Farmer’s Rest
Farmer’s Rest
The group was in the midst of a pleasant dinner at the Farmer’s Rest Inn. They had been served pheasant and potatoes with fresh vegetables from the local market and were enjoying a traditional dessert of cobbler and milk or wine.
Mr Wythe broke the silence. “So, Miss Bennet. You mentioned your father taught you about the ancients. Do you find discussion of such topics puts off certain classes of gentlemen?”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied cautiously.
He laughed. “I have been about the world for quite some time. There are many men who prefer their women less educated or less clever than themselves, because it allows them to feel superior.”
Elizabeth regarded him with suspicion. “You do not believe men to be superior?”
“I suppose I am either a modern man or a relic of another time, but I do not believe it to be so. Men are better at things they are taught to be better at, while women are better at the things they are taught. I believe if you reversed the course of education, you would see a different result, but I very much doubt that experiment will be attempted for some time, if ever.”
“So, you are not offended by impertinent women?”
Mr Wythe looked at his wife and smiled broadly. “Not in the least, my dear. May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Did Lady Matlock discuss my business with the estate?”
Elizabeth glanced at Mrs Wythe, who nodded approval. “She said she was ‘not supposed to know about such things,’ but that her wool income doubled under your stewardship.”
“She would say that.” He chuckled. “Did she mention that I follow her orders to the letter?”
“She did not seem compelled to disclose that to a complete stranger.”
“From that, what would you conclude about the earl?”
“He is either a lazy or sensible man; most likely the latter.”
“Why?”
“Because he has enough sense to stay out of her way.”
Everyone laughed, and Mr Wythe said, “That is funny, but very close to the truth.”
“I do not doubt it for a moment.”
“I believe you understand you can trust us not to disparage you if you know more than I?”
“I do not know more than you; that much is obvious. I may know a few things you do not, but never would I compete.”
“Of course not, dear,” Mrs Wythe said. “We do not believe you to be in any way deficient, nor do you have excess pride or humility; at least no more nor less than the rest of us. We just wanted to be explicit.”
Elizabeth smiled and thought she would be very sad when she parted company with the Wythes.
“Now that we are all on equal footing,” Mr Wythe said, “tell me about the ancients.”
“Truly?”
“We are interested.”
“It goes back to Plato and Aristotle, though many others held similar views that have been lost to time. He spoke of the Babylonians and Buddhists and said many others studied similar lines of thought, but written records did not survive.”
“Educated man, your father.”
“Yes sir. Plato believed the mind consisted of three parts. Logistikon is the intellect, the seat of reasoning and logic; Thumos dictates emotions and feelings; Epithumetikon governs desires and appetites. What we term thinking, reasoning, feelings, and actions are all different parts of the mind alternately competing for dominance or cooperating.”
“I am familiar with the concept, though his pupil Aristotle favoured the idea of only two.”
“He believed the latter two were essentially the same, thus breaking thinking into sense and sensibility, more or less. My father imagines learned men will still be arguing about it centuries hence, with each generation picking a number either greater or lesser than their immediate predecessors simply because they can.”
Laughter circled the table.
“It came up when Margie and I discussed fear. Standing on the cliff face feels terrifying, with Thumos in control; but rationally it is less dangerous than riding a horse, or even travelling in a carriage, according to Logistikon. In this case, logic can override emotion, but often it is the other way, with emotions deciding our actions and logic selectively examining the facts to formulate a justification.”
The entire idea lit a fire of conversation around the table, and Lizzy might have been in the midst of a debate in Plato’s Academy. A spirited discussion lasted through the desserts and into teatime.
With the topic nearly exhausted and the company exhilarated, the conversation wound down.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr Wythe said, “we have canvassed fear, greed, desire, and other emotions. What about the most misunderstood of all? What of Love?”
Elizabeth sat still, her companions allowing her time to think.
“Well, that one is definitely the most misunderstood, perhaps because it is the most powerful. What will a parent not do for love of a child, or a man or wife for a beloved spouse? Why do some experience a feeling so powerful it would be crippling to be denied its expression, while another never feels any more affection for any living person than a hound? I cannot pretend to compete with the poets for an explanation.”
