would rather conjecture that you dropped from the moon, or one of the

stars; because it is certain, that a hundred mortals of your bulk would in a short time destroy all

the fruits and cattle of his majesty’s dominions: besides, our histories of six thousand moons

make no mention of any other regions than the two great empires of Lilliput and

Blefuscu. Which two mighty powers have, as I was going to tell you, been engaged in a most

obstinate war for six-and-thirty moons past. It began upon the following occasion. It is allowed

on all hands, that the primitive way of breaking eggs, before we eat them, was upon the larger



22

end; but his present majesty’s grandfather, while he was a boy, going to eat an egg, and breakingit according to the ancient practice, happened to cut one of his fingers. Whereupon the emperor

his father published an edict, commanding all his subjects, upon great penalties, to break the

smaller end of their eggs. The people so highly resented this law, that our histories tell us, there

have been six rebellions raised on that account; wherein one emperor lost his life, and another

his crown. These civil commotions were constantly fomented by the monarchs of Blefuscu; andwhen they were quelled, the exiles always fled for refuge to that empire. It is computed that

eleven thousand persons have at several times suffered death, rather than submit to break their

eggs at the smaller end. Many hundred large volumes have been published upon this

controversy: but the books of the Big-endians have been long forbidden, and the whole party

rendered incapable by law of holding employments. During the course of these troubles, the

emperors of Blefuscu did frequently expostulate by their ambassadors, accusing us of making a

schism in religion, by offending against a fundamental doctrine of our great prophet Lustrog, in

the fifty-fourth chapter of the Blundecral (which is their Alcoran). This, however, is thought to be

a mere strain upon the text; for the words are these: ‘that all true believers break their eggs at

the convenient end.’ And which is the convenient end, seems, in my humble opinion to be left to

every man’s conscience, or at least in the power of the chief magistrate to determine.” (pp. 34-

35)

- What could the two great empires of Lilliput and Blefuscu stand for/represent?

- The ‘egg controversy’ in this text refers to the religious conflicts or divergence

between Catholics and Protestants (Anglicans) and the subsequent political turbulence

between England and France. Identify and discuss the elements of this allegorical

presentation.

7. “(…) t he next time I had the honour to see our emperor, I desired his general license to wait on

the Blefuscudian monarch, which he was pleased to grant me, as I could perceive, in a very cold

manner; but could not guess the reason, till I had a whisper from a certain person, “that Flimnapand Bolgolam had represented my intercourse with those ambassadors as a mark of

disaffection;” from which I am sure my heart was wholly free. And this was the first time I began

to conceive some imperfect idea of courts and ministers.

It is to be observed, that these ambassadors spoke to me, by an interpreter, the languages of both

empires differing as much from each other as any two in Europe, and each nation priding itself

upon the antiquity, beauty, and energy of their own tongue, with an avowed contempt for that of

their neighbour; yet our emperor, standing upon the advantage he had got by the seizure of their

fleet, obliged them to deliver their credentials, and make their speech, in the Lilliputian

tongue. And it must be confessed, that from the great intercourse of trade and commerce

between both realms, from the continual reception of exiles which is mutual among them, and

from the custom, in each empire, to send their young nobility and richer gentry to the other, in

order to polish themselves by seeing the world, and understanding men and manners; there are

few persons of distinction, or merchants, or seamen, who dwell in the maritime parts, but what

can hold conversation in both tongues;” (pp. 38-39)

- What does this fragment allegorically suggest about France and England and their

relationships?

PART II. A VOYAGE TO BROBDINGNAG

8. “This prince took a pleasure in conversing with me, inquiring into the manners, religion, laws,

government, and learning of Europe; wherein I gave him the best account I was able. Hisapprehension was so clear, and his judgment so exact, that he made very wise reflections and



Culea Mihaela

23

observations upon all I said. But I confess, that, after I had been a little too copious in talking of

my own beloved country, of our trade and wars by sea and land, of our schisms in religion, and

parties in the state; the prejudices of his education prevailed so far, that he could not forbear

taking me up in his right hand, and stroking me gently with the other, after a hearty fit of

laughing, asked me, “whether I was a whig or tory?” Then turning to his first minister, who

waited behind him with a white staff, near as tall as the mainmast of the Royal Sovereign, heobserved “how contemptible a thing was human grandeur, which could be mimicked by such

diminutive insects as I: and yet,” says he, “I dare engage these creatures have the ir titles and

distinctions of honour; they contrive little nests and burrows, that they call houses and cities;

they make a figure in dress and equipage; they love, they fight, they dispute, they cheat, they

betray!” And thus he continued on, while my colour came and went several times, with

indignation, to hear our noble country, the mistress of arts and arms, the scourge of France, the

arbitress of Europe, the seat of virtue, piety, honour, and truth, the pride and envy of the world,

so contemptuously treated.” (p. 79)

- What view of England does this fragment present?

9. “I began my discourse by informing his majesty, that our dominions consisted of two islands,which composed three mighty kingdoms, under one sovereign, beside our plantations in

America. I dwelt long upon the fertility of our soil, and the temperature of our climate. I then

spoke at large upon the constitution of an English parliament; partly made up of an illustrious

body called the House of Peers; persons of the noblest blood, and of the most ancient and ample

patrimonies. I described that extraordinary care always taken of their education in arts and

arms, to qualify them for being counsellors both to the king and kingdom; to have a share in the

legislature; to be members of the highest court of judicature, whence there can be no appeal; and

to be champions always ready for the defence of their prince and country, by their valour,

conduct, and fidelity. That these were the ornament and bulwark of the kingdom, worthy

followers of their most renowned ancestors, whose honour had been the reward of their virtue,from which their posterity were never once known to degenerate. To these were joined several

holy persons, as part of that assembly, under the title of bishops, whose peculiar business is to

take care of religion, and of those who instruct the people therein. These were searched and

sought out through the whole nation, by the prince and his wisest counsellors, among such of the

priesthood as were most deservedly distinguished by the sanctity of their lives, and the depth of

their erudition; who were indeed the spiritual fathers of the clergy and the people.

That the other part of the parliament consisted of an assembly called the House of Commons,

who were all principal gentlemen, freely picked and culled out by the people themselves, for

their great abilities and love of their country, to represent the wisdom of the whole nation. And

that these two bodies made up the most august assembly in Europe; to whom, in conjunction

with the prince, the whole legislature is committed.

I then descended to the courts of justice; over which the judges, those venerable sages and

interpreters of the law, presided, for determining the disputed rights and properties of men, as

well as for the punishment of vice and protection of innocence. I mentioned the prudent

management of our treasury; the valour and achievements of our forces, by sea and land. I

computed the number of our people, by reckoning how many millions there might be of each

religious sect, or political party among us. I did not omit even our sports and pastimes, or any

other particular which I thought might redound to the honour of my country. And I finished all

with a brief historical account of affairs and events in England for a bout a hundred years past.”(pp. 95 – 96)

-

State/political and religious power in Great Britain



24

10. “He was perfectly astonished with the historical account gave him of our affairs during thelast century; protesting “it was only a heap of conspiracies, rebellions, murders, massacres,

revolutions, banishments, the very worst effects that avarice, faction, hypocrisy, perfidiousness,

cruelty, rage, madness, hatred, envy, lust, malice, and ambition, could produce. (…)

His majesty, in another audience, was at the pains to recapitulate the sum of all I had spoken;

compared the questions he made with the answers I had given; then taking me into his hands,and stroking me gently, delivered himself in these words, which I shall never forget, nor the

manner he spoke them in: “My little friend Grildrig, you have made a most admirable panegyricupon your country; you have clearly proved, that ignorance, idleness, and vice, are the proper

ingredients for qualifying a legislator; that laws are best explained, interpreted, and applied, by

those whose interest and abilities lie in perverting, confounding, and eluding them. I observe

among you some lines of an institution, which, in its original, might have been tolerable, but

these half erased, and the rest wholly blurred and blotted by corruptions. It does not appear,

from all you have said, how any one perfection is required toward the procurement of any one

station among you; much less, that men are ennobled on account of their virtue; that priests are

advanced for their piety or learning; soldiers, for their conduct or valour; judges, for their

integrity; senators, for the love of their country; or counsellors for their wisdom. As for

yourself,” continued the king, “who have spent the greatest part of your life in travelling, I am

well disposed to hope you may hitherto have escaped many vices of your country. But by what I

have gathered from your own relation, and the answers I have with much pains wrung and

extorted from you, I cannot but conclude the bulk of your natives to be the most pernicious race

of little odious vermin that nature ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of the earth.” (pp. 98 –

99)

- Comment upon his majesty’s criticism of English character and life (the opposition

between qualities/virtue and vices on many levels).

- What does the ‘man is animal’ metaphor suggest?

11. “A strange effect of narrow principles and views! that a prince possessed of every quality

which procures veneration, love, and esteem; of strong parts, great wisdom, and profound

learning, endowed with admirable talents, and almost adored by his subjects, should, from a

nice, unnecessary scruple, whereof in Europe we can have no conception, let slip an opportunity

put into his hands that would have made him absolute master of the lives, the liberties, and the

fortunes of his people! Neither do I say this, with the least intention to detract from the many

virtues of that excellent king, whose character, I am sensible, will, on this account, be very much

lessened in the opinion of an English reader: but I take this defect among them to have risen

from their ignorance, by not having hitherto reduced politics into a science, as the more acute

wits of Europe have done. For, I remember very well, in a discourse one day with the king, when

I happened to say, “there were several thousand books among us written upon the art ofgovernment,” it gave him (directly contrary to my intention) a very mean opinion of ourunderstandings. He professed both to abominate and despise all mystery, refinement, and

intrigue, either in a prince or a minister. He could not tell what I meant by secrets of state, where

an enemy, or some rival nation, were not in the case. He confined the knowledge of governing

within very narrow bounds, to common sense and reason, to justice and lenity, to the speedy

determination of civil and criminal causes; with some other obvious topics, which are not worth

considering. And he gave it for his opinion, “that whoever could make two ears of corn, or twoblades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one grew before, would deserve better

of mankind, and do more essential service to his country, than the whole race of politicians put

together.”



Culea Mihaela

25

The learning of this people is very defective, consisting only in morality, history, poetry, and

mathematics, wherein they must be allowed to excel. But the last of these is wholly applied to

what may be useful in life, to the improvement of agriculture, and all mechanical arts; so that

among us, it would be little esteemed. And as to ideas, entities, abstractions, and

transcendentals, I could never drive the least conception into their heads.” (p. 101)

PART III. A VOYAGE TO LAPUTA, BALNIBARBI, LUGGNAGG, GLUBBDUBDRIB, AND JAPAN

12. “I turned back, and perceived a vast opaque body between me and the sun moving forwards

towards the island: it seemed to be about two miles high, and hid the sun six or seven minutes;

but I did not observe the air to be much colder, or the sky more darkened, than if I had stood

under the shade of a mountain. As it approached nearer over the place where I was, it appeared

to be a firm substance, the bottom flat, smooth, and shining very bright, from the reflection of the

sea below. I stood upon a height about two hundred yards from the shore, and saw this vast

body descending almost to a parallel with me, at less than an English mile distance. I took out

my pocket perspective, and could plainly discover numbers of people moving up and down the

sides of it, which appeared to be sloping; but what those people where doing I was not able to

distinguish.

The natural love of life gave me some inward motion of joy, and I was ready to entertain a hope

that this adventure might, some way or other, help to deliver me from the desolate place and

condition I was in. But at the same time the reader can hardly conceive my astonishment, to

behold an island in the air, inhabited by men, who were able (as it should seem) to raise or sink,

or put it into progressive motion, as they pleased. But not being at that time in a disposition to

philosophise upon this phenomenon, I rather chose to observe what course the island would

take, because it seemed for awhile to stand still. Yet soon after, it advanced nearer, and I could

see the sides of it encompassed with several gradations of galleries, and stairs, at certain

intervals, to descend from one to the other. In the lowest gallery, I beheld some people fishing

with long angling rods, and others looking on. I waved my cap (for my hat was long since wornout) and my handkerchief toward the island; and upon its nearer approach, I called and shouted

with the utmost strength of my voice; and then looking circumspectly, I beheld a crowd gather to

that side which was most in my view. I found by their pointing towards me and to each other,

that they plainly discovered me, although they made no return to my shouting. But I could see

four or five men running in great haste, up the stairs, to the top of the island, who then

disappeared. I happened rightly to conjecture, that these were sent for orders to some person in

authority upon this occasion.

The number of people increased, and, in less than half all hour, the island was moved and raised

in such a manner, that the lowest gallery appeared in a parallel of less then a hundred yards

distance from the height where I stood. I then put myself in the most supplicating posture, and

spoke in the humblest accent, but received no answer. Those who stood nearest over against me,

seemed to be persons of distinction, as I supposed by their habit. They conferred earnestly with

each other, looking often upon me. At length one of them called out in a clear, polite, smooth

dialect, not unlike in sound to the Italian: and therefore I returned an answer in that language,

hoping at least that the cadence might be more agreeable to his ears. Although neither of us

understood the other, yet my meaning was easily known, for the people saw the distress I was in.

They made signs for me to come down from the rock, and go towards the shore, which I

accordingly did; and the flying island being raised to a convenient height, the verge directly over

me, a chain was let down from the lowest gallery, with a seat fastened to the bottom, to which I

fixed myself, and was drawn up by pulleys.” (pp. 117-119)

-

The flying island of the Laputans



26

13. “At my alighting, I was surrounded with a crowd of people, but those who stood nearestseemed to be of better quality. They beheld me with all the marks and circumstances of wonder;

neither indeed was I much in their debt, having never till then seen a race of mortals so singular

in their shapes, habits, and countenances. Their heads were all reclined, either to the right, or

the left; one of their eyes turned inward, and the other directly up to the zenith. Their outward

garments were adorned with the figures of suns, moons, and stars; interwoven with those offiddles, flutes, harps, trumpets, guitars, harpsichords, and many other instruments of music,

unknown to us in Europe. I observed, here and there, many in the habit of servants, with a

blown bladder, fastened like a flail to the end of a stick, which they carried in their hands. In

each bladder was a small quantity of dried peas, or little pebbles, as I was afterwards

informed. With these bladders, they now and then flapped the mouths and ears of those who

stood near them, of which practice I could not then conceive the meaning. It seems the minds of

these people are so taken up with intense speculations, that they neither can speak, nor attend to

the discourses of others, without being roused by some external taction upon the organs of

speech and hearing; for which reason, those persons who are able to afford it always keep a

flapper (the original is climenole) in their family, as one of their domestics; nor ever walk abroad,

or make visits, without him. And the business of this officer is, when two, three, or more persons

are in company, gently to strike with his bladder the mouth of him who is to speak, and the right

ear of him or them to whom the speaker addresses himself. This flapper is likewise employed

diligently to attend his master in his walks, and upon occasion to give him a soft flap on his eyes;

because he is always so wrapped up in cogitation, that he is in manifest danger of falling down

every precipice, and bouncing his head against every post; and in the streets, of justling others,

or being justled himself into the kennel.” (pp. 119 – 120)

- Focus on the physical description of the Laputans. What could it signify about their

inward nature?

- What is the purpose of the bladders?

14. “At last we entered the palace, and proceeded into the chamber of presence, where I saw the

king seated on his throne, attended on each side by persons of prime quality. Before the throne,

was a large table filled with globes and spheres, and mathematical instruments of all kinds. His

majesty took not the least notice of us, although our entrance was not without sufficient noise,

by the concourse of all persons belonging to the court. But he was then deep in a problem; and

we attended at least an hour, before he could solve it. There stood by him, on each side, a young

page with flaps in their hands, and when they saw he was at leisure, one of them gently struck

his mouth, and the other his right ear; at which he startled like one awaked on the sudden, and

looking towards me and the company I was in, recollected the occasion of our coming, whereof

he had been informed before. He spoke some words, whereupon immediately a young man with

a flap came up to my side, and flapped me gently on the right ear; but I made signs, as well as I

could, that I had no occasion for such an instrument; which, as I afterwards found, gave his

majesty, and the whole court, a very mean opinion of my understanding. The king, as far as I

could conjecture, asked me several questions, and I addressed myself to him in all the languages

I had. When it was found I could neither understand nor be understood, I was conducted by his

order to an apartment in his palace (this prince being distinguished above all his predecessors

for his hospitality to strangers), where two servants were appointed to attend me. My dinner

was brought, and four persons of quality, whom I remembered to have seen very near the king’sperson, did me the honour to dine with me. We had two courses, of three dishes each. In the

first course, there was a shoulder of mutton cut into an equilateral triangle, a piece of beef into a

rhomboides, and a pudding into a cycloid. The second course was two ducks trussed up in theform of fiddles; sausages and puddings resembling flutes and hautboys, and a breast of veal in



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27

the shape of a harp. The servants cut our bread into cones, cylinders, parallelograms, and

several other mathematical figures.” (p. 120)

- Does the description of the king of Laputa confirm the statement from the

previous text according to which “the minds of these people are so taken up with intensespeculations”?

-

What is the signification of their particular interest in mathematics?

15. “In our journey towards Lagado, the capital city, his majesty ordered that the island should

stop over certain towns and villages, from whence he might receive the petitions of his

subjects. And to this purpose, several packthreads were let down, with small weights at the

bottom. On these packthreads the people strung their petitions, which mounted up directly, like

the scraps of paper fastened by school boys at the end of the string that holds their

kite. Sometimes we received wine and victuals from below, which were drawn up by pulleys.

The knowledge I had in mathematics, gave me great assistance in acquiring their phraseology,

which depended much upon that science, and music; and in the latter I was not unskilled. Their

ideas are perpetually conversant in lines and figures. If they would, for example, praise the

beauty of a woman, or any other animal, they describe it by rhombs, circles, parallelograms,

ellipses, and other geometrical terms, or by words of art drawn from music, needless here to

repeat. I observed in the king’s kitchen all sorts of mathematical and musical instruments, after

the figures of which they cut up the joints that were served to his majesty’s table.

Their houses are very ill built, the walls bevil, without one right angle in any apartment; and this

defect arises from the contempt they bear to practical geometry, which they despise as vulgar

and mechanic; those instructions they give being too refined for the intellects of their workmen,

which occasions perpetual mistakes. And although they are dexterous enough upon a piece of

paper, in the management of the rule, the pencil, and the divider, yet in the common actions and

behaviour of life, I have not seen a more clumsy, awkward, and unhandy people, nor so slow and

perplexed in their conceptions upon all other subjects, except those of mathematics andmusic. They are very bad reasoners, and vehemently given to opposition, unless when they

happen to be of the right opinion, which is seldom their case. Imagination, fancy, and invention,

they are wholly strangers to, nor have any words in their language, by which those ideas can be

expressed; the whole compass of their thoughts and mind being shut up within the two

forementioned sciences.

Most of them, and especially those who deal in the astronomical part, have great faith in judicial

astrology, although they are ashamed to own it publicly. But what I chiefly admired, and thought

altogether unaccountable, was the strong disposition I observed in them towards news and

politics, perpetually inquiring into public affairs, giving their judgments in matters of state, and

passionately disputing every inch of a party opinion. I have indeed observed the same

disposition among most of the mathematicians I have known in Europe, although I could never

discover the least analogy between the two sciences; unless those people suppose, that because

the smallest circle has as many degrees as the largest, therefore the regulation and management

of the world require no more abilities than the handling and turning of a globe; but I rather take

this quality to spring from a very common infirmity of human nature, inclining us to be most

curious and conceited in matters where we have least concern, and for which we are least

adapted by study or nature.” (pp. 121-123)

- Comment upon the Laputans’ character, their learning, and occupations in relationto the two sciences that govern their lives.

- What is the connection between theory and practice in their lives?

-

What could be the authorial intention for this description?



28

16. “(…) certain persons went up to Laputa, either upon business or diversion, and, after five

months continuance, came back with a very little smattering in mathematics, but full of volatile

spirits acquired in that airy region: that these persons, upon their return, began to dislike the

management of every thing below, and fell into schemes of putting all arts, sciences, languages,

and mechanics, upon a new foot. To this end, they procured a royal patent for erecting an

academy of projectors in Lagado; and the humour prevailed so strongly among the people, thatthere is not a town of any consequence in the kingdom without such an academy. In these

colleges the professors contrive new rules and methods of agriculture and building, and new

instruments, and tools for all trades and manufactures; whereby, as they undertake, one man

shall do the work of ten; a palace may be built in a week, of materials so durable as to last for

ever without repairing. All the fruits of the earth shall come to maturity at whatever season we

think fit to choose, and increase a hundred fold more than they do at present; with innumerable

other happy proposals. The only inconvenience is, that none of these projects are yet brought to

perfection; and in the mean time, the whole country lies miserably waste, the houses in ruins,

and the people without food or clothes. By all which, instead of being discouraged, they are fifty

times more violently bent upon prosecuting their schemes, driven equally on by hope and

despair: that as for himself, being not of an enterprising spirit, he was content to go on in the old

forms, to live in the houses his ancestors had built, and act as they did, in every part of life,

without innovation: that some few other persons of quality and gentry had done the same, but

were looked on with an eye of contempt and ill-will, as enemies to art, ignorant, and ill common-

wealth’s men, preferring their own ease and sloth before the general improvement of theircountry.” (p. 134)

- What do the scientists of the academy of projectors do? What are the purposes of

their actions?

- Could we establish any relation between this academy and the Royal Society of

London?

-

Do their activities benefit the people of that country?- What is the relation between tradition and modernization?

17. “I was received very kindly by the warden, and went for many days to the academy. Every

room has in it one or more projectors; and I believe I could not be in fewer than five hundred

rooms.

The first man I saw was of a meagre aspect, with sooty hands and face, his hair and beard long,

ragged, and singed in several places. His clothes, shirt, and skin, were all of the same colour. He

has been eight years upon a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which were to be

put in phials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw inclement summers. He told

me, he did not doubt, that, in eight years more, he should be able to supply the governor’sgardens with sunshine, at a reasonable rate: but he complained that his stock was low, and

entreated me “to give him somet hing as an encouragement to ingenuity, especially since this had

been a very dear season for cucumbers.” I made him a small present, for my lord had furnished

me with money on purpose, because he knew their practice of begging from all who go to see

them.

I went into another chamber, but was ready to hasten back, being almost overcome with a

horrible stink. My conductor pressed me forward, conjuring me in a whisper “to give no offence,

which would be highly resented;” and therefore I durst not so much as stop my nose. The

projector of this cell was the most ancient student of the academy; his face and beard were of a

pale yellow; his hands and clothes daubed over with filth. When I was presented to him, he gave

me a close embrace, a compliment I could well have excused. His employment, from his firstcoming into the academy, was an operation to reduce human excrement to its original food, by



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29

separating the several parts, removing the tincture which it receives from the gall, making the

odour exhale, and scumming off the saliva. He had a weekly allowance, from the society, of a

vessel filled with human ordure, about the bigness of a Bristol barrel.

I saw another at work to calcine ice into gunpowder; who likewise showed me a treatise he had

written concerning the malleability of fire, which he intended to publish.

There was a most ingenious architect, who had contrived a new method for building houses, bybeginning at the roof, and working downward to the foundation; which he justified to me, by the

like practice of those two prudent insects, the bee and the spider.

There was a man born blind, who had several apprentices in his own condition: their

employment was to mix colours for painters, which their master taught them to distinguish by

feeling and smelling. It was indeed my misfortune to find them at that time not very perfect in

their lessons, and the professor himself happened to be generally mistaken. This artist is much

encouraged and esteemed by the whole fraternity.” (pp. 135-136)

- Identify examples of experiments or inventions carried out in the academy.

- Does the text admiratively present the activities of these inventors or is it a satire

against the illogicality and uselessness of certain scientific experiments?

18. “In the school of political projectors, I was but ill entertained; the professors appearing, in

my judgment, wholly out of their senses, which is a scene that never fails to make me

melancholy. These unhappy people were proposing schemes for persuading monarchs to choose

favourites upon the score of their wisdom, capacity, and virtue; of teaching ministers to consult

the public good; of rewarding merit, great abilities, eminent services; of instructing princes to

know their true interest, by placing it on the same foundation with that of their people; of

choosing for employments persons qualified to exercise them, with many other wild, impossible

chimeras, that never entered before into the heart of man to conceive; and confirmed in me the

old observation, “that there is nothing so extravagant and irrational, which some philosophers

have not maintained for truth.” But, however, I shall so far do justice to this part of the Academy, as to acknowledge that all of

them were not so visionary. There was a most ingenious doctor, who seemed to be perfectly

versed in the whole nature and system of government. This illustrious person had very usefully

employed his studies, in finding out effectual remedies for all diseases and corruptions to which

the several kinds of public administration are subject, by the vices or infirmities of those who

govern, as well as by the licentiousness of those who are to obey. For instance: whereas all

writers and reasoners have agreed, that there is a strict universal resemblance between the

natural and the political body; can there be any thing more evident, than that the health of both

must be preserved, and the diseases cured, by the same prescriptions? It is allowed, that senates

and great councils are often troubled with redundant, ebullient, and other peccant humours;

with many diseases of the head, and more of the heart; with strong convulsions, with grievous

contractions of the nerves and sinews in both hands, but especially the right; with spleen, flatus,

vertigos, and deliriums; with scrofulous tumours, full of fetid purulent matter; with sour frothy

ructations: with canine appetites, and crudeness of digestion, besides many others, needless to

mention. This doctor therefore proposed, “that upon the meeting of the senate, certainphysicians should attend it the three first days of their sitting, and at the close of each day’sdebate feel the pulses of every senator; after which, having maturely considered and consulted

upon the nature of the several maladies, and the methods of cure, they should on the fourth day

return to the senate house, attended by their apothecaries stored with proper medicines; and

before the members sat, administer to each of them lenitives, aperitives, abstersives, corrosives,

restringents, palliatives, laxatives, cephalalgics, icterics, apophlegmatics, acoustics, as their



30

several cases required; and, according as these medicines should operate, repeat, alter, or omit

them, at the next meeting.” (pp. 141 – 142)

- What is the purpose of presenting political corruption as a disease?

-

Which are the ideal qualities of politicians?

- Does the text sketch a satire against political favoritism, political incompetence or

something else?

19. “I was chiefly disgusted with modern history. For having strictly examined all the persons of

greatest name in the courts of princes, for a hundred years past, I found how the world had been

misled by prostitute writers, to ascribe the greatest exploits in war, to cowards; the wisest

counsel, to fools; sincerity, to flatterers; Roman virtue, to betrayers of their country; piety, to

atheists; chastity, to sodomites; truth, to informers: how many innocent and excellent persons

had been condemned to death or banishment by the practising of great ministers upon the

corruption of judges, and the malice of factions: how many villains had been exalted to the

highest places of trust, power, dignity, and profit: how great a share in the motions and events of

courts, councils, and senates might be challenged by bawds, whores, pimps, parasites, and

buffoons. How low an opinion I had of human wisdom and integrity, when I was truly informed

of the springs and motives of great enterprises and revolutions in the world, and of the

contemptible accidents to which they owed their success.

Here I discovered the roguery and ignorance of those who pretend to write anecdotes, or secret

history; who send so many kings to their graves with a cup of poison; will repeat the discourse

between a prince and chief minister, where no witness was by; unlock the thoughts and cabinets

of ambassadors and secretaries of state; and have the perpetual misfortune to be mistaken. Here

I discovered the true causes of many great events that have surprised the world; how a whore

can govern the back-stairs, the back-stairs a council, and the council a senate. A general

confessed, in my presence, “that he got a victory purely by the force of cowardice and ill

conduct;” and an admiral, “that, for want of proper intelligence, he beat the enemy, to whom heintended to betray the fleet.” Three kings protest ed to me, “that in their whole reigns they never

did once prefer any person of merit, unless by mistake, or treachery of some minister in whom

they confided; neither would they do it if they were to live again:” and they showed, with greatstrength of reason, “that the royal throne could not be supported without corruption, becausethat positive, confident, restiff temper, which virtue infused into a man, was a perpetual clog to

public business.”

I had the curiosity to inquire in a particular manner, by what methods great numbers had

procured to themselves high titles of honour, and prodigious estates; and I confined my inquiry

to a very modern period: however, without grating upon present times, because I would be sure

to give no offence even to foreigners (for I hope the reader need not be told, that I do not in the

least intend my own country, in what I say upon this occasion,) a great number of persons

concerned were called up; and, upon a very slight examination, discovered such a scene of

infamy, that I cannot reflect upon it without some seriousness. Perjury, oppression, subornation,

fraud, pandarism, and the like infirmities, were among the most excusable arts they had to

mention; and for these I gave, as it was reasonable, great allowance. But when some confessed

they owed their greatness and wealth to sodomy, or incest; others, to the prostituting of their

own wives and daughters; others, to the betraying of their country or their prince; some, to

poisoning; more to the perverting of justice, in order to destroy the innocent, I hope I may be

pardoned, if these discoveries inclined me a little to abate of that profound veneration, which I

am naturally apt to pay to persons of high rank, who ought to be treated with the utmost respect

due to their sublime dignity, by us their inferiors.” (pp. 150 – 152)-

decadent and degenerated royalty



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31

- corruption at court

- the writing of history

PART IV. A VOYAGE TO THE COUNTRY OF THE HOUYHNHNMS

20. “At last I beheld several animals in a field, and one or two of the same kind sitting in

trees. Their shape was very singular and deformed, which a little discomposed me, so that I laydown behind a thicket to observe them better. Some of them coming forward near the place

where I lay, gave me an opportunity of distinctly marking their form. Their heads and breasts

were covered with a thick hair, some frizzled, and others lank; they had beards like goats, and a

long ridge of hair down their backs, and the fore parts of their legs and feet; but the rest of their

bodies was bare, so that I might see their skins, which were of a brown buff colour. They had no

tails, nor any hair at all on their buttocks, except about the anus, which, I presume, nature had

placed there to defend them as they sat on the ground, for this posture they used, as well as lying

down, and often stood on their hind feet. They climbed high trees as nimbly as a squirrel, for

they had strong extended claws before and behind, terminating in sharp points, and

hooked. They would often spring, and bound, and leap, with prodigious agility. The females

were not so large as the males; they had long lank hair on their heads, but none on their faces,

nor any thing more than a sort of down on the rest of their bodies, except about the anus and

pudenda. The dugs hung between their fore feet, and often reached almost to the ground as they

walked. The hair of both sexes was of several colours, brown, red, black, and yellow. Upon the

whole, I never beheld, in all my travels, so disagreeable an animal, or one against which I

naturally conceived so strong an antipathy. (...)The beast and I were brought close together, and

by our countenances diligently compared both by master and servant, who thereupon repeated

several times the word Yahoo. My horror and astonishment are not to be described, when I

observed in this abominable animal, a perfect human figure: the face of it indeed was flat and

broad, the nose depressed, the lips large, and the mouth wide; but these differences are common

to all savage nations, where the lineaments of the countenance are distorted, by the nativessuffering their infants to lie grovelling on the earth, or by carrying them on their backs, nuzzling

with their face against the mothers’ shoulders. The fore-feet of the Yahoo differed from my

hands in nothing else but the length of the nails, the coarseness and brownness of the palms, and

the hairiness on the backs. There was the same resemblance between our feet, with the same

differences; which I knew very well, though the horses did not, because of my shoes and

stockings; the same in every part of our bodies except as to hairiness and colour, which I have

already described. (...) My master observed the whole performance with great signs of curiosity

and admiration. He took up all my clothes in his pastern, one piece after another, and examined

them diligently; he then stroked my body very gently, and looked round me several times; after

which, he said, it was plain I must be a perfect Yahoo; but that I differed very much from the rest

of my species in the softness, whiteness, and smoothness of my skin; my want of hair in several

parts of my body; the shape and shortness of my claws behind and before; and my affectation of

walking continually on my two hinder feet.” (pp. 168 – 179)

- Focus on the description of the yahoos and identify the main features of this beast-

like species.

-

Could there be any connection or resemblance between the yahoos and Gulliver?

21. “In the midst of this distress, I observed them all to run away on a sudden as fast as they

could; at which I ventured to leave the tree and pursue the road, wondering what it was that

could put them into this fright. But looking on my left hand, I saw a horse walking softly in the

field; which my persecutors having sooner discovered, was the cause of their flight. The horsestarted a little, when he came near me, but soon recovering himself, looked full in my face with



32

manifest tokens of wonder; he viewed my hands and feet, walking round me several times. I

would have pursued my journey, but he placed himself directly in the way, yet looking with a

very mild aspect, never offering the least violence. We stood gazing at each other for some time;

at last I took the boldness to reach my hand towards his neck with a design to stroke it, using the

common style and whistle of jockeys, when they are going to handle a strange horse. But this

animal seemed to receive my civilities with disdain, shook his head, and bent his brows, softlyraising up his right fore-foot to remove my hand. Then he neighed three or four times, but in so

different a cadence, that I almost began to think he was speaking to himself, in some language of

his own.

While he and I were thus employed, another horse came up; who applying himself to the first in

a very formal manner, they gently struck each other’s right hoof before, neighing several times by

turns, and varying the sound, which seemed to be almost articulate. They went some paces off,

as if it were to confer together, walking side by side, backward and forward, like persons

deliberating upon some affair of weight, but often turning their eyes towards me, as it were to

watch that I might not escape. I was amazed to see such actions and behaviour in brute beasts;

and concluded with myself, that if the inhabitants of this country were endued with a

proportionable degree of reason, they must needs be the wisest people upon earth. (...)Then the

bay tried me with a second word, much harder to be pronounced; but reducing it to the English

orthography, may be spelt thus, Houyhnhnm. (...)The word Houyhnhnm, in their tongue, signifies

a horse, and, in its etymology, the perfection of nature. “ (pp. 169 – 177)

- His first meeting with the horses is also remarkable. If in the previous fragment

the metaphor man/the human being is a beast/an animal can be conjured up, what

connection does the make here?

- What features of the horses draw them close to human nature?

- What is the significance of their name?

22. “When I asserted that the Yahoos were the only governing animals in my country, which mymaster said was altogether past his conception, he desired to know, “whether we had

Houyhnhnms among us, and what was their employment?” I told him, “we had great numbers;

that in summer they grazed in the fields, and in winter were kept in houses with hay and oats,

where Yahoo servants were employed to rub their skins smooth, comb their manes, pick their

feet, serve them with food, and make their beds.” “I understand you well,” said my master: “it is

now very plain, from all you have spoken, that whatever share of reason the Yahoos pretend to,

the Houyhnhnms are your masters; I heartily wish our Yahoos would be so tractable.” I begged

“his honour would please to excuse me from proceeding any further, because I was very certainthat the account he expected from me would be highly displeasing.” But he insisted in

commanding me to let him know the best and the worst. I told him “he should be obeyed.” I

owned “that the Houyhnhnms among us, whom we called horses, were the most generous and

comely animals we had; that they excelled in strength and swiftness; and when they belonged to

persons of quality, were employed in travelling, racing, or drawing chariots; they were treated

with much kindness and care, till they fell into diseases, or became foundered in the feet; but

then they were sold, and used to all kind of drudgery till they died; after which their skins were

stripped, and sold for what they were worth, and their bodies left to be devoured by dogs and

birds of prey. But the common race of horses had not so good fortune, being kept by farmers and

carriers, and other mean people, who put them to greater labour, and fed them worse.” I

described, as well as I could, our way of riding; the shape and use of a bridle, a saddle, a spur, and

a whip; of harness and wheels. I added, “that we fastened plates of a certain hard substance,

called iron, at the bottom of their feet, to preserve their hoofs from being broken by the stonyways, on which we often travelled.”



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My master, after some expressions of great indignation, wondered “how we dared to ventureupon a Houyhnhnm’s back; for he was sure, that the weakest servant in his house would be able

to shake off the strongest Yahoo; or by lying down and rolling on his back, squeeze the brute to

death.” I answered “that our horses were trained up, from three or four years old, to the severaluses we intended them for; that if any of them proved intolerably vicious, they were employed

for carriages; that they were severely beaten, while they were young, for any mischievous tricks;that the males, designed for the common use of riding or draught, were generally castrated about

two years after their birth, to take down their spirits, and make them more tame and gentle; that

they were indeed sensible of rewards and punishments; but his honour would please to consider,

that they had not the least tincture of reason, any more than the Yahoos in this country.” (pp. 181– 182)

- Focus on this satirical presentation of how animals and human beings relate to

each other in Gulliver’s world and home country.- How is the situation reversed considering the two societies – that of the

Houyhnhnms and Gulliver’s? What does this reversal connote?

23. “I know not whether it may be worth observing, that the Houyhnhnms have no word in their

language to express any thing that is evil, except what they borrow from the deformities or ill

qualities of the Yahoos. Thus they denote the folly of a servant, an omission of a child, a stone

that cuts their feet, a continuance of foul or unseasonable weather, and the like, by adding to

each the epithet of Yahoo. For instance, hhnm Yahoo; whnaholm Yahoo, ynlhmndwihlma Yahoo,

and an ill-contrived house ynholmhnmrohlnw Yahoo.” (p. 208)

- What is the significance of the term yahoo and how does it relate to their nature?

24. “Power, government, war, law, punishment, and a thousand other things, had no t erms

wherein that language could express them, which made the difficulty almost insuperable, to give

my master any conception of what I meant. But being of an excellent understanding, muchimproved by contemplation and converse, he at last arrived at a competent knowledge of what

human nature, in our parts of the world, is capable to perform (...)” (p. 184)

- the absence of many social ills and political notions or phenomena

25. “He asked me, “what were the usual causes or motives that made one country go to war with

another?” I answered “they were innumerable; but I should only mention a few of thechief. Sometimes the ambition of princes, who never think they have land or people enough to

govern; sometimes the corruption of ministers, who engage their master in a war, in order to

stifle or divert the clamour of the subjects against their evil administration. Difference in

opinions has cost many millions of lives: for instance, whether flesh be bread, or bread be flesh;

whether the juice of a certain berry be blood or wine; whether whistling be a vice or a virtue;

whether it be better to kiss a post, or throw it into the fire; what is the best colour for a coat,

whether black, white, red, or gray; and whether it should be long or short, narrow or wide, dirty

or clean; with many more. Neither are any wars so furious and bloody, or of so long a

continuance, as those occasioned by difference in opinion, especially if it be in things indifferent.

“Sometimes the quarrel between two princes is to decide which of them shall dispossess a third

of his dominions, where neither of them pretend to any right. Sometimes one prince quarrels

with another for fear the other should quarrel with him. Sometimes a war is entered upon,

because the enemy is too strong; and sometimes, because he is too weak. Sometimes our

neighbours want the things which we have, or have the things which we want, and we both fight,

till they take ours, or give us theirs. It is a very justifiable cause of a war, to invade a country afterthe people have been wasted by famine, destroyed by pestilence, or embroiled by factions among



34

themselves. It is justifiable to enter into war against our nearest ally, when one of his towns lies

convenient for us, or a territory of land, that would render our dominions round and complete. If

a prince sends forces into a nation, where the people are poor and ignorant, he may lawfully put

half of them to death, and make slaves of the rest, in order to civilize and reduce them from their

barbarous way of living. It is a very kingly, honourable, and frequent practice, when one prince

desires the assistance of another, to secure him against an invasion, that the assistant, when hehas driven out the invader, should seize on the dominions himself, and kill, imprison, or banish,

the prince he came to relieve. Alliance by blood, or marriage, is a frequent cause of war between

princes; and the nearer the kindred is, the greater their disposition to quarrel; poor nations are

hungry, and rich nations are proud; and pride and hunger will ever be at variance. For these

reasons, the trade of a soldier is held the most honourable of all others; because a soldier is a

Yahoo hired to kill, in cold blood, as many of his own species, who have never offended him, as

possibly he can.” (pp. 185 – 186)

- Identify the causes of war-making in Europe. Are they honourable or justifiable

given that notions such as “power, government, war, law, punishment, and a thousand

other things, had no terms wherein that language could express them” as compared to

Gulliver’s world?

26. “Whereupon I was at much pains to describe to him the use of money, the materials it was

made of, and the value of the metals; “that when a Yahoo had got a great store of this precious

substance, he was able to purchase whatever he had a mind to; the finest clothing, the noblest

houses, great tracts of land, the most costly meats and drinks, and have his choice of the most

beautiful females. Therefore since money alone was able to perform all these feats, our Yahoos

thought they could never have enough of it to spend, or to save, as they found themselves

inclined, from their natural bent either to profusion or avarice; that the rich man enjoyed the

fruit of the poor man’s labour, and the latter were a thousand to one in proportion to the former;that the bulk of our people were forced to live miserably, by labouring every day for small wages,

to make a few live plentifully.”

I enlarged myself much on these, and many other particulars to the same purpose; but his

honour was still to seek; for he went upon a supposition, that all animals had a title to their share

in the productions of the earth, and especially those who presided over the rest. Therefore he

desired I would let him know, “what these costly meats were, and how any of us happened to

want them?” Whereupon I enumerated as many sorts as came into my head, with the various

methods of dressing them, which could not be done without sending vessels by sea to every part

of the world, as well for liquors to drink as for sauces and innumerable other conveniences. I

assured him “that this whole globe of earth must be at least three times gone round before one of

our better female Yahoos could get her breakfast, or a cup to put it in.” He said “that must needsbe a miserable country which cannot furnish food for its own inhabitants. But what he chiefly

wondered at was, how such vast tracts of ground as I described should be wholly without fresh

wat er, and the people put to the necessity of sending over the sea for drink.” I replied “thatEngland (the dear place of my nativity) was computed to produce three times the quantity of

food more than its inhabitants are able to consume, as well as liquors extracted from grain, or

pressed out of the fruit of certain trees, which made excellent drink, and the same proportion in

every other convenience of life. But, in order to feed the luxury and intemperance of the males,

and the vanity of the females, we sent away the greatest part of our necessary things to other

countries, whence, in return, we brought the materials of diseases, folly, and vice, to spend

among ourselves. Hence it follows of necessity, that vast numbers of our people are compelled to

seek their livelihood by begging, robbing, stealing, cheating, pimping, flattering, suborning,



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35

forswearing, forging, gaming, lying, fawning, hectoring, voting, scribbling, star-gazing, poisoning,

whoring, canting, libelling, freethinking, and the like occupations:” every one of which terms I

was at much pains to make him understand.” (pp. 189 – 190)

-

the importance of money and what people do for it

- wealth or the lack of it among the English people

27. “I told him, “that a first or chief minister of state, who was the person I intended to describe,

was the creature wholly exempt from joy and grief, love and hatred, pity and anger; at least,

makes use of no other passions, but a violent desire of wealth, power, and titles; that he applies

his words to all uses, except to the indication of his mind; that he never tells a truth but with an

intent that you should take it for a lie; nor a lie, but with a design that you should take it for a

truth; that those he speaks worst of behind their backs are in the surest way of preferment; and

whenever he begins to praise you to others, or to yourself, you are from that day forlorn. The

worst mark you can receive is a promise, especially when it is confirmed with an oath; after

which, every wise man retires, and gives over all hopes.

“There are three methods, by which a man may rise to be chief minister. The first is, by knowing

how, with prudence, to dispose of a wife, a daughter, or a sister; the second, by betraying or

undermining his predecessor; and the third is, by a furious zeal, in public assemblies, against the

corruption’s of the court. But a wise prince would rather choose to employ those who practise

the last of these methods; because such zealots prove always the most obsequious and

subservient to the will and passions of their master. That these ministers, having all

employments at their disposal, preserve themselves in power, by bribing the majority of a senate

or great council; and at last, by an expedient, called an act of indemnity” (whereof I described thenature to him), “they secure themselves from after-reckonings, and retire from the public laden

with the spoils of the nation.

