The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling Henry Fielding - 18

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 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
fiery eyes, 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 I must 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 the meantime 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 in the 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 to regain his breath.

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 a _duet_.

The victory, according to modern custom, was like to be decided by
numbers, when, on a sudden, 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 with
more 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.



Chapter xii.

In which is seen a more moving spectacle than all the blood in the
bodies of Thwackum and Blifil, and of twenty other such, is capable of
producing.


The rest of Mr Western's company were now come up, being just at the
instant when the action was over. These were the honest clergyman,
whom we have formerly seen at Mr Western's table; Mrs Western, the
aunt of Sophia; and lastly, the lovely Sophia herself.

At this time, the following was the aspect of the bloody field. In one
place lay on the ground, all pale, and almost breathless, the
vanquished Blifil. Near him stood the conqueror Jones, almost covered
with blood, part of which was naturally his own, and part had been
lately the property of the Reverend Mr Thwackum. In a third place
stood the said Thwackum, like King Porus, sullenly submitting to the
conqueror. The last figure in the piece was Western the Great, most
gloriously forbearing the vanquished foe.

Blifil, in whom there was little sign of life, was at first the
principal object of the concern of every one, and particularly of Mrs
Western, who had drawn from her pocket a bottle of hartshorn, and was
herself about to apply it to his nostrils, when on a sudden the
attention of the whole company was diverted from poor Blifil, whose
spirit, if it had any such design, might have now taken an opportunity
of stealing off to the other world, without any ceremony.

For now a more melancholy and a more lovely object lay motionless
before them. This was no other than the charming Sophia herself, who,
from the sight of blood, or from fear for her father, or from some
other reason, had fallen down in a swoon, before any one could get to
her assistance.

Mrs Western first saw her and screamed. Immediately two or three
voices cried out, "Miss Western is dead." Hartshorn, water, every
remedy was called for, almost at one and the same instant.

The reader may remember, that in our description of this grove we
mentioned a murmuring brook, which brook did not come there, as such
gentle streams flow through vulgar romances, with no other purpose
than to murmur. No! Fortune had decreed to ennoble this little brook
with a higher honour than any of those which wash the plains of
Arcadia ever deserved.

Jones was rubbing Blifil's temples, for he began to fear he had given
him a blow too much, when the words, Miss Western and Dead, rushed at
once on his ear. He started up, left Blifil to his fate, and flew to
Sophia, whom, while all the rest were running against each other,
backward and forward, looking for water in the dry paths, he caught up
in his arms, and then ran away with her over the field to the rivulet
above mentioned; where, plunging himself into the water, he contrived
to besprinkle her face, head, and neck very plentifully.

Happy was it for Sophia that the same confusion which prevented her
other friends from serving her, prevented them likewise from
obstructing Jones. He had carried her half ways before they knew what
he was doing, and he had actually restored her to life before they
reached the waterside. She stretched out her arms, opened her eyes,
and cried, "Oh! heavens!" just as her father, aunt, and the parson
came up.

Jones, who had hitherto held this lovely burthen in his arms, now
relinquished his hold; but gave her at the same instant a tender
caress, which, had her senses been then perfectly restored, could not
have escaped her observation. As she expressed, therefore, no
displeasure at this freedom, we suppose she was not sufficiently
recovered from her swoon at the time.

This tragical scene was now converted into a sudden scene of joy. In
this our heroe was certainly the principal character; for as he
probably felt more ecstatic delight in having saved Sophia than she
herself received from being saved, so neither were the congratulations
paid to her equal to what were conferred on Jones, especially by Mr
Western himself, who, after having once or twice embraced his
daughter, fell to hugging and kissing Jones. He called him the
preserver of Sophia, and declared there was nothing, except her, or
his estate, which he would not give him; but upon recollection, he
afterwards excepted his fox-hounds, the Chevalier, and Miss Slouch
(for so he called his favourite mare).

All fears for Sophia being now removed, Jones became the object of the
squire's consideration.--"Come, my lad," says Western, "d'off thy
quoat and wash thy feace; for att in a devilish pickle, I promise
thee. Come, come, wash thyself, and shat go huome with me; and we'l
zee to vind thee another quoat."

Jones immediately complied, threw off his coat, went down to the
water, and washed both his face and bosom; for the latter was as much
exposed and as bloody as the former. But though the water could clear
off the blood, it could not remove the black and blue marks which
Thwackum had imprinted on both his face and breast, and which, being
discerned by Sophia, drew from her a sigh and a look full of
inexpressible tenderness.

Jones received this full in his eyes, and it had infinitely a stronger
effect on him than all the contusions which he had received before. An
effect, however, widely different; for so soft and balmy was it, that,
had all his former blows been stabs, it would for some minutes have
prevented his feeling their smart.