“Of course you cannot,” Mrs Wythe said. “None of us can. We wonder, however, if you see any connection between rationality and love?”
Elizabeth thought about it for some time and finally replied.
“Some marry for practical reasons, but love develops on its own, while others do not, or worse yet, come to despise each other. Perhaps those who fall in love in practical marriages rationally decide to guide their emotions in the proper direction, allowing Logistikon to influence Thumos over time. Or perhaps, falling in love with a partner who is at least lovable may be the most rational reaction and will happen automatically to any sensible person. Perhaps Thumos is more resilient and less particular than we might have thought, and love is the inevitable result of exposure over extended periods to a person who is lovable.”
“Yes, that is but an extreme example,” Margaret said. “Can you think of others?”
Elizabeth raised a finger, but her voice failed mid-word; nothing came out for a moment.
“Are you well, my dear?” Mrs Wythe asked gently.
Elizabeth nodded, momentarily incapable of speech. “I am well. I just thought of something; though it is embarrassing to admit to.”
“You need not share anything too personal. We neither demand nor expect it, but occasionally a burden shared is a burden halved. Forgive me, but you have seemed to carry a burden since we met.”
Elizabeth laughed discordantly. “You mean you very astutely detected something amiss when you found me at the stage stop in Bromley, without luggage or money, and possessing a peculiar desire to avoid all my relatives and the parsonage I had just left?”
Mrs Wythe leaned forward to take Elizabeth’s hands. “That much was obvious, but we were not distressed.”
“Why not? I always wondered.”
Mr Wythe leaned forward. While he would not presume to take Elizabeth’s hand, he placed his own on his wife’s wrist as she held Elizabeth’s. Margaret was less timid and joined her hand to her mother’s and Lizzy’s.
Margaret said, “My father will not boast, but he is successful because he understands people, quickly and efficiently. He trusted you because you are trustworthy.”
“Here is a lesson in negotiation,” Mr Wythe replied.
“The first moments of any negotiation tell you more than the several hours that follow. It is your one true chance to size each other up without the prejudices built up from the earlier half-minute. This is important! First impressions can tell you much about what will happen, but they can just as easily lead you astray. Any businessman needs to learn which first impressions to keep, and which to amend. You did well upon your first impression, and subsequent observation revealed your character. Nothing in these weeks has changed that. I spent a lifetime studying the art, so I trust mine, but am willing to amend it as I learn more.”
“I always trusted my first impressions as well,” Elizabeth sighed, “but I have lately come to doubt them.”
“Perhaps it is time to let Logistikon work on Thumos. If your emotional mind is confused, let your logical mind attempt the task.”
“How is that done?”
“When I was apprenticed to my father, we would sit after any negotiation and discuss what happened in the minutest detail, trying to separate prejudices from facts, opinions from instincts. It takes time, but if you give your vaunted Logistikon the time and patience to work through the whole affair, start to finish, the results may surprise you.”
Elizabeth sat back, exhaling deeply as she considered.
At last, she said, “Would you be willing to stand for your father in that exercise?”
“Of course. I have been dying to find out what that lunkhead did to make you run off with only the clothes on your back, but we would never invade your privacy by asking.”
“You assume it is a problem with a man?” she sighed.
“It usually is,” Mrs Wythe replied helpfully.
Her husband added, “If I surveyed one hundred men about their most vexing problems in life, ninety would assert it is with a woman.”
Mrs Wythe added, “And the converse for ninety women.”
“Well, the problems are at least symmetrical.”
“They are. We are happy to listen if you wish to talk.”
“There is but one problem.”
“Which is?”
“When I met you in Bromley, I would have agreed with you one thousand percent that I had a ‘lunkhead problem’ as you call it.”
“And now?”
“I still do, but I am not certain which of us is the idiot.”
“Do not make yourself uneasy. If you wish to talk, we are happy to listen.”
Elizabeth sighed heavily and began her tale.
“As you surmised, the problem is with a gentleman. My first impression was not auspicious. The first words he said within my hearing were ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me—"
An hour later, the entire story lay exposed, from the ignominious beginning to the mortifying proposal.