“The palace of a chief minister is a seminary to breed up others in his own trade: the pages,

lackeys, and porters, by imitating their master, become ministers of state in their severaldistricts, and learn to excel in the three principal ingredients, of insolence, lying, and

bribery. Accordingly, they have a subaltern court paid to them by persons of the best rank; and

sometimes by the force of dexterity and impudence, arrive, through several gradations, to be

successors to their lord.

“He is usually governed by a decayed wench, or favourite footman, who are the tunnels through

which all graces are conveyed, and may properly be called, in the last resort, the governors of the

kingdom.” (pp. 192 – 193)

-

Focus on the character of the Prime Minister - his political ascension, his close

advisers, the principles they apply.

28. “As to learning, government, arts, manufactures, and the like,” my master confessed, “hecould find little or no resemblance between the Yahoos of that country and those in ours; for he

only meant to observe what parity there was in our natures. He had heard, indeed, some curious

Houyhnhnms observe, that in most herds there was a sort of ruling Yahoo (as among us there is

generally some leading or principal stag in a park), who was always more deformed in body, and

mischievous in disposition, than any of the rest; that this leader had usually a favourite as like

himself as he could get, whose employment was to lick his master’s feet and posteriors, anddrive the female Yahoos to his kennel; for which he was now and then rewarded with a piece of

ass’s flesh. This favourite is hated by the whole herd, and therefore, to protect himself, keeps

always near the person of his leader. He usually continues in office till a worse can be found; but

the very moment he is discarded, his successor, at the head of all the Yahoos in that district,young and old, male and female, come in a body, and discharge their excrements upon him from



36

head to foot. But how far this might be applicable to our courts, and favourites, and ministers of

state, my master said I could best determine.” (p. 198)

- This short fragment could be an allegorical presentation that satirizes political

leaders in England. What is the connection between physical and moral deformity?

- What is the relation between rulers and their subjects in the world of the Yahoos?

29. “One day, in discourse, my master, having heard me mention the nobility of my country, was

pleased to make me a compliment which I could not pretend to deserve: “that he was sure I musthave been born of some noble family, because I far exceeded in shape, colour, and cleanliness, all

the Yahoos of his nation, although I seemed to fail in strength and agility, which must be imputed

to my different way of living from those other brutes; and besides I was not only endowed with

the faculty of speech, but likewise with some rudiments of reason, to a degree that, with all his

acquaintance, I passed for a prodigy.”

He made me observe, “that among the Houyhnhnms, the white, the sorrel, and the iron-gray, were

not so exactly shaped as the bay, the dapple-gray, and the black; nor born with equal talents of

mind, or a capacity to improve them; and therefore continued always in the condition of

servants, without ever aspiring to match out of their own race, which in that country would be

reckoned monstrous and unnatural.”

I made his honour my most humble acknowledgments for the good opinion he was pleased to

conceive of me, but assured him at the same time, “that my birth was of the lower sort, having

been born of plain honest parents, who were just able to give me a tolerable education; that

nobility, among us, was altogether a different thing from the idea he had of it; that our young

noblemen are bred from their childhood in idleness and luxury; that, as soon as years will

permit, they consume their vigour, and contract odious diseases among lewd females; and when

their fortunes are almost ruined, they marry some woman of mean birth, disagreeable person,

and unsound constitution (merely for the sake of money), whom they hate and despise. That the

productions of such marriages are generally scrofulous, rickety, or deformed children; by whichmeans the family seldom continues above three generations, unless the wife takes care to

provide a healthy father, among her neighbours or domestics, in order to improve and continue

the breed. That a weak diseased body, a meagre countenance, and sallow complexion, are the

true marks of noble blood; and a healthy robust appearance is so disgraceful in a man of quality,

that the world concludes his real father to have been a groom or a coachman. The imperfections

of his mind run parallel with those of his body, being a composition of spleen, dullness,

ignorance, caprice, sensuality, and pride.

“Without the consent of this illustrious body, no law can be enacted, repealed, or altered: andthese nobles have likewise the decision of all our possessions, without appeal.” (pp. 193 – 194)

- What are the main features of the character of the nobility in Gulliver’s society?

-

What is the relation between high birth and low birth in relation to virtue and

merit/worth?

30. “That our institutions of government and law were plainly owing to our gross defects in

reason, and by consequence in virtue; because reason alone is sufficient to govern a rational

creature; which was, therefore, a character we had no pretence to challenge, even from the

account I had given of my own people; although he manifestly perceived, that, in order to favour

them, I had concealed many particulars, and often said the thing which was not.

“He was the more confirmed in this opinion, because, he observed, that as I agreed in every

feature of my body with other Yahoos, except where it was to my real disadvantage in point of

strength, speed, and activity, the shortness of my claws, and some other particulars where naturehad no part; so from the representation I had given him of our lives, our manners, and our



Culea Mihaela

37

actions, he found as near a resemblance in the disposition of our minds.” He said, “the Yahoos

were known to hate one another, more than they did any different species of animals; and the

reason usually assigned was, the odiousness of their own shapes, which all could see in the rest,

but not in themselves. He had therefore begun to think it not unwise in us to cover our bodies,

and by that invention conceal many of our deformities from each other, which would else be

hardly supportable. But he now found he had been mistaken, and that the dissensions of thosebrutes in his country were owing to the same cause with ours, as I had described them. For if,”

said he, “you throw among five Yahoos as much food as would be sufficient for fifty, they will,

instead of eating peaceably, fall together by the ears, each single one impatient to have all to

itself; and therefore a servant was usually employed to stand by while they were feeding abroad,

and those kept at home were tied at a distance from each other: that if a cow died of age or

accident, before a Houyhnhnm could secure it for his own Yahoos, those in the neighbourhood

would come in herds to seize it, and then would ensue such a battle as I had described, with

terrible wounds made by their claws on both sides, although they seldom were able to kill one

another, for want of such convenient instruments of death as we had invented. At other times,

the like battles have been fought between the Yahoos of several neighbourhoods, without any

visible cause; those of one district watching all opportunities to surprise the next, before they

are prepared. But if they find their project has miscarried, they return home, and, for want of

enemies, engage in what I call a civil war among themselves.” (pp. 195 – 196)

- What similar features does the master identify between the character of

Englishmen (or even human race) and that of the yahoos?

- Which are their greatest flaws and the causes for dissension or making war?

31. “By what I could discover, the Yahoos appear to be the most unteachable of all animals: their

capacity never reaching higher than to draw or carry burdens. Yet I am of opinion, this defect

arises chiefly from a perverse, restive disposition; for they are cunning, malicious, treacherous,

and revengeful. They are strong and hardy, but of a cowardly spirit, and, by consequence,insolent, abject, and cruel. It is observed, that the red haired of both sexes are more libidinous

and mischievous than the rest, whom yet they much exceed in strength and activity.” (p. 201)

- Which are essential flaws of the yahoos and what could they suggest about human

nature of we accept the ‘man is animal’ metaphor?

32. “As these noble Houyhnhnms are endowed by nature with a general disposition to all virtues,

and have no conceptions or ideas of what is evil in a rational creature, so their grand maxim is, to

cultivate reason, and to be wholly governed by it. Neither is reason among them a point

problematical, as with us, where men can argue with plausibility on both sides of the question,

but strikes you with immediate conviction; as it must needs do, where it is not mingled,

obscured, or discoloured, by passion and interest. I remember it was with extreme difficulty that

I could bring my master to understand the meaning of the word opinion, or how a point could be

disputable; because reason taught us to affirm or deny only where we are certain; and beyond

our knowledge we cannot do either. So that controversies, wranglings, disputes, and

positiveness, in false or dubious propositions, are evils unknown among the Houyhnhnms. In the

like manner, when I used to explain to him our several systems of natural philosophy, he would

laugh, “that a creature pretending to reason, should value itself upon the knowledge of other

people’s conjectures, and in things where that knowledge, if it were certain, could be of no

use.” Wherein he agreed entirely with the sentiments of Socrates, as Plato delivers them; which I

mention as the highest honour I can do that prince of philosophers. I have often since reflected,

what destruction such doctrine would make in the libraries of Europe; and how many paths offame would be then shut up in the learned world.



38

Friendship and benevolence are the two principal virtues among the Houyhnhnms; and these not

confined to particular objects, but universal to the whole race; for a stranger from the remotest

part is equally treated with the nearest neighbour, and wherever he goes, looks upon himself as

at home. They preserve decency and civility in the highest degrees, but are altogether ignorant

of ceremony. They have no fondness for their colts or foals, but the care they take in educating

them proceeds entirely from the dictates of reason. And I observed my master to show the sameaffection to his neighbour’s issue, that he had for his own. They will have it that nature teaches

them to love the whole species, and it is reason only that makes a distinction of persons, where

there is a superior degree of virtue.

When the matron Houyhnhnms have produced one of each sex, they no longer accompany with

their consorts, except they lose one of their issue by some casualty, which very seldom happens;

but in such a case they meet again; or when the like accident befalls a person whose wife is past

bearing, some other couple bestow on him one of their own colts, and then go together again

until the mother is pregnant. This caution is necessary, to prevent the country from being

overburdened with numbers. But the race of inferior Houyhnhnms, bred up to be servants, is not

so strictly limited upon this article: these are allowed to produce three of each sex, to be

domestics in the noble families.

In their marriages, they are exactly careful to choose such colours as will not make any

disagreeable mixture in the breed. Strength is chiefly valued in the male, and comeliness in the

female; not upon the account of love, but to preserve the race from degenerating; for where a

female happens to excel in strength, a consort is chosen, with regard to comeliness.

Courtship, love, presents, jointures, settlements have no place in their thoughts, or terms

whereby to express them in their language. The young couple meet, and are joined, merely

because it is the determination of their parents and friends; it is what they see done every day,

and they look upon it as one of the necessary actions of a reasonable being. But the violation of

marriage, or any other unchastity, was never heard of; and the married pair pass their lives with

the same friendship and mutual benevolence, that they bear to all others of the same specieswho come in their way, without jealousy, fondness, quarrelling, or discontent.

In educating the youth of both sexes, their method is admirable, and highly deserves our

imitation. These are not suffered to taste a grain of oats, except upon certain days, till eighteen

years old; nor milk, but very rarely; and in summer they graze two hours in the morning, and as

many in the evening, which their parents likewise observe; but the servants are not allowed

above half that time, and a great part of their grass is brought home, which they eat at the most

convenient hours, when they can be best spared from work.

Temperance, industry, exercise, and cleanliness, are the lessons equally enjoined to the young

ones of both sexes: and my master thought it monstrous in us, to give the females a different kind

of education from the males, except in some articles of domestic management; whereby, as he

truly observed, one half of our natives were good for nothing but bringing children into the

world; and to trust the care of our children to such useless animals, he said, was yet a greater

instance of brutality.

But the Houyhnhnms train up their youth to strength, speed, and hardiness, by exercising them in

running races up and down steep hills, and over hard stony grounds; and when they are all in a

sweat, they are ordered to leap over head and ears into a pond or river. Four times a year the

youth of a certain district meet to show their proficiency in running and leaping, and other feats

of strength and agility; where the victor is rewarded with a song in his or her praise. On this

festival, the servants drive a herd of Yahoos into the field, laden with hay, and oats, and milk, for a

repast to the Houyhnhnms; after which, these brutes are immediately driven back again, for fear

of being noisome to the assembly.



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Every fourth year, at the vernal equinox, there is a representative council of the whole nation,

which meets in a plain about twenty miles from our house, and continues about five or six

days. Here they inquire into the state and condition of the several districts; whether they

abound or be deficient in hay or oats, or cows, or Yahoos; and wherever there is any want (which

is but seldom) it is immediately supplied by unanimous consent and contribution. Here likewise

the regulation of children is settled: as for instance, if a Houyhnhnm has two males, he changesone of them with another that has two females; and when a child has been lost by any casualty,

where the mother is past breeding, it is determined what family in the district shall breed

another to supply the loss.” (pp. 200 – 204)

- What are the great virtues of the Houyhnhnms?

- What are the main feature of their education system?

- What is marriage based on?

- How do their governance and ruling system differ from the English one?

33. “He added, how I had endeavoured to persuade him, that in my own and other countries, the

Yahoos acted as the governing, rational animal, and held the Houyhnhnms in servitude; that he

observed in me all the qualities of a Yahoo, only a little more civilized by some tincture of reason,

which, however, was in a degree as far inferior to the Houyhnhnm race, as the Yahoos of their

country were to me; that, among other things, I mentioned a custom we had of castrating

Houyhnhnms when they were young, in order to render them tame; that the operation was easy

and safe; that it was no shame to learn wisdom from brutes, as industry is taught by the ant, and

building by the swallow (for so I translate the word lyhannh, although it be a much larger fowl);

that this invention might be practised upon the younger Yahoos here, which besides rendering

them tractable and fitter for use, would in an age put an end to the whole species, without

destroying life; that in the mean time the Houyhnhnms should be exhorted to cultivate the breed

of asses, which, as they are in all respects more valuable brutes, so they have this advantage, to

be fit for service at five years old, which the others are not till twelve.” (p. 206) - castration of the yahoos as a solution for exterminating their species

34. “I enjoyed perfect health of body, and tranquillity of mind; I did not feel the treachery orinconstancy of a friend, nor the injuries of a secret or open enemy. I had no occasion of bribing,

flattering, or pimping, to procure the favour of any great man, or of his minion; I wanted no fence

against fraud or oppression: here was neither physician to destroy my body, nor lawyer to ruin

my fortune; no informer to watch my words and actions, or forge accusations against me for hire:

here were no gibers, censurers, backbiters, pickpockets, highwaymen, housebreakers, attorneys,

bawds, buffoons, gamesters, politicians, wits, splenetics, tedious talkers, controvertists,

ravishers, murderers, robbers, virtuosos; no leaders, or followers, of party and faction; no

encouragers to vice, by seducement or examples; no dungeon, axes, gibbets, whipping-posts, or

pillories; no cheating shopkeepers or mechanics; no pride, vanity, or affectation; no fops, bullies,

drunkards, strolling whores, or poxes; no ranting, lewd, expensive wives; no stupid, proud

pedants; no importunate, overbearing, quarrelsome, noisy, roaring, empty, conceited, swearing

companions; no scoundrels raised from the dust upon the merit of their vices, or nobility thrown

into it on account of their virtues; no lords, fiddlers, judges, or dancing-masters.” (p. 209)

- Here Gulliver clearly criticizes the greatest evils of civilized society. What do they

show about the English society?

35. “When I thought of my family, my friends, my countrymen, or the human race in general, I

considered them, as they really were, Yahoos in shape and disposition, perhaps a little morecivilized, and qualified with the gift of speech; but making no other use of reason, than to



40

improve and multiply those vices whereof their brethren in this country had only the share that

nature allotted them. When I happened to behold the reflection of my own form in a lake or

fountain, I turned away my face in horror and detestation of myself, and could better endure the

sight of a common Yahoo than of my own person. By conversing with the Houyhnhnms, and

looking upon them with delight, I fell to imitate their gait and gesture, which is now grown into a

habit; and my friends often tell me, in a blunt way, “that I trot like a horse;” which, however, I takefor a great compliment. Neither shall I disown, that in speaking I am apt to fall into the voice and

manner of the Houyhnhnms, and hear myself ridiculed on that account, without the least

mortification.” (pp. 210-211)

- What is the change produced in Gulliver after his stay among the horses? Is he

slowly turning into a Houyhnhnm and denying his own species?

36. “My wife and family received me with great surprise and joy, because they concluded me

certainly dead; but I must freely confess the sight of them filled me only with hatred, disgust, and

contempt; and the more, by reflecting on the near alliance I had to them. For although, since my

unfortunate exile from the Houyhnhnm country, I had compelled myself to tolerate the sight of

Yahoos, and to converse with Don Pedro de Mendez, yet my memory and imagination were

perpetually filled with the virtues and ideas of those exalted Houyhnhnms. And when I began to

consider that, by copulating with one of the Yahoo species I had become a parent of more, it

struck me with the utmost shame, confusion, and horror.

As soon as I entered the house, my wife took me in her arms, and kissed me; at which, having not

been used to the touch of that odious animal for so many years, I fell into a swoon for almost an

hour. At the time I am writing, it is five years since my last return to England. During the first

year, I could not endure my wife or children in my presence; the very smell of them was

intolerable; much less could I suffer them to eat in the same room. To this hour they dare not

presume to touch my bread, or drink out of the same cup, neither was I ever able to let one of

them take me by the hand. The first money I laid out was to buy two young stone-horses, which Ikeep in a good stable; and next to them, the groom is my greatest favourite, for I feel my spirits

revived by the smell he contracts in the stable. My horses understand me tolerably well; I

converse with them at least four hours every day. They are strangers to bridle or saddle; they

live in great amity with me and friendship to each other.” (p. 219)

- How would you characterize the effects of this experience upon Gulliver’s beliefs

after returning home?

- Does the rejection of his own kind/humankind suggest that the author is a

misanthropist?

- What are the major goals of his satire given its definition?

37. “My reconcilement to the Yahoo kind in general might not be so difficult, if they would be

content with those vices and follies only which nature has entitled them to. I am not in the least

provoked at the sight of a lawyer, a pickpocket, a colonel, a fool, a lord, a gamester, a politician, a

whoremonger, a physician, an evidence, a suborner, an attorney, a traitor, or the like; this is all

according to the due course of things: but when I behold a lump of deformity and diseases, both

in body and mind, smitten with pride, it immediately breaks all the measures of my patience;

neither shall I be ever able to comprehend how such an animal, and such a vice, could tally

together. The wise and virtuous Houyhnhnms, who abound in all excellences that can adorn a

rational creature, have no name for this vice in their language, which has no terms to express any

thing that is evil, except those whereby they describe the detestable qualities of their Yahoos,

among which they were not able to distinguish this of pride, for want of thoroughlyunderstanding human nature, as it shows itself in other countries where that animal



Culea Mihaela

41

presides. But I, who had more experience, could plainly observe some rudiments of it among the

wild Yahoos.

But the Houyhnhnms, who live under the government of reason, are no more proud of the good

qualities they possess, than I should be for not wanting a leg or an arm; which no man in his wits

would boast of, although he must be miserable without them. I dwell the longer upon this

subject from the desire I have to make the society of an English Yahoo by any means notinsupportable; and therefore I here entreat those who have any tincture of this absurd vice, that

they will not presume to come in my sight.” (p. 224)

- His conclusions on the contrasting nature of both species described

Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded (1740)by Samuel Richardson

TEXTS FOR ANALYSIS IN CLASS – will be sent via email THE REST OF THE TEXTS – COMPULSORY READING FOR THE EXAMINATION

1. “Preface by the editor

IF to Divert and Entertain, and at the same time to Instruct, and Improve the Minds of the YOUTH

of both Sexes:

IF to inculcate Religion and Morality in so easy and agreeable a manner, as shall render them

equally delightful and profitable to the younger Class of Readers, as well as worthy of the

Attention of Persons of maturer Years and Understandings:

IF to set forth in the most exemplary Lights, the Parental, the Filial, and the Social Duties, and

that from low to high Life:IF to paint VICE in its proper Colours, to make it deservedly Odious; and to set V IRTUE in its own

amiable Light, to make it truly Lovely:

IF to draw Characters justly, and to support them equally:

IF to raise a Distress from natural Causes, and to excite Compassion from proper Motives:

IF to teach the Man of Fortune how to use it; the Man of Passion how to subdue it; and the Man of

Intrigue, how, gracefully, and with Honour to himself, to reclaim:

IF to give practical Examples, worthy to be followed in the most critical and affecting Cases, by

the modest Virgin, the chaste Bride, and the obliging Wife:

IF to effect all these good Ends, in so probable, so natural, so lively a manner, as shall engage the

Passions of every sensible Reader, and strongly interest them in the edifying Story:

AND all without raising a single Idea throughout the Whole, that shall shock the exactest Purity,even in those tender Instances where the exactest Purity would be most apprehensive:

IF these, (embellished with a great Variety of entertaining Incidents) be laudable or worthy

Recommendations of any Work, the Editor of the following Letters, which have their Foundation

in Truth and Nature, ventures to assert, vi that all these desirable Ends are obtained in these

Sheets: And as he is therefore confident of the favourable Reception which he boldly bespeaks

for this little Work; he thinks any further Preface or Apology for it, unnecessary: And the rather

for two Reasons, 1st. Because he can Appeal from his own Passions, (which have been

uncommonly moved in perusing these engaging Scenes) to the Passions of Every one who shall

read them with the least Attention: And, in the next place, because an Editor may reasonably be

supposed to judge with an Impartiality which is rarely to be met with in an Author towards his

own Works.



42

The Editor.” (pp. 3-4)

- What are the purposes of this work as shown above?

- What narrative techniques does it make use of?

2. “In short, Sir, a Piece of this Kind is much wanted in the World, which is but too much, as well

as too early, debauched by pernicious Novels. I know nothing Entertaining of that Kind that onemight venture to recommend to the Perusal (much less the Imitation) of the Youth of either Sex:

All that I have hitherto read, tends only to corrupt their Principles, mislead their Judgments, and

initiate them into Gallantry, and loose Pleasures.

Publish then, this good, this edifying and instructive little Piece for their sakes. The Honour of

Pamela’s Sex demands Pamela at your Hands, to shew the World an Heroine, almost beyond Ex-

ample, in an unusual Scene of Life, whom no Temptations, or Sufferings, could subdue. It is a fi-

ne, and glorious Original, for the Fair to copy out and imitate. Our own Sex, too, require it of you,

to free us, in some measure, from the Imputation of being incapable of the Impressions of Virtue

and Honour; and to shew the Ladies, that we are not inflexible while they are so.

In short, the Cause of Virtue calls for the Publication of such a Piece as this. Oblige then, Sir, the

concurrent Voices of both Sexes, and give us Pamela for the Benefit of Mankind: And as I believe

its Excellencies cannot be long unknown to the World, and that there will not be a Family with-

out it; so I make no Doubt but every Family that has it, will be much improv’d and better’d by it.

’Twill form the tender Minds of Youth for the Reception and Practice of Virtue and Honour; con-

firm and establish those of maturer Years on good and steady Principles; reclaim the Vicious, and

mend the Age in general; insomuch that as I doubt not Pamela will become the bright Example

and Imitation of all the fashionable young Ladies of Great Britain; so the truly generous Benefac-

tor and Rewarder of her exemplary Virtue, will be no less admired and imitated among the Beau

Monde of our own Sex. I am

Your affectionate Friend, &c.” (pp. 9-10)

-

What other types of novels are opposed to the one created by Richardson?- What example does the heroine offer?

- What age groups and social classes does it address?

3. “LETTER I DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,

I have great trouble, and some comfort, to acquaint you with. The trouble is, that my good lady

died of the illness I mentioned to you, and left us all much grieved for the loss of her; for she was

a dear good lady, and kind to all us her servants. Much I feared, that as I was taken by her lady-

ship to wait upon her person, I should be quite destitute again, and forced to return to you and

my poor mother, who have enough to do to maintain yourselves; and, as my lady's goodness hadput me to write and cast accounts, and made me a little expert at my needle, and otherwise qual-

ified above my degree, it was not every family that could have found a place that your poor Pam-

ela was fit for: but God, whose graciousness to us we have so often experienced at a pinch, put it

into my good lady's heart, on her death-bed, just an hour before she expired, to recommend to

my young master all her servants, one by one; and when it came to my turn to be recommended,

(for I was sobbing and crying at her pillow) she could only say, My dear son!—and so broke off a

little; and then recovering—Remember my poor Pamela—And these were some of her last

words! O how my eyes run—Don't wonder to see the paper so blotted.

Well, but God's will must be done!—And so comes the comfort, that I shall not be obliged to

return back to be a clog upon my dear parents! For my master said, I will take care of you all, mygood maidens; and for you, Pamela, (and took me by the hand; yes, he took my hand before them



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43

all,) for my dear mother's sake, I will be a friend to you, and you shall take care of my linen. God

bless him! and pray with me, my dear father and mother, for a blessing upon him, for he has giv-

en mourning and a year's wages to all my lady's servants; and I having no wages as yet, my lady

having said she should do for me as I deserved, ordered the housekeeper to give me mourning

with the rest; and gave me with his own hand four golden guineas, and some silver, which were

in my old lady's pocket when she died; and said, if I was a good girl, and faithful and diligent, hewould be a friend to me, for his mother's sake. And so I send you these four guineas for your

comfort; for Providence will not let me want: And so you may pay some old debt with part, and

keep the other part to comfort you both. If I get more, I am sure it is my duty, and it shall be my

care, to love and cherish you both; for you have loved and cherished me, when I could do noth-

ing for myself. I send them by John, our footman, who goes your way: but he does not know what

he carries; because I seal them up in one of the little pill-boxes, which my lady had, wrapt close

in paper, that they mayn't chink; and be sure don't open it before him.

I know, dear father and mother, I must give you both grief and pleasure; and so I will only say,

Pray for your Pamela; who will ever be

Your most dutiful DAUGHTER.

I have been scared out of my senses; for just now, as I was folding up this letter in my late la-

dy's dressing-room, in comes my young master! Good sirs! how was I frightened! I went to hide

the letter in my bosom; and he, seeing me tremble, said, smiling, To whom have you been writ-

ing, Pamela?—I said, in my confusion, Pray your honour forgive me!—Only to my father and

mother. He said, Well then, let me see how you are come on in your writing! O how ashamed I

was!—He took it, without saying more, and read it quite through, and then gave it me again; —and I said, Pray your honour forgive me!—Yet I know not for what: for he was always dutiful to

his parents; and why should he be angry that I was so to mine? And indeed he was not angry; for

he took me by the hand, and said, You are a good girl, Pamela, to be kind to your aged father and

mother. I am not angry with you for writing such innocent matters as these: though you ought to

be wary what tales you send out of a family.—Be faithful and diligent; and do as you should do,and I like you the better for this. And then he said, Why, Pamela, you write a very pretty hand,

and spell tolerably too. I see my good mother's care in your learning has not been thrown away

upon you. She used to say you loved reading; you may look into any of her books, to improve

yourself, so you take care of them. To be sure I did nothing but courtesy and cry, and was all in

confusion, at his goodness. Indeed he is the best of gentlemen, I think! But I am making another

long letter: So will only add to it, that I shall ever be Your dutiful daughter, PAMELA ANDREWS.”(pp. 11-12)

- What aspects related to the characters’ social status result from this fragment?

- What activities does Pamela mention as a part of her duty or job?

- What other activities does she perform?

-

How does learning relate to her status or class?

- What conflict is announced in this text?

4. LETTER II.

“DEAR PAMELA,

Your letter was indeed a great trouble, and some comfort, to me and your poor mother. We are

troubled, to be sure, for your good lady's death, who took such care of you, and gave you learn-

ing, and, for three or four years past, has always been giving you clothes and linen, and every

thing that a gentlewoman need not be ashamed to appear in. But our chief trouble is, and indeed

a very great one, for fear you should be brought to anything dishonest or wicked, by being set so

above yourself. Every body talks how you have come on, and what a genteel girl you are; andsome say you are very pretty; and, indeed, six months since, when I saw you last, I should have



44

thought so myself, if you was not our child. But what avails all this, if you are to be ruined and

undone!—Indeed, my dear Pamela, we begin to be in great fear for you; for what signify all the

riches in the world, with a bad conscience, and to be dishonest! We are, 'tis true, very poor, and

find it hard enough to live; though once, as you know, it was better with us. But we would sooner

live upon the water, and, if possible, the clay of the ditches I contentedly dig, than live better at

the price of our child's ruin.I hope the good 'squire has no design: but when he has given you so much money, and speaks

so kindly to you, and praises your coming on; and, oh, that fatal word! that he would be kind to

you, if you would do as you should do, almost kills us with fears.

I have spoken to good old widow Mumford about it, who, you know, has formerly lived in

good families; and she puts us in some comfort; for she says it is not unusual, when a lady dies,

to give what she has about her person to her waiting-maid, and to such as sit up with her in her

illness. But, then, why should he smile so kindly upon you? Why should he take such a poor girl

as you by the hand, as your letter says he has done twice? Why should he stoop to read your let-

ter to us; and commend your writing and spelling? And why should he give you leave to read his

mother's books?—Indeed, indeed, my dearest child, our hearts ache for you; and then you seem

so full of joy at his goodness, so taken with his kind expressions, (which, truly, are very great fa-

vours, if he means well) that we fear—yes, my dear child, we fear—you should be too grateful,—and reward him with that jewel, your virtue, which no riches, nor favour, nor any thing in this

life, can make up to you.

I, too, have written a long letter, but will say one thing more; and that is, that, in the midst of

our poverty and misfortunes, we have trusted in God's goodness, and been honest, and doubt

not to be happy hereafter, if we continue to be good, though our lot is hard here; but the loss of

our dear child's virtue would be a grief that we could not bear, and would bring our grey hairs to

the grave at once.

If, then, you love us, if you wish for God's blessing, and your own future happiness, we both

charge you to stand upon your guard: and, if you find the least attempt made upon your virtue,be sure you leave every thing behind you, and come away to us; for we had rather see you all

covered with rags, and even follow you to the churchyard, than have it said, a child of ours pre-

ferred any worldly conveniences to her virtue.

We accept kindly your dutiful present; but, till we are out of pain, cannot make use of it, for

fear we should partake of the price of our poor daughter's shame: so have laid it up in a rag

among the thatch, over the window, for a while, lest we should be robbed. With our blessings,

and our hearty prayers for you, we remain,

Your careful, but loving Father and Mother,

JOHN AND ELIZABETH ANDREWS.” (pp. 13-14)

- What is Pamela’s parents’ greatest fear?

-

What is the meaning of virtue according to her parents?

- What is the relation between suffering and happiness in the Andrews’ view?

- What is the relation between social class and morality as signalled in this text and the

following excerpt from Letter VIII?

“Be sure don't let people's telling you, you are pretty, puff you up; for you did not make yourself,

and so can have no praise due to you for it. It is virtue and goodness only, that make the true

beauty. Remember that, Pamela.”

5. LETTER IV

“(...) my Lady Davers, who, I need not tell you, is my master's sister, has been a month at our

house, and has taken great notice of me, and given me good advice to keep myself to myself. Shetold me I was a pretty wench, and that every body gave me a very good character, and loved me;



Culea Mihaela

45

and bid me take care to keep the fellows at a distance; and said, that I might do, and be more

valued for it, even by themselves.

But what pleased me much was, what I am going to tell you; for at table, as Mrs. Jervis says, my

master and her ladyship talking of me, she told him she thought me the prettiest wench she ever

saw in her life; and that I was too pretty to live in a bachelor's house; since no lady he might

marry would care to continue me with her. He said, I was vastly improved, and had a good shareof prudence, and sense above my years; and that it would be pity, that what was my merit should

be my misfortune.—No, says my good lady, Pamela shall come and live with me, I think. He said,

with all his heart; he should be glad to have me so well provided for. Well, said she, I'll consult

my lord about it. She asked how old I was; and Mrs. Jervis said, I was fifteen last February. O!

says she, if the wench (for so she calls all us maiden servants) takes care of herself, she'll im-

prove yet more and more, as well in her person as mind.” (pp. 15-16)

- What are Pamela’s qualities?

- How are they related to her age and status?

- What does her improvement allude to?

6. “LETTER V.

Mrs. Jervis uses me as if I were her own daughter, and is a very good woman, and makes my mas-

ter's interest her own. She is always giving me good counsel, and I love her next to you two, I

think, best of any body. She keeps so good rule and order, she is mightily respected by us all; and

takes delight to hear me read to her; and all she loves to hear read, is good books, which we read

whenever we are alone; so that I think I am at home with you. She heard one of our men, Harry,

who is no better than he should be, speak freely to me; I think he called me his pretty Pamela,

and took hold of me, as if he would have kissed me; for which, you may be sure, I was very angry:

and she took him to task, and was as angry at him as could be; and told me she was very well

pleased to see my prudence and modesty, and that I kept all the fellows at a distance. And indeed

I am sure I am not proud, and carry it civilly to every body; but yet, methinks, I cannot bear to belooked upon by these men-servants, for they seem as if they would look one through; and, as I

generally breakfast, dine, and sup, with Mrs. Jervis, (so good she is to me,) I am very easy that I

have so little to say to them.” (p. 17)

- What typical behaviour of servants is mentioned?

-

How does Pamela raise above it?

7. “LETTER VII. DEAR FATHER,

Since my last, my master gave me more fine things. He called me up to my late lady's closet,

and, pulling out her drawers, he gave me two suits of fine Flanders laced headclothes, three pair

of fine silk shoes, two hardly the worse, and just fit for me, (for my lady had a very little foot,)

and the other with wrought silver buckles in them; and several ribands and top-knots of all col-

ours; four pair of white fine cotton stockings, and three pair of fine silk ones; and two pair of rich

stays. I was quite astonished, and unable to speak for a while; but yet I was inwardly ashamed to

take the stockings; for Mrs. Jervis was not there: If she had, it would have been nothing. I believe

I received them very awkwardly; for he smiled at my awkwardness, and said, Don't blush, Pame-

la: Dost think I don't know pretty maids should wear shoes and stockings?

I was so confounded at these words, you might have beat me down with a feather. For you

must think, there was no answer to be made to this: So, like a fool, I was ready to cry; and went

away courtesying and blushing, I am sure, up to the ears; for, though there was no harm in what

he said, yet I did not know how to take it. But I went and told all to Mrs. Jervis, who said, God put



46

it into his heart to be good to me; and I must double my diligence. It looked to her, she said, as if

he would fit me in dress for a waiting-maid's place on Lady Davers's own person.

But still your kind fatherly cautions came into my head, and made all these gifts nothing near

to me what they would have been. But yet, I hope, there is no reason; for what good could it do

to him to harm such a simple maiden as me? Besides, to be sure no lady would look upon him, if

he should so disgrace himself.” (p. 19) - How does Pamela appreciate the gifts she receives?

- What position does she attach to her relationship with her master?

- Identify the verb that best reflects this positioning. What does it signify?

8. “ LETTER XI

I have a mind you should stay to hear what I have to say to you.

I stood still confounded, and began to tremble, and the more when he took me by the hand; for

now no soul was near us.

My sister Davers, said he, (and seemed, I thought, to be as much at a loss for words as I,)

would have had you live with her; but she would not do for you what I am resolved to do, if you

continue faithful and obliging. What say'st thou, my girl? said he, with some eagerness; had'st

thou not rather stay with me, than go to my sister Davers? He looked so, as filled me with af-

frightment; I don't know how; wildly, I thought.

I said, when I could speak, Your honour will forgive me; but as you have no lady for me to wait

upon, and my good lady has been now dead this twelvemonth, I had rather, if it would not dis-

please you, wait upon Lady Davers, because—

I was proceeding, and he said, a little hastily—Because you are a little fool, and know not

what's good for yourself. I tell you I will make a gentlewoman of you, if you be obliging, and don't

stand in your own light; and so saying, he put his arm about me, and kissed me!

Now, you will say, all his wickedness appeared plainly. I struggled and trembled, and was so

benumbed with terror, that I sunk down, not in a fit, and yet not myself; and I found myself in hisarms, quite void of strength; and he kissed me two or three times, with frightful eagerness. —At

last I burst from him, and was getting out of the summer-house; but he held me back, and shut

the door.

I would have given my life for a farthing. And he said, I'll do you no harm, Pamela; don't be

afraid of me. I said, I won't stay. You won't, hussy! said he: Do you know whom you speak to? I

lost all fear, and all respect, and said, Yes, I do, sir, too well!—Well may I forget that I am your

servant, when you forget what belongs to a master.

I sobbed and cried most sadly. What a foolish hussy you are! said he: Have I done you any

harm? Yes, sir, said I, the greatest harm in the world: You have taught me to forget myself and

what belongs to me, and have lessened the distance that fortune has made between us, by de-

meaning yourself, to be so free to a poor servant. Yet, sir, I will be bold to say, I am honest,

though poor: and if you was a prince, I would not be otherwise.

He was angry, and said, Who would have you otherwise, you foolish slut! Cease your blubber-

ing. I own I have demeaned myself; but it was only to try you. If you can keep this matter secret,

you'll give me the better opinion of your prudence; and here's something, said he, putting some

gold in my hand, to make you amends for the fright I put you in. Go, take a walk in the garden,

and don't go in till your blubbering is over: and I charge you say nothing of what is past, and all

shall be well, and I'll forgive you.

I won't take the money, indeed, sir, said I, poor as I am I won't take it. For, to say truth, I

thought it looked like taking earnest, and so I put it upon the bench; and as he seemed vexed and

confused at what he had done, I took the opportunity to open the door, and went out of thesummer-house.







Culea Mihaela

49

which I own I had broken my mind freely to them, and asked their advice, and poured forth my

griefs!

And so I am to be exposed, am I, said he, in my own house, and out of my house, to the whole

world, by such a sauce-box as you? No, good sir, said I, and I hope your honour won't be angry

with me; it is not I that expose you, if I say nothing but the truth. So, taunting again! Assurance as

you are! said he: I will not be thus talked to!Pray, sir, said I, of whom can a poor girl take advice, if it must not be of her father and mother,

and such a good woman as Mrs. Jervis, who, for her sex-sake, should give it me when asked? In-

solence! said he, and stamped with his foot, am I to be questioned thus by such a one as you? I

fell down on my knees, and said, For Heaven's sake, your honour, pity a poor creature, that

knows nothing of her duty, but how to cherish her virtue and good name: I have nothing else to

trust to: and, though poor and friendless here, yet I have always been taught to value honesty

above my life. Here's ado with your honesty, said he, foolish girl! Is it not one part of honesty to

be dutiful and grateful to your master, do you think? Indeed, sir, said I, it is impossible I should

be ungrateful to your honour, or disobedient, or deserve the names of bold-face or insolent,

which you call me, but when your commands are contrary to that first duty which shall ever be

the principle of my life!

He seemed to be moved, and rose up, and walked into the great chamber two or three turns,

leaving me on my knees; and I threw my apron over my face, and laid my head on a chair, and

cried as if my heart would break, having no power to stir.

At last he came in again, but, alas! with mischief in his heart! and raising me up, he said, Rise,

Pamela, rise; you are your own enemy. Your perverse folly will be your ruin: I tell you this, that I

am very much displeased with the freedoms you have taken with my name to my housekeeper,

as also to your father and mother; and you may as well have real cause to take these freedoms

with me, as to make my name suffer for imaginary ones. And saying so, he offered to take me on

his knee, with some force. O how I was terrified! I said, like as I had read in a book a night or two

before, Angels and saints, and all the host of heaven, defend me! And may I never survive onemoment that fatal one in which I shall forfeit my innocence! Pretty fool! said he, how will you

forfeit your innocence, if you are obliged to yield to a force you cannot withstand? Be easy, said

he; for let the worst happen that can, you will have the merit, and I the blame; and it will be a

good subject for letters to your father and mother, and a tale into the bargain for Mrs. Jervis.

He by force kissed my neck and lips; and said, Whoever blamed Lucretia? All the shame lay on

the ravisher only and I am content to take all the blame upon me, as I have already borne too

great a share for what I have not deserved.

May I, said I, Lucretia like, justify myself with my death, if I am used barbarously! O my good

girl! said he, tauntingly, you are well read, I see; and we shall make out between us, before we

have done, a pretty story in romance, I warrant ye.

He then put his hand in my bosom, and indignation gave me double strength, and I got loose

from him by a sudden spring, and ran out of the room! and the next chamber being open, I made

shift to get into it, and threw to the door, and it locked after me; but he followed me so close, he

got hold of my gown, and tore a piece off, which hung without the door; for the key was on the

inside.

I just remember I got into the room; for I knew nothing further of the matter till afterwards;

for I fell into a fit with my terror, and there I lay, till he, as I suppose, looking through the key-

hole, spyed me upon the floor, stretched out at length, on my face; and then he called Mrs. Jervis

to me, who, by his assistance, bursting open the door, he went away, seeing me coming to my-

self; and bid her say nothing of the matter, if she was wise.

Poor Mrs. Jervis thought it was worse, and cried over me like as if she was my mother; and Iwas two hours before I came to myself; and just as I got a little up on my feet, he coming in, I



50

fainted away again with the terror; and so he withdrew: but he staid in the next room to let no-

body come near us, that his foul proceedings might not be known.

Mrs. Jervis gave me her smelling-bottle, and had cut my laces, and set me in a great chair, and

he called her to him: How is the girl? said he: I never saw such a fool in my life. I did nothing at

all to her. Mrs. Jervis could not speak for crying. So he said, She has told you, it seems, that I was

kind to her in the summer-house, though I'll assure you, I was quite innocent then as well asnow; and I desire you to keep this matter to yourself, and let me not be named in it.

O, sir, said she, for your honour's sake, and for Christ's sake!—But he would not hear her, and

said—For your own sake, I tell you, Mrs. Jervis, say not a word more. I have done her no harm.

And I won't have her stay in my house; prating, perverse fool, as she is! But since she is so apt to

fall into fits, or at least pretend to do so, prepare her to see me to-morrow after dinner, in my

mother's closet, and do you be with her, and you shall hear what passes between us.” ( pp. 31 –

33)

- How does the squire view Pamela’s constant writing to her parents? Also discuss

the following fragment from Letter XVI: “O the little hypocrite! said he; she has all the arts

of her sex; they were born with her; and I told you awhile ago you did not know her. But

this was not the reason principally of my calling you before me together. I find I am likely

to suffer in my reputation by the perverseness and folly of this girl. She has told you all,

and perhaps more than all; nay, I make no doubt of it; and she has written letters (for I

find she is a mighty letter-writer!) to her father and mother, and others, as far as I know,

in which representing herself as an angel of light, she makes her kind master and benefac-

tor, a devil incarnate” (p. 36).

- What does he mean by the words: “you are your own enemy”?

- Why does he think his name has been ill used?

- The fragment also suggests that the squire has an improper conduct towards

Pamela. Discuss sexual license in relation to his words: “Whoever blamed Lucretia? All

the shame lay on the ravisher only and I am content to take all the blame upon me, as Ihave already borne too great a share for what I have not deserved.”

- Analyse Pamela’s body language as a reaction to the sexual harassment and which

emphasizes her emotional turmoil and which is intended to arouse the re ader’s compas-sion and sympathy (see the definition of the sentimental novel in a Dictionary of Literary

Terms).

12. “LETTER XIX

Well, but, Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you, if he can stoop to like such a poor girl as me, as per-

haps he may, (for I have read of things almost as strange, from great men to poor damsels,) Whatcan it be for?—He may condescend, perhaps, to think I may be good enough for his harlot; and

those things don't disgrace men that ruin poor women, as the world goes. And so if I was wicked

enough, he would keep me till I was undone, and till his mind changed; for even wicked men, I

have read, soon grow weary of wickedness with the same person, and love variety. Well, then,

poor Pamela must be turned off, and looked upon as a vile abandoned creature, and every body

would despise her; ay, and justly too, Mrs. Jervis; for she that can't keep her virtue, ought to live

in disgrace.

