AMELIA.

BOOK X.

CHAP. I.

To which we will prefix no Preface.

THE doctor found Amelia alone, for Booth was gone to walk with his new-revived acquaintance, captain Trent, who seemed so pleased with the renewal of his intercourse with his old brother officer, that he had been almost continually with him from the time of their meeting at the drum.

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Amelia acquainted the doctor with the purport of her message, as follows: 'I ask your pardon, my dear sir, for troubling you so often with my affairs; but I know your extreme readiness, as well as ability, to assist any one with your advice. The fact is, that my husband hath been presented by colonel James with two tickets for a masque'rade, which is to be in a day or two; and he insists so strongly on my going with him, that I 'really do not know how to refuse, without giving him some reason; and I am not able to invent any other than the true one, which you would not, I am sure, advise me to communicate to him. Indeed I had a most narrow escape the other day; for I was almost drawn in inadver

tently, by a very strange accident, to acquaint him with the whole matter.' She then related the serjeant's dream with all the consequences that attended it.

The doctor considered a little with himself, and then said, I am really, child, puzzled as well as 6 you about this matter. I would by no means have you go to the masquerade; I do not indeed

like the diversion itself, as I have heard it de'scribed to me; not that I am such a prude to

suspect every woman who goes there of any evil. 'intentions; but it is a pleasure of too loose and 'disorderly a kind for the recreation of a sober 'mind. Indeed, you have still a stronger and more particular objection. I will try myself to reason ' him out of it.'

Indeed, it is impossible,' answered she; and therefore I would not set you about it. I never 'saw him more set on any thing. There is a party, as they call it, made on the occasion; and he 'tells me my refusal will disappoint all.'

"I really do not know what to advise you,' cries the doctor; I have told you I do not approve ✦ of these diversions; but yet, as your husband is so very desirous, I cannot think there will be any ' harm in going with him. However, I will consider of it, and do all in my power for you.'

Here Mrs. Atkinson came in, and the discourse on this subject ceased; but soon after Amelia renewed it, saying, there was no occasion to keep any thing a secret from her friend. They then fell to debating on the subject; but could not come to any resolution. But Mrs. Atkinson, who was in an unusual flow of spirits, cried out,. Fear nothing, my dear Amelia, two women surely will be too 'hard for one man. I think, doctor, it exceeds Virgil:

Una dolo divúm si fæmina victa duorum est.

Very well repeated, indeed,' cries the doctor. Do you understand all Virgil as well as you seem to do that line ?'

"I hope I do, sir,' said she, and Horace too; or else my father threw away his time to very • little purpose in teaching me.

I ask your pardon, madam,' cries the doctor. I own it was an impertinent question.'

Not at all, sir,' says she; and if you are one of those who imagine women incapable of learning, I shall not be offended at it. I know the common opinion; but

• Interdum vulgus rectum videt, est ubi peccat.'

If I was to profess such an opinion, madam,' said the doctor, madam Dacier and yourself would bear testimony against me. The utmost indeed that I should venture, would be to question the utility of learning in a young lady's education.'

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I own,' said Mrs. Atkinson, as the world, is ⚫ constituted, it cannot be as serviceable to her fortune, as it will be to that of a man; but you will allow, doctor, that learning may afford a woman, at least, a reasonable and an innocent entertain• ment.'

But I will suppose,' cries the doctor, it may have its inconveniences. As for instance, if à learned lady should meet with an unlearned husband, might she not be apt to despise him?'

'I think not,' cries Mrs. Atkinson- and, if I may be allowed the instance, I think I have shewn myself, that women who have learning themselves, can be contented without that qualifi⚫cation in a man.'

To be sure,' cries the doctor, there may be other qualifications, which may have their weight in the balance. But let us take the other side of the question, and suppose the learned of both 'sexes to meet in the matrimonial union, may it

* not afford one excellent subject of disputation, which is the most learned ?'

'Not at all,' cries Mrs. Atkinson;

for, if they had both learning and good sense, they would ❝ soon see on which side the superiority lay.'

"But if the learned man,' said the doctor, should be a little unreasonable in his opinion, are you · sure that the learned woman would 6 duty to her husband, and submit ?'

preserve her

But why,' cries Mrs. Atkinson, must we ne'cessarily suppose that a learned man would be un'reasonable?"

Nay, madam,' said the doctor, 'I am not your husband; and you shall not hinder me from supposing what I please. Surely it is not such a paradox, to conceive that a man of learning should be unreasonable. Are there no unreasonable opinions in very learned authors, even among the critics themselves? For instance, what can be a 'more strange, and indeed unreasonable opinion, than to prefer the Metamorphoses of Ovid to the Eneid of Virgil ?'

It would be indeed so strange,' cries the lady. that you shall not persuade me it was ever the opi'nion of any man.'

"Perhaps not,' cries the doctor; and I believe you and I should not differ in our judgments of any person who maintained such an opinion• What a taste must he have?'

A most contemptible one indeed,' cries Mrs. Atkinson.

'I am satisfied,' cries the doctor. And in the 'words of your own Horace, Verbum non amplius 'addam.

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'But how provoking is this!' cries Mrs. Atkinson, to draw one in in such a manner. I protest I was so warm in the defence of my favourite Virgil, that I was not aware of your design; but all your triumph depends on a supposition that

one should be so unfortunate as to meet with the silliest fellow in the world.'

'Not in the least,' cries the doctor.

Doctor • Bentley was not such a person; and yet he would have quarrelled, I am convinced, with any wife in the world, in behalf of one of his corrections. 'I don't suppose he would have given up his Ingentia Fata to an angel.'

But do you think,' said she, if I had loved him, I would have contended with him?'

Perhaps you might sometimes,' said the doctor, be of these sentiments; but you remember your own Virgil-Varium et mutabile femper Fæmina.

Nay, Amelia,' said Mrs. Atkinson,' you are now concerned as well as I am; for he hath now abused the whole sex, and quoted the severest thing that ever was said against us, though I allow it is one of the finest.'

With all my heart, my dear,' cries Amelia. I have the advantage of you however, for I don't understand him.'

Nor doth she understand much better than yourself,' cries the doctor; or she would not ad'mire nonsense, even though in Virgil.'

Pardon me, sir,' said she.

And pardon me, madam,' cries the doctor, with a feigned seriousness; I say, a boy in the fourth ' form at Eton would be whipped, or would deserve to be whipped at least, who made the Neuter Gender agree with the Feminine. You have heard, however, that Virgil left his Æneid incorrect; and, perhaps, had he lived to correct it, we should not have seen the faults we now see in it.'

Why, it is very true as you say, doctor,' cries Mrs. Atkinson- There seems to be a false con'cord. I protest I never thought of it before.'

And yet this is the Virgil,' answered the doctor, that you are so fond of, who hath made you • all of the Neuter Gender; or, as we say in Eng