The company now moved backwards, and soon arrived where Thwackum had
got Mr Blifil again on his legs. Here we cannot suppress a pious wish,
that all quarrels were to be decided by those weapons only with which
Nature, knowing what is proper for us, hath supplied us; and that cold
iron was to be used in digging no bowels but those of the earth. Then
would war, the pastime of monarchs, be almost inoffensive, and battles
between great armies might be fought at the particular desire of
several ladies of quality; who, together with the kings themselves,
might be actual spectators of the conflict. Then might the field be
this moment well strewed with human carcasses, and the next, the dead
men, or infinitely the greatest part of them, might get up, like Mr
Bayes's troops, and march off either at the sound of a drum or fiddle,
as should be previously agreed on.

I would avoid, if possible, treating this matter ludicrously, lest
grave men and politicians, whom I know to be offended at a jest, may
cry pish at it; but, in reality, might not a battle be as well decided
by the greater number of broken heads, bloody noses, and black eyes,
as by the greater heaps of mangled and murdered human bodies? Might
not towns be contended for in the same manner? Indeed, this may be
thought too detrimental a scheme to the French interest, since they
would thus lose the advantage they have over other nations in the
superiority of their engineers; but when I consider the gallantry and
generosity of that people, I am persuaded they would never decline
putting themselves upon a par with their adversary; or, as the phrase
is, making themselves his match.

But such reformations are rather to be wished than hoped for: I shall
content myself, therefore, with this short hint, and return to my
narrative.

Western began now to inquire into the original rise of this quarrel.
To which neither Blifil nor Jones gave any answer; but Thwackum said
surlily, "I believe the cause is not far off; if you beat the bushes
well you may find her."--"Find her?" replied Western: "what! have you
been fighting for a wench?"--"Ask the gentleman in his waistcoat
there," said Thwackum: "he best knows." "Nay then," cries Western, "it
is a wench certainly.--Ah, Tom, Tom, thou art a liquorish dog. But
come, gentlemen, be all friends, and go home with me, and make final
peace over a bottle." "I ask your pardon, sir," says Thwackum: "it is
no such slight matter for a man of my character to be thus injuriously
treated, and buffeted by a boy, only because I would have done my
duty, in endeavouring to detect and bring to justice a wanton harlot;
but, indeed, the principal fault lies in Mr Allworthy and yourself;
for if you put the laws in execution, as you ought to do, you will
soon rid the country of these vermin."

"I would as soon rid the country of foxes," cries Western. "I think we
ought to encourage the recruiting those numbers which we are every day
losing in the war.--But where is she? Prithee, Tom, show me." He then
began to beat about, in the same language and in the same manner as if
he had been beating for a hare; and at last cried out, "Soho! Puss is
not far off. Here's her form, upon my soul; I believe I may cry stole
away." And indeed so he might; for he had now discovered the place
whence the poor girl had, at the beginning of the fray, stolen away,
upon as many feet as a hare generally uses in travelling.

Sophia now desired her father to return home; saying she found herself
very faint, and apprehended a relapse. The squire immediately complied
with his daughter's request (for he was the fondest of parents). He
earnestly endeavoured to prevail with the whole company to go and sup
with him: but Blifil and Thwackum absolutely refused; the former
saying, there were more reasons than he could then mention, why he
must decline this honour; and the latter declaring (perhaps rightly)
that it was not proper for a person of his function to be seen at any
place in his present condition.

Jones was incapable of refusing the pleasure of being with his Sophia;
so on he marched with Squire Western and his ladies, the parson
bringing up the rear. This had, indeed, offered to tarry with his
brother Thwackum, professing his regard for the cloth would not permit
him to depart; but Thwackum would not accept the favour, and, with no
great civility, pushed him after Mr Western.

Thus ended this bloody fray; and thus shall end the fifth book of this
history.




BOOK VI.

CONTAINING ABOUT THREE WEEKS.



Chapter i.

Of love.


In our last book we have been obliged to deal pretty much with the
passion of love; and in our succeeding book shall be forced to handle
this subject still more largely. It may not therefore in this place be
improper to apply ourselves to the examination of that modern
doctrine, by which certain philosophers, among many other wonderful
discoveries, pretend to have found out, that there is no such passion
in the human breast.

Whether these philosophers be the same with that surprising sect, who
are honourably mentioned by the late Dr Swift, as having, by the mere
force of genius alone, without the least assistance of any kind of
learning, or even reading, discovered that profound and invaluable
secret that there is no God; or whether they are not rather the same
with those who some years since very much alarmed the world, by
showing that there were no such things as virtue or goodness really
existing in human nature, and who deduced our best actions from pride,
I will not here presume to determine. In reality, I am inclined to
suspect, that all these several finders of truth, are the very
identical men who are by others called the finders of gold. The method
used in both these searches after truth and after gold, being indeed
one and the same, viz., the searching, rummaging, and examining into a
nasty place; indeed, in the former instances, into the nastiest of all
places, A BAD MIND.