But, Mrs. Jervis, I continued, let me tell you, that I hope, if I was sure he would always be kind

to me, and never turn me off at all, that I shall have so much grace, as to hate and withstand his

temptations, were he not only my master, but my king: and that for the sin's sake. This my poordear parents have always taught me; and I should be a sad wicked creature indeed, if, for the



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51

sake of riches or favour, I should forfeit my good name; yea, and worse than any other young

body of my sex; because I can so contentedly return to my poverty again, and think it a less dis-

grace to be obliged to wear rags, and live upon rye-bread and water, as I used to do, than to be a

harlot to the greatest man in the world.

Mrs. Jervis lifted up her hands, and had her eyes full of tears. God bless you, my dear love! said

she; you are my admiration and delight.—How shall I do to part with you!Well, good Mrs. Jervis, said I, let me ask you now:—You and he have had some talk, and you

mayn't be suffered to tell me all. But, do you think, if I was to ask to stay, that he is sorry for what

he has done? Ay, and ashamed of it too? For I am sure he ought, considering his high degree, and

my low degree, and how I have nothing in the world to trust to but my honesty: Do you think in

your own conscience now, (pray answer me truly,) that he would never offer any thing to me

again, and that I could be safe?”

- Discuss Pamela’s synthetical presentation of how things st and between her and

her master. How should the normal relationship be between a great man and a poor

damsel?

- How did men of fortune usually treat women?

-

What is the moral lesson her parents taught her?

- What does her outlook on morality and social distance suggest about her person-

ality?

13. “ LETTER XXIII

Says Lady Towers, Can the pretty image speak, Mrs. Jervis? I vow she has speaking eyes! O you

little rogue, said she, and tapped me on the cheek, you seem born to undo, or to be undone!

God forbid, and please your ladyship, said I, it should be either!—I beg, said I, to withdraw; for

the sense I have of my unworthiness renders me unfit for such a presence.

I then went away, with one of my best courtesies; and Lady Towers said, as I went out, Prettily

said, I vow!—And Lady Brooks said, See that shape! I never saw such a face and shape in my life;why, she must be better descended than you have told me!

And so they run on for half an hour more in my praises, as I was told; and glad was I, when I

got out of the hearing of them.

But, it seems, they went down with such a story to my master, and so full of me, that he had

much ado to stand it; but as it was very little to my reputation, I am sure I could take no pride in

it; and I feared it would make no better for me. This gives me another cause for wishing myself

out of this house.

This is Thursday morning, and next Thursday I hope to set out; for I have finished my task,

and my master is horrid cross! And I am vexed his crossness affects me so. If ever he had any

kindness towards me, I believe he now hates me heartily.

Is it not strange, that love borders so much upon hate? But this wicked love is not like the true

virtuous love, to be sure: that and hatred must be as far off, as light and darkness. And how must

this hate have been increased, if he had met with such a base compliance, after his wicked will

had been gratified.

Well, one may see by a little, what a great deal means. For if innocence cannot attract common

civility, what must guilt expect, when novelty has ceased to have its charms, and changeableness

had taken place of it? Thus we read in Holy Writ, that wicked Amnon, when he had ruined poor

Tamar, hated her more than he ever loved her, and would have turned her out of door.

How happy am I, to be turned out of door, with that sweet companion my innocence!—O may

that be always my companion! And while I presume not upon my own strength, and am willing

to avoid the tempter, I hope the divine grace will assist me.” (pp. 53 – 54)



52

- How does the physical aspect relate to morality in this fragment? What does it

mean that Pamela seems “born to undo, or to be undone”?

- What about the relationship between outward appearance and the intellect as in-

sinuated by the Lady in this fragment who wonders whether the “pretty image” canspeak?

-

What about physical aspect and social standing?- What is Pamela’s view on love in connection with virtue and morality?

- What does Pamela take particular pride in?

14. “LETTER XXIV

But I am to tell you of my new dress to day.

And so, when I had dined, up stairs I went, and locked myself into my little room. There I

tricked myself up as well as I could in my new garb, and put on my round-eared ordinary cap;

but with a green knot, however, and my homespun gown and petticoat, and plain leather shoes;

but yet they are what they call Spanish leather; and my ordinary hose, ordinary I mean to what I

have been lately used to; though I shall think good yarn may do very well for every day, when I

come home. A plain muslin tucker I put on, and my black silk necklace, instead of the French

necklace my lady gave me; and put the ear-rings out of my ears; and when I was quite equipped,

I took my straw hat in my hand, with its two blue strings, and looked about me in the glass, as

proud as any thing—To say truth, I never liked myself so well in my life.

O the pleasure of descending with ease, innocence, and resignation!—Indeed, there is nothing

like it! An humble mind, I plainly see, cannot meet with any very shocking disappointment, let

fortune's wheel turn round as it will.

So I went down to look for Mrs. Jervis, to see how she liked me.

I met, as I was upon the stairs, our Rachel, who is the house-maid; and she made me a low

courtesy, and I found did not know me. So I smiled, and went to the housekeeper's parlour; and

there sat good Mrs. Jervis at work, making a shift: and, would you believe it? she did not knowme at first; but rose up, and pulled off her spectacles; and said, Do you want me, forsooth? I

could not help laughing, and said, Hey-day! Mrs. Jervis, what! don't you know me?—She stood all

in amaze, and looked at me from top to toe: Why, you surprise me, said she: What! Pamela thus

metamorphosed! How came this about?

As it happened, in stept my master; and my back being to him, he thought it was a stranger

speaking to Mrs. Jervis, and withdrew again: and did not hear her ask, If his honour had any

commands for her?—She turned me about and about, and I shewed her all my dress, to my

under-petticoat: and she said, sitting down, Why, I am all in amaze, I must sit down. What can all

this mean? I told her, I had no clothes suitable to my condition when I returned to my father's;

and so it was better to begin here, as I was soon to go away, that all my fellow-servants might see

I knew how to suit myself to the state I was returning to. (...)He talked a good deal to Mrs. Jervis,

and at last ordered me to come in to him. Come in, said he, you little villain! —for so he called me.

(Good sirs! what a name was there!)—who is it you put your tricks upon? I was resolved never

to honour your unworthiness, said he, with so much notice again; and so you must disguise

yourself to attract me, and yet pretend, like an hypocrite as you are ——

I was out of patience then: Hold, good sir, said I; don't impute disguise and hypocrisy to me,

above all things; for I hate them both, mean as I am. I have put on no disguise.—What a plague,

said he, for that was his word, do you mean then by this dress? —Why, and please your honour,

said I, I mean one of the honestest things in the world.

I have been in disguise, indeed, ever since my good lady your mother took me from my poor

parents. I came to her ladyship so poor and mean, that these clothes I have on, are a princely suitto those I had then: and her goodness heaped upon me rich clothes, and other bounties: and as I



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53

am now returning to my poor parents again so soon, I cannot wear those good things without

being hooted at; and so have bought what will be more suitable to my degree, and be a good hol-

iday-suit too, when I get home. (...)” (pp. 55 – 57)

-

What is the relation between clothes and social status as shown in this fragment?

- How is Pamela’s metamorphosis interpreted by the other two characters in turn?

-

How is this change related to one’s true self (social, personal) as emphasized inthe last part of the fragment?

15. “LETTER XXV

I pulled off my stays, and my stockings, and all my clothes to an under-petticoat; and then

hearing a rustling again in the closet, I said, Heaven protect us! but before I say my prayers, I

must look into this closet. And so was going to it slip-shod, when, O dreadful! out rushed my

master in a rich silk and silver morning gown.

I screamed, and ran to the bed, and Mrs. Jervis screamed too; and he said, I'll do you no harm,

if you forbear this noise; but otherwise take what follows.

Instantly he came to the bed (for I had crept into it, to Mrs. Jervis, with my coat on, and my

shoes); and taking me in his arms, said, Mrs. Jervis, rise, and just step up stairs to keep the maids

from coming down at this noise: I'll do no harm to this rebel.

O, for Heaven's sake! for pity's sake! Mrs. Jervis, said I, if I am not betrayed, don't leave me;

and, I beseech you, raise all the house. No, said Mrs. Jervis, I will not stir, my dear lamb; I will not

leave you. I wonder at you, sir, said she; and kindly threw herself upon my coat, clasping me

round the waist: You shall not hurt this innocent, said she: for I will lose my life in her defence.

Are there not, said she, enough wicked ones in the world, for your base purpose, but you must

attempt such a lamb as this?

He was desperate angry, and threatened to throw her out of the window; and to turn her out

of the house the next morning. You need not, sir, said she; for I will not stay in it. God defend my

poor Pamela till to-morrow, and we will both go together.—Says he, let me but expostulate aword or two with you, Pamela. Pray, Pamela, said Mrs. Jervis, don't hear a word, except he leaves

the bed, and goes to the other end of the room. Ay, out of the room, said I; expostulate to-

morrow, if you must expostulate!

I found his hand in my bosom; and when my fright let me know it, I was ready to die; and I

sighed and screamed, and fainted away. And still he had his arms about my neck; and Mrs. Jervis

was about my feet, and upon my coat. And all in a cold dewy sweat was I. Pamela! Pamela! said

Mrs. Jervis, as she tells me since, O—h, and gave another shriek, my poor Pamela is dead for cer-

tain! And so, to be sure, I was for a time; for I knew nothing more of the matter, one fit following

another, till about three hours after, as it proved to be, I found myself in bed, and Mrs. Jervis sit-

ting upon one side, with her wrapper about her, and Rachel on the other; and no master, for the

wicked wretch was gone. But I was so overjoyed, that I hardly could believe myself; and I said,

which were my first words, Mrs. Jervis, Mrs. Rachel, can I be sure it is you? Tell me! can I? —Where have I been? Hush, my dear, said Mrs. Jervis; you have been in fit after fit. I never saw any

body so frightful in my life.” (pp. 63 – 64)

- What crucial moment in squire B’s sexual harassment of Pamela is depicted in thisexcerpt?

- What spaces are particularly related to the violation of privacy in this fragment?

“I had great emotions at his entering the room, and threw my apron over my head, and fell a

crying, as if my heart would break.

Mrs. Jervis, said he, since I know you, and you me so well, I don't know how we shall live to-gether for the future. Sir, said she, I will take the liberty to say, what I think is best for both. I



54

have so much grief, that you should attempt to do any injury to this poor girl, and especially in

my chamber, that I should think myself accessary to the mischief, if I was not to take notice of it.

Though my ruin, therefore, may depend upon it, I desire not to stay; but pray let poor Pamela

and me go together. With all my heart, said he; and the sooner the better. She fell a crying. I find,

says he, this girl has made a party of the whole house in her favour against me. Her innocence

deserves it of us all, said she very kindly: and I never could have thought that the son of my deargood lady departed, could have so forfeited his honour, as to endeavour to destroy a virtue he

ought to protect. No more of this, Mrs. Jervis! said he; I will not hear it. As for Pamela, she has a

lucky knack of falling into fits, when she pleases. But the cursed yellings of you both made me

not myself. I intended no harm to her, as I told you both, if you'd have left your squallings: And I

did no harm neither, but to myself; for I raised a hornet's nest about my ears, that, as far as I

know, may have stung to death my reputation. Sir, said Mrs. Jervis, then I beg Mr. Longman may

take my accounts, and I will go away as soon as I can. As for Pamela, she is at her liberty, I hope,

to go away next Thursday, as she intends.” (pp. 65 – 66)

- How does the squire perceive Pamela’s extreme emotional tension which is part of

the discourse of anti-Pamelists?

-

How do the ideas of the members of two different social classes oppose?

- Again, how is morality (or the lack of it) related to social standing and religion?

“What does the little fool cover her face for? said he: Pull your apron away; and let me seehow you look, after your freedom of speech of me last night. No wonder you are ashamed

to see me. You know you were very free with my character.

I could not stand this barbarous insult, as I took it to be, considering his behaviour to me;

and I then spoke and said, O the difference between the minds of thy creatures, good God!

How shall some be cast down in their innocence, while others can triumph in their guilt!”

“LETTER XVII

Why, dear father and mother, to be sure he grows quite a rake! How easy it is to go from badto worse, when once people give way to vice!

How would my poor lady, had she lived, have grieved to see it! but may be he would have been

better then! Though it seems he told Mrs. Jervis, he had an eye upon me in his mother's life-time;

and he intended to let me know as much, by the bye, he told her! Here is shamelessness for you!

Sure the world must be near at an end! for all the gentlemen about are as bad as he almost, as far

as I can hear!—And see the fruits of such bad examples! There is 'Squire Martin in the grove, has

had three lyings-in, it seems, in his house, in three months past; one by himself; and one by his

coachman; and one by his woodman; and yet he has turned none of them away. Indeed, how can

he, when they but follow his own vile example? There is he, and two or three more such as he,

within ten miles of us, who keep company, and hunt with our fine master, truly; and I suppose he

is never the better for their examples. But, Heaven bless me, say I, and send me out of this wick-

ed house!

But, dear father and mother, what sort of creatures must the womenkind be, do you think, to

give way to such wickedness? Why, this it is that makes every one be thought of alike: And,

alack-a-day! what a world we live in! for it is grown more a wonder that the men are resisted,

than that the women comply. This, I suppose, makes me such a sauce-box, and bold-face, and a

creature, and all because I won't be a sauce-box and bold-face indeed.

But I am sorry for these things; one don't know what arts and stratagems men may devise to

gain their vile ends; and so I will think as well as I can of these poor undone creatures, and pity

them. For you see, by my sad story, and narrow escapes, what hardships poor maidens go

through, whose lot it is to go out to service, especially to houses where there is not the fear ofGod, and good rule kept by the heads of the family.” (PP. 70 – 71)





56

She still pleaded her instructions, and said she was not to trust me out of her sight: And you

had better, said she, be easy and contented, I assure you; for I have worse orders than you have

yet found. I remember, added she, your asking Mr. Williams, If there were any gentry in the

neighbourhood? This makes me suspect you want to get away to them, to tell your sad dismal

story, as you call it.

My heart was at my mouth; for I feared, by that hint, she had seen my letter under the tiles: Ohow uneasy I was! At last she said, Well, since you take on so, you may take a turn, and I will be

with you in a minute. (...) ” (PP. 125-126)

- How is Pamela treated by Mrs Jewkes during her confinement at Lincolnshire es-

tate?

- In what ways did she become squire B’s property?

“Just now we heard, that he had like to have been drowned in crossing the stream, a few days

ago, in pursuing his game. What is the matter, that with all his ill usage of me, I cannot hate him?

To be sure, I am not like other people! He has certainly done enough to make me hate him; but

yet, when I heard his danger, which was very great, I could not in my heart forbear rejoicing for

his safety; though his death would have ended my afflictions. Ungenerous master! if you knew

this, you surely would not be so much my persecutor! But, for my late good lady's sake, I must

wish him well; and O what an angel would he be in my eyes yet, if he would cease his attempts,

and reform!”(P. 179)

- What does Pamela’s incapacity to hate her abuser tell about her?

“Saturday morning.

Now let me give you an account of what passed last night: for I had no power to write, nor yet

opportunity till now.

This vile woman held my master till half an hour after seven; and he came hither about five inthe afternoon. And then I heard his voice on the stairs, as he was coming up to me. It was about

his supper; for he said, I shall choose a boiled chicken with butter and parsley. —And up he

came!

He put on a stern and majestic air; and he can look very majestic when he pleases. Well, per-

verse Pamela, ungrateful runaway, said he, for my first salutation!—You do well, don't you, to

give me all this trouble and vexation! I could not speak; but throwing myself on the floor, hid my

face, and was ready to die with grief and apprehension.—He said, Well may you hide your face!

well may you be ashamed to see me, vile forward one, as you are!—I sobbed and wept, but could

not speak. And he let me lie, and went to the door, and called Mrs. Jewkes. —There, said he, take

up that fallen angel!—Once I thought her as innocent as an angel of light but I have now no pa-

tience with her. The little hypocrite prostrates herself thus, in hopes to move my weakness in

her favour, and that I'll raise her from the floor myself. But I shall not touch her: No, said he, cru-

el gentleman as he was! let such fellows as Williams be taken in by her artful wiles! I know her

now, and see she is for any fool's turn, that will be caught by her.

I sighed, as if my heart would break!—And Mrs. Jewkes lifted me up upon my knees; for I

trembled so, I could not stand. Come, said she, Mrs. Pamela, learn to know your best friend; con-

fess your unworthy behaviour, and beg his honour's forgiveness of all your faults. I was ready to

faint: And he said, She is mistress of arts, I'll assure you; and will mimic a fit, ten to one, in a mi-

nute.

I was struck to the heart at this; but could not speak presently; only lifted up my eyes to heav-

en!—And at last made shift to say—God forgive you, sir!—He seemed in a great passion, andwalked up and down the room, casting sometimes an eye upon me, and seeming as if he would



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57

have spoken, but checked himself —And at last he said, When she has acted this her first part

over, perhaps I will see her again, and she shall soon know what she has to trust to.

And so he went out of the room.“ (pp. 182 – 183)

-

Body language and abuse

“'To MRS. PAMELA ANDREWS.'The following ARTICLES are proposed to your serious consideration; and let me have an an-

swer, in writing, to them, that I may take my resolutions accordingly. Only remember, that I will

not be trifled with; and what you give for answer will absolutely decide your fate, without expos-

tulation, or farther trouble.

This is my ANSWER.

Forgive, sir, the spirit your poor servant is about to show in

her answer to your ARTICLES. Not to be warm, and in earnest,

on such an occasion as the present, would shew a degree of guilt,

that, I hope, my soul abhors. I will not trifle with you, nor

act like a person doubtful of her own mind; for it wants not one

moment's consideration with me; and I therefore return the ANSWER

following, let what will be the consequence.

'I. If you can convince me that the hated parson has had no encouragement from you in his

addresses; and that you have no inclination for him in preference to me; then I will offer the fol-

lowing proposals to you, which I will punctually make good.

I. As to the first article, sir, it may behove me (that I may

not deserve, in your opinion, the opprobrious terms of forward

and artful, and such like) to declare solemnly, that Mr. Williams

never had the least encouragement from me, as to what you hint;

and I believe his principal motive was the apprehended duty of his function, quite contrary to his apparent interest, to assist a

person he thought in distress. You may, sir, the rather believe

me, when I declare, that I know not the man breathing I would wish

to marry; and that the only one I could honour more than another,

is the gentleman, who, of all others, seeks my everlasting dishonour.

'II. I will directly make you a present of 500 guineas, for your own use, which you may dispose

of to any purpose you please: and will give it absolutely into the hands of any person you shall

appoint to receive it; and expect no favour in return, till you are satisfied in the possession of it.

II. As to your second proposal, let the consequence be what it

will, I reject it with all my soul. Money, sir, is not my chief

good: May God Almighty desert me, whenever it is! and whenever,

for the sake of that, I can give up my title to that blessed hope

which will stand me instead, at a time when millions of gold will

not purchase one happy moment of reflection on a past misspent life!

'III. I will likewise directly make over to you a purchase I lately made in Kent, which brings in

250l. per annum, clear of all deductions. This shall be made over to you in full property for your

life, and for the lives of any children to perpetuity, that you may happen to have: And your father

shall be immediately put into possession of it in trust for these purposes: and the management

of it will yield a comfortable subsistence to him, and your mother, for life; and I will make up any

deficiencies, if such should happen, to that clear sum, and allow him 50l. per annum, besides, for

his life, and that of your mother, for his care and management of this your estate.III. Your third proposal, sir, I reject for the same reason;



58

and am sorry you could think my poor honest parents would enter

into their part of it, and be concerned for the management of

an estate, which would be owing to the prostitution of their

poor daughter. Forgive, sir, my warmth on this occasion; but

you know not the poor man, and the poor woman, my ever-dear

father and mother, if you think, that they would not much ratherchoose to starve in a ditch, or rot in a noisome dungeon, than

accept of the fortune of a monarch, upon such wicked terms.

I dare not say all that my full mind suggests to me on this

grievous occasion—But, indeed, sir, you know them not; nor

shall the terrors of death, in its most frightful form, I hope,

through God's assisting grace, ever make me act unworthy of

such poor honest parents!

'IV. I will, moreover, extend my favour to any other of your relations, that you may think wor-

thy of it, or that are valued by you.

IV. Your fourth proposal, I take upon me, sir, to answer as the

third. If I have any friends that want the favour of the great,

may they ever want it, if they are capable of desiring it on

unworthy terms!

'V. I will, besides, order patterns to be sent you for choosing four complete suits of rich

clothes, that you may appear with reputation, as if you were my wife. And will give you the two

diamond rings, and two pair of ear-rings, and diamond necklace, that were bought by my moth-

er, to present to Miss Tomlins, if the match that was proposed between her and me had been

brought to effect: and I will confer upon you still other gratuities, as I shall find myself obliged,

by your good behaviour and affection.

V. Fine clothes, sir, become not me; nor have I any ambition

to wear them. I have greater pride in my poverty and meanness,than I should have in dress and finery. Believe me, sir, I think

such things less become the humble-born Pamela, than the rags

your good mother raised me from. Your rings, sir, your necklace,

and your ear-rings, will better befit ladies of degree, than me:

and to lose the best jewel, my virtue, would be poorly recompensed

by those you propose to give me. What should I think, when I

looked upon my finger, or saw in the glass those diamonds on my

neck, and in my ears, but that they were the price of my honesty;

and that I wore those jewels outwardly, because I had none inwardly.

'VI. Now, Pamela, will you see by this, what a value I set upon the free-will of a person already

in my power; and who, if these proposals are not accepted, shall find, that I have not taken all

these pains, and risked my reputation, as I have done, without resolving to gratify my passion for

you, at all adventures; and if you refuse, without making any terms at all.

VI. I know, sir, by woful experience, that I am in your power:

I know all the resistance I can make will be poor and weak, and,

perhaps, stand me in little stead: I dread your will to ruin me

is as great as your power: yet, sir, will I dare to tell you,

that I will make no free-will offering of my virtue. All that

I can do, poor as it is, I will do, to convince you, that your

offers shall have no part in my choice; and if I cannot escape

the violence of man, I hope, by God's grace, I shall have nothingto reproach myself, for not doing all in my power to avoid my



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59

disgrace; and then I can safely appeal to the great God, my only

refuge and protector, with this consolation, That my will bore no

part in my violation.

'VII. You shall be mistress of my person and fortune, as much as if the foolish ceremony had

passed. All my servants shall be yours; and you shall choose any two persons to attend yourself,

either male or female, without any control of mine: and if your conduct be such, that I have rea-son to be satisfied with it, I know not (but will not engage for this) that I may, after a twelve-

month's cohabitation, marry you; for, if my love increases for you, as it has done for many

months past, it will be impossible for me to deny you any thing.

'And now, Pamela, consider well, it is in your power to oblige me on such terms, as will make

yourself, and all your friends, happy: but this will be over this very day, irrevocably over; and

you shall find all you would be thought to fear, without the least benefit arising from it to your-

self.

'And I beg you'll well weigh the matter, and comply with my proposals; and I will instantly set

about securing to you the full effect of them: And let me, if you value yourself, experience a

grateful return on this occasion, and I'll forgive all that's past.'

VII. I have not once dared to look so high, as to such a

proposal as your seventh article contains. Hence have proceeded

all my little abortive artifices to escape from the confinement

you have put me in; although you promised to be honourable to me.

Your honour, well I know, would not let you stoop to so mean and

so unworthy a slave, as the poor Pamela: All I desire is, to be

permitted to return to my native meanness unviolated. What have

I done, sir, to deserve it should be otherwise? For the obtaining

of this, though I would not have married your chaplain, yet would

I have run away with your meanest servant, if I had thought I could

have got safe to my beloved poverty. I heard you once say, sir,That a certain great commander, who could live upon lentils, might

well refuse the bribes of the greatest monarch: And I hope, as I

can contentedly live at the meanest rate, and think not myself

above the lowest condition, that I am also above making an exchange

of my honesty for all the riches of the Indies. When I come to be

proud and vain of gaudy apparel, and outside finery, then (which I

hope will never be) may I rest my principal good in such vain

trinkets, and despise for them the more solid ornaments of a good

fame, and a chastity inviolate!

Give me leave to say, sir, in answer to what you hint, That you may in a twelvemonth's time

marry me, on the continuance of my good behaviour; that this weighs less with me, if possible,

than any thing else you have said: for, in the first place, there is an end of all merit, and all good

behaviour, on my side, if I have now any, the moment I consent to your proposals: And I should

be so far from expecting such an honour, that I will pronounce, that I should be most unworthy

of it. What, sir, would the world say, were you to marry your harlot? That a gentleman of your

rank in life should stoop, not only to the base-born Pamela, but to a base-born prostitute?—Little, sir, as I know of the world, I am not to be caught by a bait so poorly covered as this!” (pp.188 – 190)

- Discuss squire B’s proposal and Pamela’s answer with special focus on social class,

the notion of virtue, morality and financial interests or aspects, power, domination.

-

How do you interpret Pamela’s reaction and answers?



60

“I began to give a little history of myself, as I did, once before, to Mrs. Jervis; in this manner:

Here, said I, were my poor honest parents; they took care to instill good principles into my

mind, till I was almost twelve years of age; and taught me to prefer goodness and poverty to the

highest condition of life; and they confirmed their lessons by their own practice; for they were,

of late years, remarkably poor, and always as remarkably honest, even to a proverb: for, As hon-

est as goodman ANDREWS, was a byeword.Well then, said I, comes my late dear good lady, and takes a fancy to me, and said, she would

be the making of me, if I was a good girl; and she put me to sing, to dance, to play on the spinnet,

in order to divert her melancholy hours; and also taught me all manner of fine needle-work; but

still this was her lesson, My good Pamela, be virtuous, and keep the men at a distance. Well, so I

was, I hope, and so I did; and yet, though I say it, they all loved me and respected me; and would

do any thing for me, as if I was a gentlewoman.

But, then, what comes next?—Why, it pleased God to take my good lady: and then comes my

master: And what says he?—Why, in effect, it is, Be not virtuous, Pamela.

So here I have lived about sixteen years in virtue and reputation; and all at once, when I come

to know what is good, and what is evil, I must renounce all the good, all the whole sixteen years'

innocence, which, next to God's grace, I owed chiefly to my parents, and my lady's good lessons

and examples, and choose the evil; and so, in a moment's time, become the vilest of creatures!

And all this, for what, I pray? Why, truly, for a pair of diamond ear-rings, a necklace, and a dia-

mond ring for my finger; which would not become me: For a few paltry fine clothes, which, when

I wore them, would make but my former poverty more ridiculous to every body that saw me;

especially when they knew the base terms I wore them upon. But, indeed, I was to have a great

parcel of guineas beside; I forget how many; for, had there been ten times more, they would have

been not so much to me, as the honest six guineas you tricked me out of, Mrs. Jewkes.

Well, forsooth! but then I was to have I know not how many pounds a year for my life; and my

poor father (there was the jest of it!) was to be the manager for the abandoned prostitute his

daughter: And then, (there was the jest again!) my kind, forgiving, virtuous master, would par-don me all my misdeeds!

Yes, thank him for nothing, truly. And what, pray, are all these violent misdeeds?—Why, they

are for daring to adhere to the good lessons that were taught me; and not learning a new one,

that would have reversed all my former: For not being contented when I was run away with, in

order to be ruined; but contriving, if my poor wits had been able, to get out of danger, and pre-

serve myself honest.

Then was he once jealous of poor John, though he knew John was his own creature, and

helped to deceive me.

Then was he outrageous against poor Parson Williams! and him has this good, merciful mas-

ter, thrown into gaol; and for what? Why, truly, for that, being a divine, and a good man, he had

the fear of God before his eyes, and was willing to forego all his expectations of interest, and as-

sist an oppressed poor creature.

But, to be sure, I must be forward, bold, saucy, and what not! to dare to run away from certain

ruin, and to strive to escape from an unjust confinement; and I must be married to the parson,

nothing so sure!

He would have had but a poor catch of me, had I consented: But he, and you too, know I did

not want to marry any body. I only wanted to go to my poor parents, and to have my own liberty,

and not to be confined by such an unlawful restraint; and which would not have been inflicted

upon me, but only that I am a poor, destitute, young body, and have no friend that is able to right

me.

So, Mrs. Jewkes, said I, here is my history in brief. And I am a very unhappy young creature, tobe sure!—And why am I so?—Why, because my master sees something in my person that takes



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his present fancy; and because I would not be undone.—Why, therefore to choose, I must, and I

shall be undone!—And this is all the reason that can be given! “ (pp. 200 – 201)

- What are the key aspects in Pamela’s narration regarding her history?

- What is Pamela’s view in relation to marriage, poverty, deceit, good and evil?

“Come, Nan!—what, are you awake at last?—Pr'ythee come to bed; for Mrs. Pamela is in atalking fit, and won't go to sleep one while.

At that, the pretended she came to the bed side; and, sitting down in a chair, where the curtain

hid her, began to undress. Said I, Poor Mrs. Anne, I warrant your head aches most sadly! How do

you do?

—She answered not a word. Said the superlatively wicked woman, You know I have ordered

her not to answer you. And this plot, to be sure, was laid when she gave her these orders the

night before.

I heard her, as I thought, breathe all quick and short : Indeed, said I, Mrs. Jewkes, the poor

maid is not well. What ails you, Mrs. Anne? And still no answer was made.

But, I tremble to relate it! the pretended she came into bed, but trembled like an aspen-leaf;

and I, poor fool that I was! pitied her much—but well might the barbarous deceiver tremble at

his vile dissimulation, and base designs.

What words shall I find, my dear mother (for my father should not see this shocking part), to

describe the rest, and my confusion, when the guilty wretch took my left arm, and laid it under

his neck, and the vile procuress held my right ; and then he clasped me round the waist!

Said I, is the wench mad ? Why, how now, confidence! thinking still it had been Nan. But he

kissed me with frightful vehemence; and then his voice broke upon me like a clap of thunder.

Now, Pamela, said he, is the dreadful time of reckoning come, that I have threatened —I

screamed out in such a manner, as never anybody heard the like. But there was nobody to help

me : and both my hands were secured, as I said. Sure never poor soul was in such agonies as I.

Wicked man! said I ; wicked abominable woman! O God! my God! this time! this one time! deliverme from this distress! or strike me dead this moment! And then I screamed again and again.

Says he, One word with you, Pamela; one word hear me but; I must say one word to you, it is

this: You see now you are in my power!—You cannot get from me, nor help yourself: Yet have I

not offered any thing amiss to you. But if you resolve not to comply with my proposals, I will not

lose this opportunity: If you do, I will yet leave you.

O sir, said I, leave me, leave me but, and I will do any thing I ought to do. —Swear then to me,

said he, that you will accept my proposals! With struggling, fright, terror, I fainted away quite,

and did not come to myself soon, so that they both, from the cold sweats that I was in, thought

me dying.—And I remember no more, than that, when with great difficulty they brought me to

myself, she was sitting on one side of the bed, with her clothes on; and he on the other with his,

and in his gown and slippers.

Your poor Pamela cannot answer for the liberties taken with her in her deplorable state of

death. And when I saw them there, I sat up in my bed, without any regard to what appearance I

made, and nothing about my neck; and he soothing me, with an aspect of pity and concern, I put

my hand to his mouth, and said, O tell me, yet tell me not, what have I suffered in this distress?

And I talked quite wild, and knew not what: for, to be sure, I was on the point of distraction.

He most solemnly, and with a bitter imprecation, vowed, that he had not offered the least in-

decency; that he was frightened at the terrible manner I was taken with the fit: that he should

desist from his attempt; and begged but to see me easy and quiet, and he would leave me direct-

ly, and go to his own bed. O then, said I, take with you this most wicked woman, this vile Mrs.

Jewkes, as an earnest, that I may believe you!



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And will you, sir, said the wicked wretch, for a fit or two, give up such an opportunity as

this?—I thought you had known the sex better. She is now, you see, quite well again!

This I heard; more she might say; but I fainted away once more, at these words, and at his

clasping his arms about me again. And, when I came a little to myself, I saw him sit there, and the

maid Nan, holding a smelling-bottle to my nose, and no Mrs. Jewkes.” (pp. 202 – 204)

-

The second attempt at raping Pamela is enacted with Mrs Jewkes’ assistance. Howis the image of the oppressor (both male and female) depicted and what are the psychic

and emotional effects on Pamela?

“Whatever I offered to you, was before you fainted away, and that, I am sure, was innocent.

Sir, said I, that was very bad: and it was too plain you had the worst designs. When, said he, I

tell you the truth in one instance, you may believe me in the other. I know not, I declare, beyond

this lovely bosom, your sex: but that I did intend what you call the worst is most certain: and

though I would not too much alarm you now, I could curse my weakness, and my folly, which

makes me own, that I love you beyond all your sex, and cannot live without you. But if I am mas-

ter of myself, and my own resolution, I will not attempt to force you to any thing again.” (p. 206)

-

After the attempted rape scene, squire B confesses his intentions. How do you in-

terpret his explanations?

- Do you think love justifies the use of force and bodily abuse?

- Can we interpret the scene differently considering the historical context/time of

the story?

“(…) and he looked at me very steadily, and pressing my hand all the time, at last said, I will now

talk to you in a serious manner.

You have a good deal of wit, a great deal of penetration, much beyond your years, and, as I

thought, your opportunities. You are possessed of an open, frank, and generous mind; and a per-

son so lovely, that you excel all your sex, in my eyes. All these accomplishments have engagedmy affection so deeply, that, as I have often said, I cannot live without you; and I would divide,

with all my soul, my estate with you, to make you mine upon my own terms. These you have ab-

solutely rejected; and that, though in saucy terms enough, yet in such a manner as makes me

admire you the more. Your pretty chit-chat to Mrs. Jewkes, the last Sunday night, so innocent,

and so full of beautiful simplicity, half disarmed my resolution before I approached your bed:

And I see you so watchful over your virtue, that though I hoped to find it otherwise, I cannot but

confess my passion for you is increased by it. But now, what shall I say farther, Pamela?—I will

make you, though a party, my adviser in this matter, though not, perhaps, my definitive judge.

You know I am not a very abandoned profligate; I have hitherto been guilty of no very enor-

mous or vile actions. This of seizing you, and confining you thus, may perhaps be one of the

worst, at least to persons of real innocence. Had I been utterly given up to my passions, I should

before now have gratified them, and not have shewn that remorse and compassion for you,

which have reprieved you, more than once, when absolutely in my power; and you are as invio-

late a virgin as you were when you came into my house.

But what can I do? Consider the pride of my condition. I cannot endure the thought of mar-

riage, even with a person of equal or superior degree to myself; and have declined several pro-

posals of that kind: How then, with the distance between us in the world's judgment, can I think

of making you my wife?—Yet I must have you; I cannot bear the thoughts of any other man sup-

planting me in your affections: and the very apprehension of that has made me hate the name of

Williams, and use him in a manner unworthy of my temper.

Now, Pamela, judge for me; and, since I have told you, thus candidly, my mind, and I see yoursis big with some important meaning, by your eyes, your blushes, and that sweet confusion which





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If you will be good, said I, to your poor servant, and spare her, I cannot say too much! But if

not, I am doubly undone!—Undone indeed!

Said he, I hope my present temper will hold; for I tell you frankly, that I have known, in this

agreeable hour, more sincere pleasure than I have experienced in all the guilty tumults that my

desiring soul compelled me into, in the hopes of possessing you on my own terms. And, Pamela,

you must pray for the continuance of this temper; and I hope your prayers will get the better ofmy temptations.” (pp. 217 – 218)

- What is the change in Pamela’s behaviour and what may have triggered it?

- What does the squire mean by “the hopes of possessing you on my own terms”

- How would you characterise his “present temper”?

“What shall I do, what steps take, if all this be designing—O the perplexities of these cruel doubt-

ings!—To be sure, if he be false, as I may call it, I have gone too far, much too far! —I am ready, on

the apprehension of this, to bite my forward tongue (or rather to beat my more forward heart,

that dictated to that poor machine) for what I have said. But sure, at least, he must be sincere for

the time!—He could not be such a practised dissembler!—If he could, O how desperately wicked

is the heart of man!—And where could he learn all these barbarous arts?—If so, it must be native

surely to the sex!—But, silent be my rash censurings; be hushed, ye stormy tumults of my dis-

turbed mind! for have I not a father who is a man?—A man who knows no guile! who would do

no wrong!—who would not deceive or oppress, to gain a kingdom!—How then can I think it is

native to the sex? And I must also hope my good lady's son cannot be the worst of men! —If he is,

hard the lot of the excellent woman that bore him!—“ (p. 219)

- Focus on the use of modal verbs and discuss their meanings in relation to Pamela’sinsecurity and tension.

“My master came up, and, in a pleasanter manner than I expected, said, So, Pamela, we have

seized, it seems, your treasonable papers? Treasonable! said I, very sullenly. Ay, said he, Isuppose so; for you are a great plotter: but I have not read them yet.

Then, sir, said I, very gravely, it will be truly honourable in you not to read them; but to give

them to me again. To whom, says he, are they written?—To my father, sir; but I suppose you see

to whom.—Indeed, returned he, I have not read three lines yet. Then, pray, sir, don't read them;

but give them to me again. That I will not, said he, till I have read them. Sir, said I, you served me

not well in the letters I used to write formerly: I think it was not worthy your character to con-

trive to get them in your hands, by that false John Arnold! for should such a gentleman as you

mind what your poor servant writes?—Yes, said he, by all means, mind what such a servant as

my Pamela writes.

Your Pamela! thought I. Then the sham marriage came into my head; and indeed it has not

been out of it, since the gipsy affair.—But, said he, have you any thing in these papers you would

not have me see? To be sure, sir, said I, there is; for what one writes to one's father and mother,

is not for every body to see. Nor, said he, am I every body.

Those letters, added he, that I did see by John's means, were not to your disadvantage, I'll as-

sure you; for they gave me a very high opinion of your wit and innocence: And if I had not loved

you, do you think I would have troubled myself about your letters?

Alas! sir, said I, great pride to me that! For they gave you such an opinion of my innocence, that

you was resolved to ruin me. And what advantage have they brought me!—Who have been made

a prisoner, and used as I have been between you and your housekeeper. (…)One word, good sir,

one word before you read them, since you will read them: Pray make allowances—for all the

harsh reflections that you will find in them, on your own conduct to me: And remember only,that they were not written for your sight; and were penned by a poor creature hardly used, and



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65

who was in constant apprehension of receiving from you the worst treatment that you could

inflict upon her.

If that be all, said he, and there be nothing of another nature, that I cannot forgive, you have no

cause for uneasiness; for I had as many instances of your saucy reflections upon me in your for-

mer letters, as there were lines; and yet, you see, I have never upbraided you on that score;

though, perhaps, I wished you had been more sparing of your epithets, and your freedoms ofthat sort.

Well, sir, said I, since you will, you must read them; and I think I have no reason to be afraid of

being found insincere, or having, in any respect, told you a falsehood; because, though I don't

remember all I wrote, yet I know I wrote my heart; and that is not deceitful. And remember, sir,

another thing, that I always declared I thought myself right to endeavour to make my escape

from this forced and illegal restraint; and so you must not be angry that I would have done so, if I

could.

I'll judge you, never fear, said he, as favourably as you deserve; for you have too powerful a

pleader within me. And so went down stairs.” (pp. 228 – 230)

- What functions of letters or letter-writing result from this dialogue?

-

How is this scene related to the exertion of power?

“O, said he, the liberties you have taken with my character in your letters, sets us upon a par, at

least in that respect. Sir, I could not have taken those liberties, if you had not given me the cause:

and the cause, sir, you know, is before the effect.

True, Pamela, said he; you chop logic very prettily. What the deuse do we men go to school

for? If our wits were equal to women's, we might spare much time and pains in our education:

for nature teaches your sex, what, in a long course of labour and study, ours can hardly attain

to.—But, indeed, every lady is not a Pamela.

You delight to banter your poor servant, said I.

Nay, continued he, I believe I must assume to myself half the merit of your wit, too; for the in-nocent exercises you have had for it, from me, have certainly sharpened your invention. “ (p.

232)

- What is the relation between intelligence, nature and education connected to men

and women in the squire’s view?

“I beg your honour's pardon, said the wretch; but if I was your honour, she should not, for all the

trouble she has cost you, go away scot-free. No more of this, as I told you before, said he: What!

when I have such proof, that her virtue is all her pride, shall I rob her of that?—No, added he, let

her go, perverse and foolish as she is; but she deserves to go honest, and she shall go so!

I was so transported with this unexpected goodness, that I opened the door before I knew

what I did; and said, falling on my knees at the door, with my hands folded, and lifted up, O thank

you, thank your honour, a million of times!—May God bless you for this instance of your good-

ness to me! I will pray for you as long as I live, and so shall my dear father and mother. And, Mrs.

Jewkes, said I, I will pray for you too, poor wicked wretch that you are!

He turned from me, and went into his closet, and shut the door. He need not have done so; for

I would not have gone nearer to him!

Surely I did not say so much, to incur all this displeasure.

I think I was loath to leave the house. Can you believe it? —What could be the matter with me,

I wonder?—I felt something so strange, and my heart was so lumpish!—I wonder what ailed

me!—But this was so unexpected!—I believe that was all!—Yet I am very strange still. Surely,

surely, I cannot be like the old murmuring Israelites, to long after the onions and garlick ofEgypt, when they had suffered there such heavy bondage?—I'll take thee, O lumpish, contradic-



66

tory, ungovernable heart! to severe task, for this thy strange impulse, when I get to my dear fa-

ther's and mother's; and if I find any thing in thee that should not be, depend upon it thou shalt

be humbled, if strict abstinence, prayer, and mortification, will do it!” (pp. 244 – 245)

-

What does Pamela come to realise when, for the first time, he ‘rejects’ her or nolonger abuses her?

“O my dear parents, forgive me! but I found, to my grief, before, that my heart was too partial in

his favour; but now with so much openness, so much affection; nay, so much honour too, (which

was all I had before doubted, and kept me on the reserve,) I am quite overcome. This was a

happiness, however, I had no reason to expect. But, to be sure, I must own to you, that I shall

never be able to think of any body in the world but him.—Presumption! you will say; and so it is:

But love is not a voluntary thing: Love, did I say?—But come, I hope not:—At least it is not, I

hope, gone so far as to make me very uneasy: For I know not how it came, nor when it began; but

crept, crept it has, like a thief, upon me; and before I knew what was the matter, it looked like

love.

I wish, since it is too late, and my lot determined, that I had not had this letter, nor heard him

take my part to that vile woman; for then I should have blessed myself in having escaped so

happily his designing arts upon my virtue: but now my poor mind is all topsy-turvied, and I have

made an escape to be more a prisoner.

But I hope, since thus it is, that all will be for the best; and I shall, with your prudent advice,

and pious prayers, be able to overcome this weakness.—But, to be sure, my dear sir, I will keep a

longer time than a twelvemonth, as a true widow, for a compliment, and more than a compli-

ment, to your ashes! O the dear word!—How kind, how moving, how affectionate is the word! O

why was I not a duchess, to shew my gratitude for it! But must labour under the weight of an ob-

ligation, even had this happiness befallen me, that would have pressed me to death, and which I

never could return by a whole life of faithful love, and cheerful obedience.

O forgive your poor daughter!—I am sorry to find this trial so sore upon me; and that all theweakness of my weak sex, and tender years, who never before knew what it was to be so

touched, is come upon me, and too mighty to be withstood by me.—But time, prayer, and resig-

nation to God's will, and the benefits of your good lessons, and examples, I hope, will enable me

to get over this so heavy a trial.

O my treacherous, treacherous heart! to serve me thus! and give no notice to me of the mis-

chiefs thou wast about to bring upon me!—But thus foolishly to give thyself up to the proud in-

vader, without ever consulting thy poor mistress in the least! But thy punishment will be the

first and the greatest; and well deservest thou to smart, O perfidious traitor! for giving up so

weakly thy whole self, before a summons came; and to one, too, who had used me so hardly; and

when, likewise, thou hadst so well maintained thy post against the most violent and avowed,

and, therefore, as I thought, more dangerous attacks!” (pp. 248 – 249)

- When she is finally allowed to return home, Pamela feels physically free and yet

still a prisoner. Why?

- Comment upon the discourse of the heart.

“Said he, I want not time for reflection: for I have often told you, and that long ago, I could not live

without you: and my pride of condition made me both tempt and terrify you to other terms; but

your virtue was proof against all temptations, and was not to be awed by terrors: Wherefore, as I

could not conquer my passion for you, I corrected myself, and resolved, since you would not be

mine upon my terms, you should upon your own: and now I desire you not on any other, I assure

you: and I think the sooner it is done, the better.” (p. 299)





68

always given me great offence; and I should not forgive it, even in my Pamela: though she would

have this excuse for herself, that thousands could not make, That she looks lovely in every thing.

So, my dear, I shall expect of you always to be dressed by dinner-time, except something ex-

traordinary happens; and this, whether you are to go abroad, or stay at home. For this, my love,

will continue to you that sweet ease in your dress and behaviour, which you are so happy a mis-

tress of; and whomsoever I bring home with me to my table, you'll be in readiness to receivethem; and will not want to make those foolish apologies to unexpected visitors, that carry with

them a reflection on the conduct of those who make them; and, besides, will convince me, that

you think yourself obliged to appear as graceful to your husband, as you would to persons less

familiar to your sight.

This, dear sir, said I, is a most obliging injunction; and I most heartily thank you for it, and will

always take care to obey it.—Why, my dear, said he, you may better do this than half your sex;

because they too generally act in such a manner, as if they seemed to think it the privilege of

birth and fortune, to turn day into night, and night into day, and are seldom stirring till it is time

to sit down to dinner; and so all the good old family rules are reversed: For they breakfast, when

they should dine; dine, when they should sup; and sup, when they should go to bed; and, by thehelp of dear quadrille, sometimes go to bed when they should rise.—In all things but these, my

dear, continued he, I expect you to be a lady. And my good mother was one of this oldfashioned

cut, and, in all other respects, as worthy a lady as any in the kingdom. And so you have not been

used to the new way, and may the easier practise the other.

Dear sir, said I, pray give me more of your sweet injunctions. Why then, continued he, I shall,

in the usual course, and generally, if not hindered by company, like to go to bed with my dearest

by eleven; and, if I don't, shan't hinder you. I ordinarily now rise by six in summer. I will allow

you to be half an hour after me, or so.

Then you'll have some time you may call your own, till you give me your company to break-

fast; which may be always so, as that we may have done at a little after nine.Then will you have several hours again at your disposal, till two o'clock, when I shall like to sit

down at table.

You will then have several useful hours more to employ yourself in, as you shall best like; and

I would generally go to supper by eight; and when we are resolved to stick to these oldfashioned

rules, as near as we can, we shall have our visitors conform to them too, and expect them from

us, and suit themselves accordingly: For I have always observed, that it is in every one's power

to prescribe rules to himself. It is only standing a few ridiculous jests at first, and that too from

such, generally, as are not the most worthy to be minded; and, after a while, they will say, It sig-

nifies nothing to ask him: he will have his own way. There is no putting him out of his bias. He is

a regular piece of clock-work, they will joke, and all that: And why, my dear, should we not be

so? For man is as frail a piece of machinery as any clock-work whatever; and, by irregularity, is

as subject to be disordered.

Then, my dear, continued the charming man, when they see they are received, at my own

times, with an open countenance and cheerful heart; when they see plenty and variety at my

board, and meet a kind and hearty welcome from us both; they will not offer to break in upon

my conditions, nor grudge me my regular hours: And as most of these people have nothing to do,

except to rise in a morning, they may as well come to breakfast with us at half an hour after

eight, in summer, as at ten or eleven; to dinner at two, as at four, five, or six; and to supper at

eight, as at ten or eleven. And then our servants, too, will know, generally, the times of their

business, and the hours of their leisure or recess; and we, as well as they, shall reap the benefits

of this regularity. And who knows, my dear, but we may revive the good oldfashion in our neigh-bourhood, by this means?—At least it will be doing our parts towards it; and answering the good



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69

lesson I learned at school, Every one mend one. And the worst that will happen will be, that

when some of my brother rakes, such as those who broke in upon us, so unwelcomely, last

Thursday, are got out of the way, if that can ever be, and begin to consider who they shall go to

dine with in their rambles, they will only say, We must not go to him, for his dinner-time is over;

and so they'll reserve me for another time, when they happen to suit it better; or, perhaps, they

will take a supper and a bed with me instead of it.Now, my dearest, continued the kind man, you see here are more of my injunctions, as you call

them; and though I will not be so set, as to quarrel, if they are not always exactly complied with;

yet, as I know you won't think them unreasonable, I shall be glad they may, as often as they can;

and you will give your orders accordingly to your Mrs. Jervis, who is a good woman, and will

take pleasure in obeying you.

O dearest, dear sir, said I, have you nothing more to honour me with? You oblige and improve

me at the same time.—What a happy lot is mine!” (pp. 367 – 370)

- To what areas of human activity or aspects of married life do these rules refer?

What principles can be extract?

-

What is the purpose of setting down these rules for Pamela to respect?

- How does she view them (for example, she considers them lessons taught by him for

her)?

“Said he, Does your pride let you see no difference in the case you put? None at all, said she.

Where can the difference be between a beggar's son married by a lady, or a beggar's daughter

made a gentleman's wife?

Then I'll tell you, replied he; the difference is, a man ennobles the woman he takes, be she who

she will; and adopts her into his own rank, be it what it will: but a woman, though ever so nobly

born, debases herself by a mean marriage, and descends from her own rank to his she stoops to.

(…)Now, Lady Davers, do you not see a difference between my marrying my dear mother's be-

loved and deserving waiting-maid, with a million of excellencies about her, and such graces of

mind and person as would adorn any distinction; and your marrying a sordid groom, whose con-

stant train of education, conversation, and opportunities, could possibly give him no other merit,

than that which must proceed from the vilest, lowest taste, in his sordid dignifier? (…)And why,when I have a sufficiency in my own single hands, should I scruple to make a woman equally

happy, who has all I want? For beauty, virtue, prudence, and generosity too, I will tell you, she has

more than any lady I ever saw. Yes, Lady Davers, she has all these naturally; they are born with

her; and a few years' education, with her genius, has done more for her, than a whole life has

done for others. (…)She shall, I hope, Lady Davers, said he, when she can make as great a convert

of you from pride, as she has of me, from libertinism.” (pp. 422 – 424)- In his discussion with his sister about his marriage, squire B explains to her the

terms of the union in point of social standing. How do their opinions differ?

- In what ways does Pamela suit the degree she is raised to?

- What is her greatest merit?

“We people of fortune, or such as are born to large expectations, of both sexes, are generally

educated wrong. You have occasionally touched upon this, Pamela, several times in your journal,

so justly, that I need say the less to you. We are usually so headstrong, so violent in our wills,

that we very little bear control.



70

Humoured by our nurses, through the faults of our parents, we practise first upon them; and

shew the gratitude of our dispositions, in an insolence that ought rather to be checked and re-

strained, than encouraged.

Next, we are to be indulged in every thing at school; and our masters and mistresses are re-

warded with further grateful instances of our boisterous behaviour.

But, in our wise parents' eyes, all looks well, all is forgiven and excused; and for no other rea-

son, but because we are theirs.

Our next progression is, we exercise our spirits, when brought home, to the torment and re-

gret of our parents themselves, and torture their hearts by our undutiful and perverse behaviour

to them, which, however ungrateful in us, is but the natural consequence of their culpable indul-

gence to us, from infancy upwards.

And then, next, after we have, perhaps, half broken their hearts, a wife is looked out for: con-

venience, or birth, or fortune, are the first motives, affection the last (if it is at all consulted): and

two people thus educated, thus trained up, in a course of unnatural ingratitude, and who have

been headstrong torments to every one who has had a share in their education, as well as to

those to whom they owe their being, are brought together; and what can be expected, but that

they should pursue, and carry on, the same comfortable conduct in matrimony, and join most

heartily to plague one another? And, in some measure, indeed, this is right; because hereby they

revenge the cause of all those who have been aggrieved and insulted by them, upon one another.

The gentleman has never been controlled: the lady has never been contradicted.

He cannot bear it from one whose new relation, he thinks, should oblige her to shew a quite

contrary conduct.

She thinks it very barbarous, now, for the first time, to be opposed in her will, and that by a

man from whom she expected nothing but tenderness.

So great is the difference between what they both expect from one another, and what theyboth find in each other, that no wonder misunderstandings happen; that these ripen to quarrels;

that acts of unkindness pass, which, even had the first motive to their union been affection, as

usually it is not, would have effaced all manner of tender impressions on both sides.

Appeals to parents or guardians often ensue. If, by mediation of friends, a reconciliation takes

place, it hardly ever holds: for why? The fault is in the minds of both, and neither of them will

think so; so that the wound (not permitted to be probed) is but skinned over, and rankles still at

the bottom, and at last breaks out with more pain and anguish than before. Separate beds are

often the consequence; perhaps elopements: if not, an unconquerable indifference, possibly

aversion. And whenever, for appearance-sake, they are obliged to be together, every one sees,

that the yawning husband, and the vapourish wife, are truly insupportable to one another; but

separate, have freer spirits, and can be tolerable company. (…) ” (pp. 443 – 445)

- What does the squire’s discourse on the education and married life of the upperclasses suggest or transmit?

- What are his solutions in order to replace this old state of affairs with better alter-

natives and values? In what ways are the rules listed below conform to his philosophy on

reforming the morality and living of the upper class families?

“I thanked him for these kind rules, and generous assurances: and assured him, that they had

made so much impression on my mind, that these, and his most agreeable injunctions before

given me, and such as he should hereafter be pleased to give me, should be so many rules for my

future behaviour.



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And I am glad of the method I have taken of making a Journal of all that passes in these first

stages of my happiness, because it will sink the impression still deeper; and I shall have recourse

to them for my better regulation, as often as I shall mistrust my memory.

Let me see: What are the rules I am to observe from this awful lecture? Why these:

1. That I must not, when he is in great wrath with any body, break in upon him without his

leave. Well, I'll remember it, I warrant. But yet I think this rule is almost peculiar to himself.

2. That I must think his displeasure the heaviest thing that can befall me. To be sure I shall.

3. And so that I must not wish to incur it, to save any body else. I'll be further if I do.

4. That I must never make a compliment to any body at his expense.

5. That I must not be guilty of any acts of wilful meanness. There is a great deal meant in this;

and I'll endeavour to observe it all. To be sure, the occasion on which he mentions this, explains

it; that I must say nothing, though in anger, that is spiteful or malicious; that is disrespectful or

undutiful, and such-like.

6. That I must bear with him, even when I find him in the wrong. This is a little hard, as the

case may be!I wonder whether poor Miss Sally Godfrey be living or dead!

7. That I must be as flexible as the reed in the fable, lest, by resisting the tempest, like the oak,

I be torn up by the roots. Well, I'll do the best I can!—There is no great likelihood, I hope, that I

should be too perverse; yet sure, the tempest will not lay me quite level with the ground, neither.

8. That the education of young people of condition is generally wrong. Memorandum; That if

any part of children's education fall to my lot, I never indulge and humour them in things that

they ought to be restrained in.

9. That I accustom them to bear disappointments and control.

10. That I suffer them not to be too much indulged in their infancy.

11. Nor at school.

12. Nor spoil them when they come home.

13. For that children generally extend their perverseness from the nurse to the schoolmaster:

from the schoolmaster to the parents:

14. And, in their next step, as a proper punishment for all, make their ownselves unhappy.

15. That undutiful and perverse children make bad husbands and wives: And, collaterally, bad

masters and mistresses.

16. That, not being subject to be controlled early, they cannot, when married, bear one anoth-

er.

17. That the fault lying deep, and in the minds of each other, neither will mend it.

18. Whence follow misunderstandings, quarrels, appeals, ineffectual reconciliations, separa-

tions, elopements; or, at best, indifference; perhaps, aversion.—Memorandum; A good image of

unhappy wedlock, in the words YAWNING HUSBAND, and VAPOURISH WIFE, when together:

But separate, both quite alive.

19. Few married persons behave as he likes. Let me ponder this with awe and improvement.

20. Some gentlemen can compromise with their wives, for quietness sake; but he can't. Indeed

I believe that's true; I don't desire he should.

21. That love before marriage is absolutely necessary.





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73

46. That a wife take care how she ascribe supererogatory merit to herself; so as to take the

faults of others upon her.

Indeed, I think it is well if we can bear our own! This is of the same nature with the third; and

touches upon me, on the present occasion, for this wholesome lecture.

47. That his imperfections must not be a plea for hers. To be sure, 'tis no matter how good the

women are; but 'tis to be hoped men will allow a little. But, indeed, he says,

48. That a husband, who expects all this, is to be incapable of returning insult for obligation, or

evil for good; and ought not to abridge her of any privilege of her sex.” (pp. 448 – 451)

“I was dressed in the suit I mentioned, of white flowered with silver, and a rich head-dress, and

the diamond necklace, ear-rings, etc. I also mentioned before: And my dear sir, in a fine laced silk

waistcoat, of blue paduasoy, and his coat a pearl-coloured fine cloth, with gold buttons and but-

ton-holes, and lined with white silk; and he looked charmingly indeed. I said, I was too fine, and

would have laid aside some of the jewels; but he said, It would be thought a slight to me from

him, as his wife; and though as I apprehended, it might be, that people would talk as it was, yethe had rather they should say any thing, than that I was not put upon an equal footing, as his

wife, with any lady he might have married.” (p. 487)

- What is it that the squire wants to transmit to the congregation about his choice?

- How would you characterise Pamela’s attitude in the given situation?

“Lady Towers said, My dear neighbour, you want no countenance; your own merit is sufficient. I

had a slight cold, that kept me at home in the morning; but I heard you so much talked of, and

praised, that I resolved not to stay away in the afternoon; and I join in the joy every one gives

you. She turned to my master, and said, You are a sly thief, as I always thought you. Where have

you stolen this lady? And now, how barbarous is it, thus unawares, in a manner, to bring her

here upon us, to mortify and eclipse us all?—You are very kind, madam, said he, that you and allmy worthy neighbours see with my eyes. But had I not known she had so much excellency of

mind and behaviour, as would strike every body in her favour at first sight, I should not have

dared to class her with such of my worthy neighbours, as now so kindly congratulate us both.

I own, said she, softly, I was one of your censurers; but I never liked you so well in my life, as

for this action, now I see how capable your bride is of giving distinction to any condition. —And,

coming to me, My dear neighbour, said she, excuse me for having but in my thought, the remem-

brance that I have seen you formerly, when, by your sweet air and easy deportment, you so

much surpass us all, and give credit to your present happy condition.

Dear good madam, said I, how shall I suitably return my acknowledgments! But it will never

be a pain to me to look back upon my former days, now I have the kind allowance and exampleof so many worthy ladies to support me in the honours to which the most generous of men has

raised me.” (p. 491)

-

What is it that strikes the most about Pamela’s appearance?

- What does this quality match with?

- What gives distinction to any condition, an idea perfectly embodied by Pamela?

“We were yesterday favoured with the company of almost all the neighbouring gentlemen and

their ladies, who, by appointment with one another, met to congratulate our happiness. Nothing

could be more obliging, more free and affectionate, than the ladies; nothing more polite than the

gentlemen. All was performed (for they came to supper) with decency and order, and much to



74

every one's satisfaction; which was principally owing to good Mrs. Jervis's care and skill; who is

an excellent manager.

For my part, I was dressed out only to be admired, as it seems: and truly, if I had not known,

that I did not make myself, as you, my dear father, once hinted to me, and if I had had the vanity

to think as well of myself, as the good company was pleased to do, I might possibly have been

proud. But I know, as my Lady Davers said, though in anger, yet in truth, that I am but a poor bit

of painted dirt. All that I value myself upon, is, that God has raised me to a condition to be useful,

in my generation, to better persons than myself. This is my pride: And I hope this will be all my

pride. For what was I of myself!—All the good I can do, is but a poor third-hand good; for my

dearest master himself is but the second-hand. God, the all-gracious, the all-good, the all-

bountiful, the all-mighty, the all-merciful God, is the first: To him, therefore, be all the glory!” (p.497)

- How do you interpret Pamela’s humble position and opinion of herself?

- To whom does she owe her happy present condition?

- What does she mean by being “useful” to her generation?

- What are the meanings she attaches to the three types of doing good?

“The reader will here indulge us in a few brief observations, which naturally result from the

story and characters; and which will serve as so many applications of its most material incidents

to the minds of YOUTH of BOTH SEXES.

First, then, in the character of the GENTLEMAN, may be seen that of a fashionable libertine,

who allowed himself in the free indulgence of his passions, especially to the fair sex; and found

himself supported in his daring attempts, by an affluent fortune in possession, a personal brav-

ery, as it is called, readier to give than take offence, and an imperious will: yet as he betimes sees

his errors, and reforms in the bloom of youth, an edifying lesson may be drawn from it, for theuse of such as are born to large fortunes; and who may be taught, by his example, the inexpress-

ible difference between the hazards and remorse which attend a profligate course of life, and the

pleasures which flow from virtuous love, and benevolent actions.

In the character of Lady DAVERS, let the proud, and the high-born, see the deformity of unrea-

sonable passion, and how weak and ridiculous such persons must appear, who suffer them-

selves, as is usually the case, to be hurried from the height of violence, to the most abject sub-

mission; and subject themselves to be outdone by the humble virtue they so much despise.

Let good CLERGYMEN, in Mr. WILLIAMS, see, that whatever displeasure the doing of their du-

ty may give, for a time, to their proud patrons, Providence will, at last, reward their piety, and

turn their distresses to triumph; and make them even more valued for a conduct that gave of-fence while the violence of passion lasted, than if they had meanly stooped to flatter or soothe

the vices of the great.

In the examples of good old ANDREWS and his WIFE, let those, who are reduced to a low es-

tate, see, that Providence never fails to reward their honesty and integrity: and that God will, in

his own good time, extricate them, by means unforeseen, out of their present difficulties, and

reward them with benefits unhoped for.

The UPPER SERVANTS of great families may, from the odious character of Mrs. JEWKES, and

the amiable ones of Mrs. JERVIS, Mr. LONGMAN, etc. learn what to avoid, and what to choose, to

make themselves valued and esteemed by all who know them.

And, from the double conduct of poor JOHN, the LOWER SERVANTS may learn fidelity, andhow to distinguish between the lawful and unlawful commands of a superior.



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The poor deluded female, who, like the once unhappy Miss GODFREY, has given up her hon-

our, and yielded to the allurements of her designing lover, may learn from her story, to stop at

the first fault; and, by resolving to repent and amend, see the pardon and blessing which await

her penitence, and a kind Providence ready to extend the arms of its mercy to receive and re-

ward her returning duty: While the prostitute, pursuing the wicked courses, into which, perhaps,

she was at first inadvertently drawn, hurries herself into filthy diseases, and an untimely death;and, too probably, into everlasting perdition.

Let the desponding heart be comforted by the happy issue which the troubles and trials of

PAMELA met with, when they see, in her case, that no danger nor distress, however inevitable,

or deep to their apprehensions, can be out of the power of Providence to obviate or relieve; and

which, as in various instances in her story, can turn the most seemingly grievous things to its

own glory, and the reward of suffering innocence; and that too, at a time when all human pro-

spects seem to fail.

Let the rich, and those who are exalted from a low to a high estate, learn from her, that they

are not promoted only for a single good; but that Providence has raised them, that they should

dispense to all within their reach, the blessings it has heaped upon them; and that the greaterthe power is to which God hath raised them, the greater is the good that will be expected from

them.

From the low opinion she every where shews of herself, and her attributing all her excellen-

cies to pious education, and her lady's virtuous instructions and bounty; let persons, even of ge-

nius and piety, learn not to arrogate to themselves those gifts and graces, which they owe least

of all to themselves: Since the beauties of person are frail; and it is not in our power to give them

to ourselves, or to be either prudent, wise, or good, without the assistance of divine grace.

From the same good example, let children see what a blessing awaits their duty to their par-

ents, though ever so low in the world; and that the only disgrace, is to be dishonest; but none at

all to be poor.From the economy she purposes to observe in her elevation, let even ladies of condition learn,

that there are family employments, in which they may and ought to make themselves useful, and

give good examples to their inferiors, as well as equals: and that their duty to God, charity to the

poor and sick, and the different branches of household management, ought to take up the most

considerable portions of their time.

From her signal veracity, which she never forfeited, in all the hardships she was tried with,

though her answers, as she had reason to apprehend, would often make against her; and the in-

nocence she preserved throughout all her stratagems and contrivances to save herself from vio-

lation: Persons, even sorely tempted, may learn to preserve a sacred regard to truth; which al-

ways begets a reverence for them, even in the corruptest minds.In short,

Her obliging behaviour to her equals, before her exaltation; her kindness to them afterwards; her

forgiving spirit, and her generosity;

Her meekness, in every circumstance where her virtue was not concerned;

Her charitable allowances for others, as in the case of Miss Godfrey, for faults she would not have

forgiven in herself;

Her kindness and prudence to the offspring of that melancholy adventure;

Her maiden and bridal purity, which extended as well to her thoughts as to her words and actions;

Her signal affiance in God;

Her thankful spirit;



76

Her grateful heart;

Her diffusive charity to the poor, which made her blessed by them whenever she appeared abroad;

The cheerful ease and freedom of her deportment;

Her parental, conjugal, and maternal duty;

Her social virtues;

Are all so many signal instances of the excellency of her mind, which may make her characterworthy of the imitation of her sex. And the Editor of these sheets will have his end, if it inspires a

laudable emulation in the minds of any worthy persons, who may thereby entitle themselves to

the rewards, the praises, and the blessings, by which PAMELA was so deservedly distinguished.

THE END” (pp. 500 – 503)

- At the end of the novel, the narrator intervenes in order to point out some conclu-

sions regarding the many ways in which most of the social classes of the society can learn

from Pamela’s defense of her virtue and her itinerary to her present condition. Identify

the major points he makes for each class.

-

Which are the central virtues that Pamela possesses and which can be a useful

guide for all the readers?

- What major themes emerge as related to the entire narrative?

The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding (1749)

TEXTS FOR ANALYSIS IN CLASS – to be sent via email THE REST OF THE TEXTS – COMPULSORY READING FOR THE EXAMINATION

“Book I. Chapter I

The introduction to the work, or bill of fare to the feast.

An author ought to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary

treat, but rather as one who keeps a public ordinary, at which all persons are welcome for their

money. In the former case, it is well known that the entertainer provides what fare he pleases;

and though this should be very indifferent, and utterly disagreeable to the taste of his company,

they must not find any fault; nay, on the contrary, good breeding forces them outwardly to

approve and to commend whatever is set before them. Now the contrary of this happens to the

master of an ordinary. Men who pay for what they eat will insist on gratifying their palates,

however nice and whimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeable to their taste,

will challenge a right to censure, to abuse, and to d—n their dinner without controul.

To prevent, therefore, giving offence to their customers by any such disappointment, it hath been

usual with the honest and well-meaning host to provide a bill of fare which all persons may

peruse at their first entrance into the house; and having thence acquainted themselves with the

entertainment which they may expect, may either stay and regale with what is provided for

them, or may depart to some other ordinary better accommodated to their taste.





78

- Within this metaphorical field, what is the richest food that can ever be cooked and

served?

-

What is the purpose of writing fiction?

- What are the roles of the readers and writers in the process of writing literature?

-

Which is the manner in which a writer should represent the world?

“Ch. 2 A short description of squire Allworthy, and a fuller account of Miss Bridget Allworthy, his

sister.

In that part of the western division of this kingdom which is commonly called Somersetshire,

there lately lived, and perhaps lives still, a gentleman whose name was Allworthy, and who might

well be called the favourite of both nature and fortune; for both of these seem to have contended

which should bless and enrich him most. In this contention, nature may seem to some to have

come off victorious, as she bestowed on him many gifts, while fortune had only one gift in her

power; but in pouring forth this, she was so very profuse, that others perhaps may think thissingle endowment to have been more than equivalent to all the various blessings which he

enjoyed from nature. From the former of these, he derived an agreeable person, a sound

constitution, a solid understanding, and a benevolent heart; by the latter, he was decreed to the

inheritance of one of the largest estates in the county.

This gentleman had in his youth married a very worthy and beautiful woman, of whom he had

been extremely fond: by her he had three children, all of whom died in their infancy. He had

likewise had the misfortune of burying this beloved wife herself, about five years before the time

in which this history chuses to set out. This loss, however great, he bore like a man of sense and

constancy, though it must be confest he would often talk a little whimsically on this head; for he

sometimes said he looked on himself as still married, and considered his wife as only gone a little

before him, a journey which he should most certainly, sooner or later, take after her; and that he

had not the least doubt of meeting her again in a place where he should never part with her

more—sentiments for which his sense was arraigned by one part of his neighbours, his religion

by a second, and his sincerity by a third.

He now lived, for the most part, retired in the country, with one sister, for whom he had a very

tender affection. This lady was now somewhat past the age of thirty, an aera at which, in the

opinion of the malicious, the title of old maid may with no impropriety be assumed. She was of

that species of women whom you commend rather for good qualities than beauty, and who are

generally called, by their own sex, very good sort of women—as good a sort of woman, madam,

as you would wish to know. Indeed, she was so far from regretting want of beauty, that she never

mentioned that perfection, if it can be called one, without contempt; and would often thank Godshe was not as handsome as Miss Such-a-one, whom perhaps beauty had led into errors which

she might have otherwise avoided. Miss Bridget Allworthy (for that was the name of this lady)

very rightly conceived the charms of person in a woman to be no better than snares for herself,

as well as for others; and yet so discreet was she in her conduct, that her prudence was as much

on the guard as if she had all the snares to apprehend which were ever laid for her whole sex.

Indeed, I have observed, though it may seem unaccountable to the reader, that this guard of

prudence, like the trained bands, is always readiest to go on duty where there is the least danger.

It often basely and cowardly deserts those paragons for whom the men are all wishing, sighing,

dying, and spreading, every net in their power; and constantly attends at the heels of that higher

order of women for whom the other sex have a more distant and awful respect, and whom (fromdespair, I suppose, of success) they never venture to attack.” (pp. 25 – 26)



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-

What are the central features of squire Allworthy as briefly presented in this fragment?

- What about those of his sister?

“Ch. 3 An odd accident which befel Mr Allworthy at his return home. The decent behaviour of Mrs

Deborah Wilkins, with some proper animadversions on bastards.

Mr Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in London, on some very particular

business, though I know not what it was; but judge of its importance by its having detained him

so long from home, whence he had not been absent a month at a time during the space of many

years. He came to his house very late in the evening, and after a short supper with his sister,

retired much fatigued to his chamber. Here, having spent some minutes on his knees —a custom

which he never broke through on any account —he was preparing to step into bed, when, upon

opening the cloathes, to his great surprize he beheld an infant, wrapt up in some coarse linen, in

a sweet and profound sleep, between his sheets. He stood some time lost in astonishment at this

sight; but, as good nature had always the ascendant in his mind, he soon began to be touched

with sentiments of compassion for the little wretch before him. He then rang his bell, andordered an elderly woman-servant to rise immediately, and come to him; and in the meantime

was so eager in contemplating the beauty of innocence, appearing in those lively colours with

which infancy and sleep always display it, that his thoughts were too much engaged to reflect

that he was in his shirt when the matron came in. She had indeed given her master sufficient

time to dress himself; for out of respect to him, and regard to decency, she had spent many

minutes in adjusting her hair at the looking-glass, notwithstanding all the hurry in which she had

been summoned by the servant, and though her master, for aught she knew, lay expiring in an

apoplexy, or in some other fit.

It will not be wondered at that a creature who had so strict a regard to decency in her own

person, should be shocked at the least deviation from it in another. She therefore no sooneropened the door, and saw her master standing by the bedside in his shirt, with a candle in his

hand, than she started back in a most terrible fright, and might perhaps have swooned away, had

he not now recollected his being undrest, and put an end to her terrors by desiring her to stay

without the door till he had thrown some cloathes over his back, and was become incapable of

shocking the pure eyes of Mrs Deborah Wilkins, who, though in the fifty-second year of her age,

vowed she had never beheld a man without his coat. Sneerers and prophane wits may perhaps

laugh at her first fright; yet my graver reader, when he considers the time of night, the summons

from her bed, and the situation in which she found her master, will highly justify and applaud

her conduct, unless the prudence which must be supposed to attend maidens at that period of

life at which Mrs Deborah had arrived, should a little lessen his admiration.

When Mrs Deborah returned into the room, and was acquainted by her master with the find-

ing the little infant, her consternation was rather greater than his had been; nor could she re-

frain from crying out, with great horror of accent as well as look, "My good sir! what's to be

done?" Mr Allworthy answered, she must take care of the child that evening, and in the morning

he would give orders to provide it a nurse. "Yes, sir," says she; "and I hope your worship will

send out your warrant to take up the hussy its mother, for she must be one of the neighbour-

hood; and I should be glad to see her committed to Bridewell, and whipt at the cart's tail. Indeed,

such wicked sluts cannot be too severely punished. I'll warrant 'tis not her first, by her impu-

dence in laying it to your worship." "In laying it to me, Deborah!" answered Allworthy: "I can't

think she hath any such design. I suppose she hath only taken this method to provide for her

child; and truly I am glad she hath not done worse." "I don't know what is worse," cries Deborah,"than for such wicked strumpets to lay their sins at honest men's doors; and though your wor-



80

ship knows your own innocence, yet the world is censorious; and it hath been many an honest

man's hap to pass for the father of children he never begot; and if your worship should provide

for the child, it may make the people the apter to believe; besides, why should your worship

provide for what the parish is obliged to maintain? For my own part, if it was an honest man's

child, indeed—but for my own part, it goes against me to touch these misbegotten wretches,

whom I don't look upon as my fellow-creatures. Faugh! how it stinks! It doth not smell like aChristian. If I might be so bold to give my advice, I would have it put in a basket, and sent out and

laid at the churchwarden's door. It is a good night, only a little rainy and windy; and if it was well

wrapt up, and put in a warm basket, it is two to one but it lives till it is found in the morning. But

if it should not, we have discharged our duty in taking proper care of it; and it is, perhaps, better

for such creatures to die in a state of innocence, than to grow up and imitate their mothers; for

nothing better can be expected of them."

There were some strokes in this speech which perhaps would have offended Mr Allworthy,

had he strictly attended to it; but he had now got one of his fingers into the infant's hand, which,

by its gentle pressure, seeming to implore his assistance, had certainly out-pleaded the elo-

quence of Mrs Deborah, had it been ten times greater than it was. He now gave Mrs Deborahpositive orders to take the child to her own bed, and to call up a maid-servant to provide it pap,

and other things, against it waked. He likewise ordered that proper cloathes should be procured

for it early in the morning, and that it should be brought to himself as soon as he was stirring. ”(pp. 27 – 29)

- ???

Book I, Chapter x. — The hospitality of Allworthy; with a shortsketch of the characters of two brothers, a doctor and a captain,who were entertained by that gentleman.

“Neither Mr Allworthy's house, nor his heart, were shut against any part of mankind, but theywere both more particularly open to men of merit. To say the truth, this was the only house in

the kingdom where you was sure to gain a dinner by deserving it.

Above all others, men of genius and learning shared the principal place in his favour; and in

these he had much discernment: for though he had missed the advantage of a learned education,

yet, being blest with vast natural abilities, he had so well profited by a vigorous though late

application to letters, and by much conversation with men of eminence in this way, that he was

himself a very competent judge in most kinds of literature.

It is no wonder that in an age when this kind of merit is so little in fashion, and so slenderly

provided for, persons possessed of it should very eagerly flock to a place where they were sure of

being received with great complaisance; indeed, where they might enjoy almost the sameadvantages of a liberal fortune as if they were entitled to it in their own right; for Mr Allworthy

was not one of those generous persons who are ready most bountifully to bestow meat, drink,

and lodging on men of wit and learning, for which they expect no other return but

entertainment, instruction, flattery, and subserviency; in a word, that such persons should be

enrolled in the number of domestics, without wearing their master's cloathes, or receiving

wages.

On the contrary, every person in this house was perfect master of his own time: and as he

might at his pleasure satisfy all his appetites within the restrictions only of law, virtue, and

religion; so he might, if his health required, or his inclination prompted him to temperance, or

even to abstinence, absent himself from any meals, or retire from them, whenever he was sodisposed, without even a sollicitation to the contrary: for, indeed, such sollicitations from



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superiors always savour very strongly of commands. But all here were free from such

impertinence, not only those whose company is in all other places esteemed a favour from their

equality of fortune, but even those whose indigent circumstances make such an eleemosynary

abode convenient to them, and who are therefore less welcome to a great man's table because

they stand in need of it.” (pp. 46 – 47)

- What are the functions of space as they emerge from the description of Mr Allworthy’shouse?

- What personal qualities are associated with Mr Allworthy’s?

BK I. ch. 12

“Allworthy thus answered: "Had I conceived any displeasure against your brother, I should

never have carried that resentment to the innocent: but I assure you I have no such displeasure.

Your brother appears to me to be a man of sense and honour. I do not disapprove the taste of my

sister; nor will I doubt but that she is equally the object of his inclinations. I have always thought

love the only foundation of happiness in a married state, as it can only produce that high andtender friendship which should always be the cement of this union; and, in my opinion, all those

marriages which are contracted from other motives are greatly criminal; they are a profanation

of a most holy ceremony, and generally end in disquiet and misery: for surely we may call it a

profanation to convert this most sacred institution into a wicked sacrifice to lust or avarice: and

what better can be said of those matches to which men are induced merely by the consideration

of a beautiful person, or a great fortune?

"To deny that beauty is an agreeable object to the eye, and even worthy some admiration,

would be false and foolish. Beautiful is an epithet often used in Scripture, and always mentioned

with honour. It was my own fortune to marry a woman whom the world thought handsome, and

I can truly say I liked her the better on that account. But to make this the sole consideration ofmarriage, to lust after it so violently as to overlook all imperfections for its sake, or to require it

so absolutely as to reject and disdain religion, virtue, and sense, which are qualities in their

nature of much higher perfection, only because an elegance of person is wanting: this is surely

inconsistent, either with a wise man or a good Christian. And it is, perhaps, being too charitable

to conclude that such persons mean anything more by their marriage than to please their carnal

appetites; for the satisfaction of which, we are taught, it was not ordained.

"In the next place, with respect to fortune. Worldly prudence, perhaps, exacts some

consideration on this head; nor will I absolutely and altogether condemn it. As the world is

constituted, the demands of a married state, and the care of posterity, require some little regard

to what we call circumstances. Yet this provision is greatly increased, beyond what is really

necessary, by folly and vanity, which create abundantly more wants than nature. Equipage for the

wife, and large fortunes for the children, are by custom enrolled in the list of necessaries; and to

procure these, everything truly solid and sweet, and virtuous and religious, are neglected and

overlooked.

"And this in many degrees; the last and greatest of which seems scarce distinguishable from

madness;—I mean where persons of immense fortunes contract themselves to those who are,

and must be, disagreeable to them—to fools and knaves—in order to increase an estate already

larger even than the demands of their pleasures. Surely such persons, if they will not be thought

mad, must own, either that they are incapable of tasting the sweets of the tenderest friendship,

or that they sacrifice the greatest happiness of which they are capable to the vain, uncertain, and

senseless laws of vulgar opinion, which owe as well their force as their foundation to folly."

Here Allworthy concluded his sermon (…)” (pp. 54 – 55)



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- What meanings does the squire associate with marriage?

- Does he identify more types of marriage in his contemporary society?

- What values lie at the foundation of such unions, in his opinion?

BK II, CH. 1“Showing what kind of a history this is; what it is like, and what itis not like.

Though we have properly enough entitled this our work, a history, and not a life; nor an

apology for a life, as is more in fashion; yet we intend in it rather to pursue the method of those

writers, who profess to disclose the revolutions of countries, than to imitate the painful and

voluminous historian, who, to preserve the regularity of his series, thinks himself obliged to fill

up as much paper with the detail of months and years in which nothing remarkable happened, as

he employs upon those notable aeras when the greatest scenes have been transacted on the

human stage.

Such histories as these do, in reality, very much resemble a newspaper, which consists of justthe same number of words, whether there be any news in it or not. They may likewise be

compared to a stage coach, which performs constantly the same course, empty as well as full.

The writer, indeed, seems to think himself obliged to keep even pace with time, whose

amanuensis he is; and, like his master, travels as slowly through centuries of monkish dullness,

when the world seems to have been asleep, as through that bright and busy age so nobly

distinguished by the excellent Latin poet —

Ad confligendum venientibus undique poenis,

Omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu

Horrida contremuere sub altis aetheris auris;

In dubioque fuit sub utrorum regna cadendumOmnibus humanis esset, terraque marique.

Of which we wish we could give our readers a more adequate translation than that by Mr

Creech—

When dreadful Carthage frighted Rome with arms,

And all the world was shook with fierce alarms;

Whilst undecided yet, which part should fall,

Which nation rise the glorious lord of all.

Now it is our purpose, in the ensuing pages, to pursue a contrary method. When any

extraordinary scene presents itself (as we trust will often be the case), we shall spare no pains

nor paper to open it at large to our reader; but if whole years should pass without producinganything worthy his notice, we shall not be afraid of a chasm in our history; but shall hasten on

to matters of consequence, and leave such periods of time totally unobserved.

These are indeed to be considered as blanks in the grand lottery of time. We therefore, who

are the registers of that lottery, shall imitate those sagacious persons who deal in that which is

drawn at Guildhall, and who never trouble the public with the many blanks they dispose of; but

when a great prize happens to be drawn, the newspapers are presently filled with it, and the

world is sure to be informed at whose office it was sold: indeed, commonly two or three different

offices lay claim to the honour of having disposed of it; by which, I suppose, the adventurers are

given to understand that certain brokers are in the secrets of Fortune, and indeed of her cabinet

council.My reader then is not to be surprized, if, in the course of this work, he shall find some chapters



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very short, and others altogether as long; some that contain only the time of a single day, and

others that comprise years; in a word, if my history sometimes seems to stand still, and

sometimes to fly. For all which I shall not look on myself as accountable to any court of critical

jurisdiction whatever: for as I am, in reality, the founder of a new province of writing, so I am at

liberty to make what laws I please therein. And these laws, my readers, whom I consider as my

subjects, are bound to believe in and to obey; with which that they may readily and cheerfullycomply, I do hereby assure them that I shall principally regard their ease and advantage in all

such institutions: for I do not, like a jure divino tyrant, imagine that they are my slaves, or my

commodity. I am, indeed, set over them for their own good only, and was created for their use,

and not they for mine. Nor do I doubt, while I make their interest the great rule of my writings,

they will unanimously concur in supporting my dignity, and in rendering me all the honour I

shall deserve or desire.” (pp. 59 – 60)

- Why does the narrator call this piece of writing “a history”?

- What is it compared to?

- What manner of writing does the narrator prefer in relation to temporal sequences, selec-

tion of events, etc?

BK II. Ch. 3 “My reader may please to remember he hath been informed that Jenny Jones hadlived some years with a certain schoolmaster, who had, at her earnest desire, instructed her in

Latin, in which, to do justice to her genius, she had so improved herself, that she was become a

better scholar than her master.

Indeed, though this poor man had undertaken a profession to which learning must be allowed

necessary, this was the least of his commendations. He was one of the best-natured fellows in the

world, and was, at the same time, master of so much pleasantry and humour, that he was reputed

the wit of the country; and all the neighbouring gentlemen were so desirous of his company, that

as denying was not his talent, he spent much time at their houses, which he might, with moreemolument, have spent in his school.

It may be imagined that a gentleman so qualified and so disposed, was in no danger of

becoming formidable to the learned seminaries of Eton or Westminster. To speak plainly, his

scholars were divided into two classes: in the upper of which was a young gentleman, the son of

a neighbouring squire, who, at the age of seventeen, was just entered into his Syntaxis; and in the

lower was a second son of the same gentleman, who, together with seven parish-boys, was

learning to read and write.

The stipend arising hence would hardly have indulged the schoolmaster in the luxuries of life,

had he not added to this office those of clerk and barber, and had not Mr Allworthy added to the

whole an annuity of ten pounds, which the poor man received every Christmas, and with whichhe was enabled to cheer his heart during that sacred festival.” (p. 63)

- What are the prominent features associated with the figure of the schoolmaster?

BK II. Ch. 9 “These two doctors, whom, to avoid any malicious applications, we shalldistinguish by the names of Dr Y. and Dr Z., having felt his pulse; to wit, Dr Y. his right arm, and

Dr Z. his left; both agreed that he was absolutely dead; but as to the distemper, or cause of his

death, they differed; Dr Y. holding that he died of an apoplexy, and Dr Z. of an epilepsy.

Hence arose a dispute between the learned men, in which each delivered the reasons of their

several opinions. These were of such equal force, that they served both to confirm either doctor

in his own sentiments, and made not the least impression on his adversary.



84

To say the truth, every physician almost hath his favourite disease, to which he ascribes all the

victories obtained over human nature. The gout, the rheumatism, the stone, the gravel, and the

consumption, have all their several patrons in the faculty; and none more than the nervous fever,

or the fever on the spirits. And here we may account for those disagreements in opinion,

concerning the cause of a patient's death, which sometimes occur, between the most learned of

the college; and which have greatly surprized that part of the world who have been ignorant ofthe fact we have above asserted.

The reader may perhaps be surprized, that, instead of endeavouring to revive the patient, the

learned gentlemen should fall immediately into a dispute on the occasion of his death; but in

reality all such experiments had been made before their arrival: for the captain was put into a

warm bed, had his veins scarified, his forehead chafed, and all sorts of strong drops applied to his

lips and nostrils.

The physicians, therefore, finding themselves anticipated in everything they ordered, were at a

loss how to apply that portion of time which it is usual and decent to remain for their fee, and

were therefore necessitated to find some subject or other for discourse; and what could more

naturally present itself than that before mentioned?Our doctors were about to take their leave, when Mr Allworthy, having given over the captain,

and acquiesced in the Divine will, began to enquire after his sister, whom he desired them to visit

before their departure.

This lady was now recovered of her fit, and, to use the common phrase, as well as could be

expected for one in her condition. The doctors, therefore, all previous ceremonies being

complied with, as this was a new patient, attended, according to desire, and laid hold on each of

her hands, as they had before done on those of the corpse.

The case of the lady was in the other extreme from that of her husband: for as he was past all

the assistance of physic, so in reality she required none.

There is nothing more unjust than the vulgar opinion, by which physicians aremisrepresented, as friends to death. On the contrary, I believe, if the number of those who

recover by physic could be opposed to that of the martyrs to it, the former would rather exceed

the latter. Nay, some are so cautious on this head, that, to avoid a possibility of killing the patient,

they abstain from all methods of curing, and prescribe nothing but what can neither do good nor

harm. I have heard some of these, with great gravity, deliver it as a maxim, "That Nature should

be left to do her own work, while the physician stands by as it were to clap her on the back, and

encourage her when she doth well."

So little then did our doctors delight in death, that they discharged the corpse after a single

fee; but they were not so disgusted with their living patient; concerning whose case they

immediately agreed, and fell to prescribing with great diligence.Whether, as the lady had at first persuaded her physicians to believe her ill, they had now, in

return, persuaded her to believe herself so, I will not determine; but she continued a whole

month with all the decorations of sickness. During this time she was visited by physicians,

attended by nurses, and received constant messages from her acquaintance to enquire after her

health.” (pp. 88 – 89)

- What portrait does the narrator sketch in order to depict the main features of doctors in

the eighteenth century as they acted on the occasion of captain Blifil’s death?

- What is the tone of the description?



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BK III. Ch. 2 “The heroe of this great history appears with verybad omens. A little tale of so LOW a kind that some may think itnot worth their notice. A word or two concerning a squire, andmore relating to a gamekeeper and a schoolmaster.

As we determined, when we first sat down to write this history, to flatter no man, but to guide

our pen throughout by the directions of truth, we are obliged to bring our heroe on the stage in a

much more disadvantageous manner than we could wish; and to declare honestly, even at his

first appearance, that it was the universal opinion of all Mr Allworthy's family that he was

certainly born to be hanged.

Indeed, I am sorry to say there was too much reason for this conjecture; the lad having from

his earliest years discovered a propensity to many vices, and especially to one which hath as

direct a tendency as any other to that fate which we have just now observed to have been

prophetically denounced against him: he had been already convicted of three robberies, viz., of

robbing an orchard, of stealing a duck out of a farmer's yard, and of picking Master Blifil's pocket

of a ball.

The vices of this young man were, moreover, heightened by the disadvantageous light in whichthey appeared when opposed to the virtues of Master Blifil, his companion; a youth of so

different a cast from little Jones, that not only the family but all the neighbourhood resounded

his praises. He was, indeed, a lad of a remarkable disposition; sober, discreet, and pious beyond

his age; qualities which gained him the love of every one who knew him: while Tom Jones was

universally disliked; and many expressed their wonder that Mr Allworthy would suffer such a lad

to be educated with his nephew, lest the morals of the latter should be corrupted by his

example.” (p. 93)

- How are the two boys contrastively portrayed in relation to their virtues/qualities and

vices?

- What is the narratorial tone?

BK III. Ch. 3 “The character of Mr Square the philosopher, and ofMr Thwackum the divine; with a dispute concerning

The name of this gentleman, who had then resided some time at Mr Allworthy's house, was Mr

Square. His natural parts were not of the first rate, but he had greatly improved them by a

learned education. He was deeply read in the antients, and a profest master of all the works of

Plato and Aristotle. Upon which great models he had principally formed himself; sometimes

according with the opinion of the one, and sometimes with that of the other. In morals he was a

profest Platonist, and in religion he inclined to be an Aristotelian.

But though he had, as we have said, formed his morals on the Platonic model, yet he perfectly

agreed with the opinion of Aristotle, in considering that great man rather in the quality of a

philosopher or a speculatist, than as a legislator. This sentiment he carried a great way; indeed,

so far, as to regard all virtue as matter of theory only. This, it is true, he never affirmed, as I have

heard, to any one; and yet upon the least attention to his conduct, I cannot help thinking it was

his real opinion, as it will perfectly reconcile some contradictions which might otherwise appear

in his character.

This gentleman and Mr Thwackum scarce ever met without a disputation; for their tenets

were indeed diametrically opposite to each other. Square held human nature to be the perfection

of all virtue, and that vice was a deviation from our nature, in the same manner as deformity of

body is. Thwackum, on the contrary, maintained that the human mind, since the fall, was nothing

but a sink of iniquity, till purified and redeemed by grace. In one point only they agreed, which



86

was, in all their discourses on morality never to mention the word goodness. The favourite

phrase of the former, was the natural beauty of virtue; that of the latter, was the divine power of

grace. The former measured all actions by the unalterable rule of right, and the eternal fitness of

things; the latter decided all matters by authority; but in doing this, he always used the

scriptures and their commentators, as the lawyer doth his Coke upon Lyttleton, where the

comment is of equal authority with the text.After this short introduction, the reader will be pleased to remember, that the parson had

concluded his speech with a triumphant question, to which he had apprehended no answer; viz.,

Can any honour exist independent on religion?

To this Square answered; that it was impossible to discourse philosophically concerning

words, till their meaning was first established: that there were scarce any two words of a more

vague and uncertain signification, than the two he had mentioned; for that there were almost as

many different opinions concerning honour, as concerning religion. "But," says he, "if by honour

you mean the true natural beauty of virtue, I will maintain it may exist independent of any

religion whatever. Nay," added he, "you yourself will allow it may exist independent of all but

one: so will a Mahometan, a Jew, and all the maintainers of all the different sects in the world."Thwackum replied, this was arguing with the usual malice of all the enemies to the true

Church. He said, he doubted not but that all the infidels and hereticks in the world would, if they

could, confine honour to their own absurd errors and damnable deceptions; "but honour," says

he, "is not therefore manifold, because there are many absurd opinions about it; nor is religion

manifold, because there are various sects and heresies in the world. When I mention religion, I

mean the Christian religion; and not only the Christian religion, but the Protestant religion; and

not only the Protestant religion, but the Church of England. And when I mention honour, I mean

that mode of Divine grace which is not only consistent with, but dependent upon, this religion;

and is consistent with and dependent upon no other. Now to say that the honour I here mean,

and which was, I thought, all the honour I could be supposed to mean, will uphold, much lessdictate an untruth, is to assert an absurdity too shocking to be conceived."

"I purposely avoided," says Square, "drawing a conclusion which I thought evident from what I

have said; but if you perceived it, I am sure you have not attempted to answer it. However, to

drop the article of religion, I think it is plain, from what you have said, that we have different

ideas of honour; or why do we not agree in the same terms of its explanation? I have asserted,

that true honour and true virtue are almost synonymous terms, and they are both founded on

the unalterable rule of right, and the eternal fitness of things; to which an untruth being

absolutely repugnant and contrary, it is certain that true honour cannot support an untruth. In

this, therefore, I think we are agreed; but that this honour can be said to be founded on religion,

to which it is antecedent, if by religion be meant any positive law—" (pp. 98 – 99)

- What different approaches to education do the two pedagogues apply?

- What are they based on?

- What is the narrator’s attitude/view as suggested in the following excerpt?

“On the contrary, it is with a view to their service, that I have taken upon me to record the livesand actions of two of their false and pretended champions. A treacherous friend is the most

dangerous enemy; and I will say boldly, that both religion and virtue have received more real

discredit from hypocrites than the wittiest profligates or infidels could ever cast upon them: nay,

farther, as these two, in their purity, are rightly called the bands of civil society, and are indeed

the greatest of blessings; so when poisoned and corrupted with fraud, pretence, and affectation,

they have become the worst of civil curses, and have enabled men to perpetrate the most cruel

mischiefs to their own species.





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“BK III. CH. 5. The young gentleman, moreover, soon perceived how extremely grateful allthose panegyrics on his instructors were to Mr Allworthy himself, as they so loudly resounded

the praise of that singular plan of education which he had laid down; for this worthy man having

observed the imperfect institution of our public schools, and the many vices which boys were

there liable to learn, had resolved to educate his nephew, as well as the other lad, whom he had

in a manner adopted, in his own house; where he thought their morals would escape all thatdanger of being corrupted to which they would be unavoidably exposed in any public school or

university.

Having, therefore, determined to commit these boys to the tuition of a private tutor, Mr

Thwackum was recommended to him for that office, by a very particular friend, of whose

understanding Mr Allworthy had a great opinion, and in whose integrity he placed much

confidence. This Thwackum was fellow of a college, where he almost entirely resided; and had a

great reputation for learning, religion, and sobriety of manners. And these were doubtless the

qualifications by which Mr Allworthy's friend had been induced to recommend him; though

indeed this friend had some obligations to Thwackum's family, who were the most considerable

persons in a borough which that gentleman represented in parliament.” (pp. 105 – 106)- What inconsistencies or problems related to public education does the text allude to?

“BK. III. Ch. 7

In recording some instances of these, we shall, if rightly understood, afford a very useful lesson

to those well-disposed youths who shall hereafter be our readers; for they may here find, that

goodness of heart, and openness of temper, though these may give them great comfort within,

and administer to an honest pride in their own minds, will by no means, alas! do their business

in the world. Prudence and circumspection are necessary even to the best of men. They are

indeed, as it were, a guard to Virtue, without which she can never be safe. It is not enough that

your designs, nay, that your actions, are intrinsically good; you must take care they shall appearso. If your inside be never so beautiful, you must preserve a fair outside also. This must be

constantly looked to, or malice and envy will take care to blacken it so, that the sagacity and

goodness of an Allworthy will not be able to see through it, and to discern the beauties within.

Let this, my young readers, be your constant maxim, that no man can be good enough to enable

him to neglect the rules of prudence; nor will Virtue herself look beautiful, unless she be

bedecked with the outward ornaments of decency and decorum. And this precept, my worthy

disciples, if you read with due attention, you will, I hope, find sufficiently enforced by examples

in the following pages.” (p. 111)

- In this fragment, the narrator makes reference to some principles that were characteristic

to the eighteenth century. Identify them.- What is the advice and message to the readers concerning these principles?

“BK. III. CH. 9. It hath been observed by some man of much greater reputation for wisdom thanmyself, that misfortunes seldom come single. An instance of this may, I believe, be seen in those

gentlemen who have the misfortune to have any of their rogueries detected; for here discovery

seldom stops till the whole is come out. Thus it happened to poor Tom; who was no sooner

pardoned for selling the horse, than he was discovered to have some time before sold a fine Bible

which Mr Allworthy gave him, the money arising from which sale he had disposed of in the same

manner. This Bible Master Blifil had purchased, though he had already such another of his own,partly out of respect for the book, and partly out of friendship to Tom, being unwilling that the



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Bible should be sold out of the family at half-price. He therefore deposited the said half-price

himself; for he was a very prudent lad, and so careful of his money, that he had laid up almost

every penny which he had received from Mr Allworthy.

Some people have been noted to be able to read in no book but their own. On the contrary,

from the time when Master Blifil was first possessed of this Bible, he never used any other. Nay,

he was seen reading in it much oftener than he had before been in his own. Now, as he frequentlyasked Thwackum to explain difficult passages to him, that gentleman unfortunately took notice

of Tom's name, which was written in many parts of the book. This brought on an inquiry, which

obliged Master Blifil to discover the whole matter.

Thwackum was resolved a crime of this kind, which he called sacrilege, should not go

unpunished. He therefore proceeded immediately to castigation: and not contented with that he

acquainted Mr Allworthy, at their next meeting, with this monstrous crime, as it appeared to him:

inveighing against Tom in the most bitter terms, and likening him to the buyers and sellers who

were driven out of the temple.

Square saw this matter in a very different light. He said, he could not perceive any higher

crime in selling one book than in selling another. That to sell Bibles was strictly lawful by all lawsboth Divine and human, and consequently there was no unfitness in it. He told Thwackum, that

his great concern on this occasion brought to his mind the story of a very devout woman, who,

out of pure regard to religion, stole Tillotson's Sermons from a lady of her acquaintance.

This story caused a vast quantity of blood to rush into the parson's face, which of itself was

none of the palest; and he was going to reply with great warmth and anger, had not Mrs Blifil,

who was present at this debate, interposed. That lady declared herself absolutely of Mr Square's

side. She argued, indeed, very learnedly in support of his opinion; and concluded with saying, if

Tom had been guilty of any fault, she must confess her own son appeared to be equally culpable;

for that she could see no difference between the buyer and the seller; both of whom were alike to

be driven out of the temple.Mrs Blifil having declared her opinion, put an end to the debate. Square's triumph would

almost have stopt his words, had he needed them; and Thwackum, who, for reasons before-

mentioned, durst not venture at disobliging the lady, was almost choaked with indignation. As to

Mr Allworthy, he said, since the boy had been already punished he would not deliver his

sentiments on the occasion; and whether he was or was not angry with the lad, I must leave to

the reader's own conjecture.

Soon after this, an action was brought against the gamekeeper by Squire Western (the

gentleman in whose manor the partridge was killed), for depredations of the like kind. This was

a most unfortunate circumstance for the fellow, as it not only of itself threatened his ruin, but

actually prevented Mr Allworthy from restoring him to his favour: for as that gentleman waswalking out one evening with Master Blifil and young Jones, the latter slily drew him to the

habitation of Black George; where the family of that poor wretch, namely, his wife and children,

were found in all the misery with which cold, hunger, and nakedness, can affect human

creatures: for as to the money they had received from Jones, former debts had consumed almost

the whole.

Such a scene as this could not fail of affecting the heart of Mr Allworthy. He immediately gave

the mother a couple of guineas, with which he bid her cloath her children. The poor woman

burst into tears at this goodness, and while she was thanking him, could not refrain from

expressing her gratitude to Tom; who had, she said, long preserved both her and hers from

starving. "We have not," says she, "had a morsel to eat, nor have these poor children had a rag to

put on, but what his goodness hath bestowed on us." For, indeed, besides the horse and the Bible,

Tom had sacrificed a night-gown, and other things, to the use of this distressed family.



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On their return home, Tom made use of all his eloquence to display the wretchedness of these

people, and the penitence of Black George himself; and in this he succeeded so well, that Mr

Allworthy said, he thought the man had suffered enough for what was past; that he would forgive

him, and think of some means of providing for him and his family.

Jones was so delighted with this news, that, though it was dark when they returned home, he

could not help going back a mile, in a shower of rain, to acquaint the poor woman with the gladtidings; but, like other hasty divulgers of news, he only brought on himself the trouble of

contradicting it: for the ill fortune of Black George made use of the very opportunity of his

friend's absence to overturn all again.” (pp. 114 – 116)

- What does this incident show about the different personalities of all those mentioned in

the text?

- What does it reveal about Tom’s nature?

“BK IV. Ch. 1 Containing five pages of paper.

As truth distinguishes our writings from those idle romances which are filled with monsters,the productions, not of nature, but of distempered brains; and which have been therefore

recommended by an eminent critic to the sole use of the pastry-cook; so, on the other hand, we

would avoid any resemblance to that kind of history which a celebrated poet seems to think is no

less calculated for the emolument of the brewer, as the reading it should be always attended with

a tankard of good ale—

While—history with her comrade ale,

Soothes the sad series of her serious tale

For as this is the liquor of modern historians, nay, perhaps their muse, if we may believe the

opinion of Butler, who attributes inspiration to ale, it ought likewise to be the potation of their

readers, since every book ought to be read with the same spirit and in the same manner as it iswrit. Thus the famous author of Hurlothrumbo told a learned bishop, that the reason his

lordship could not taste the excellence of his piece was, that he did not read it with a fiddle in his

hand; which instrument he himself had always had in his own, when he composed it.

That our work, therefore, might be in no danger of being likened to the labours of these

historians, we have taken every occasion of interspersing through the whole sundry similes,

descriptions, and other kind of poetical embellishments. These are, indeed, designed to supply

the place of the said ale, and to refresh the mind, whenever those slumbers, which in a long work

are apt to invade the reader as well as the writer, shall begin to creep upon him. Without

interruptions of this kind, the best narrative of plain matter of fact must overpower every reader;

for nothing but the ever lasting watchfulness, which Homer has ascribed only to Jove himself, can

be proof against a newspaper of many volumes.

We shall leave to the reader to determine with what judgment we have chosen the several

occasions for inserting those ornamental parts of our work. Surely it will be allowed that none

could be more proper than the present, where we are about to introduce a considerable

character on the scene; no less, indeed, than the heroine of this heroic, historical, prosaic poem.”(pp. 119 – 120)

- What are the major principles the work is created on in matters of content?

- What about the style?

- What does the narrator mean by defining his work as a “heroic, historical, prosaic poem”?





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to tall. Her shape was not only exact, but extremely delicate: and the nice proportion of her arms

promised the truest symmetry in her limbs. Her hair, which was black, was so luxuriant, that it

reached her middle, before she cut it to comply with the modern fashion; and it was now curled

so gracefully in her neck, that few could believe it to be her own. If envy could find any part of the

face which demanded less commendation than the rest, it might possibly think her forehead

might have been higher without prejudice to her. Her eyebrows were full, even, and archedbeyond the power of art to imitate. Her black eyes had a lustre in them, which all her softness

could not extinguish. Her nose was exactly regular, and her mouth, in which were two rows of

ivory, exactly answered Sir John Suckling's description in those lines:—

Her lips were red, and one was thin,

Compar'd to that was next her chin.

Some bee had stung it newly.

Her cheeks were of the oval kind; and in her right she had a dimple, which the least smile

discovered. Her chin had certainly its share in forming the beauty of her face; but it was difficult

to say it was either large or small, though perhaps it was rather of the former kind. Her

complexion had rather more of the lily than of the rose; but when exercise or modesty increasedher natural colour, no vermilion could equal it. Then one might indeed cry out with the

celebrated Dr Donne:

—Her pure and eloquent blood

Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought

That one might almost say her body thought.

Her neck was long and finely turned: and here, if I was not afraid of offending her delicacy, I

might justly say, the highest beauties of the famous Venus de Medicis were outdone. Here was

whiteness which no lilies, ivory, nor alabaster could match. The finest cambric might indeed be

supposed from envy to cover that bosom which was much whiter than itself.—It was indeed,

Nitor splendens Pario marmore purius.

A gloss shining beyond the purest brightness of Parian marble.

Such was the outside of Sophia; nor was this beautiful frame disgraced by an inhabitant

unworthy of it. Her mind was every way equal to her person; nay, the latter borrowed some

charms from the former; for when she smiled, the sweetness of her temper diffused that glory

over her countenance which no regularity of features can give. But as there are no perfections of

the mind which do not discover themselves in that perfect intimacy to which we intend to

introduce our reader with this charming young creature, so it is needless to mention them here:

nay, it is a kind of tacit affront to our reader's understanding, and may also rob him of that

pleasure which he will receive in forming his own judgment of her character.It may, however, be proper to say, that whatever mental accomplishments she had derived

from nature, they were somewhat improved and cultivated by art: for she had been educated

under the care of an aunt, who was a lady of great discretion, and was thoroughly acquainted

with the world, having lived in her youth about the court, whence she had retired some years

since into the country. By her conversation and instructions, Sophia was perfectly well bred,

though perhaps she wanted a little of that ease in her behaviour which is to be acquired only by

habit, and living within what is called the polite circle. But this, to say the truth, is often too

dearly purchased; and though it hath charms so inexpressible, that the French, perhaps, among

other qualities, mean to express this, when they declare they know not what it is; yet its absence

is well compensated by innocence; nor can good sense and a natural gentility ever stand in need

of it.” (pp. 121 – 124)



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- What is the difference made by the narrator concerning his style and other writers’ style

in introducing the heroes of their works to the readers?

- What are the main features related to Sophia’s physical and moral portrait?

“BK IV. Ch. 5

But it was otherwise with Sophia. She honoured Tom Jones, and scorned Master Blifil, almost

as soon as she knew the meaning of those two words.

Sophia had been absent upwards of three years with her aunt; during all which time she had

seldom seen either of these young gentlemen. She dined, however, once, together with her aunt,

at Mr Allworthy's. This was a few days after the adventure of the partridge, before

commemorated. Sophia heard the whole story at table, where she said nothing: nor indeed could

her aunt get many words from her as she returned home; but her maid, when undressing her,

happening to say, "Well, miss, I suppose you have seen young Master Blifil to-day?" she answered

with much passion, "I hate the name of Master Blifil, as I do whatever is base and treacherous:and I wonder Mr Allworthy would suffer that old barbarous schoolmaster to punish a poor boy

so cruelly for what was only the effect of his good-nature." She then recounted the story to her

maid, and concluded with saying, "Don't you think he is a boy of noble spirit?"

This young lady was now returned to her father; who gave her the command of his house, and

placed her at the upper end of his table, where Tom (who for his great love of hunting was

become a great favourite of the squire) often dined. Young men of open, generous dispositions

are naturally inclined to gallantry, which, if they have good understandings, as was in reality

Tom's case, exerts itself in an obliging complacent behaviour to all women in general. This

greatly distinguished Tom from the boisterous brutality of mere country squires on the one

hand, and from the solemn and somewhat sullen deportment of Master Blifil on the other; and

he began now, at twenty, to have the name of a pretty fellow among all the women in the

neighbourhood.

Tom behaved to Sophia with no particularity, unless perhaps by showing her a higher respect

than he paid to any other. This distinction her beauty, fortune, sense, and amiable carriage,

seemed to demand; but as to design upon her person he had none; for which we shall at present

suffer the reader to condemn him of stupidity; but perhaps we shall be able indifferently well to

account for it hereafter.

Sophia, with the highest degree of innocence and modesty, had a remarkable sprightliness in

her temper. This was so greatly increased whenever she was in company with Tom, that had he

not been very young and thoughtless, he must have observed it: or had not Mr Western's

thoughts been generally either in the field, the stable, or the dog-kennel, it might have perhaps

created some jealousy in him: but so far was the good gentleman from entertaining any such

suspicions, that he gave Tom every opportunity with his daughter which any lover could have

wished; and this Tom innocently improved to better advantage, by following only the dictates of

his natural gallantry and good-nature, than he might perhaps have done had he had the deepest

designs on the young lady.” (pp. 130 – 131)

- What features can you identify related to the characters described and the relations es-

tablished of the early stage of their connection?

“BK. IV. CH. 6

mekeeper), which consisted at present of a wife and five children.



94

The second of these children was a daughter, whose name was Molly, and who was esteemed

one of the handsomest girls in the whole country.

Congreve well says there is in true beauty something which vulgar souls cannot admire; so can

no dirt or rags hide this something from those souls which are not of the vulgar stamp.

The beauty of this girl made, however, no impression on Tom, till she grew towards the age of

sixteen, when Tom, who was near three years older, began first to cast the eyes of affection upon

her. And this affection he had fixed on the girl long before he could bring himself to attempt the

possession of her person: for though his constitution urged him greatly to this, his principles no

less forcibly restrained him. To debauch a young woman, however low her condition was,

appeared to him a very heinous crime; and the good-will he bore the father, with the compassion

he had for his family, very strongly corroborated all such sober reflections; so that he once

resolved to get the better of his inclinations, and he actually abstained three whole months

without ever going to Seagrim's house, or seeing his daughter.

Now, though Molly was, as we have said, generally thought a very fine girl, and in reality she

was so, yet her beauty was not of the most amiable kind. It had, indeed, very little of feminine in

it, and would have become a man at least as well as a woman; for, to say the truth, youth andflorid health had a very considerable share in the composition.

Nor was her mind more effeminate than her person. As this was tall and robust, so was that

bold and forward. So little had she of modesty, that Jones had more regard for her virtue than she

herself. And as most probably she liked Tom as well as he liked her, so when she perceived his

backwardness she herself grew proportionably forward; and when she saw he had entirely

deserted the house, she found means of throwing herself in his way, and behaved in such a

manner that the youth must have had very much or very little of the heroe if her endeavours had

proved unsuccessful. In a word, she soon triumphed over all the virtuous resolutions of Jones;

for though she behaved at last with all decent reluctance, yet I rather chuse to attribute the

triumph to her, since, in fact, it was her design which succeeded.In the conduct of this matter, I say, Molly so well played her part, that Jones attributed the

conquest entirely to himself, and considered the young woman as one who had yielded to the

violent attacks of his passion. He likewise imputed her yielding to the ungovernable force of her

love towards him; and this the reader will allow to have been a very natural and probable

supposition, as we have more than once mentioned the uncommon comeliness of his person:

and, indeed, he was one of the handsomest young fellows in the world.

As there are some minds whose affections, like Master Blifil's, are solely placed on one single

person, whose interest and indulgence alone they consider on every occasion; regarding the

good and ill of all others as merely indifferent, any farther than as they contribute to the pleasure

or advantage of that person: so there is a different temper of mind which borrows a degree ofvirtue even from self-love. Such can never receive any kind of satisfaction from another, without

loving the creature to whom that satisfaction is owing, and without making its well-being in

some sort necessary to their own ease.

Of this latter species was our heroe. He considered this poor girl as one whose happiness or

misery he had caused to be dependent on himself. Her beauty was still the object of desire,

though greater beauty, or a fresher object, might have been more so; but the little abatement

which fruition had occasioned to this was highly overbalanced by the considerations of the

affection which she visibly bore him, and of the situation into which he had brought her. The

former of these created gratitude, the latter compassion; and both, together with his desire for

her person, raised in him a passion which might, without any great violence to the word, be

called love; though, perhaps, it was at first not very judiciously placed.” (pp. 137 – 138)



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- What are the central features characterising Molly Seagrim?

- What is her relationship with the protagonist of the novel?

“BK. IV. Ch. 8 A battle sung by the muse in the Homerican style,

and which none but the classical reader can taste.As a vast herd of cows in a rich farmer's yard, if, while they are milked, they hear their calves

at a distance, lamenting the robbery which is then committing, roar and bellow; so roared forth

the Somersetshire mob an hallaloo, made up of almost as many squalls, screams, and other

different sounds as there were persons, or indeed passions among them: some were inspired by

rage, others alarmed by fear, and others had nothing in their heads but the love of fun; but chiefly

Envy, the sister of Satan, and his constant companion, rushed among the crowd, and blew up the

fury of the women; who no sooner came up to Molly than they pelted her with dirt and rubbish.

Molly, having endeavoured in vain to make a handsome retreat, faced about; and laying hold of

ragged Bess, who advanced in the front of the enemy, she at one blow felled her to the ground.

The whole army of the enemy (though near a hundred in number), seeing the fate of theirgeneral, gave back many paces, and retired behind a new-dug grave; for the churchyard was the

field of battle, where there was to be a funeral that very evening. Molly pursued her victory, and

catching up a skull which lay on the side of the grave, discharged it with such fury, that having hit

a taylor on the head, the two skulls sent equally forth a hollow sound at their meeting, and the

taylor took presently measure of his length on the ground, where the skulls lay side by side, and

it was doubtful which was the more valuable of the two. Molly then taking a thigh-bone in her

hand, fell in among the flying ranks, and dealing her blows with great liberality on either side,

overthrew the carcass of many a mighty heroe and heroine.

Recount, O Muse, the names of those who fell on this fatal day. First, Jemmy Tweedle felt on his

hinder head the direful bone. Him the pleasant banks of sweetly-winding Stour had nourished,

where he first learnt the vocal art, with which, wandering up and down at wakes and fairs, he

cheered the rural nymphs and swains, when upon the green they interweaved the sprightly

dance; while he himself stood fiddling and jumping to his own music. How little now avails his

fiddle! He thumps the verdant floor with his carcass. Next, old Echepole, the sowgelder, received

a blow in his forehead from our Amazonian heroine, and immediately fell to the ground. He was

a swinging fat fellow, and fell with almost as much noise as a house. His tobacco-box dropped at

the same time from his pocket, which Molly took up as lawful spoils. Then Kate of the Mill

tumbled unfortunately over a tombstone, which catching hold of her ungartered stocking

inverted the order of nature, and gave her heels the superiority to her head. Betty Pippin, with

young Roger her lover, fell both to the ground; where, oh perverse fate! she salutes the earth, and

he the sky. Tom Freckle, the smith's son, was the next victim to her rage. He was an ingeniousworkman, and made excellent pattens; nay, the very patten with which he was knocked down

was his own workmanship. Had he been at that time singing psalms in the church, he would have

avoided a broken head. Miss Crow, the daughter of a farmer; John Giddish, himself a farmer; Nan

Slouch, Esther Codling, Will Spray, Tom Bennet; the three Misses Potter, whose father keeps the

sign of the Red Lion; Betty Chambermaid, Jack Ostler, and many others of inferior note, lay

rolling among the graves.

Not that the strenuous arm of Molly reached all these; for many of them in their flight

overthrew each other.

But now Fortune, fearing she had acted out of character, and had inclined too long to the same

side, especially as it was the right side, hastily turned about: for now Goody Brown —whomZekiel Brown caressed in his arms; nor he alone, but half the parish besides; so famous was she





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composing. Among these probably may be reckoned those initial essays which we have prefixed

to the historical matter contained in every book; and which we have determined to be essentially

necessary to this kind of writing, of which we have set ourselves at the head.

For this our determination we do not hold ourselves strictly bound to assign any reason; it

being abundantly sufficient that we have laid it down as a rule necessary to be observed in all

prosai-comi-epic writing. Who ever demanded the reasons of that nice unity of time or placewhich is now established to be so essential to dramatic poetry? What critic hath been ever asked,

why a play may not contain two days as well as one? Or why the audience (provided they travel,

like electors, without any expense) may not be wafted fifty miles as well as five? Hath any

commentator well accounted for the limitation which an antient critic hath set to the drama,

which he will have contain neither more nor less than five acts? Or hath any one living attempted

to explain what the modern judges of our theatres mean by that word low ; by which they have

happily succeeded in banishing all humour from the stage, and have made the theatre as dull as a

drawing-room! Upon all these occasions the world seems to have embraced a maxim of our law,

viz., cuicunque in arte sua perito credendum est: for it seems perhaps difficult to conceive that any

one should have had enough of impudence to lay down dogmatical rules in any art or sciencewithout the least foundation. In such cases, therefore, we are apt to conclude there are sound

and good reasons at the bottom, though we are unfortunately not able to see so far.

Now, in reality, the world have paid too great a compliment to critics, and have imagined them

men of much greater profundity than they really are. From this complacence, the critics have

been emboldened to assume a dictatorial power, and have so far succeeded, that they are now

become the masters, and have the assurance to give laws to those authors from whose

predecessors they originally received them.

The critic, rightly considered, is no more than the clerk, whose office it is to transcribe the

rules and laws laid down by those great judges whose vast strength of genius hath placed them

in the light of legislators, in the several sciences over which they presided. This office was allwhich the critics of old aspired to; nor did they ever dare to advance a sentence, without

supporting it by the authority of the judge from whence it was borrowed.

But in process of time, and in ages of ignorance, the clerk began to invade the power and

assume the dignity of his master. The laws of writing were no longer founded on the practice of

the author, but on the dictates of the critic. The clerk became the legislator, and those very

peremptorily gave laws whose business it was, at first, only to transcribe them.

Hence arose an obvious, and perhaps an unavoidable error; for these critics being men of

shallow capacities, very easily mistook mere form for substance. They acted as a judge would,

who should adhere to the lifeless letter of law, and reject the spirit. Little circumstances, which

were perhaps accidental in a great author, were by these critics considered to constitute his chief

merit, and transmitted as essentials to be observed by all his successors. To these

encroachments, time and ignorance, the two great supporters of imposture, gave authority; and

thus many rules for good writing have been established, which have not the least foundation in

truth or nature; and which commonly serve for no other purpose than to curb and restrain

genius, in the same manner as it would have restrained the dancing-master, had the many

excellent treatises on that art laid it down as an essential rule that every man must dance in

chains.

To avoid, therefore, all imputation of laying down a rule for posterity, founded only on the

authority of ipse dixit —for which, to say the truth, we have not the profoundest veneration—we

shall here waive the privilege above contended for, and proceed to lay before the reader the

reasons which have induced us to intersperse these several digressive essays in the course ofthis work.



98

And here we shall of necessity be led to open a new vein of knowledge, which if it hath been

discovered, hath not, to our remembrance, been wrought on by any antient or modern writer.

This vein is no other than that of contrast, which runs through all the works of the creation, and

may probably have a large share in constituting in us the idea of all beauty, as well natural as

artificial: for what demonstrates the beauty and excellence of anything but its reverse? Thus the

beauty of day, and that of summer, is set off by the horrors of night and winter. And, I believe, if itwas possible for a man to have seen only the two former, he would have a very imperfect idea of

their beauty.

But to avoid too serious an air; can it be doubted, but that the finest woman in the world

would lose all benefit of her charms in the eye of a man who had never seen one of another cast?

The ladies themselves seem so sensible of this, that they are all industrious to procure foils: nay,

they will become foils to themselves; for I have observed (at Bath particularly) that they

endeavour to appear as ugly as possible in the morning, in order to set off that beauty which they

intend to show you in the evening.

Most artists have this secret in practice, though some, perhaps, have not much studied the

theory. The jeweller knows that the finest brilliant requires a foil; and the painter, by the contrastof his figures, often acquires great applause.

A great genius among us will illustrate this matter fully. I cannot, indeed, range him under any

general head of common artists, as he hath a title to be placed among those

Inventas qui vitam excoluere per artes.

Who by invented arts have life improved.

I mean here the inventor of that most exquisite entertainment, called the English Pantomime.

This entertainment consisted of two parts, which the inventor distinguished by the names of

the serious and the comic. The serious exhibited a certain number of heathen gods and heroes,

who were certainly the worst and dullest company into which an audience was ever introduced;

and (which was a secret known to few) were actually intended so to be, in order to contrast thecomic part of the entertainment, and to display the tricks of harlequin to the better advantage.

This was, perhaps, no very civil use of such personages: but the contrivance was, nevertheless,

ingenious enough, and had its effect. And this will now plainly appear, if, instead of serious and

comic, we supply the words duller and dullest; for the comic was certainly duller than anything

before shown on the stage, and could be set off only by that superlative degree of dulness which

composed the serious. So intolerably serious, indeed, were these gods and heroes, that harlequin

(though the English gentleman of that name is not at all related to the French family, for he is of a

much more serious disposition) was always welcome on the stage, as he relieved the audience

from worse company.

Judicious writers have always practised this art of contrast with great success. I have beensurprized that Horace should cavil at this art in Homer; but indeed he contradicts himself in the

very next line:

Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus;

Verum opere in longo fas est obrepere somnum.

I grieve if e'er great Homer chance to sleep,

Yet slumbers on long works have right to creep.

For we are not here to understand, as perhaps some have, that an author actually falls asleep

while he is writing. It is true, that readers are too apt to be so overtaken; but if the work was as

long as any of Oldmixon, the author himself is too well entertained to be subject to the leastdrowsiness. He is, as Mr Pope observes,



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Sleepless himself to give his readers sleep.

To say the truth, these soporific parts are so many scenes of serious artfully interwoven, in

order to contrast and set off the rest; and this is the true meaning of a late facetious writer, who

told the public that whenever he was dull they might be assured there was a design in it.

In this light, then, or rather in this darkness, I would have the reader to consider these initial

essays. And after this warning, if he shall be of opinion that he can find enough of serious in

other parts of this history, he may pass over these, in which we profess to be laboriously dull, and

begin the following books at the second chapter.” (pp. 167 – 170)

- What is the purpose of these “initial essays” prefixed to each book?

- What rules does the narrator set down for his writing?

- What do literary critics often turn into?

- What is the purpose of the art of contrast?

“BK V. Ch. 5 Square being now arrived in the middle of the room, in which part only he could

stand upright, looked at Jones with a very grave countenance, and said to him, "Well, sir, I see youenjoy this mighty discovery, and, I dare swear, take great delight in the thoughts of exposing me;

but if you will consider the matter fairly, you will find you are yourself only to blame. I am not

guilty of corrupting innocence. I have done nothing for which that part of the world which judges

of matters by the rule of right, will condemn me. Fitness is governed by the nature of things, and

not by customs, forms, or municipal laws. Nothing is indeed unfit which is not unnatural."—"Well

reasoned, old boy," answered Jones; "but why dost thou think that I should desire to expose thee?

I promise thee, I was never better pleased with thee in my life; and unless thou hast a mind to

discover it thyself, this affair may remain a profound secret for me."—"Nay, Mr Jones," replied

Square, "I would not be thought to undervalue reputation. Good fame is a species of the Kalon,

and it is by no means fitting to neglect it. Besides, to murder one's own reputation is a kind ofsuicide, a detestable and odious vice. If you think proper, therefore, to conceal any infirmity of

mine (for such I may have, since no man is perfectly perfect), I promise you I will not betray

myself. Things may be fitting to be done, which are not fitting to be boasted of; for by the

perverse judgment of the world, that often becomes the subject of censure, which is, in truth, not

only innocent but laudable."—"Right!" cries Jones: "what can be more innocent than the

indulgence of a natural appetite? or what more laudable than the propagation of our species?" —"To be serious with you," answered Square, "I profess they always appeared so to me." —"And

yet," said Jones, "you was of a different opinion when my affair with this girl was first

discovered."—"Why, I must confess," says Square, "as the matter was misrepresented to me, by

that parson Thwackum, I might condemn the corruption of innocence: it was that, sir, it was

that —and that —: for you must know, Mr Jones, in the consideration of fitness, very minutecircumstances, sir, very minute circumstances cause great alteration."—"Well," cries Jones, "be

that as it will, it shall be your own fault, as I have promised you, if you ever hear any more of this

adventure. Behave kindly to the girl, and I will never open my lips concerning the matter to any

one. And, Molly, do you be faithful to your friend, and I will not only forgive your infidelity to me,

but will do you all the service I can." So saying, he took a hasty leave, and, slipping down the

ladder, retired with much expedition.” (pp. 185 – 186)

- How does theory match with practice in Mr Square’s case when caught in Molly’s bed byTom?

“BK. V. Ch 6.



100

It may, perhaps, be a question, whether the art which he used to conceal his passion, or the

means which honest nature employed to reveal it, betrayed him most: for while art made him

more than ever reserved to Sophia, and forbad him to address any of his discourse to her, nay, to

avoid meeting her eyes, with the utmost caution; nature was no less busy in counterplotting him.

Hence, at the approach of the young lady, he grew pale; and if this was sudden, started. If his eyes

accidentally met hers, the blood rushed into his cheeks, and his countenance became all overscarlet. If common civility ever obliged him to speak to her, as to drink her health at table, his

tongue was sure to falter. If he touched her, his hand, nay his whole frame, trembled. And if any

discourse tended, however remotely, to raise the idea of love, an involuntary sigh seldom failed

to steal from his bosom. Most of which accidents nature was wonderfully industrious to throw

daily in his way.

All these symptoms escaped the notice of the squire: but not so of Sophia. She soon perceived

these agitations of mind in Jones, and was at no loss to discover the cause; for indeed she

recognized it in her own breast. And this recognition is, I suppose, that sympathy which hath

been so often noted in lovers, and which will sufficiently account for her being so much quicker-

sighted than her father.But, to say the truth, there is a more simple and plain method of accounting for that prodigious

superiority of penetration which we must observe in some men over the rest of the human

species, and one which will serve not only in the case of lovers, but of all others. From whence is

it that the knave is generally so quick-sighted to those symptoms and operations of knavery,

which often dupe an honest man of a much better understanding? There surely is no general

sympathy among knaves; nor have they, like freemasons, any common sign of communication. In

reality, it is only because they have the same thing in their heads, and their thoughts are turned

the same way. Thus, that Sophia saw, and that Western did not see, the plain symptoms of love in

Jones can be no wonder, when we consider that the idea of love never entered into the head of

the father, whereas the daughter, at present, thought of nothing else.

When Sophia was well satisfied of the violent passion which tormented poor Jones, and no less

certain that she herself was its object, she had not the least difficulty in discovering the true

cause of his present behaviour. This highly endeared him to her, and raised in her mind two of

the best affections which any lover can wish to raise in a mistress —these were, esteem and

pity—for sure the most outrageously rigid among her sex will excuse her pitying a man whom

she saw miserable on her own account; nor can they blame her for esteeming one who visibly,

from the most honourable motives, endeavoured to smother a flame in his own bosom, which,

like the famous Spartan theft, was preying upon and consuming his very vitals. Thus his

backwardness, his shunning her, his coldness, and his silence, were the forwardest, the most

diligent, the warmest, and most eloquent advocates; and wrought so violently on her sensible

and tender heart, that she soon felt for him all those gentle sensations which are consistent witha virtuous and elevated female mind. In short, all which esteem, gratitude, and pity, can inspire in

such towards an agreeable man—indeed, all which the nicest delicacy can allow. In a word, she

was in love with him to distraction.” (pp. 189 – 190)

- Focus on the moment in which the two realise they are in love.

- What signs can you identify and what do they show about the characters involved?

BK V. Ch. 2 “If, I say, while these sacred rites, which are in common to genus omne

animantium, are in agitation between the stag and his mistress, any hostile beasts should

venture too near, on the first hint given by the frighted hind, fierce and tremendous rushes forth



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the stag to the entrance of the thicket; there stands he centinel over his love, stamps the ground

with his foot, and with his horns brandished aloft in air, proudly provokes the apprehended foe

to combat.

Thus, and more terrible, when he perceived the enemy's approach, leaped forth our heroe.

Many a step advanced he forwards, in order to conceal the trembling hind, and, if possible, to

secure her retreat. And now Thwackum, having first darted some livid lightning from his fieryeyes, began to thunder forth, "Fie upon it! Fie upon it! Mr Jones. Is it possible you should be the

person?"—"You see," answered Jones, "it is possible I should be here."—"And who," said

Thwackum, "is that wicked slut with you?"—"If I have any wicked slut with me," cries Jones, "it is

possible I shall not let you know who she is."—"I command you to tell me immediately," says

Thwackum: "and I would not have you imagine, young man, that your age, though it hath

somewhat abridged the purpose of tuition, hath totally taken away the authority of the master.

The relation of the master and scholar is indelible; as, indeed, all other relations are; for they all

derive their original from heaven. I would have you think yourself, therefore, as much obliged to

obey me now, as when I taught you your first rudiments."—"I believe you would," cries Jones;

"but that will not happen, unless you had the same birchen argument to convince me." —"Then Imust tell you plainly," said Thwackum, "I am resolved to discover the wicked wretch."—"And I

must tell you plainly," returned Jones, "I am resolved you shall not." Thwackum then offered to

advance, and Jones laid hold of his arms; which Mr Blifil endeavoured to rescue, declaring, "he

would not see his old master insulted."

Jones now finding himself engaged with two, thought it necessary to rid himself of one of his

antagonists as soon as possible. He therefore applied to the weakest first; and, letting the parson

go, he directed a blow at the young squire's breast, which luckily taking place, reduced him to

measure his length on the ground.

Thwackum was so intent on the discovery, that, the moment he found himself at liberty, he

stept forward directly into the fern, without any great consideration of what might in themeantime befal his friend; but he had advanced a very few paces into the thicket, before Jones,

having defeated Blifil, overtook the parson, and dragged him backward by the skirt of his coat.

This parson had been a champion in his youth, and had won much honour by his fist, both at

school and at the university. He had now indeed, for a great number of years, declined the

practice of that noble art; yet was his courage full as strong as his faith, and his body no less

strong than either. He was moreover, as the reader may perhaps have conceived, somewhat

irascible in his nature. When he looked back, therefore, and saw his friend stretched out on the

ground, and found himself at the same time so roughly handled by one who had formerly been

only passive in all conflicts between them (a circumstance which highly aggravated the whole),

his patience at length gave way; he threw himself into a posture of offence; and collecting all his

force, attacked Jones in the front with as much impetuosity as he had formerly attacked him inthe rear.

Our heroe received the enemy's attack with the most undaunted intrepidity, and his bosom

resounded with the blow. This he presently returned with no less violence, aiming likewise at the

parson's breast; but he dexterously drove down the fist of Jones, so that it reached only his belly,

where two pounds of beef and as many of pudding were then deposited, and whence

consequently no hollow sound could proceed. Many lusty blows, much more pleasant as well as

easy to have seen, than to read or describe, were given on both sides: at last a violent fall, in

which Jones had thrown his knees into Thwackum's breast, so weakened the latter, that victory

had been no longer dubious, had not Blifil, who had now recovered his strength, again renewed

the fight, and by engaging with Jones, given the parson a moment's time to shake his ears, and toregain his breath.



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And now both together attacked our heroe, whose blows did not retain that force with which

they had fallen at first, so weakened was he by his combat with Thwackum; for though the

pedagogue chose rather to play solos on the human instrument, and had been lately used to

those only, yet he still retained enough of his antient knowledge to perform his part very well in

aduet .

The victory, according to modern custom, was like to be decided by numbers, when, on asudden, a fourth pair of fists appeared in the battle, and immediately paid their compliments to

the parson; and the owner of them at the same time crying out, "Are not you ashamed, and be

d—n'd to you, to fall two of you upon one?"

The battle, which was of the kind that for distinction's sake is called royal, now raged with the

utmost violence during a few minutes; till Blifil being a second time laid sprawling by Jones,

Thwackum condescended to apply for quarter to his new antagonist, who was now found to be

Mr Western himself; for in the heat of the action none of the combatants had recognized him.

In fact, that honest squire, happening, in his afternoon's walk with some company, to pass

through the field where the bloody battle was fought, and having concluded, from seeing three

men engaged, that two of them must be on a side, he hastened from his companions, and withmore gallantry than policy, espoused the cause of the weaker party. By which generous

proceeding he very probably prevented Mr Jones from becoming a victim to the wrath of

Thwackum, and to the pious friendship which Blifil bore his old master; for, besides the

disadvantage of such odds, Jones had not yet sufficiently recovered the former strength of his

broken arm. This reinforcement, however, soon put an end to the action, and Jones with his ally

obtained the victory.

- What is the purpose of using hunting language in this scene?

- What about war language?

- Why is the battle called “ROYAL”?

- What is the effect of introducing such a type of physical conflict in the novel?

BK VI, Ch. 2 Mrs Western “had lived about the court, and had seen the world. Hence she had

acquired all that knowledge which the said world usually communicates; and was a perfect

mistress of manners, customs, ceremonies, and fashions. Nor did her erudition stop here. She

had considerably improved her mind by study; she had not only read all the modern plays,

operas, oratorios, poems, and romances—in all which she was a critic; but had gone through

Rapin's History of England, Eachard's Roman History, and many French Mémoires pour servir à

l'Histoire: to these she had added most of the political pamphlets and journals published within

the last twenty years. From which she had attained a very competent skill in politics, and could

discourse very learnedly on the affairs of Europe. She was, moreover, excellently well skilled in

the doctrine of amour, and knew better than anybody who and who were together; a knowledge

which she the more easily attained, as her pursuit of it was never diverted by any affairs of her

own; for either she had no inclinations, or they had never been solicited; which last is indeed

very probable; for her masculine person (…).By means of this wonderful sagacity, Mrs Western

had now, as she thought, made a discovery of something in the mind of Sophia. The first hint of

this she took from the behaviour of the young lady in the field of battle; and the suspicion which

she then conceived, was greatly corroborated by some observations which she had made that

evening and the next morning. However, being greatly cautious to avoid being found in a mistake,

she carried the secret a whole fortnight in her bosom, giving only some oblique hints, by

simpering, winks, nods, and now and then dropping an obscure word, which indeed sufficientlyalarmed Sophia, but did not at all affect her brother.



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Being at length, however, thoroughly satisfied of the truth of her observation, she took an

opportunity, one morning, when she was alone with her brother, to interrupt one of his whistles

in the following manner:—

"Pray, brother, have you not observed something very extraordinary in my niece lately?"—"No,

not I," answered Western; "is anything the matter with the girl?"—"I think there is," replied she;

"and something of much consequence too."—"Why, she doth not complain of anything," criesWestern; "and she hath had the small-pox."—"Brother," returned she, "girls are liable to other

distempers besides the small-pox, and sometimes possibly to much worse." Here Western

interrupted her with much earnestness, and begged her, if anything ailed his daughter, to

acquaint him immediately; adding, "she knew he loved her more than his own soul, and that he

would send to the world's end for the best physician to her." "Nay, nay," answered she, smiling,

"the distemper is not so terrible; but I believe, brother, you are convinced I know the world, and I

promise you I was never more deceived in my life, if my niece be not most desperately in love."—"How! in love!" cries Western, in a passion; "in love, without acquainting me! I'll disinherit her;

I'll turn her out of doors, stark naked, without a farthing. Is all my kindness vor 'ur, and vondness

o'ur come to this, to fall in love without asking me leave?"—"But you will not," answered MrsWestern, "turn this daughter, whom you love better than your own soul, out of doors, before you

know whether you shall approve her choice. Suppose she should have fixed on the very person

whom you yourself would wish, I hope you would not be angry then?"—"No, no," cries Western,

"that would make a difference. If she marries the man I would ha' her, she may love whom she

pleases, I shan't trouble my head about that." "That is spoken," answered the sister, "like a

sensible man; but I believe the very person she hath chosen would be the very person you would

choose for her. I will disclaim all knowledge of the world, if it is not so; and I believe, brother, you

will allow I have some."—"Why, lookee, sister," said Western, "I do believe you have as much as

any woman; and to be sure those are women's matters. You know I don't love to hear you talk

about politics; they belong to us, and petticoats should not meddle: but come, who is the

man?"—"Marry!" said she, "you may find him out yourself if you please. You, who are so great apolitician, can be at no great loss. The judgment which can penetrate into the cabinets of princes,

and discover the secret springs which move the great state wheels in all the political machines of

Europe, must surely, with very little difficulty, find out what passes in the rude uninformed mind

of a girl."—"Sister," cries the squire, "I have often warn'd you not to talk the court gibberish to

me. I tell you, I don't understand the lingo: but I can read a journal, or the London Evening

Post.Perhaps, indeed, there may be now and tan a verse which I can't make much of, because half

the letters are left out; yet I know very well what is meant by that, and that our affairs don't go so

well as they should do, because of bribery and corruption."—"I pity your country ignorance from

my heart," cries the lady.—"Do you?" answered Western; "and I pity your town learning; I had

rather be anything than a courtier, and a Presbyterian, and a Hanoverian too, as some people, Ibelieve, are."—"If you mean me," answered she, "you know I am a woman, brother; and it

signifies nothing what I am. Besides—"—"I do know you are a woman," cries the squire, "and it's

well for thee that art one; if hadst been a man, I promise thee I had lent thee a flick long ago." —"Ay, there," said she, "in that flick lies all your fancied superiority. Your bodies, and not your

brains, are stronger than ours. Believe me, it is well for you that you are able to beat us; or, such

is the superiority of our understanding, we should make all of you what the brave, and wise, and

witty, and polite are already—our slaves."—"I am glad I know your mind," answered the squire.

"But we'll talk more of this matter another time. At present, do tell me what man is it you mean

about my daughter?"—"Hold a moment," said she, "while I digest that sovereign contempt I have

for your sex; or else I ought to be angry too with you. There—I have made a shift to gulp it down.

And now, good politic sir, what think you of Mr Blifil? Did she not faint away on seeing him liebreathless on the ground? Did she not, after he was recovered, turn pale again the moment we



104

came up to that part of the field where he stood? And pray what else should be the occasion of all

her melancholy that night at supper, the next morning, and indeed ever since?"—"'Fore George!"

cries the squire, "now you mind me on't, I remember it all. It is certainly so, and I am glad on't

with all my heart. I knew Sophy was a good girl, and would not fall in love to make me angry. I

was never more rejoiced in my life; for nothing can lie so handy together as our two estates. I had

this matter in my head some time ago: for certainly the two estates are in a manner joinedtogether in matrimony already, and it would be a thousand pities to part them. It is true, indeed,

there be larger estates in the kingdom, but not in this county, and I had rather bate something,

than marry my daughter among strangers and foreigners. Besides, most o' zuch great estates be

in the hands of lords, and I heate the very name of themmun. Well but, sister, what would you

advise me to do; for I tell you women know these matters better than we do?"—"Oh, your

humble servant, sir," answered the lady: "we are obliged to you for allowing us a capacity in

anything. Since you are pleased, then, most politic sir, to ask my advice, I think you may propose

the match to Allworthy yourself. There is no indecorum in the proposal's coming from the parent

of either side. King Alcinous, in Mr Pope's Odyssey, offers his daughter to Ulysses. I need not

caution so politic a person not to say that your daughter is in love; that would indeed be against

all rules."—"Well," said the squire, "I will propose it; but I shall certainly lend un a flick, if he

should refuse me." "Fear not," cries Mrs Western; "the match is too advantageous to be refused."

"I don't know that," answered the squire: "Allworthy is a queer b—ch, and money hath no effect

o'un." "Brother," said the lady, "your politics astonish me. Are you really to be imposed on by

professions? Do you think Mr Allworthy hath more contempt for money than other men because

he professes more? Such credulity would better become one of us weak women, than that wise

sex which heaven hath formed for politicians. Indeed, brother, you would make a fine plenipo to

negotiate with the French. They would soon persuade you, that they take towns out of mere

defensive principles." "Sister," answered the squire, with much scorn, "let your friends at court

answer for the towns taken; as you are a woman, I shall lay no blame upon you; for I suppose

they are wiser than to trust women with secrets." He accompanied this with so sarcastical alaugh, that Mrs Western could bear no longer. She had been all this time fretted in a tender part

(for she was indeed very deeply skilled in these matters, and very violent in them), and

therefore, burst forth in a rage, declared her brother to be both a clown and a blockhead, and

that she would stay no longer in his house. The squire, though perhaps he had never read

Machiavel, was, however, in many points, a perfect politician. He strongly held all those wise

tenets, which are so well inculcated in that Politico-Peripatetic school of Exchange-alley. He knew

the just value and only use of money, viz., to lay it up.” (pp. 220 – 224)

- Which are the major f eatures of Mrs Western’s personality?

- What does she mean by her “knowledge of the world” and how does she differ from her

brother in this respect?- Focus on squire Western’s reaction to the news of his daughter being in love. What con-

nection does he make between love and fortune, to love and to have, or even politics and

marriage?

- What are the key-words of his discourse on Sophia’s marriage options?

- Also discuss aunt Western’s view on marriage in book XI, chapter 10: “"You must remem-

ber, my dear," says she, "the maxim which my aunt Western hath so often repeated to us

both; That whenever the matrimonial alliance is broke, and war declared between hus-

band and wife, she can hardly make a disadvantageous peace for herself on any condi-

tions.” (p. 506)

“BK VI, Ch. 10



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Mr Allworthy was now retired from breakfast with his nephew, well satisfied with the report

of the young gentleman's successful visit to Sophia (for he greatly desired the match, more on

account of the young lady's character than of her riches), when Mr Western broke abruptly in

upon them, and without any ceremony began as follows:—

"There, you have done a fine piece of work truly! You have brought up your bastard to a fine

purpose; not that I believe you have had any hand in it neither, that is, as a man may say,designedly: but there is a fine kettle-of-fish made on't up at our house." "What can be the matter,

Mr Western?" said Allworthy. "O, matter enow of all conscience: my daughter hath fallen in love

with your bastard, that's all; but I won't ge her a hapeny, not the twentieth part of a brass varden.

I always thought what would come o' breeding up a bastard like a gentleman, and letting un

come about to vok's houses. It's well vor un I could not get at un: I'd a lick'd un; I'd a spoil'd his

caterwauling; I'd a taught the son of a whore to meddle with meat for his master. He shan't ever

have a morsel of meat of mine, or a varden to buy it: if she will ha un, one smock shall be her

portion. I'd sooner ge my esteate to the zinking fund, that it may be sent to Hanover to corrupt

our nation with." "I am heartily sorry," cries Allworthy. "Pox o' your sorrow," says Western; "it will

do me abundance of good when I have lost my only child, my poor Sophy, that was the joy of myheart, and all the hope and comfort of my age; but I am resolved I will turn her out o' doors; she

shall beg, and starve, and rot in the streets. Not one hapeny, not a hapeny shall she ever hae o'

mine. The son of a bitch was always good at finding a hare sitting, an be rotted to'n: I little

thought what puss he was looking after; but it shall be the worst he ever vound in his life. She

shall be no better than carrion: the skin o'er is all he shall ha, and zu you may tell un." "I am in

amazement," cries Allworthy, "at what you tell me, after what passed between my nephew and

the young lady no longer ago than yesterday." "Yes, sir," answered Western, "it was after what

passed between your nephew and she that the whole matter came out. Mr Blifil there was no

sooner gone than the son of a whore came lurching about the house. Little did I think when I

used to love him for a sportsman that he was all the while a poaching after my daughter." (pp.

248 – 249)

- Squire Western often employs hunting language in his speech. What is the effect?

- What does it suggest about the way in which he perceives and treats human beings? Also

refer to the following fragment (identify the linguistic elements and their use):

“But though Blifil declared himself to the squire perfectly satisfied with his reception; yet that

gentleman, who, in company with his sister, had overheard all, was not so well pleased. He

resolved, in pursuance of the advice of the sage lady, to push matters as forward as possible; and

addressing himself to his intended son-in-law in the hunting phrase, he cried, after a loud holla,

"Follow her, boy, follow her; run in, run in; that's it, honeys. Dead, dead, dead. Never be bashful,

nor stand shall I, shall I? Allworthy and I can finish all matters between us this afternoon, and let

us ha' the wedding to-morrow." (p. 279)

“BK VI, Ch. 14 "Sure, brother, you are the weakest of all men. Why will you not confide in me for

the management of my niece? Why will you interpose? You have now undone all that I have been

spending my breath in order to bring about. While I have been endeavouring to fill her mind

with maxims of prudence, you have been provoking her to reject them. English women, brother, I

thank heaven, are no slaves. We are not to be locked up like the Spanish and Italian wives. We

have as good a right to liberty as yourselves. We are to be convinced by reason and persuasion

only, and not governed by force. I have seen the world, brother, and know what arguments to

make use of; and if your folly had not prevented me, should have prevailed with her to form her

conduct by those rules of prudence and discretion which I formerly taught her." "To be sure," said



106

the squire, "I am always in the wrong." "Brother," answered the lady, "you are not in the wrong,

unless when you meddle with matters beyond your knowledge. You must agree that I have seen

most of the world; and happy had it been for my niece if she had not been taken from under my

care. It is by living at home with you that she hath learnt romantic notions of love and nonsense."

"You don't imagine, I hope," cries the squire, "that I have taught her any such things." "Your

ignorance, brother," returned she, "as the great Milton says, almost subdues my patience.” (p.261)

- What principles does Mrs Western mention that are fundamental to Sophia’s education?

- What relations between men and women does she promote? What does she suggest

about gender roles in the eighteenth century?

“BK VII, Ch. 1 he world hath been often compared to the theatre; and many grave writers, aswell as the poets, have considered human life as a great drama, resembling, in almost every

particular, those scenical representations which Thespis is first reported to have invented, and

which have been since received with so much approbation and delight in all polite countries.

This thought hath been carried so far, and is become so general, that some words proper to the

theatre, and which were at first metaphorically applied to the world, are now indiscriminately

and literally spoken of both; thus stage and scene are by common use grown as familiar to us,

when we speak of life in general, as when we confine ourselves to dramatic performances: and

when transactions behind the curtain are mentioned, St James's is more likely to occur to our

thoughts than Drury-lane.

It may seem easy enough to account for all this, by reflecting that the theatrical stage is

nothing more than a representation, or, as Aristotle calls it, an imitation of what really exists; and

hence, perhaps, we might fairly pay a very high compliment to those who by their writings or

actions have been so capable of imitating life, as to have their pictures in a manner confounded

with, or mistaken for, the originals.

But, in reality, we are not so fond of paying compliments to these people, whom we use as

children frequently do the instruments of their amusement; and have much more pleasure in

hissing and buffeting them, than in admiring their excellence. There are many other reasons

which have induced us to see this analogy between the world and the stage.

Some have considered the larger part of mankind in the light of actors, as personating

characters no more their own, and to which in fact they have no better title, than the player hath

to be in earnest thought the king or emperor whom he represents. Thus the hypocrite may be

said to be a player; and indeed the Greeks called them both by one and the same name.

The brevity of life hath likewise given occasion to this comparison. So the immortal

Shakespear—

—Life's a poor player,

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,

And then is heard no more.

For which hackneyed quotation I will make the reader amends by a very noble one, which few,

I believe, have read. It is taken from a poem called the Deity, published about nine years ago, and

long since buried in oblivion; a proof that good books, no more than good men, do always survive

the bad.

From Thee[*] all human actions take their springs,

The rise of empires and the fall of kings!

See the vast Theatre of Time display'd,

While o'er the scene succeeding heroes tread!



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With pomp the shining images succeed,

What leaders triumph, and what monarchs bleed!

Perform the parts thy providence assign'd,

Their pride, their passions, to thy ends inclin'd:

Awhile they glitter in the face of day,

Then at thy nod the phantoms pass away; No traces left of all the busy scene,

But that remembrance says—The things have been!

[*] The Deity.

In all these, however, and in every other similitude of life to the theatre, the resemblance hath

been always taken from the stage only. None, as I remember, have at all considered the audience

at this great drama.

But as Nature often exhibits some of her best performances to a very full house, so will the

behaviour of her spectators no less admit the above-mentioned comparison than that of her

actors. In this vast theatre of time are seated the friend and the critic; here are claps and shouts,hisses and groans; in short, everything which was ever seen or heard at the Theatre-Royal.” (pp.263 – 264)

- What are the major elements of the metaphorical association between the world and the

theatre?

- What is the narrator’s intention for introducing this subject in the novel?

BK VII, Ch. 3

“Mrs Western summoned Sophia into her apartment; and having first acquainted her that shehad obtained her liberty of her father, she proceeded to read her a long lecture on the subject of

matrimony; which she treated not as a romantic scheme of happiness arising from love, as it

hath been described by the poets; nor did she mention any of those purposes for which we are

taught by divines to regard it as instituted by sacred authority; she considered it rather as a fund

in which prudent women deposit their fortunes to the best advantage, in order to receive a larger

interest for them than they could have elsewhere.

When Mrs Western had finished, Sophia answered, "That she was very incapable of arguing

with a lady of her aunt's superior knowledge and experience, especially on a subject which she

had so very little considered, as this of matrimony."

"Argue with me, child!" replied the other; "I do not indeed expect it. I should have seen the

world to very little purpose truly, if I am to argue with one of your years. I have taken this

trouble, in order to instruct you. The antient philosophers, such as Socrates, Alcibiades, and

others, did not use to argue with their scholars. You are to consider me, child, as Socrates, not

asking your opinion, but only informing you of mine." From which last words the reader may

possibly imagine, that this lady had read no more of the philosophy of Socrates, than she had of

that of Alcibiades; and indeed we cannot resolve his curiosity as to this point.

"Madam," cries Sophia, "I have never presumed to controvert any opinion of yours; and this

subject, as I said, I have never yet thought of, and perhaps never may."

"Indeed, Sophy," replied the aunt, "this dissimulation with me is very foolish. The French shall

as soon persuade me that they take foreign towns in defence only of their own country, as you

can impose on me to believe you have never yet thought seriously of matrimony. How can you,

child, affect to deny that you have considered of contracting an alliance, when you so well know Iam acquainted with the party with whom you desire to contract it?—an alliance as unnatural,



108

and contrary to your interest, as a separate league with the French would be to the interest of the

Dutch! But however, if you have not hitherto considered of this matter, I promise you it is now

high time, for my brother is resolved immediately to conclude the treaty with Mr Blifil; and

indeed I am a sort of guarantee in the affair, and have promised your concurrence."

"Indeed, madam," cries Sophia, "this is the only instance in which I must disobey both yourself

and my father. For this is a match which requires very little consideration in me to refuse.

"If I was not as great a philosopher as Socrates himself," returned Mrs Western, "you would

overcome my patience. What objection can you have to the young gentleman?"

"A very solid objection, in my opinion," says Sophia—"I hate him." (pp. 268 – 269)

- Mrs Western employs economic and political language in order to define marriage.

- What do her view show about her conception of marriage?

- Do they differ from Sophia’s views? Also refer to the following fragment:

“Not less blind to the tears, or less deaf to every entreaty of Sophia was the politic aunt, nor less

determined was she to deliver over the trembling maid into the arms of the gaoler Blifil. She

answered with great impetuosity, "So far, madam, from your being concerned alone, yourconcern is the least, or surely the least important. It is the honour of your family which is

concerned in this alliance; you are only the instrument. Do you conceive, mistress, that in an

intermarriage between kingdoms, as when a daughter of France is married into Spain, the

princess herself is alone considered in the match? No! it is a match between two kingdoms,

rather than between two persons. The same happens in great families such as ours. The alliance

between the families is the principal matter. You ought to have a greater regard for the honour of

your family than for your own person; and if the example of a princess cannot inspire you with

these noble thoughts, you cannot surely complain at being used no worse than all princesses are

used." (pp. 270 – 271)

“BK VIII, Ch. 15

Man alone, the king of this globe, the last and greatest work of the Supreme Being, below the

sun; man alone hath basely dishonoured his own nature; and by dishonesty, cruelty, ingratitude,

and treachery, hath called his Maker's goodness in question, by puzzling us to account how a be-

nevolent being should form so foolish and so vile an animal. Yet this is the being from whose

conversation you think, I suppose, that I have been unfortunately restrained, and without whose

blessed society, life, in your opinion, must be tedious and insipid."

"In the former part of what you said," replied Jones, "I most heartily and readily concur; but I

believe, as well as hope, that the abhorrence which you express for mankind in the conclusion, is

much too general. Indeed, you here fall into an error, which in my little experience I have ob-served to be a very common one, by taking the character of mankind from the worst and basest

among them; whereas, indeed, as an excellent writer observes, nothing should be esteemed as

characteristical of a species, but what is to be found among the best and most perfect individuals

of that species. This error, I believe, is generally committed by those who from want of proper

caution in the choice of their friends and acquaintance, have suffered injuries from bad and

worthless men; two or three instances of which are very unjustly charged on all human nature."

"I think I had experience enough of it," answered the other: "my first mistress and my first

friend betrayed me in the basest manner, and in matters which threatened to be of the worst of

consequences—even to bring me to a shameful death."

"But you will pardon me," cries Jones, "if I desire you to reflect who that mistress and who thatfriend were. What better, my good sir, could be expected in love derived from the stews, or in



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friendship first produced and nourished at the gaming-table? To take the characters of women

from the former instance, or of men from the latter, would be as unjust as to assert that air is a

nauseous and unwholesome element, because we find it so in a jakes. I have lived but a short

time in the world, and yet have known men worthy of the highest friendship, and women of the

highest love."

"Alas! young man," answered the stranger, "you have lived, you confess, but a very short timein the world: I was somewhat older than you when I was of the same opinion."

"You might have remained so still," replies Jones, "if you had not been unfortunate, I will ven-

ture to say incautious, in the placing your affections. If there was, indeed, much more wicked-

ness in the world than there is, it would not prove such general assertions against human nature,

since much of this arrives by mere accident, and many a man who commits evil is not totally bad

and corrupt in his heart. In truth, none seem to have any title to assert human nature to be nec-

essarily and universally evil, but those whose own minds afford them one instance of this natu-

ral depravity; which is not, I am convinced, your case."

"And such," said the stranger, "will be always the most backward to assert any such thing.

Knaves will no more endeavour to persuade us of the baseness of mankind, than a highwaymanwill inform you that there are thieves on the road. This would, indeed, be a method to put you on

your guard, and to defeat their own purposes. For which reason, though knaves, as I remember,

are very apt to abuse particular persons, yet they never cast any reflection on human nature in

general." The old gentleman spoke this so warmly, that as Jones despaired of making a convert,

and was unwilling to offend, he returned no answer.” (pp. 391- 392)

- What metaphorical association does the Man of the Hill make when he defines human na-

ture?

- In what ways do his views differ from Tom’s?

- Does the Man of the Hill’s theory confirm his practices or present way of living?

BK IX, Ch. 1 Of those who lawfully may, and of those who may not, write such histories asthis.

“Among other good uses for which I have thought proper to institute these several introducto-ry chapters, I have considered them as a kind of mark or stamp, which may hereafter enable a

very indifferent reader to distinguish what is true and genuine in this historic kind of writing,

from what is false and counterfeit. Indeed, it seems likely that some such mark may shortly be-

come necessary, since the favourable reception which two or three authors have lately procured

for their works of this nature from the public, will probably serve as an encouragement to many

others to undertake the like. Thus a swarm of foolish novels and monstrous romances will be

produced, either to the great impoverishing of booksellers, or to the great loss of time and dep-

ravation of morals in the reader; nay, often to the spreading of scandal and calumny, and to the

prejudice of the characters of many worthy and honest people.

I question not but the ingenious author of the Spectator was principally induced to prefix

Greek and Latin mottos to every paper, from the same consideration of guarding against the

pursuit of those scribblers, who having no talents of a writer but what is taught by the writing-

master, are yet nowise afraid nor ashamed to assume the same titles with the greatest genius,

than their good brother in the fable was of braying in the lion's skin.

By the device therefore of his motto, it became impracticable for any man to presume to imi-

tate the Spectators, without understanding at least one sentence in the learned languages. In the

same manner I have now secured myself from the imitation of those who are utterly incapable ofany degree of reflection, and whose learning is not equal to an essay.



110

I would not be here understood to insinuate, that the greatest merit of such historical produc-

tions can ever lie in these introductory chapters; but, in fact, those parts which contain mere

narrative only, afford much more encouragement to the pen of an imitator, than those which are

composed of observation and reflection. Here I mean such imitators as Rowe was of Shakespear,

or as Horace hints some of the Romans were of Cato, by bare feet and sour faces.

To invent good stories, and to tell them well, are possibly very rare talents, and yet I have ob-served few persons who have scrupled to aim at both: and if we examine the romances and nov-

els with which the world abounds, I think we may fairly conclude, that most of the authors

would not have attempted to show their teeth (if the expression may be allowed me) in any oth-

er way of writing; nor could indeed have strung together a dozen sentences on any other subject

whatever.

Scribimus indocti doctique passim,[*]

[*] —Each desperate blockhead dares to write:

Verse is the trade of every living wight.—FRANCIS.

may be more truly said of the historian and biographer, than of any other species of writing;for all the arts and sciences (even criticism itself) require some little degree of learning and

knowledge. Poetry, indeed, may perhaps be thought an exception; but then it demands numbers,

or something like numbers: whereas, to the composition of novels and romances, nothing is nec-

essary but paper, pens, and ink, with the manual capacity of using them. This, I conceive, their

productions show to be the opinion of the authors themselves: and this must be the opinion of

their readers, if indeed there be any such.

Hence we are to derive that universal contempt which the world, who always denominate the

whole from the majority, have cast on all historical writers who do not draw their materials

from records. And it is the apprehension of this contempt that hath made us so cautiously avoid

the term romance, a name with which we might otherwise have been well enough contented.Though, as we have good authority for all our characters, no less indeed than the vast authentic

doomsday-book of nature, as is elsewhere hinted, our labours have sufficient title to the name of

history. Certainly they deserve some distinction from those works, which one of the wittiest of

men regarded only as proceeding from a pruritus, or indeed rather from a looseness of the brain.

But besides the dishonour which is thus cast on one of the most useful as well as entertaining

of all kinds of writing, there is just reason to apprehend, that by encouraging such authors we

shall propagate much dishonour of another kind; I mean to the characters of many good and

valuable members of society; for the dullest writers, no more than the dullest companions, are

always inoffensive. They have both enough of language to be indecent and abusive. And surely if

the opinion just above cited be true, we cannot wonder that works so nastily derived should be

nasty themselves, or have a tendency to make others so.” (pp. 395 – 397)

- The literary dispute between Samuel Richardson and Henry Fielding is well known. In

what ways does Fielding negatively evaluate “romantic writing”/novels?

- What features or qualities do these writings lack?

- What does the narrator mean by “dishonour”?

“BK IX, Ch. 1

To prevent therefore, for the future, such intemperate abuses of leisure, of letters, and of the

liberty of the press, especially as the world seems at present to be more than usually threatened

with them, I shall here venture to mention some qualifications, every one of which are in a prettyhigh degree necessary to this order of historians.



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111

The first is, genius, without a full vein of which no study, says Horace, can avail us. By genius I

would understand that power or rather those powers of the mind, which are capable of pene-

trating into all things within our reach and knowledge, and of distinguishing their essential dif-

ferences. These are no other than invention and judgment; and they are both called by the col-

lective name of genius, as they are of those gifts of nature which we bring with us into the world.

Concerning each of which many seem to have fallen into very great errors; for by invention, I be-lieve, is generally understood a creative faculty, which would indeed prove most romance writ-

ers to have the highest pretensions to it; whereas by invention is really meant no more (and so

the word signifies) than discovery, or finding out; or to explain it at large, a quick and sagacious

penetration into the true essence of all the objects of our contemplation. This, I think, can rarely

exist without the concomitancy of judgment; for how we can be said to have discovered the true

essence of two things, without discerning their difference, seems to me hard to conceive. Now

this last is the undisputed province of judgment, and yet some few men of wit have agreed with

all the dull fellows in the world in representing these two to have been seldom or never the

property of one and the same person.

But though they should be so, they are not sufficient for our purpose, without a good share oflearning; for which I could again cite the authority of Horace, and of many others, if any was nec-

essary to prove that tools are of no service to a workman, when they are not sharpened by art, or

when he wants rules to direct him in his work, or hath no matter to work upon. All these uses

are supplied by learning; for nature can only furnish us with capacity; or, as I have chose to illus-

trate it, with the tools of our profession; learning must fit them for use, must direct them in it,

and, lastly, must contribute part at least of the materials. A competent knowledge of history and

of the belles-lettres is here absolutely necessary; and without this share of knowledge at least, to

affect the character of an historian, is as vain as to endeavour at building a house without timber

or mortar, or brick or stone. Homer and Milton, who, though they added the ornament of num-

bers to their works, were both historians of our order, were masters of all the learning of their

times.

Again, there is another sort of knowledge, beyond the power of learning to bestow, and this is

to be had by conversation. So necessary is this to the understanding the characters of men, that

none are more ignorant of them than those learned pedants whose lives have been entirely con-

sumed in colleges, and among books; for however exquisitely human nature may have been de-

scribed by writers, the true practical system can be learnt only in the world. Indeed the like hap-

pens in every other kind of knowledge. Neither physic nor law are to be practically known from

books. Nay, the farmer, the planter, the gardener, must perfect by experience what he hath ac-

quired the rudiments of by reading. How accurately soever the ingenious Mr Miller may have

described the plant, he himself would advise his disciple to see it in the garden. As we must per-

ceive, that after the nicest strokes of a Shakespear or a Jonson, of a Wycherly or an Otway, sometouches of nature will escape the reader, which the judicious action of a Garrick, of a Cibber, or a

Clive,[*] can convey to him; so, on the real stage, the character shows himself in a stronger and

bolder light than he can be described. And if this be the case in those fine and nervous descrip-

tions which great authors themselves have taken from life, how much more strongly will it hold

when the writer himself takes his lines not from nature, but from books? Such characters are on-

ly the faint copy of a copy, and can have neither the justness nor spirit of an original.

[*] There is a peculiar propriety in mentioning this great actor,

and these two most justly celebrated actresses, in this place, as

they have all formed themselves on the study of nature only, and not

on the imitation of their predecessors. Hence they have been able to

excel all who have gone before them; a degree of merit which the



112

servile herd of imitators can never possibly arrive at.

Now this conversation in our historian must be universal, that is, with all ranks and degrees of

men; for the knowledge of what is called high life will not instruct him in low; nor, e converso,

will his being acquainted with the inferior part of mankind teach him the manners of the superi-

or. And though it may be thought that the knowledge of either may sufficiently enable him to de-

scribe at least that in which he hath been conversant, yet he will even here fall greatly short ofperfection; for the follies of either rank do in reality illustrate each other. For instance, the affec-

tation of high life appears more glaring and ridiculous from the simplicity of the low; and again,

the rudeness and barbarity of this latter, strikes with much stronger ideas of absurdity, when

contrasted with, and opposed to, the politeness which controuls the former. Besides, to say the

truth, the manners of our historian will be improved by both these conversations; for in the one

he will easily find examples of plainness, honesty, and sincerity; in the other of refinement, ele-

gance, and a liberality of spirit; which last quality I myself have scarce ever seen in men of low

birth and education.” (pp. 397 – 399)

- Why is Fielding’s work a “history”?

- What are the qualities needed by a “historian” in order to produce valuable works?

BK IX, Ch. 5 An apology for all heroes who have good stomachs,with a description of a battle of the amorous kind

“Heroes, notwithstanding the high ideas which, by the means of flatterers, they may entertain of

themselves, or the world may conceive of them, have certainly more of mortal than divine about

them. However elevated their minds may be, their bodies at least (which is much the major part

of most) are liable to the worst infirmities, and subject to the vilest offices of human nature.

Among these latter, the act of eating, which hath by several wise men been considered as

extremely mean and derogatory from the philosophic dignity, must be in some measure

performed by the greatest prince, heroe, or philosopher upon earth; nay, sometimes Nature hath

been so frolicsome as to exact of these dignified characters a much more exorbitant share of this

office than she hath obliged those of the lowest order to perform.

To say the truth, as no known inhabitant of this globe is really more than man, so none need

be ashamed of submitting to what the necessities of man demand; but when those great person-

ages I have just mentioned condescend to aim at confining such low offices to themselves—as

when, by hoarding or destroying, they seem desirous to prevent any others from eating —then

they surely become very low and despicable.

Now, after this short preface, we think it no disparagement to our heroe to mention the im-

moderate ardour with which he laid about him at this season. Indeed, it may be doubted wheth-

er Ulysses, who by the way seems to have had the best stomach of all the heroes in that eating

poem of the Odyssey, ever made a better meal. Three pounds at least of that flesh which former-

ly had contributed to the composition of an ox was now honoured with becoming part of the in-

dividual Mr Jones.

This particular we thought ourselves obliged to mention, as it may account for our heroe's

temporary neglect of his fair companion, who eat but very little, and was indeed employed in

considerations of a very different nature, which passed unobserved by Jones, till he had entirely

satisfied that appetite which a fast of twenty-four hours had procured him; but his dinner was

no sooner ended than his attention to other matters revived; with these matters therefore we

shall now proceed to acquaint the reader.

Mr Jones, of whose personal accomplishments we have hitherto said very little, was, in reality,one of the handsomest young fellows in the world. His face, besides being the picture of health,



Culea Mihaela

113

had in it the most apparent marks of sweetness and good-nature. These qualities were indeed so

characteristical in his countenance, that, while the spirit and sensibility in his eyes, though they

must have been perceived by an accurate observer, might have escaped the notice of the less

discerning, so strongly was this good-nature painted in his look, that it was remarked by almost

every one who saw him.

It was, perhaps, as much owing to this as to a very fine complexion that his face had a delicacyin it almost inexpressible, and which might have given him an air rather too effeminate, had it

not been joined to a most masculine person and mien: which latter had as much in them of the

Hercules as the former had of the Adonis. He was besides active, genteel, gay, and good-

humoured; and had a flow of animal spirits which enlivened every conversation where he was

present.” (pp. 412 – 413)

- What is the purpose of bringing to light the normal human necessities of the protago-

nist/hero?

- How is this feature related to Tom’s face “being the picture of health”?

- How does his exterior match the interior?

BK Ix, Ch. 5 “Mrs Waters had, in truth, not only a good opinion of our heroe, but a very great

affection for him. To speak out boldly at once, she was in love, according to the present

universally-received sense of that phrase, by which love is applied indiscriminately to the

desirable objects of all our passions, appetites, and senses, and is understood to be that

preference which we give to one kind of food rather than to another.

But though the love to these several objects may possibly be one and the same in all cases, its

operations however must be allowed to be different; for, how much soever we may be in love

with an excellent surloin of beef, or bottle of Burgundy; with a damask rose, or Cremona fiddle;

yet do we never smile, nor ogle, nor dress, nor flatter, nor endeavour by any other arts or tricks

to gain the affection of the said beef, &c. Sigh indeed we sometimes may; but it is generally in the

absence, not in the presence, of the beloved object. For otherwise we might possibly complain of

their ingratitude and deafness, with the same reason as Pasiphae doth of her bull, whom she en-

deavoured to engage by all the coquetry practised with good success in the drawing-room on the

much more sensible as well as tender hearts of the fine gentlemen there.

The contrary happens in that love which operates between persons of the same species, but of

different sexes. Here we are no sooner in love than it becomes our principal care to engage the

affection of the object beloved. For what other purpose indeed are our youth instructed in all the

arts of rendering themselves agreeable? If it was not with a view to this love, I question whether

any of those trades which deal in setting off and adorning the human person would procure a

livelihood. Nay, those great polishers of our manners, who are by some thought to teach whatprincipally distinguishes us from the brute creation, even dancing-masters themselves, might

possibly find no place in society. In short, all the graces which young ladies and young gentlemen

too learn from others, and the many improvements which, by the help of a looking-glass, they

add of their own, are in reality those very spicula et faces amoris so often mentioned by Ovid; or,

as they are sometimes called in our own language, the whole artillery of love.

Now Mrs Waters and our heroe had no sooner sat down together than the former began to

play this artillery upon the latter. But here, as we are about to attempt a description hitherto un-

assayed either in prose or verse, we think proper to invoke the assistance of certain aërial be-

ings, who will, we doubt not, come kindly to our aid on this occasion.



114

"Say then, ye Graces! you that inhabit the heavenly mansions of Seraphina's countenance; for

you are truly divine, are always in her presence, and well know all the arts of charming; say,

what were the weapons now used to captivate the heart of Mr Jones."

"First, from two lovely blue eyes, whose bright orbs flashed lightning at their discharge, flew

forth two pointed ogles; but, happily for our heroe, hit only a vast piece of beef which he was

then conveying into his plate, and harmless spent their force. The fair warrior perceived theirmiscarriage, and immediately from her fair bosom drew forth a deadly sigh. A sigh which none

could have heard unmoved, and which was sufficient at once to have swept off a dozen beaus; so

soft, so sweet, so tender, that the insinuating air must have found its subtle way to the heart of

our heroe, had it not luckily been driven from his ears by the coarse bubbling of some bottled

ale, which at that time he was pouring forth. Many other weapons did she assay; but the god of

eating (if there be any such deity, for I do not confidently assert it) preserved his votary; or per-

haps it may not be dignus vindice nodus, and the present security of Jones may be accounted for

by natural means; for as love frequently preserves from the attacks of hunger, so may hunger

possibly, in some cases, defend us against love.

"The fair one, enraged at her frequent disappointments, determined on a short cessation ofarms. Which interval she employed in making ready every engine of amorous warfare for the

renewing of the attack when dinner should be over.

"No sooner then was the cloth removed than she again began her operations. First, having

planted her right eye sidewise against Mr Jones, she shot from its corner a most penetrating

glance; which, though great part of its force was spent before it reached our heroe, did not vent

itself absolutely without effect. This the fair one perceiving, hastily withdrew her eyes, and lev-

elled them downwards, as if she was concerned for what she had done; though by this means

she designed only to draw him from his guard, and indeed to open his eyes, through which she

intended to surprize his heart. And now, gently lifting up those two bright orbs which had al-

ready begun to make an impression on poor Jones, she discharged a volley of small charms atonce from her whole countenance in a smile. Not a smile of mirth, nor of joy; but a smile of affec-

tion, which most ladies have always ready at their command, and which serves them to show at

once their good-humour, their pretty dimples, and their white teeth.

"This smile our heroe received full in his eyes, and was immediately staggered with its force.

He then began to see the designs of the enemy, and indeed to feel their success. A parley now

was set on foot between the parties; during which the artful fair so slily and imperceptibly car-

ried on her attack, that she had almost subdued the heart of our heroe before she again repaired

to acts of hostility. To confess the truth, I am afraid Mr Jones maintained a kind of Dutch defence,

and treacherously delivered up the garrison, without duly weighing his allegiance to the fair So-

phia. In short, no sooner had the amorous parley ended and the lady had unmasked the royal

battery, by carelessly letting her handkerchief drop from her neck, than the heart of Mr Joneswas entirely taken, and the fair conqueror enjoyed t he usual fruits of her victory.” (pp. 414 –

416)

- The previous fragment introduces the one given here. What connection does it make be-

tween love and food or appetite?

- Towards its middle, the text also introduces another metaphorical association related to

love. Identify it and its linguistic representation and comment upon its intentions or ef-

fects.

- What image of Tom Jones do these metaphorical representations create?

BK X, Ch. 1 Containing Instructions very necessary to be perused by modern critics



Culea Mihaela

115

“Reader, it is impossible we should know what sort of person thou wilt be; for, perhaps, thou

may'st be as learned in human nature as Shakespear himself was, and, perhaps, thou may'st be

no wiser than some of his editors. Now, lest this latter should be the case, we think proper,

before we go any farther together, to give thee a few wholesome admonitions; that thou may'st

not as grossly misunderstand and misrepresent us, as some of the said editors have

misunderstood and misrepresented their author.

First, then, we warn thee not too hastily to condemn any of the incidents in this our history as

impertinent and foreign to our main design, because thou dost not immediately conceive in what

manner such incident may conduce to that design. This work may, indeed, be considered as a

great creation of our own; and for a little reptile of a critic to presume to find fault with any of its

parts, without knowing the manner in which the whole is connected, and before he comes to the

final catastrophe, is a most presumptuous absurdity. The allusion and metaphor we have here

made use of, we must acknowledge to be infinitely too great for our occasion; but there is, in-

deed, no other, which is at all adequate to express the difference between an author of the first

rate and a critic of the lowest.

Another caution we would give thee, my good reptile, is, that thou dost not find out too near aresemblance between certain characters here introduced; as, for instance, between the landlady

who appears in the seventh book and her in the ninth. Thou art to know, friend, that there are

certain characteristics in which most individuals of every profession and occupation agree. To

be able to preserve these characteristics, and at the same time to diversify their operations, is

one talent of a good writer. Again, to mark the nice distinction between two persons actuated by

the same vice or folly is another; and, as this last talent is found in very few writers, so is the true

discernment of it found in as few readers; though, I believe, the observation of this forms a very

principal pleasure in those who are capable of the discovery; every person, for instance, can dis-

tinguish between Sir Epicure Mammon and Sir Fopling Flutter; but to note the difference be-

tween Sir Fopling Flutter and Sir Courtly Nice requires a more exquisite judgment: for want of

which, vulgar spectators of plays very often do great injustice in the theatre; where I have some-

times known a poet in danger of being convicted as a thief, upon much worse evidence than the

resemblance of hands hath been held to be in the law. In reality, I apprehend every amorous

widow on the stage would run the hazard of being condemned as a servile imitation of Dido, but

that happily very few of our play-house critics understand enough of Latin to read Virgil.

In the next place, we must admonish thee, my worthy friend (for, perhaps, thy heart may be

better than thy head), not to condemn a character as a bad one, because it is not perfectly a good

one. If thou dost delight in these models of perfection, there are books enow written to gratify

thy taste; but, as we have not, in the course of our conversation, ever happened to meet with any

such person, we have not chosen to introduce any such here. To say the truth, I a little question

whether mere man ever arrived at this consummate degree of excellence, as well as whetherthere hath ever existed a monster bad enough to verify that

——nulla virtute redemptum

A vitiis——[*]

[*] Whose vices are not allayed with a single virtue

in Juvenal; nor do I, indeed, conceive the good purposes served by inserting characters of such

angelic perfection, or such diabolical depravity, in any work of invention; since, from contem-

plating either, the mind of man is more likely to be overwhelmed with sorrow and shame than to

draw any good uses from such patterns; for in the former instance he may be both concerned

and ashamed to see a pattern of excellence in his nature, which he may reasonably despair ofever arriving at; and in contemplating the latter he may be no less affected with those uneasy



116

sensations, at seeing the nature of which he is a partaker degraded into so odious and detestable

a creature.

In fact, if there be enough of goodness in a character to engage the admiration and affection of

a well-disposed mind, though there should appear some of those little blemishes quas humana

parum cavit natura, they will raise our compassion rather than our abhorrence. Indeed, nothing

can be of more moral use than the imperfections which are seen in examples of this kind; sincesuch form a kind of surprize, more apt to affect and dwell upon our minds than the faults of very

vicious and wicked persons. The foibles and vices of men, in whom there is great mixture of

good, become more glaring objects from the virtues which contrast them and shew their deform-

ity; and when we find such vices attended with their evil consequence to our favourite charac-

ters, we are not only taught to shun them for our own sake, but to hate them for the mischiefs

they have already brought on those we love.

And now, my friend, having given you these few admonitions, we will, if you please, once more

set forward with our history.” (pp. 425 – 427)

- When does the reader transform into an unfair critic?

- What metaphor does the narrator employ in order to characterize a literary critic? What

does it suggest?

- What pieces of advice does he give them by way of caution related to his main designs

and the characters?

- What is the relation between perfection and imperfection at the level of characters as

shown here?

- Also discuss the employment of legal language in the following text in relation to literary

critics; focus on the difference between a bad critic and a noble one, as well as on the just

foundations of literary criticism:

“BK. XI, Ch. 1 A Crust for the Critics

“In our last initial chapter we may be supposed to have treated that formidable set of men who

are called critics with more freedom than becomes us; since they exact, and indeed generally

receive, great condescension from authors. We shall in this, therefore, give the reasons of our

conduct to this august body; and here we shall, perhaps, place them in a light in which they have

not hitherto been seen.

This word critic is of Greek derivation, and signifies judgment. Hence I presume some persons

who have not understood the original, and have seen the English translation of the primitive,

have concluded that it meant judgment in the legal sense, in which it is frequently used as equiv-

alent to condemnation.I am the rather inclined to be of that opinion, as the greatest number of critics hath of late

years been found amongst the lawyers. Many of these gentlemen, from despair, perhaps, of ever

rising to the bench in Westminster-hall, have placed themselves on the benches at the play-

house, where they have exerted their judicial capacity, and have given judgment, i.e., condemned

without mercy.

The gentlemen would, perhaps, be well enough pleased, if we were to leave them thus com-

pared to one of the most important and honourable offices in the commonwealth, and, if we in-

tended to apply to their favour, we would do so; but, as we design to deal very sincerely and

plainly too with them, we must remind them of another officer of justice of a much lower rank;

to whom, as they not only pronounce, but execute, their own judgment, they bear likewise someremote resemblance.



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117

But in reality there is another light, in which these modern critics may, with great justice and

propriety, be seen; and this is that of a common slanderer. If a person who prys into the charac-

ters of others, with no other design but to discover their faults, and to publish them to the world,

deserves the title of a slanderer of the reputations of men, why should not a critic, who reads

with the same malevolent view, be as properly stiled the slanderer of the reputation of books?

Vice hath not, I believe, a more abject slave; society produces not a more odious vermin; norcan the devil receive a guest more worthy of him, nor possibly more welcome to him, than a

slanderer. The world, I am afraid, regards not this monster with half the abhorrence which he

deserves; and I am more afraid to assign the reason of this criminal lenity shown towards him;

yet it is certain that the thief looks innocent in the comparison; nay, the murderer himself can

seldom stand in competition with his guilt: for slander is a more cruel weapon than a sword, as

the wounds which the former gives are always incurable. One method, indeed, there is of killing,

and that the basest and most execrable of all, which bears an exact analogy to the vice here dis-

claimed against, and that is poison: a means of revenge so base, and yet so horrible, that it was

once wisely distinguished by our laws from all other murders, in the peculiar severity of the

punishment.Besides the dreadful mischiefs done by slander, and the baseness of the means by which they

are effected, there are other circumstances that highly aggravate its atrocious quality; for it often

proceeds from no provocation, and seldom promises itself any reward, unless some black and

infernal mind may propose a reward in the thoughts of having procured the ruin and misery of

another.

Shakespear hath nobly touched this vice, when he says—

"Who steals my purse steals trash; 't is something, nothing;

'Twas mine, 'tis his, and hath been slave to thousands:

But he that filches from me my good name

Robs me of that WHICH NOT ENRICHES HIM,BUT MAKES ME POOR INDEED."

With all this my good reader will doubtless agree; but much of it will probably seem too se-

vere, when applied to the slanderer of books. But let it here be considered that both proceed

from the same wicked disposition of mind, and are alike void of the excuse of temptation. Nor

shall we conclude the injury done this way to be very slight, when we consider a book as the au-

thor's offspring, and indeed as the child of his brain.

The reader who hath suffered his muse to continue hitherto in a virgin state can have but a

very inadequate idea of this kind of paternal fondness. To such we may parody the tender ex-

clamation of Macduff, "Alas! Thou hast written no book." But the author whose muse hath

brought forth will feel the pathetic strain, perhaps will accompany me with tears (especially ifhis darling be already no more), while I mention the uneasiness with which the big muse bears

about her burden, the painful labour with which she produces it, and, lastly, the care, the fond-

ness, with which the tender father nourishes his favourite, till it be brought to maturity, and

produced into the world.

Nor is there any paternal fondness which seems less to savour of absolute instinct, and which

may so well be reconciled to worldly wisdom, as this. These children may most truly be called

the riches of their father; and many of them have with true filial piety fed their parent in his old

age: so that not only the affection, but the interest, of the author may be highly injured by these

slanderers, whose poisonous breath brings his book to an untimely end.

Lastly, the slander of a book is, in truth, the slander of the author: for, as no one can call an-

other bastard, without calling the mother a whore, so neither can any one give the names of sad



118

stuff, horrid nonsense, &c., to a book, without calling the author a blockhead; which, though in a

moral sense it is a preferable appellation to that of villain, is perhaps rather more injurious to his

worldly interest.

Now, however ludicrous all this may appear to some, others, I doubt not, will feel and

acknowledge the truth of it; nay, may, perhaps, think I have not treated the subject with decent

solemnity; but surely a man may speak truth with a smiling countenance. In reality, to depreci-ate a book maliciously, or even wantonly, is at least a very ill-natured office; and a morose snarl-

ing critic may, I believe, be suspected to be a bad man.

I will therefore endeavour, in the remaining part of this chapter, to explain the marks of this

character, and to show what criticism I here intend to obviate: for I can never be understood, un-

less by the very persons here meant, to insinuate that there are no proper judges of writing, or

to endeavour to exclude from the commonwealth of literature any of those noble critics to

whose labours the learned world are so greatly indebted. Such were Aristotle, Horace, and Lon-

ginus, among the antients, Dacier and Bossu among the French, and some perhaps among us;

who have certainly been duly authorised to execute at least a judicial authority in foro literario.

But without ascertaining all the proper qualifications of a critic, which I have touched onelsewhere, I think I may very boldly object to the censures of any one past upon works which he

hath not himself read. Such censurers as these, whether they speak from their own guess or sus-

picion, or from the report and opinion of others, may properly be said to slander the reputation

of the book they condemn.

Such may likewise be suspected of deserving this character, who, without assigning any par-

ticular faults, condemn the whole in general defamatory terms; such as vile, dull, d—d stuff, &c.,

and particularly by the use of the monosyllable low; a word which becomes the mouth of no crit-

ic who is not RIGHT HONOURABLE.

Again, though there may be some faults justly assigned in the work, yet, if those are not in the

most essential parts, or if they are compensated by greater beauties, it will savour rather of themalice of a slanderer than of the judgment of a true critic to pass a severe sentence upon the

whole, merely on account of some vicious part. This is directly contrary to the sentiments of

Horace (...)” (pp. 463 – 466)

BK. X Ch. 6

“Maclachlan, who was much the sharper man of the two, no sooner heard that this lady came

from Chester, with the other circumstances which he learned from the hostler, than it came into

his head that she might possibly be his friend's wife; and presently acquainted him with this

suspicion, which had never once occurred to Fitzpatrick himself. To say the truth, he was one of

those compositions which nature makes up in too great a hurry, and forgets to put any brainsinto their head.

Now it happens to this sort of men, as to bad hounds, who never hit off a fault themselves; but

no sooner doth a dog of sagacity open his mouth than they immediately do the same, and, with-

out the guidance of any scent, run directly forwards as fast as they are able. In the same manner,

the very moment Mr Maclachlan had mentioned his apprehension, Mr Fitzpatrick instantly con-

curred, and flew directly up-stairs, to surprize his wife, before he knew where she was; and un-

luckily (as Fortune loves to play tricks with those gentlemen who put themselves entirely under

her conduct) ran his head against several doors and posts to no purpose. Much kinder was she to

me, when she suggested that simile of the hounds, just before inserted; since the poor wife may,

on these occasions, be so justly compared to a hunted hare. Like that little wretched animal, she



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pricks up her ears to listen after the voice of her pursuer; like her, flies away trembling when she

hears it; and, like her, is generally overtaken and destroyed in the end.

This was not however the case at present; for after a long fruitless search, Mr Fitzpatrick re-

turned to the kitchen, where, as if this had been a real chase, entered a gentleman hallowing as

hunters do when the hounds are at a fault. He was just alighted from his horse, and had many

attendants at his heels.” (pp. 446 – 47)

- What is the metaphorical association employed to describe the relationship between the

characters here?

- What does the hunter-prey relationship suggest about the relations between men and

women, husband and wife in that period?

- What about the father-daughter relationship as shown in the following fragment?

“The kitchen was now a scene of universal confusion, Western enquiring after his daughter, and

Fitzpatrick as eagerly after his wife, when Jones entered the room, unfortunately having Sophia's

muff in his hand.

As soon as Western saw Jones, he set up the same holla as is used by sportsmen when theirgame is in view. He then immediately run up and laid hold of Jones, crying, "We have got the dog

fox, I warrant the bitch is not far off." The jargon which followed for some minutes, where many

spoke different things at the same time, as it would be very difficult to describe, so would it be

no less unpleasant to read.” (p. 448)

BK. X, CH. 8

“(...) Mrs Western began to apply the following consolation:

"Brother, I am sorry for what hath happened; and that my niece should have behaved herself

in a manner so unbecoming her family; but it is all your own doings, and you have nobody tothank but yourself. You know she hath been educated always in a manner directly contrary to

my advice, and now you see the consequence. Have I not a thousand times argued with you

about giving my niece her own will? But you know I never could prevail upon you; and when I

had taken so much pains to eradicate her headstrong opinions, and to rectify your errors in poli-

cy, you know she was taken out of my hands; so that I have nothing to answer for. Had I been

trusted entirely with the care of her education, no such accident as this had ever befallen you; so

that you must comfort yourself by thinking it was all your own doing; and, indeed, what else

could be expected from such indulgence?"

"Zounds! sister," answered he, "you are enough to make one mad. Have I indulged her? Have I

given her her will?——It was no longer ago than last night that I threatened, if she disobeyed

me, to confine her to her chamber upon bread and water as long as she lived. ——You would

provoke the patience of Job."

"Did ever mortal hear the like?" replied she. "Brother, if I had not the patience of fifty Jobs, you

would make me forget all decency and decorum. Why would you interfere? Did I not beg you, did

I not intreat you, to leave the whole conduct to me? You have defeated all the operations of the

campaign by one false step. Would any man in his senses have provoked a daughter by such

threats as these? How often have I told you that English women are not to be treated like Ci-

racessian slaves. We have the protection of the world; we are to be won by gentle means only,

and not to be hectored, and bullied, and beat into compliance. I thank Heaven no Salique law

governs here. Brother, you have a roughness in your manner which no woman but myself would

bear. I do not wonder my niece was frightened and terrified into taking this measure; and, tospeak honestly, I think my niece will be justified to the world for what she hath done. I repeat it



120

to you again, brother, you must comfort yourself by rememb'ring that it is all your own fault.

How often have I advised—" Here Western rose hastily from his chair, and, venting two or three

horrid imprecations, ran out of the room.” (PP/ 453 – 454)

- When Sophia goes missing, her father and her aunt reaffirm their contrary opinions re-

garding a young woman’s education. What language do the two use?

- What is Mrs Western’s view regarding the education and treatment of women as opposed

to her brother’s solutions?

BK. XIII, Ch. 5

“But as our gentle reader may possibly have a better opinion of the young gentleman than her

ladyship, and may even have some concern, should it be apprehended that, during this unhappy

separation from Sophia, he took up his residence either at an inn, or in the street; we shall now

give an account of his lodging, which was indeed in a very reputable house, and in a very good

part of the town.

Mr Jones, then, had often heard Mr Allworthy mention the gentlewoman at whose house heused to lodge when he was in town. This person, who, as Jones likewise knew, lived in Bond-

street, was the widow of a clergyman, and was left by him, at his decease, in possession of two

daughters, and of a compleat set of manuscript sermons.

Of these two daughters, Nancy, the elder, was now arrived at the age of seventeen, and Betty,

the younger, at that of ten.

Hither Jones had despatched Partridge, and in this house he was provided with a room for

himself in the second floor, and with one for Partridge in the fourth.

The first floor was inhabited by one of those young gentlemen, who, in the last age, were

called men of wit and pleasure about town, and properly enough; for as men are usually denom-

inated from their business or profession, so pleasure may be said to have been the only businessor profession of those gentlemen to whom fortune had made all useful occupations unnecessary.

Playhouses, coffeehouses, and taverns were the scenes of their rendezvous. Wit and humour

were the entertainment of their looser hours, and love was the business of their more serious

moments. Wine and the muses conspired to kindle the brightest flames in their breasts; nor did

they only admire, but some were able to celebrate the beauty they admired, and all to judge of

the merit of such compositions.

Such, therefore, were properly called the men of wit and pleasure; but I question whether the

same appellation may, with the same propriety, be given to those young gentlemen of our times,

who have the same ambition to be distinguished for parts. Wit certainly they have nothing to do

with. To give them their due, they soar a step higher than their predecessors, and may be called

men of wisdom and vertù (take heed you do not read virtue). Thus at an age when the gentle-

men above mentioned employ their time in toasting the charms of a woman, or in making son-

nets in her praise; in giving their opinion of a play at the theatre, or of a poem at Will's or But-

ton's; these gentlemen are considering the methods to bribe a corporation, or meditating

speeches for the House of Commons, or rather for the magazines. But the science of gaming is

that which above all others employs their thoughts. These are the studies of their graver hours,

while for their amusements they have the vast circle of connoisseurship, painting, music, statu-

ary, and natural philosophy, or rather unnatural , which deals in the wonderful, and knows noth-

ing of Nature, except her monsters and imperfections.” (pp. 575 – 576)

- What socio-cultural human groups does the text present?

- What spaces do they inhabit?



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- What activities and cultural practices are associated with them?

BK XIV, Ch. 1

“To avoid a multiplicity of examples in so plain a case, and to come at once to my point, I am

apt to conceive, that one reason why many English writers have totally failed in describing themanners of upper life, may possibly be, that in reality they know nothing of it.

This is a knowledge unhappily not in the power of many authors to arrive at. Books will give

us a very imperfect idea of it; nor will the stage a much better: the fine gentleman formed upon

reading the former will almost always turn out a pedant, and he who forms himself upon the lat-

ter, a coxcomb.

Nor are the characters drawn from these models better supported. Vanbrugh and Congreve

copied nature; but they who copy them draw as unlike the present age as Hogarth would do if he

was to paint a rout or a drum in the dresses of Titian and of Vandyke. In short, imitation here

will not do the business. The picture must be after Nature herself. A true knowledge of the world

is gained only by conversation, and the manners of every rank must be seen in order to beknown.

Now it happens that this higher order of mortals is not to be seen, like all the rest of the hu-

man species, for nothing, in the streets, shops, and coffee-houses; nor are they shown, like the

upper rank of animals, for so much a-piece. In short, this is a sight to which no persons are ad-

mitted without one or other of these qualifications, viz., either birth or fortune, or, what is equiv-

alent to both, the honourable profession of a gamester. And, very unluckily for the world, per-

sons so qualified very seldom care to take upon themselves the bad trade of writing; which is

generally entered upon by the lower and poorer sort, as it is a trade which many think requires

no kind of stock to set up with.

Hence those strange monsters in lace and embroidery, in silks and brocades, with vast wigs

and hoops; which, under the name of lords and ladies, strut the stage, to the great delight of at-

torneys and their clerks in the pit, and of the citizens and their apprentices in the galleries; and

which are no more to be found in real life than the centaur, the chimera, or any other creature of

mere fiction. But to let my reader into a secret, this knowledge of upper life, though very neces-

sary for preventing mistakes, is no very great resource to a writer whose province is comedy, or

that kind of novels which, like this I am writing, is of the comic class.

What Mr Pope says of women is very applicable to most in this station, who are, indeed, so en-

tirely made up of form and affectation, that they have no character at all, at least none which ap-

pears. I will venture to say the highest life is much the dullest, and affords very little humour or

entertainment. The various callings in lower spheres produce the great variety of humorous

characters; whereas here, except among the few who are engaged in the pursuit of ambition, andthe fewer still who have a relish for pleasure, all is vanity and servile imitation. Dressing and

cards, eating and drinking, bowing and courtesying, make up the business of their lives.

Some there are, however, of this rank upon whom passion exercises its tyranny, and hurries

them far beyond the bounds which decorum prescribes; of these the ladies are as much distin-

guished by their noble intrepidity, and a certain superior contempt of reputation, from the frail

ones of meaner degree, as a virtuous woman of quality is by the elegance and delicacy of her

sentiments from the honest wife of a yeoman and shopkeeper. Lady Bellaston was of this intrep-

id character; but let not my country readers conclude from her, that this is the general conduct

of women of fashion, or that we mean to represent them as such. They might as well suppose

that every clergyman was represented by Thwackum, or every soldier by ensign Northerton.



122

There is not, indeed, a greater error than that which universally prevails among the vulgar,

who, borrowing their opinion from some ignorant satirists, have affixed the character of lewd-

ness to these times. On the contrary, I am convinced there never was less of love intrigue carried

on among persons of condition than now. Our present women have been taught by their moth-

ers to fix their thoughts only on ambition and vanity, and to despise the pleasures of love as un-

worthy their regard; and being afterwards, by the care of such mothers, married without havinghusbands, they seem pretty well confirmed in the justness of those sentiments; whence they

content themselves, for the dull remainder of life, with the pursuit of more innocent, but I am

afraid more childish amusements, the bare mention of which would ill suit with the dignity of

this history. In my humble opinion, the true characteristic of the present beau monde is rather

folly than vice, and the only epithet which it deserves is that of frivolous.” (pp. 610 – 612)

- What imperfections does the narrator identify in the case of other writers in relation to

the depiction of the upper social classes?

- How can a writer gain accurate knowledge of this class?

- In what ways do the lower and the higher social orders differ?

- What are the characteristics features presented here about women of upper rank?

BK XIV, Ch. 8

“Thus it happened to Nightingale, who no sooner found that Jones had no demand on him, as he

suspected, than he began to be pleased with his presence. "Pray, good sir," said he, "be pleased to

sit down. I do not remember to have ever had the pleasure of seeing you before; but if you are a

friend of my son, and have anything to say concerning this young lady, I shall be glad to hear you.

As to her making him happy, it will be his own fault if she doth not. I have discharged my duty, in

taking care of the main article. She will bring him a fortune capable of making any reasonable,

prudent, sober man, happy." "Undoubtedly," cries Jones, "for she is in herself a fortune; so beauti-

ful, so genteel, so sweet-tempered, and so well-educated; she is indeed a most accomplished

young lady; sings admirably well, and hath a most delicate hand at the harpsichord." "I did not

know any of these matters," answered the old gentleman, "for I never saw the lady: but I do not

like her the worse for what you tell me; and I am the better pleased with her father for not laying

any stress on these qualifications in our bargain. I shall always think it a proof of his understand-

ing. A silly fellow would have brought in these articles as an addition to her fortune; but, to give

him his due, he never mentioned any such matter; though to be sure they are no disparagements

to a woman." "I do assure you, sir," cries Jones, "she hath them all in the most eminent degree: for

my part, I own I was afraid you might have been a little backward, a little less inclined to the

match; for your son told me you had never seen the lady; therefore I came, sir, in that case, to en-

treat you, to conjure you, as you value the happiness of your son, not to be averse to his matchwith a woman who hath not only all the good qualities I have mentioned, but many more."—"If

that was your business, sir," said the old gentleman, "we are both obliged to you; and you may be

perfectly easy; for I give you my word I was very well satisfied with her fortune." "Sir," answered

Jones, "I honour you every moment more and more. To be so easily satisfied, so very moderate

on that account, is a proof of the soundness of your understanding, as well as the nobleness of

your mind."——"Not so very moderate, young gentleman, not so very moderate," answered the

father.—"Still more and more noble," replied Jones; "and give me leave to add, sensible: for sure

it is little less than madness to consider money as the sole foundation of happiness. Such a wom-

an as this with her little, her nothing of a fortune"—"I find," cries the old gentleman, "you have a

pretty just opinion of money, my friend, or else you are better acquainted with the person of the

lady than with her circumstances. Why, pray, what fortune do you imagine this lady to have?"

"What fortune?" cries Jones, "why, too contemptible a one to be named for your son."—"Well,



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123

well, well," said the other, "perhaps he might have done better."—"That I deny," said Jones, "for

she is one of the best of women."—"Ay, ay, but in point of fortune I mean," answered the other.

"And yet, as to that now, how much do you imagine your friend is to have?"—"How much?" cries

Jones, "how much? Why, at the utmost, perhaps £200." "Do you mean to banter me, young gen-

tleman?" said the father, a little angry. "No, upon my soul," answered Jones, "I am in earnest: nay,

I believe I have gone to the utmost farthing. If I do the lady an injury, I ask her pardon." "Indeedyou do," cries the father; "I am certain she hath fifty times that sum, and she shall produce fifty to

that before I consent that she shall marry my son." "Nay," said Jones, "it is too late to talk of con-

sent now; if she had not fifty farthings your son is married."—"My son married!" answered the

old gentleman, with surprize. "Nay," said Jones, "I thought you was unacquainted with it." "My

son married to Miss Harris!" answered he again. "To Miss Harris!" said Jones; "no, sir; to Miss

Nancy Miller, the daughter of Mrs Miller, at whose house he lodged; a young lady, who, though

her mother is reduced to let lodgings—"—"Are you bantering, or are you in earnest?" cries the

father, with a most solemn voice. "Indeed, sir," answered Jones, "I scorn the character of a ban-

terer. I came to you in most serious earnest, imagining, as I find true, that your son had never

dared acquaint you with a match so much inferior to him in point of fortune, though the reputa-

tion of the lady will suffer it no longer to remain a secret.” (pp. 638 – 639)

- Jones and old Mr Nightingale have different views on love, marriage and fortune. Discuss

their views comparatively by focusing on the language they use.

- Could Mr Nightingale’s mindset be determined by his job?

BK. XV, Ch. 10

"SIR,

"I shud sartenly haf kaled on you a cordin too mi prommiss haddunt itt bin that hur lashipp pre-

vent mee; for to bee sur, Sir, you nose very well that evere persun must luk furst at ome, and sarten-ly such anuther offar mite not have ever hapned, so as I shud ave bin justly to blam, had I not ex-

cepted of it when her lashipp was so veri kind as to offar to mak mee hur one uman without mi ever

askin any such thing, to be sur shee is won of thee best ladis in thee wurld, and pepil who sase to the

kontrari must bee veri wiket pepil in thare harts. To bee sur if ever I ave sad any thing of that kine

it as bin thru ignorens, and I am hartili sorri for it. I nose your onur to be a genteelman of more

onur and onesty, if I ever said ani such thing, to repete it to hurt a pore servant that as alwais add

thee gratest respect in thee wurld for ure onur. To be sur won shud kepe wons tung within wons

teeth, for no boddi nose what may hapen; and to bee sur if ani boddi ad tolde mee yesterday, that I

shud haf bin in so gud a plase to day, I shud not haf beleeved it; for to be sur I never was a dremd of

any such thing, nor shud I ever have soft after ani other bodi's plase; but as her lashipp wass so kine

of her one a cord too give it mee without askin, to be sur Mrs Etoff herself, nor no other boddi can

blam mee for exceptin such a thing when it fals in mi waye. I beg ure Onur not to menshion ani

thing of what I haf sad, for I wish ure Onur all thee gud luk in the wurld; and I don't cuestion butt

thatt u will haf Madam Sofia in the end; butt ass to miself ure onur nose I kant bee of ani farder

sarvis to u in that matar, nou bein under thee cumand off anuther parson, and nott mi one mis-

tress, I begg ure Onur to say nothing of what past, and belive me to be, sir, ure Onur's umble servant

to cumand till deth,

"HONOUR BLACKMORE." (pp. 683 – 684)

- The servants’ illiteracy

BK XVII, ch. 3



124

“Mrs Miller had not long left the room when Mr Western entered; but not before a small

wrangling bout had passed between him and his chairmen; for the fellows, who had taken up

their burden at the Hercules Pillars, had conceived no hopes of having any future good customer

in the squire; and they were moreover farther encouraged by his generosity (for he had given

them of his own accord sixpence more than their fare); they therefore very boldly demanded

another shilling, which so provoked the squire, that he not only bestowed many hearty curses onthem at the door, but retained his anger after he came into the room; swearing that all the

Londoners were like the court, and thought of nothing but plundering country gentlemen. "D—n

me," says he, "if I won't walk in the rain rather than get into one of their hand-barrows again.

They have jolted me more in a mile than Brown Bess would in a long fox-chase."

When his wrath on this occasion was a little appeased, he resumed the same passionate tone

on another. "There," says he, "there is fine business forwards now. The hounds have changed at

last; and when we imagined we had a fox to deal with, od-rat it, it turns out to be a badger at

last!"

"Pray, my good neighbour," said Allworthy, "drop your metaphors, and speak a little plainer."

"Why, then," says the squire, "to tell you plainly, we have been all this time afraid of a son of awhore of a bastard of somebody's, I don't know whose, not I. And now here's a confounded son

of a whore of a lord, who may be a bastard too for what I know or care, for he shall never have a

daughter of mine by my consent. They have beggared the nation, but they shall never beggar me.

My land shall never be sent over to Hanover. "You surprize me much, my good friend," said

Allworthy. "Why, zounds! I am surprized myself," answered the squire. "I went to zee sister

Western last night, according to her own appointment, and there I was had into a whole room

full of women. There was my lady cousin Bellaston, and my Lady Betty, and my Lady Catherine,

and my lady I don't know who; d—n me, if ever you catch me among such a kennel of hoop-

petticoat b—s! D—n me, I'd rather be run by my own dogs, as one Acton was, that the story-

book says was turned into a hare, and his own dogs killed un and eat un. Od-rabbit it, no mortal

was ever run in such a manner; if I dodged one way, one had me; if I offered to clap back, another

snapped me. `O! certainly one of the greatest matches in England,' says one cousin (here he

attempted to mimic them); `A very advantageous offer indeed,' cries another cousin (for you

must know they be all my cousins, thof I never zeed half o' um before). `Surely,' says that fat a —se b—, my Lady Bellaston, `cousin, you must be out of your wits to think of refusing such an

offer.'"

"Now I begin to understand," says Allworthy; "some person hath made proposals to Miss

Western, which the ladies of the family approve, but is not to your liking."

"My liking!" said Western, "how the devil should it? I tell you it is a lord, and those are always

volks whom you know I always resolved to have nothing to do with. Did unt I refuse a matter of

vorty years' purchase now for a bit of land, which one o' um had a mind to put into a park, onlybecause I would have no dealings with lords, and dost think I would marry my daughter zu? Be-

sides, ben't I engaged to you, and did I ever go off any bargain when I had promised?"

"As to that point, neighbour," said Allworthy, "I entirely release you from any engagement. No

contract can be binding between parties who have not a full power to make it at the time, nor

ever afterwards acquire the power of fulfilling it."

"Slud! then," answered Western, "I tell you I have power, and I will fulfil it. Come along with

me directly to Doctors' Commons, I will get a licence; and I will go to sister and take away the

wench by force, and she shall ha un, or I will lock her up, and keep her upon bread and water as

long as she lives." (pp. 734- 735)

- What is the connection between love, marriage and politics in this fragment?



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- What language does squire Western use when debating Sophia’s situation?

- Which is the squire’s greatest fear?

- Is squire Allworthy’s view similar to Western’s?

BK. XVIII, Ch. 1 A Farewell to the Reader “We are now, reader, arrived at the last stage of our long journey. As we have, therefore,travelled together through so many pages, let us behave to one another like fellow-travellers in a

stage coach, who have passed several days in the company of each other; and who,

notwithstanding any bickerings or little animosities which may have occurred on the road,

generally make all up at last, and mount, for the last time, into their vehicle with chearfulness

and good humour; since after this one stage, it may possibly happen to us, as it commonly

happens to them, never to meet more.

As I have here taken up this simile, give me leave to carry it a little farther. I intend, then, in

this last book, to imitate the good company I have mentioned in their last journey. Now, it is well

known that all jokes and raillery are at this time laid aside; whatever characters any of the pas-sengers have for the jest-sake personated on the road are now thrown off, and the conversation

is usually plain and serious.

In the same manner, if I have now and then, in the course of this work, indulged any pleasant-

ry for thy entertainment, I shall here lay it down. The variety of matter, indeed, which I shall be

obliged to cram into this book, will afford no room for any of those ludicrous observations which

I have elsewhere made, and which may sometimes, perhaps, have prevented thee from taking a

nap when it was beginning to steal upon thee. In this last book thou wilt find nothing (or at most

very little) of that nature. All will be plain narrative only; and, indeed, when thou hast perused

the many great events which this book will produce, thou wilt think the number of pages con-

tained in it scarce sufficient to tell the story.

And now, my friend, I take this opportunity (as I shall have no other) of heartily wishing thee

well. If I have been an entertaining companion to thee, I promise thee it is what I have desired. If

in anything I have offended, it was really without any intention. Some things, perhaps, here said,

may have hit thee or thy friends; but I do most solemnly declare they were not pointed at thee or

them. I question not but thou hast been told, among other stories of me, that thou wast to travel

with a very scurrilous fellow; but whoever told thee so did me an injury. No man detests and

despises scurrility more than myself; nor hath any man more reason; for none hath ever been

treated with more; and what is a very severe fate, I have had some of the abusive writings of

those very men fathered upon me, who, in other of their works, have abused me themselves with

the utmost virulence.

All these works, however, I am well convinced, will be dead long before this page shall offer it-

self to thy perusal; for however short the period may be of my own performances, they will most

probably outlive their own infirm author, and the weakly productions of his abusive contempo-

raries.” (pp. 763 – 764)

- What are the effects of comparing the writer and the reader with two travellers?

- What type of relationship have the two established along the way?

- What change of tone does the end of the narrative promise?

BK. XVIII, Ch. 9 “"Pardon me, dear young lady," cries Allworthy, "I begin now to be afraid he hath

had too much acquaintance for the repose of his future days; since, if ever man was capable of asincere, violent, and noble passion, such, I am convinced, is my unhappy nephew's for Miss



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Western." "A nephew of your's, Mr Allworthy!" answered Sophia. "It is surely strange. I never

heard of him before." "Indeed, madam," cries Allworthy, "it is only the circumstance of his being

my nephew to which you are a stranger, and which, till this day, was a secret to me. —Mr Jones,

who has long loved you, he! he is my nephew!" "Mr Jones your nephew, sir!" cries Sophia, "can it

be possible?"—"He is, indeed, madam," answered Allworthy; "he is my own sister's son—as such

I shall always own him; nor am I ashamed of owning him. I am much more ashamed of my pastbehaviour to him; but I was as ignorant of his merit as of his birth. Indeed, Miss Western, I have

used him cruelly——Indeed I have."—Here the good man wiped his eyes, and after a short pause

proceeded—"I never shall be able to reward him for his sufferings without your assistance.——Believe me, most amiable young lady, I must have a great esteem of that offering which I make to

your worth. I know he hath been guilty of faults; but there is great goodness of heart at the bot-

tom. Believe me, madam, there is." (pp. 797 – 798)

- What secret is revealed to Sophia and how does Mr Allworthy feel about his past behav-

iour towards Jones?

BK. XVIII, Ch. 10 “After Allworthy had raised Jones from his feet, where he had prostrated him-self, and received him into his arms, "O my child!" he cried, "how have I been to blame! how have

I injured you! What amends can I ever make you for those unkind, those unjust suspicions which

I have entertained, and for all the sufferings they have occasioned to you?" "Am I not now made

amends?" cries Jones. "Would not my sufferings, if they had been ten times greater, have been

now richly repaid? O my dear uncle, this goodness, this tenderness overpowers, unmans, de-

stroys me. I cannot bear the transports which flow so fast upon me. To be again restored to your

presence, to your favour; to be once more thus kindly received by my great, my noble, my gener-

ous benefactor."—"Indeed, child," cries Allworthy, "I have used you cruelly."——He then ex-

plained to him all the treachery of Blifil, and again repeated expressions of the utmost concern,

for having been induced by that treachery to use him so ill. "O, talk not so!" answered Jones; "in-deed, sir, you have used me nobly. The wisest man might be deceived as you were; and, under

such a deception, the best must have acted just as you did. Your goodness displayed itself in the

midst of your anger, just as it then seemed. I owe everything to that goodness, of which I have

been most unworthy. Do not put me on self-accusation, by carrying your generous sentiments

too far. Alas! sir, I have not been punished more than I have deserved; and it shall be the whole

business of my future life to deserve that happiness you now bestow on me; for, believe me, my

dear uncle, my punishment hath not been thrown away upon me: though I have been a great, I

am not a hardened sinner; I thank Heaven, I have had time to reflect on my past life, where,

though I cannot charge myself with any gross villany, yet I can discern follies and vices more than

enough to repent and to be ashamed of; follies which have been attended with dreadful conse-

quences to myself, and have brought me to the brink of destruction." "I am rejoiced, my dearchild," answered Allworthy, "to hear you talk thus sensibly; for as I am convinced hypocrisy

(good Heaven! how have I been imposed on by it in others!) was never among your faults, so I

can readily believe all you say. You now see, Tom, to what dangers imprudence alone may subject

virtue (for virtue, I am now convinced, you love in a great degree). Prudence is indeed the duty

which we owe to ourselves; and if we will be so much our own enemies as to neglect it, we are

not to wonder if the world is deficient in discharging their duty to us; for when a man lays the

foundation of his own ruin, others will, I am afraid, be too apt to build upon it. You say, however,

you have seen your errors, and will reform them. I firmly believe you, my dear child; and there-

fore, from this moment, you shall never be reminded of them by me. Remember them only your-

self so far as for the future to teach you the better to avoid them; but still remember, for your

comfort, that there is this great difference between those faults which candor may construe into



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imprudence, and those which can be deduced from villany only. The former, perhaps, are even

more apt to subject a man to ruin; but if he reform, his character will, at length, be totally re-

trieved; the world, though not immediately, will in time be reconciled to him; and he may reflect,

not without some mixture of pleasure, on the dangers he hath escaped; but villany, my boy, when

once discovered is irretrievable; the stains which this leaves behind, no time will wash away. The

censures of mankind will pursue the wretch, their scorn will abash him in publick; and if shamedrives him into retirement, he will go to it with all those terrors with which a weary child, who is

afraid of hobgoblins, retreats from company to go to bed alone. Here his murdered conscience

will haunt him.—Repose, like a false friend, will fly from him. Wherever he turns his eyes, horror

presents itself; if he looks backward, unavailable repentance treads on his heels; if forward, in-

curable despair stares him in the face, till, like a condemned prisoner confined in a dungeon, he

detests his present condition, and yet dreads the consequence of that hour which is to relieve

him from it. Comfort yourself, I say, my child, that this is not your case; and rejoice with thank-

fulness to him who hath suffered you to see your errors, before they have brought on you that

destruction to which a persistance in even those errors must have led you. You have deserted

them; and the prospect now before you is such, that happiness seems in your own power." (pp.

802 – 803)

- What does the scene of the reconciliation between squire Allworthy and Tom reveal

about the characters?

- What principles and virtues does Allworthy lecture Tom on?

BK. XVIII, Ch. 12 “Mr Jones during this interval attempted once or twice to speak, but was

absolutely incapable, muttering only, or rather sighing out, some broken words; when Sophia at

length, partly out of pity to him, and partly to turn the discourse from the subject which she

knew well enough he was endeavouring to open, said—

"Sure, sir, you are the most fortunate man in the world in this discovery." "And can you really,madam, think me so fortunate," said Jones, sighing, "while I have incurred your displeasure?" —"Nay, sir," says she, "as to that you best know whether you have deserved it." "Indeed, madam,"

answered he, "you yourself are as well apprized of all my demerits. Mrs Miller hath acquainted

you with the whole truth. O! my Sophia, am I never to hope for forgiveness?" —"I think, Mr

Jones," said she, "I may almost depend on your own justice, and leave it to yourself to pass sen-

tence on your own conduct."—"Alas! madam," answered he, "it is mercy, and not justice, which I

implore at your hands. Justice I know must condemn me.—Yet not for the letter I sent to Lady

Bellaston. Of that I most solemnly declare you have had a true account." He then insisted much

on the security given him by Nightingale of a fair pretence for breaking off, if, contrary to their

expectations, her ladyship should have accepted his offer; but confest that he had been guilty of

a great indiscretion to put such a letter as that into her power, "which," said he, "I have dearly

paid for, in the effect it has upon you." "I do not, I cannot," says she, "believe otherwise of that

letter than you would have me. My conduct, I think, shews you clearly I do not believe there is

much in that. And yet, Mr Jones, have I not enough to resent? After what past at Upton, so soon to

engage in a new amour with another woman, while I fancied, and you pretended, your heart was

bleeding for me? Indeed, you have acted strangely. Can I believe the passion you have profest to

me to be sincere? Or, if I can, what happiness can I assure myself of with a man capable of so

much inconstancy?" "O! my Sophia," cries he, "do not doubt the sincerity of the purest passion

that ever inflamed a human breast. Think, most adorable creature, of my unhappy situation, of

my despair. Could I, my Sophia, have flattered myself with the most distant hopes of being ever

permitted to throw myself at your feet in the manner I do now, it would not have been in thepower of any other woman to have inspired a thought which the severest chastity could have



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condemned. Inconstancy to you! O Sophia! if you can have goodness enough to pardon what is

past, do not let any cruel future apprehensions shut your mercy against me. No repentance was

ever more sincere. O! let it reconcile me to my heaven in this dear bosom." "Sincere repentance,

Mr Jones," answered she, "will obtain the pardon of a sinner, but it is from one who is a perfect

judge of that sincerity. A human mind may be imposed on; nor is there any infallible method to

prevent it. You must expect, however, that if I can be prevailed on by your repentance to pardonyou, I will at least insist on the strongest proof of its sincerity." "Name any proof in my power,"

answered Jones eagerly. "Time," replied she; "time alone, Mr Jones, can convince me that you are

a true penitent, and have resolved to abandon these vicious courses, which I should detest you

for, if I imagined you capable of persevering in them." "Do not imagine it," cries Jones. "On my

knees I intreat, I implore your confidence, a confidence which it shall be the business of my life

to deserve." "Let it then," said she, "be the business of some part of your life to shew me you de-

serve it. I think I have been explicit enough in assuring you, that, when I see you merit my confi-

dence, you will obtain it. After what is past, sir, can you expect I should take you upon your

word?"

He replied, "Don't believe me upon my word; I have a better security, a pledge for my constan-cy, which it is impossible to see and to doubt." "What is that?" said Sophia, a little surprized. "I

will show you, my charming angel," cried Jones, seizing her hand and carrying her to the glass.

"There, behold it there in that lovely figure, in that face, that shape, those eyes, that mind which

shines through these eyes; can the man who shall be in possession of these be inconstant? Im-

possible! my Sophia; they would fix a Dorimant, a Lord Rochester. You could not doubt it, if you

could see yourself with any eyes but your own." Sophia blushed and half smiled; but, forcing

again her brow into a frown—"If I am to judge," said she, "of the future by the past, my image

will no more remain in your heart when I am out of your sight, than it will in this glass when I

am out of the room." "By heaven, by all that is sacred!" said Jones, "it never was out of my heart.

The delicacy of your sex cannot conceive the grossness of ours, nor how little one sort of amour

has to do with the heart." "I will never marry a man," replied Sophia, very gravely, "who shall notlearn refinement enough to be as incapable as I am myself of making such a distinction." "I will

learn it," said Jones. "I have learnt it already. The first moment of hope that my Sophia might be

my wife taught it me at once; and all the rest of her sex from that moment became as little the

objects of desire to my sense as of passion to my heart." "Well," says Sophia, "the proof of this

must be from time. Your situation, Mr Jones, is now altered, and I assure you I have great satis-

faction in the alteration. You will now want no opportunity of being near me, and convincing me

that your mind is altered too." "O! my angel," cries Jones, "how shall I thank thy goodness! And

are you so good to own that you have a satisfaction in my prosperity? ——Believe me, believe

me, madam, it is you alone have given a relish to that prosperity, since I owe to it the dear

hope——O! my Sophia, let it not be a distant one.—I will be all obedience to your commands. Iwill not dare to press anything further than you permit me. Yet let me intreat you to appoint a

short trial. O! tell me when I may expect you will be convinced of what is most solemnly true."

"When I have gone voluntarily thus far, Mr Jones," said she, "I expect not to be pressed. Nay, I

will not."— (pp. 814 – 815)

- What does this scene reveal about the characters?

- What kind of alteration is Sophia expecting from Tom?

BK XVIII, Chapter the Last. In which the history is concluded

“We now return to take leave of Mr Jones and Sophia, who, within two days after their

marriage, attended Mr Western and Mr Allworthy into the country. Western hath resigned hisfamily seat, and the greater part of his estate, to his son-in-law, and hath retired to a lesser house



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of his in another part of the country, which is better for hunting. Indeed, he is often as a visitant

with Mr Jones, who, as well as his daughter, hath an infinite delight in doing everything in their

power to please him. And this desire of theirs is attended with such success, that the old

gentleman declares he was never happy in his life till now. He hath here a parlour and ante-

chamber to himself, where he gets drunk with whom he pleases: and his daughter is still as

ready as formerly to play to him whenever he desires it; for Jones hath assured her that, as, nextto pleasing her, one of his highest satisfactions is to contribute to the happiness of the old man;

so, the great duty which she expresses and performs to her father, renders her almost equally

dear to him with the love which she bestows on himself.

Sophia hath already produced him two fine children, a boy and a girl, of whom the old gentle-

man is so fond, that he spends much of his time in the nursery, where he declares the tattling of

his little grand-daughter, who is above a year and a half old, is sweeter music than the finest cry

of dogs in England.

Allworthy was likewise greatly liberal to Jones on the marriage, and hath omitted no instance

of shewing his affection to him and his lady, who love him as a father. Whatever in the nature of

Jones had a tendency to vice, has been corrected by continual conversation with this good man,and by his union with the lovely and virtuous Sophia. He hath also, by reflection on his past fol-

lies, acquired a discretion and prudence very uncommon in one of his lively parts.

To conclude, as there are not to be found a worthier man and woman, than this fond couple, so

neither can any be imagined more happy. They preserve the purest and tenderest affection for

each other, an affection daily encreased and confirmed by mutual endearments and mutual es-

teem. Nor is their conduct towards their relations and friends less amiable than towards one an-

other. And such is their condescension, their indulgence, and their beneficence to those below

them, that there is not a neighbour, a tenant, or a servant, who doth not most gratefully bless the

day when Mr Jones was married to his Sophia.” (p. 822)

- In what way is Jones a different man after marrying Sophia?

- What is at the foundation of their marriage?

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

TEXTS FOR ANALYSIS IN CLASS – to be sent via email THE REST OF THE TEXTS – COMPULSORY READING FOR THE EXAMINATION

1. Ch. 1 “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune,must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on

his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding

families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters. "My

dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at

last?" Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. "But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just beenhere, and she told me all about it." Mr. Bennet made no answer. "Do you not want to know who



130

has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently. "You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing

it." This was invitation enough. "Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is

taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday

in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr.

Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants

are to be in the house by the end of next week." "What is his name?" "Bingley." "Is he married orsingle?" "Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a

year. What a fine thing for our girls!" "How so? How can it affect them?" "My dear Mr. Bennet,"

replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying

one of them." (p. 3)

– Marriage-making

– irony

– Fortune hunting

2. Ch. 3 “Mr. Bingley was good-looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and

easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His

brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr. Darcy soon drew the

attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report

which was in general circulation within five minutes after his entrance, of his having ten

thousand a year. The gentlemen pronounced him to be a fine figure of a man, the ladies declared

he was much handsomer than Mr. Bingley, and he was looked at with great admiration for about

half the evening, till his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of his popularity; for he

was discovered to be proud; to be above his company, and above being pleased; and not all his

large estate in Derbyshire could then save him from having a most forbidding, disagreeable

countenance, and being unworthy to be compared with his friend. Mr. Bingley had soon made

himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved,

danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself atNetherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves. What a contrast between him and

his friend! Mr. Darcy danced only once with Mrs. Hurst and once with Miss Bingley, declined

being introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening in walking about the room,

speaking occasionally to one of his own party. His character was decided. He was the proudest,

most disagreeable man in the world, and everybody hoped that he would never come there

again. Amongst the most violent against him was Mrs. Bennet, whose dislike of his general

behaviour was sharpened into particular resentment by his having slighted one of her

daughters.” (p. 8)

– portrait of Mr Bingley and Darcy

3. “"Come, Darcy," said he, "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself inthis stupid manner. You had much better dance." "I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it,

unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this it would be

insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it

would not be a punishment to me to stand up with." "I would not be so fastidious as you are,"

cried Mr. Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my

life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty." "You are

dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss

Bennet. "Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters

sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my

partner to introduce you." "Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment atElizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: "She is tolerable, but not



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handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young

ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her

smiles, for you are wasting your time with me." Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked

off; and Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings toward him. She told the story,

however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which

delighted in anything ridiculous.” (pp. 8-9) – prejudice, pride, conceitedness

4. “Mr. Bingley inherited property to the amount of nearly a hundred thousand pounds from hisfather, who had intended to purchase an estate, but did not live to do it. Mr. Bingley intended it

likewise, and sometimes made choice of his county; but as he was now provided with a good

house and the liberty of a manor, it was doubtful to many of those who best knew the easiness of

his temper, whether he might not spend the remainder of his days at Netherfield, and leave the

next generation to purchase. His sisters were anxious for his having an estate of his own; but,

though he was now only established as a tenant, Miss Bingley was by no means unwilling to

preside at his table— nor was Mrs. Hurst, who had married a man of more fashion than fortune,

less disposed to consider his house as her home when it suited her. Mr. Bingley had not been of

age two years, when he was tempted by an accidental recommendation to look at Netherfield

House. He did look at it, and into it for half-an-hour—was pleased with the situation and the

principal rooms, satisfied with what the owner said in its praise, and took it immediately.

Between him and Darcy there was a very steady friendship, in spite of great opposition of

character. Bingley was endeared to Darcy by the easiness, openness, and ductility of his temper,

though no disposition could offer a greater contrast to his own, and though with his own he

never appeared dissatisfied. On the strength of Darcy's regard, Bingley had the firmest reliance,

and of his judgement the highest opinion. In understanding, Darcy was the superior. Bingley was

by no means deficient, but Darcy was clever. He was at the same time haughty, reserved, and

fastidious, and his manners, though well-bred, were not inviting. In that respect his friend hadgreatly the advantage. Bingley was sure of being liked wherever he appeared, Darcy was

continually giving offense. The manner in which they spoke of the Meryton assembly was

sufficiently characteristic. Bingley had never met with more pleasant people or prettier girls in

his life; everybody had been most kind and attentive to him; there had been no formality, no

stiffness; he had soon felt acquainted with all the room; and, as to Miss Bennet, he could not

conceive an angel more beautiful. Darcy, on the contrary, had seen a collection of people in whom

there was little beauty and no fashion, for none of whom he had felt the smallest interest, and

from none received either attention or pleasure. Miss Bennet he acknowledged to be pretty, but

she smiled too much.” (pp. 11-12)

– comparison between the character of Bingley and Darcy

5. “"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend me so much as pride often does, because there

is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune,

everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be

proud." "That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not

mortified mine." "Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections,

"is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have ever read, I am convinced that it is very

common indeed; that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us

who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some quality or other, real or

imaginary. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously.

A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity

to what we would have others think of us." (p. 14) – what pride means and its relation to vanity



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6. Ch. 6 “Occupied in observing Mr. Bingley's attentions to her sister, Elizabeth was far fromsuspecting that she was herself becoming an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr.

Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at her without admiration at

the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it

clear to himself and his friends that she hardly had a good feature in her face, than he began tofind it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this

discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye

more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure

to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the

fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly unaware; to

her he was only the man who made himself agreeable nowhere, and who had not thought her

handsome enough to dance with. He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards

conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with others. His doing so drew her

notice. It was at Sir William Lucas's, where a large party were assembled.” (p. 17)

7. “Elizabeth at that instant moving towards them, he was struck with the action of doing avery gallant thing, and called out to her: "My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy,

you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot

refuse to dance, I am sure when so much beauty is before you." And, taking her hand, he would

have given it to Mr. Darcy who, though extremely surprised, was not unwilling to receive it, when

she instantly drew back, and said with some discomposure to Sir William: "Indeed, sir, I have not

the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg

for a partner." Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the honour of her hand,

but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his

attempt at persuasion. "You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to deny me thehappiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman dislikes the amusement in general, he can

have no objection, I am sure, to oblige us for one half-hour." "Mr. Darcy is all politeness," said

Elizabeth, smiling. "He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss Eliza, we

cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object to such a partner?" Elizabeth looked

archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not injured her with the gentleman, and he was

thinking of her with some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley: "I can guess the

subject of your reverie." "I should imagine not." "You are considering how insupportable it would

be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of your opinion.

I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-

importance of all those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!" "Your

conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged. I have been

meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can

bestow." Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what

lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity: "Miss

Elizabeth Bennet." (p. 19)

– irony

– A change in the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy

8. Ch. 8 “"Then," observed Elizabeth, "you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of anaccomplished woman." "Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it." "Oh! certainly," cried his faithful

assistant, "no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what isusually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing,



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and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain

something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions,

or the word will be but halfdeserved." "All this she must possess," added Darcy, "and to all this

she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive

reading." "I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather

wonder now at your knowing any." "Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt thepossibility of all this?" "I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and

application, and elegance, as you describe united." (p. 28)

– the portrait of an accomplished woman

9. Ch. 10 “Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth

could not help observing, as she turned over some music-books that lay on the instrument, how

frequently Mr. Darcy's eyes were fixed on her. She hardly knew how to suppose that she could be

an object of admiration to so great a man; and yet that he should look at her because he disliked

her, was still more strange. She could only imagine, however, at last that she drew his notice

because there was something more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right,

than in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked him too little to

care for his approbation.” (p. 36)

– staring and its meaning

10. Ch. 11 “(...) men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous

by a person whose first object in life is a joke." "Certainly," replied Elizabeth —"there are such

people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and

nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can.

But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without." "Perhaps that is not possible for

anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a

strong understanding to ridicule." "Such as vanity and pride." "Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed.But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good

regulation." Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile. "Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I

presume," said Miss Bingley; "and pray what is the result?" "I am perfectly convinced by it that

Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise." "No," said Darcy, "I have made no

such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I

dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the

world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against

myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would

perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever." "That is a failing indeed!"

cried Elizabeth. "Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault

well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me." "There is, I believe, in every disposition a

tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can

overcome." "And your defect is to hate everybody." "And yours," he replied with a smile, "is

willfully to misunderstand them." (pp. 40 – 41)

– teasing, language games, the meaning of pride

11. Ch. 18 “"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and youought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room, or the number of couples." He smiled,

and assured her that whatever she wished him to say should be said. "Very well. That reply will

do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than

public ones. But now we may be silent." "Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?""Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an



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hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that

they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible." "Are you consulting your own feelings in

the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?" "Both," replied Elizabeth

archly; "for I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an

unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will

amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the eclat of a proverb." "This isno very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to

mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly." "I must not decide on

my own performance." (pp. 64 – 65)

– conventionalism regarding verbal interaction/speaking

12. Ch. 19 “The idea of Mr. Collins, with all his solemn composure, being run away with by hisfeelings, made Elizabeth so near laughing, that she could not use the short pause he allowed in

any attempt to stop him further, and he continued: "My reasons for marrying are, first, that I

think it a right thing for every clergyman in easy circumstances (like myself) to set the example

of matrimony in his parish; secondly, that I am convinced that it will add very greatly to my

happiness; and thirdly—which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier, that it is the particular

advice and recommendation of the very noble lady whom I have the honour of calling patroness.

Twice has she condescended to give me her opinion (unasked too!) on this subject; and it was

but the very Saturday night before I left Hunsford—between our pools at quadrille, while Mrs.

Jenkinson was arranging Miss de Bourgh's footstool, that she said, 'Mr. Collins, you must marry. A

clergyman like you must marry. Choose properly, choose a gentlewoman for my sake; and for

your own, let her be an active, useful sort of person, not brought up high, but able to make a

small income go a good way. This is my advice. Find such a woman as soon as you can, bring her

to Hunsford, and I will visit her.' Allow me, by the way, to observe, my fair cousin, that I do not

reckon the notice and kindness of Lady Catherine de Bourgh as among the least of the

advantages in my power to offer. You will find her manners beyond anything I can describe; andyour wit and vivacity, I think, must be acceptable to her, especially when tempered with the

silence and respect which her rank will inevitably excite. Thus much for my general intention in

favour of matrimony; it remains to be told why my views were directed towards Longbourn

instead of my own neighbourhood, where I can assure you there are many amiable young

women. But the fact is, that being, as I am, to inherit this estate after the death of your honoured

father (who, however, may live many years longer), I could not satisfy myself without resolving

to choose a wife from among his daughters, that the loss to them might be as little as possible,

when the melancholy event takes place—which, however, as I have already said, may not be for

several years. This has been my motive, my fair cousin, and I flatter myself it will not sink me in

your esteem. And now nothing remains for me but to assure you in the most animated language

of the violence of my affection. To fortune I am perfectly indifferent, and shall make no demand

of that nature on your father, since I am well aware that it could not be complied with; and that

one thousand pounds in the four per cents, which will not be yours till after your mother's

decease, is all that you may ever be entitled to. On that head, therefore, I shall be uniformly

silent; and you may assure yourself that no ungenerous reproach shall ever pass my lips when

we are married." It was absolutely necessary to interrupt him now.” (pp. 75 – 76)

– Mr Collins' declaration and marriage proposal – analyse the language and tone: is it

affectionate, warm?

13. a) Ch. 22 “In as short a time as Mr. Collins's long speeches would allow, everything was

settled between them to the satisfaction of both; and as they entered the house he earnestlyentreated her to name the day that was to make him the happiest of men; and though such a



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solicitation must be waived for the present, the lady felt no inclination to trifle with his

happiness. The stupidity with which he was favoured by nature must guard his courtship from

any charm that could make a woman wish for its continuance; and Miss Lucas, who accepted him

solely from the pure and disinterested desire of an establishment, cared not how soon that

establishment were gained. Sir William and Lady Lucas were speedily applied to for their

consent; and it was bestowed with a most joyful alacrity. Mr. Collins's present circumstancesmade it a most eligible match for their daughter, to whom they could give little fortune; and his

prospects of future wealth were exceedingly fair. Lady Lucas began directly to calculate, with

more interest than the matter had ever excited before, how many years longer Mr. Bennet was

likely to live; and Sir William gave it as his decided opinion, that whenever Mr. Collins should be

in possession of the Longbourn estate, it would be highly expedient that both he and his wife

should make their appearance at St. James's. The whole family, in short, were properly overjoyed

on the occasion. The younger girls formed hopes of coming out a year or two sooner than they

might otherwise have done; and the boys were relieved from their apprehension of Charlotte's

dying an old maid. Charlotte herself was tolerably composed. She had gained her point, and had

time to consider of it. Her reflections were in general satisfactory. Mr. Collins, to be sure, was

neither sensible nor agreeable; his society was irksome, and his attachment to her must be

imaginary. But still he would be her husband. Without thinking highly either of men or

matrimony, marriage had always been her object; it was the only provision for well-educated

young women of small fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their

pleasantest preservative from want. This preservative she had now obtained; and at the age of

twenty-seven, without having ever been handsome, she felt all the good luck of it.” (pp. 86 – 87)

b) “I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr.Collins's character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness

with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state." (p. 89)

– how would you define marriage in Miss Lucas's view?

– What is her definition of happiness?

13. Ch. 24 “"My dear Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "you are too good. Your sweetness anddisinterestedness are really angelic; I do not know what to say to you. I feel as if I had never done

you justice, or loved you as you deserve." Miss Bennet eagerly disclaimed all extraordinary merit,

and threw back the praise on her sister's warm affection.

"Nay," said Elizabeth, "this is not fair. You wish to think all the world respectable, and are hurt if I

speak ill of anybody. I only want to think you perfect, and you set yourself against it. Do not be

afraid of my running into any excess, of my encroaching on your privilege of universal good-will.

You need not. There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The

more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of

the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the

appearance of merit or sense. I have met with two instances lately, one I will not mention; the

other is Charlotte's marriage. It is unaccountable! In every view it is unaccountable!"

"My dear Lizzy, do not give way to such feelings as these. They will ruin your happiness. You do

not make allowance enough for difference of situation and temper. Consider Mr. Collins's

respectability, and Charlotte's steady, prudent character. Remember that she is one of a large

family; that as to fortune, it is a most eligible match; and be ready to believe, for everybody's

sake, that she may feel something like regard and esteem for our cousin."

"To oblige you, I would try to believe almost anything, but no one else could be benefited by such

a belief as this; for were I persuaded that Charlotte had any regard for him, I should only think

worse of her understanding than I now do of her heart. My dear Jane, Mr. Collins is a conceited,pompous, narrow-minded, silly man; you know he is, as well as I do; and you must feel, as well as





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person. Pray, what is your age?" "With three younger sisters grown up," replied Elizabeth,

smiling, "your ladyship can hardly expect me to own it." Lady Catherine seemed quite astonished

at not receiving a direct answer; and Elizabeth suspected herself to be the first creature who had

ever dared to trifle with so much dignified impertinence. "You cannot be more than twenty, I am

sure, therefore you need not conceal your age." "I am not one-and-twenty." (pp. 114 – 115)

– The mentality of the rich concerning the education of women

– Lady Catherine's impression of Elizabeth

16. Ch. 34 a) “(...) to her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In an hurried

manner he immediately began an inquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing

that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and

then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a

silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: "In vain I

have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you

how ardently I admire and love you." Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She

stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the

avowal of all that he felt, and had long felt for her, immediately followed. He spoke well; but there

were feelings besides those of the heart to be detailed; and he was not more eloquent on the

subject of tenderness than of pride. His sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of

the family obstacles which had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth

which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend

his suit. In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to the compliment of

such a man's affection, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was at first

sorry for the pain he was to receive; till, roused to resentment by his subsequent language, she

lost all compassion in anger. She tried, however, to compose herself to answer him with patience,

when he should have done. He concluded with representing to her the strength of that

attachment which, in spite of all his endeavours, he had found impossible to conquer; and withexpressing his hope that it would now be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand. As he said

this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension

and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. Such a circumstance could only

exasperate farther, and, when he ceased, the colour rose into her cheeks, and she said: "In such

cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the

sentiments avowed, however unequally they may be returned. It is natural that obligation should

be felt, and if I could feel gratitude, I would now thank you. But I cannot —I have never desired

your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly. I am sorry to have

occasioned pain to anyone. It has been most unconsciously done, however, and I hope will be of

short duration. The feelings which, you tell me, have long prevented the acknowledgment of your

regard, can have little difficulty in overcoming it after this explanation." Mr. Darcy, who was

leaning against the mantelpiece with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with

no less resentment than surprise. His complexion became pale with anger, and the disturbance

of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and

would not open his lips till he believed himself to have attained it. The pause was to Elizabeth's

feelings dreadful. At length, with a voice of forced calmness, he said: "And this is all the reply

which I am to have the honour of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so

little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected. But it is of small importance." "I might as well

inquire," replied she, "why with so evident a desire of offending and insulting me, you chose to

tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?

Was not this some excuse for incivility, if I was uncivil?” (pp. 131 – 132)



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b) “But disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related. Theywere natural and just. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? —to

congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my

own?" Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to

speak with composure when she said: "You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode

of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I mighthave felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner." She saw him start at

this, but he said nothing, and she continued: "You could not have made the offer of your hand in

any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it." Again his astonishment was obvious;

and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on:

"From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with

you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and

your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of

disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not

known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be

prevailed on to marry." "You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your

feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having

taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness." (p.

134)

– Darcy's love declaration and why it seems insulting for Elizabeth

– What personal flaws of a Mr. Darcy added to this situation?

17. Ch. 36 “She grew absolutely ashamed of herself. Of neither Darcy nor Wickham could she

think without feeling she had been blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd. "How despicably I have

acted!" she cried; "I, who have prided myself on my discernment! I, who have valued myself on

my abilities! who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity

in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation!Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been

my folly. Pleased with the preference of one, and offended by the neglect of the other, on the very

beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason

away, where either were concerned. Till this moment I never knew myself." From herself to

Jane—from Jane to Bingley, her thoughts were in a line which soon brought to her recollection

that Mr. Darcy's explanation there had appeared very insufficient, and she read it again. Widely

different was the effect of a second perusal. How could she deny that credit to his assertions in

one instance, which she had been obliged to give in the other? He declared himself to be totally

unsuspicious of her sister's attachment; and she could not help remembering what Charlotte's

opinion had always been. Neither could she deny the justice of his description of Jane. She felt

that Jane's feelings, though fervent, were little displayed, and that there was a constant

complacency in her air and manner not often united with great sensibility. When she came to

that part of the letter in which her family were mentioned in terms of such mortifying, yet

merited reproach, her sense of shame was severe. The justice of the charge struck her too

forcibly for denial, and the circumstances to which he particularly alluded as having passed at

the Netherfield ball, and as confirming all his first disapprobation, could not have made a

stronger impression on his mind than on hers. The compliment to herself and her sister was not

unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus been self-

attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered that Jane's disappointment had in fact

been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be

hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever knownbefore.” (pp. 144 – 145)



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– Why does Darcy's letter cause a turning point in Elizabeth's affection about him?

18. Ch. 42 “Had Elizabeth's opinion been all drawn from her own family, she could not haveformed a very pleasing opinion of conjugal felicity or domestic comfort. Her father, captivated by

youth and beauty, and that appearance of good humour which youth and beauty generally give,

had married a woman whose weak understanding and illiberal mind had very early in theirmarriage put an end to all real affection for her. Respect, esteem, and confidence had vanished

for ever; and all his views of domestic happiness were overthrown. But Mr. Bennet was not of a

disposition to seek comfort for the disappointment which his own imprudence had brought on,

in any of those pleasures which too often console the unfortunate for their folly or their vice. He

was fond of the country and of books; and fromthese tastes had arisen his principal enjoyments.

To his wife he was very little otherwise indebted, than as her ignorance and folly had contributed

to his amusement. This is not the sort of happiness which a man would in general wish to owe to

his wife; but where other powers of entertainment are wanting, the true philosopher will derive

benefit from such as are given. Elizabeth, however, had never been blind to the impropriety of

her father's behaviour as a husband. She had always seen it with pain; but respecting his

abilities, and grateful for his affectionate treatment of herself, she endeavoured to forget what

she could not overlook, and to banish from her thoughts that continual breach of conjugal

obligation and decorum which, in exposing his wife to the contempt of her own children, was so

highly reprehensible. But she had never felt so strongly as now the disadvantages which must

attend the children of so unsuitable a marriage, nor ever been so fully aware of the evils arising

from so ill-judged a direction of talents; talents, which, rightly used, might at least have

preserved the respectability of his daughters, even if incapable of enlarging the mind of his wife.”(p. 163)

– the Bennets – the idea of domestic happiness

19. a) Ch. 43 “The introduction, however, was immediately made; and as she named theirrelationship to herself, she stole a sly look at him, to see how he bore it, and was not without the

expectation of his decamping as fast as he could from such disgraceful companions. That he was

surprised by the connection was evident; he sustained it, however, with fortitude, and so far

from going away, turned back with them, and entered into conversation with Mr. Gardiner.

Elizabeth could not but be pleased, could not but triumph. It was consoling that he should know

she had some relations for whom there was no need to blush. She listened most attentively to all

that passed between them, and gloried in every expression, every sentence of her uncle, which

marked his intelligence, his taste, or his good manners. The conversation soon turned upon

fishing; and she heard Mr. Darcy invite him, with the greatest civility, to fish there as often as he

chose while he continued in the neighbourhood, offering at the same time to supply him with

fishing tackle, and pointing out those parts of the stream where there was usually most sport.

Mrs. Gardiner, who was walking arm-in-arm with Elizabeth, gave her a look expressive of

wonder. Elizabeth said nothing, but it gratified her exceedingly; the compliment must be all for

herself. Her astonishment, however, was extreme, and continually was she repeating, "Why is he

so altered? From what can it proceed? It cannot be for me —it cannot be for my sake that his

manners are thus softened. My reproofs at Hunsford could not work such a change as this. It is

impossible that he should still love me." (p. 174)

b) Ch. 44. “It was not often that she could turn her eyes on Mr. Darcy himself; but, whenever shedid catch a glimpse, she saw an expression of general complaisance, and in all that he said she

heard an accent so removed from hauteur or disdain of his companions, as convinced her thatthe improvement of manners which she had yesterday witnessed however temporary its



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existence might prove, had at least outlived one day. When she saw him thus seeking the

acquaintance and courting the good opinion of people with whom any intercourse a few months

ago would have been a disgrace—when she saw him thus civil, not only to herself, but to the very

relations whom he had openly disdained, and recollected their last lively scene in Hunsford

Parsonage—the difference, the change was so great, and struck so forcibly on her mind, that she

could hardly restrain her astonishment from being visible. Never, even in the company of hisdear friends at Netherfield, or his dignified relations at Rosings, had she seen him so desirous to

please, so free from self-consequence or unbending reserve, as now, when no importance could

result from the success of his endeavours, and when even the acquaintance of those to whom his

attentions were addressed would draw down the ridicule and censure of the ladies both of

Netherfield and Rosings.” (pp. 179 - 180)

– What does Elizabeth perceive regarding Darcy's behaviour?

– In turn, what effect does his change produce in her feelings?

20. Ch. 44 “As for Elizabeth, her thoughts were at Pemberley this evening more than the last; and

the evening, though as it passed it seemed long, was not long enough to determine her feelings

towards one in that mansion; and she lay awake two whole hours endeavouring to make them

out. She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long

been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that could be so called. The respect created

by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time

ceased to be repugnant to her feeling; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier

nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so

amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there

was a motive within her of goodwill which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude; gratitude,

not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the

petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations

accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatestenemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and

without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves

only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her

known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride exciting not only astonishment but

gratitude—for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was

of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not be exactly defined. She

respected, she esteemed, she was grateful to him, she felt a real interest in his welfare; and she

only wanted to know how far she wished that welfare to depend upon herself, and how far it

would be for the happiness of both that she should employ the power, which her fancy told her

she still possessed, of bringing on her the renewal of his addresses.” (p. 181)

- How does this process of becoming aware of Darcy's real feelings affect Elizabeth?

21. Ch. 50 “She was humbled, she was grieved; she repented, though she hardly knew of what.

She became jealous of his esteem, when she could no longer hope to be benefited by it. She

wanted to hear of him, when there seemed the least chance of gaining intelligence. She was

convinced that she could have been happy with him, when it was no longer likely they should

meet. What a triumph for him, as she often thought, could he know that the proposals which she

had proudly spurned only four months ago, would now have been most gladly and gratefully

received! He was as generous, she doubted not, as the most generous of his sex; but while he was

mortal, there must be a triumph. She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man

who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, thoughunlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the



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advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners

improved; and from his judgement, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have

received benefit of greater importance.” (pp. 213 – 214)

– What does she realize in connection to their relationship and character?

22. Ch. 56 “Lady Catherine began in the following manner:— "You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet,to understand the reason of my journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell

you why I come." Elizabeth looked with unaffected astonishment. "Indeed, you are mistaken,

Madam. I have not been at all able to account for the honour of seeing you here." "Miss Bennet,"

replied her ladyship, in an angry tone, "you ought to know, that I am not to be trifled with. But

however insincere you may choose to be, you shall not find me so. My character has ever been

celebrated for its sincerity and frankness, and in a cause of such moment as this, I shall certainly

not depart from it. A report of a most alarming nature reached me two days ago. I was told that

not only your sister was on the point of being most advantageously married, but that you, that

Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would, in all likelihood, be soon afterwards united to my nephew, my own

nephew, Mr. Darcy. Though I know it must be a scandalous falsehood, though I would not injure

him so much as to suppose the truth of it possible, I instantly resolved on setting off for this

place, that I might make my sentiments known to you." "If you believed it impossible to be true,"

said Elizabeth, colouring with astonishment and disdain, "I wonder you took the trouble of

coming so far. What could your ladyship propose by it?" "At once to insist upon having such a

report universally contradicted." "Your coming to Longbourn, to see me and my family," said

Elizabeth coolly, "will be rather a confirmation of it; if, indeed, such a report is in existence." "If!

Do you then pretend to be ignorant of it? Has it not been industriously circulated by yourselves?

Do you not know that such a report is spread abroad?" "I never heard that it was." "And can you

likewise declare, that there is no foundation for it?" "I do not pretend to possess equal frankness

with your ladyship. You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer." "This is not to be

borne. Miss Bennet, I insist on being satisfied. Has he, has my nephew, made you an offer ofmarriage?" "Your ladyship has declared it to be impossible." "It ought to be so; it must be so,

while he retains the use of his reason. But your arts and allurements may, in a moment of

infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You may have

drawn him in." "If I have, I shall be the last person to confess it." "Miss Bennet, do you know who I

am? I have not been accustomed to such language as this. I am almost the nearest relation he has

in the world, and am entitled to know all his dearest concerns." "But you are not entitled to know

mine; nor will such behaviour as this, ever induce me to be explicit." "Let me be rightly

understood. This match, to which you have the presumption to aspire, can never take place. No,

never. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?" "Only this; that if he is

so, you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me." Lady Catherine hesitated for

a moment, and then replied: "The engagement between them is of a peculiar kind. From their

infancy, they have been intended for each other. It was the favourite wish of his mother, as well as

of hers. While in their cradles, we planned the union: and now, at the moment when the wishes

of both sisters would be accomplished in their marriage, to be prevented by a young woman of

inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Do you pay no

regard to the wishes of his friends? To his tacit engagement with Miss de Bourgh? Are you lost to

every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from his earliest hours

he was destined for his cousin?" "Yes, and I had heard it before. But what is that to me? If there is

no other objection to my marrying your nephew, I shall certainly not be kept from it by knowing

that his mother and aunt wished him to marry Miss de Bourgh. You both did as much as you

could in planning the marriage. Its completion depended on others. If Mr. Darcy is neither byhonour nor inclination confined to his cousin, why is not he to make another choice? And if I am



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that choice, why may not I accept him?" "Because honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest,

forbid it. Yes, Miss Bennet, interest; for do not expect to be noticed by his family or friends, if you

wilfully act against the inclinations of all. You will be censured, slighted, and despised, by

everyone connected with him. Your alliance will be a disgrace; your name will never even be

mentioned by any of us." "These are heavy misfortunes," replied Elizabeth. "But the wife of Mr.

Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation,that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine." "Obstinate, headstrong girl! I am

ashamed of you! Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you last spring? Is nothing due to me

on that score? Let us sit down. You are to understand, Miss Bennet, that I came here with the

determined resolution of carrying my purpose; nor will I be dissuaded from it. I have not been

used to submit to any person’s whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment."

"That will make your ladyship's situation at present more pitiable; but it will have no effect on

me." "I will not be interrupted. Hear me in silence. My daughter and my nephew are formed for

each other. They are descended, on the maternal side, from the same noble line; and, on the

father's, from respectable, honourable, and ancient —though untitled—families. Their fortune on

both sides is splendid. They are destined for each other by the voice of every member of their

respective houses; and what is to divide them? The upstart pretensions of a young woman

without family, connections, or fortune. Is this to be endured! But it must not, shall not be. If you

were sensible of your own good, you would not wish to quit the sphere in which you have been

brought up." "In marrying your nephew, I should not consider myself as quitting that sphere. He

is a gentleman; I am a gentleman's daughter; so far we are equal." (…) I am not to be intimidated

into anything so wholly unreasonable. Your ladyship wants Mr. Darcy to marry your daughter;

but would my giving you the wished-for promise make their marriage at all more probable?

Supposing him to be attached to me, would my refusing to accept his hand make him wish to

bestow it on his cousin? Allow me to say, Lady Catherine, that the arguments with which you

have supported this extraordinary application have been as frivolous as the application was

illjudged. You have widely mistaken my character, if you think I can be worked on by suchpersuasions as these. How far your nephew might approve of your interference in his affairs, I

cannot tell; but you have certainly no right to concern yourself in mine. I must beg, therefore, to

be importuned no farther on the subject." (pp. 243 - 246)

– This fragment offers example of Elizabeth's wit – what is it based on?

– Lady Catherine takes pride in her sincerity and frankness. What does the situation reveal

about this matter? Does Elizabeth respond differently?

– What ideas does Lady Catherine associate with one’s name and reputation in relation tolineage?

– What about lineage and marriage-making? Is affection mentioned in this context or are

there other concepts at the basis of the union in her view?

– While being aware of Dracy’s affection for Elizabeth, Lady Catherine insinuates that he

has been trapped. Comment upon this statement: “But your arts and allurements may, in a

moment of infatuation, have made him forget what he owes to himself and to all his family. You

may have drawn him in.”

– What does Elizabeth suggest about the difference between prearranged marriages and

individual choice?

– What does Elizabeth refer to when saying that “the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such

extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon

the whole, have no cause to repine”?

23.

Ch. 58 “Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in thematter; and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and



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143

again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so

much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them." "If you will

thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might

add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family

owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you." Elizabeth was too much

embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, "You are too generous totrifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections

and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever."

Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now

forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that

her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to

make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this

reply produced, was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the

occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had

Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of

heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, though she could not look, she could

listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his

affection every moment more valuable. (…) "It taught me to hope," said he, "as I had scarcely everallowed myself to hope before. I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you

been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady

Catherine, frankly and openly." Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, "Yes, you know

enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your

face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations." "What did you say of me, that I

did not deserve? For, though your accusations were illfounded, formed on mistaken premises, my

behaviour to you at the time had merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable. I cannot

think of it without abhorrence." "We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to

that evening," said Elizabeth. "The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable;but since then, we have both, I hope, improved in civility." "I cannot be so easily reconciled to

myself. The recollection of what I then said, of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during

the whole of it, is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me. Your reproof, so

well applied, I shall never forget: 'had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.' Those were

your words. You know not, you can scarcely conceive, how they have tortured me;—though it

was some time, I confess, before I was reasonable enough to allow their justice." "I was certainly

very far from expecting them to make so strong an impression. I had not the smallest idea of

their being ever felt in such a way." "I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every

proper feeling, I am sure you did. The turn of your countenance I shall never forget, as you said

that I could not have addressed you in any possible way that would induce you to accept me."

"Oh! do not repeat what I then said. These recollections will not do at all. I assure you that I have

long been most heartily ashamed of it." (pp. 252-3)

– the moment of confession and conciliation

24. Ch. 58 “You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrancegives you pleasure." "I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your retrospections

must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment arising from them is not of philosophy,

but, what is much better, of innocence. But with me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude

which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice,

though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my

temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately anonly son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves



144

(my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost

taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think

meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth

compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have

been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson,

hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to youwithout a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to

please a woman worthy of being pleased." (p. 254)

– What negative elements of his faulty education during his young age does he mention?

– In turn, what does this suggest about the principles inculcated to young men belonging to

the aristocracy and their subsequent behavioural effects?

– What is the “lesson” taught by Elizabeth?

25. Ch. 60 “Elizabeth’s spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to

account for his having ever fallen in love with her. "How could you begin?" said she. "I can

comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set

you off in the first place?" "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which

laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." "My

beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners—my behaviour to you was at least

always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain

than not. Now be sincere; did you admire me for my impertinence?" "For the liveliness of your

mind, I did." "You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. The fact is, that

you were sick of civility, of deference, of officious attention. You were disgusted with the women

who were always speaking, and looking, and thinking for your approbation alone. I roused, and

interested you, because I was so unlike them. Had you not been really amiable, you would have

hated me for it; but in spite of the pains you took to disguise yourself, your feelings were always

noble and just; and in your heart, you thoroughly despised the persons who so assiduouslycourted you. There—I have saved you the trouble of accounting for it; and really, all things

considered, I begin to think it perfectly reasonable. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me —but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love." "Was there no good in your affectionate

behaviour to Jane while she was ill at Netherfield?" "Dearest Jane! who could have done less for

her? But make a virtue of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you

are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for

teasing and quarrelling with you as often as may be; and I shall begin directly by asking you what

made you so unwilling to come to the point at last. What made you so shy of me, when you first

called, and afterwards dined here? Why, especially, when you called, did you look as if you did

not care about me?" "Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement." "But I

was embarrassed." "And so was I." "You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner."

"A man who had felt less, might." "How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to

give, and that I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you would have

gone on, if you had been left to yourself. I wonder when you would have spoken, if I had not

asked you! My resolution of thanking you for your kindness to Lydia had certainly great effect.

Too much, I am afraid; for what becomes of the moral, if our comfort springs from a breach of

promise? for I ought not to have mentioned the subject. This will never do." "You need not

distress yourself. The moral will be perfectly fair. Lady Catherine's unjustifiable endeavours to

separate us were the means of removing all my doubts. I am not indebted for my present

happiness to your eager desire of expressing your gratitude. I was not in a humour to wait for

any opening of yours. My aunt's intelligence had given me hope, and I was determined at once toknow every thing." "Lady Catherine has been of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, for



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145

she loves to be of use. But tell me, what did you come down to Netherfield for? Was it merely to

ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? or had you intended any more serious consequence?"

"My real purpose was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you

love me. My avowed one, or what I avowed to myself, was to see whether your sister were still

partial to Bingley, and if she were, to make the confession to him which I have since made." "Shall

you ever have courage to announce to Lady Catherine what is to befall her?" "I am more likely towant more time than courage, Elizabeth. But it ought to be done, and if you will give me a sheet

of paper, it shall be done directly.” (pp. 262 – 263)

– In this short history of their relation it becomes clear that both characters have gradually

managed to transcend their prejudiced conceptions. Discuss the case of each in turn.

– What are the meanings and principles associated with what constitutes a rational

approach to marital happiness?



146

English Romantic poetry – selection

Texts:

1.

The Tyger by William Blake2.

Tintern Abbey by W. Wordsworth

3. Kubla Khan by S. Coleridge

4. To Night by P. B. Shelley

5.

Ode on a Grecian Urn by J. Keats

6. She Walks in Beauty by G. G. Byron

Tasks:

Poetry – for each poem analyse the following aspects: 1. Themes and poetic ideas; elements specific to Romanticism.

2. Structure.

3. Stylistic devices supporting the major themes – images, symbols, metaphors, epithets,

repetition, contrast, hyperbole, personification, etc.

1. THE TYGER (from Songs Of Experience) 1794

By William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?Did he who made the Lamb make thee?



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147

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

2. Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye

during a Tour . July 13, 1798

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTHFive years have past; five summers, with the length

Of five long winters! and again I hear

These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs

With a soft inland murmur.—Once again

Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,

That on a wild secluded scene impress

Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect

The landscape with the quiet of the sky.

The day is come when I again repose

Here, under this dark sycamore, and view

These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,

Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,

Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves

'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see

These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines

Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,

Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke

Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!With some uncertain notice, as might seem

Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,

Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire

The Hermit sits alone.

These beauteous forms,

Through a long absence, have not been to me

As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:

But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din

Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,

Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;

And passing even into my purer mind

With tranquil restoration:—feelings too

Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,

As have no slight or trivial influence

On that best portion of a good man's life,

His little, nameless, unremembered, acts

Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,

To them I may have owed another gift,

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,In which the burthen of the mystery,

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/william-wordsworth

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/william-wordsworth



148

In which the heavy and the weary weight

Of all this unintelligible world,

Is lightened:—that serene and blessed mood,

In which the affections gently lead us on,—

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame

And even the motion of our human bloodAlmost suspended, we are laid asleep

In body, and become a living soul:

While with an eye made quiet by the power

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,

We see into the life of things.

If this

Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft —

In darkness and amid the many shapes

Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir

Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,

Have hung upon the beatings of my heart —

How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,

O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,

How often has my spirit turned to thee!

And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,

With many recognitions dim and faint,

And somewhat of a sad perplexity,

The picture of the mind revives again:

While here I stand, not only with the senseOf present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts

That in this moment there is life and food

For future years. And so I dare to hope,

Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first

I came among these hills; when like a roe

I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides

Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams,

Wherever nature led: more like a man

Flying from something that he dreads, than one

Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then

(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days

And their glad animal movements all gone by)

To me was all in all.—I cannot paint

What then I was. The sounding cataract

Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,

The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,

Their colours and their forms, were then to me

An appetite; a feeling and a love,

That had no need of a remoter charm,

By thought supplied, not any interest

Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past,And all its aching joys are now no more,



Culea Mihaela

149

And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this

Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts

Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,

Abundant recompense. For I have learned

To look on nature, not as in the hour

Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimesThe still sad music of humanity,

Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power

To chasten and subdue.—And I have felt

A presence that disturbs me with the joy

Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime

Of something far more deeply interfused,

Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,

And the round ocean and the living air,

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:

A motion and a spirit, that impels

All thinking things, all objects of all thought,

And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still

A lover of the meadows and the woods

And mountains; and of all that we behold

From this green earth; of all the mighty world

Of eye, and ear,—both what they half create,

And what perceive; well pleased to recognise

In nature and the language of the sense

The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,

The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul

Of all my moral being.

Nor perchance,

If I were not thus taught, should I the more

Suffer my genial spirits to decay:

For thou art with me here upon the banks

Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend,

My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch

The language of my former heart, and read

My former pleasures in the shooting lights

Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while

May I behold in thee what I was once,

My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make,

Knowing that Nature never did betray

The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,

Through all the years of this our life, to lead

From joy to joy: for she can so inform

The mind that is within us, so impress

With quietness and beauty, and so feed

With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,

Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,

Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor allThe dreary intercourse of daily life,







152

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

5. Ode on a Grecian Urn - BY JOHN KEATS

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,

Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape

Of deities or mortals, or of both,

In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,

Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;

Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;

She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

And, happy melodist, unwearied,

For ever piping songs for ever new;

More happy love! more happy, happy love!

For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,

For ever panting, and for ever young;All breathing human passion far above,

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/john-keats

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/john-keats



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That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,

A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

What little town by river or sea shore,

Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,

Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

And, little town, thy streets for evermore

Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede

Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

With forest branches and the trodden weed;

Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

When old age shall this generation waste,

Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know."



154

Planificarea seminarelor de literatură engleză, anul I, semestrul II

Iluminismul, romanul sec. 18 si Romantismul englez

I. The eighteenth-century English novel

S1. Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift;

Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

S2. Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded by Samuel Richardson;

S3: The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding

S4. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne;

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

II. The Romantic poets – characteristics of the Romantic period; analysis of someRomantic poems

S5. The Tyger by William Blake

Tintern Abbey by W. Wordsworth

S5. Kubla Khan/ The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by S. Coleridge

S6. To Night by P. B. Shelley

Ode on a Grecian Urn by J. Keats

She Walks in Beauty by G. G. Byron.

Topics for seminars:

I. Robinson Crusoe by D. Defoe

1. Sources and themes.

2. Title (discussion of the full title) and structure.

3. The individual’s struggle for survival – aspects, stages; man vs. nature, man vs. God.

4. Civilization vs. primitivism and colonial issues in the novel – servant vs. master.

5. Narrative techniques.

II. Gulliver’s Travels by J. Swift 1. Title (discussion of the full title) and structure.

2. Themes.

3. Allegorical elements in Part I – the use of irony and satire; the reality behind the allegorical

representation.

4. Allegorical elements in Part II - the use of irony and satire; the reality behind the allegorical

representation.

5. Allegorical elements in Part III - the use of irony and satire; the reality behind the allegorical

representation.

6. Allegorical elements in Part IV - the use of irony and satire; the reality behind the allegorical

representation.

7. Narrative technique – the travel journal.

III. The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by H. Fielding 1. Themes.



Culea Mihaela

2. The structure of the novel & Fielding, a theoretician of the novel – discuss the Introductory

chapters to the XVIII Books.

3. The conflict between low, middle and upper social classes.

4. The antihero – Tom Jones; his relationship with Sophia Western.

5. Narrative techniques – the picaresque form, the story within a story, mock-heroism and the

mock-heroic battles, comic elements, the use of irony.IV. Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded by S. Richardson

1. Themes.

2. Relationships between characters from the perspective of social status – low vs. middle vs.

upper classes.

4. Morality, virtue and social class.

5. The sentimental novel – general characteristics; sentimentalism in the novel.

6. Narrative techniques – the epistolary novel.

V. The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman by Laurence Sterne

1. Themes.

2. Characters and their hobby horses.

3. Narrative techniques – the anti-novel, the association of ideas, the story within a story,

plotlessness, the dislocation of time and action.

4. Sterne, the creator of the sentimental comedy and the reader’s roles in the narrative.

VI. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

1. Themes.

2. Characters and relationships.

3. Marriage and social conventions.

4. The use of irony.

Documents

Caiet Seminar Lit.engl. 1.2_20.02 2016 for Students