But though in this particular, and perhaps in their success, the
truth-finder and the gold-finder may very properly be compared
together; yet in modesty, surely, there can be no comparison between
the two; for who ever heard of a gold-finder that had the impudence or
folly to assert, from the ill success of his search, that there was no
such thing as gold in the world? whereas the truth-finder, having
raked out that jakes, his own mind, and being there capable of tracing
no ray of divinity, nor anything virtuous or good, or lovely, or
loving, very fairly, honestly, and logically concludes that no such
things exist in the whole creation.

To avoid, however, all contention, if possible, with these
philosophers, if they will be called so; and to show our own
disposition to accommodate matters peaceably between us, we shall here
make them some concessions, which may possibly put an end to the
dispute.

First, we will grant that many minds, and perhaps those of the
philosophers, are entirely free from the least traces of such a
passion.

Secondly, that what is commonly called love, namely, the desire of
satisfying a voracious appetite with a certain quantity of delicate
white human flesh, is by no means that passion for which I here
contend. This is indeed more properly hunger; and as no glutton is
ashamed to apply the word love to his appetite, and to say he LOVES
such and such dishes; so may the lover of this kind, with equal
propriety, say, he HUNGERS after such and such women.

Thirdly, I will grant, which I believe will be a most acceptable
concession, that this love for which I am an advocate, though it
satisfies itself in a much more delicate manner, doth nevertheless
seek its own satisfaction as much as the grossest of all our
appetites.

And, lastly, that this love, when it operates towards one of a
different sex, is very apt, towards its complete gratification, to
call in the aid of that hunger which I have mentioned above; and which
it is so far from abating, that it heightens all its delights to a
degree scarce imaginable by those who have never been susceptible of
any other emotions than what have proceeded from appetite alone.

In return to all these concessions, I desire of the philosophers to
grant, that there is in some (I believe in many) human breasts a kind
and benevolent disposition, which is gratified by contributing to the
happiness of others. That in this gratification alone, as in
friendship, in parental and filial affection, as indeed in general
philanthropy, there is a great and exquisite delight. That if we will
not call such disposition love, we have no name for it. That though
the pleasures arising from such pure love may be heightened and
sweetened by the assistance of amorous desires, yet the former can
subsist alone, nor are they destroyed by the intervention of the
latter. Lastly, that esteem and gratitude are the proper motives to
love, as youth and beauty are to desire, and, therefore, though such
desire may naturally cease, when age or sickness overtakes its object;
yet these can have no effect on love, nor ever shake or remove, from a
good mind, that sensation or passion which hath gratitude and esteem
for its basis.

To deny the existence of a passion of which we often see manifest
instances, seems to be very strange and absurd; and can indeed proceed
only from that self-admonition which we have mentioned above: but how
unfair is this! Doth the man who recognizes in his own heart no traces
of avarice or ambition, conclude, therefore, that there are no such
passions in human nature? Why will we not modestly observe the same
rule in judging of the good, as well as the evil of others? Or why, in
any case, will we, as Shakespear phrases it, "put the world in our own
person?"

Predominant vanity is, I am afraid, too much concerned here. This is
one instance of that adulation which we bestow on our own minds, and
this almost universally. For there is scarce any man, how much soever
he may despise the character of a flatterer, but will condescend in
the meanest manner to flatter himself.

To those therefore I apply for the truth of the above observations,
whose own minds can bear testimony to what I have advanced.

Examine your heart, my good reader, and resolve whether you do believe
these matters with me. If you do, you may now proceed to their
exemplification in the following pages: if you do not, you have, I
assure you, already read more than you have understood; and it would
be wiser to pursue your business, or your pleasures (such as they
are), than to throw away any more of your time in reading what you can
neither taste nor comprehend. To treat of the effects of love to you,
must be as absurd as to discourse on colours to a man born blind;
since possibly your idea of love may be as absurd as that which we are
told such blind man once entertained of the colour scarlet; that
colour seemed to him to be very much like the sound of a trumpet: and
love probably may, in your opinion, very greatly resemble a dish of
soup, or a surloin of roast-beef.



Chapter ii.

The character of Mrs Western. Her great learning and knowledge of the
world, and an instance of the deep penetration which she derived from
those advantages.


The reader hath seen Mr Western, his sister, and daughter, with young
Jones, and the parson, going together to Mr Western's house, where the
greater part of the company spent the evening with much joy and
festivity. Sophia was indeed the only grave person; for as to Jones,
though love had now gotten entire possession of his heart, yet the
pleasing reflection on Mr Allworthy's recovery, and the presence of
his mistress, joined to some tender looks which she now and then could
not refrain from giving him, so elevated our heroe, that he joined the
mirth of the other three, who were perhaps as good-humoured people as
any in the world.

Sophia retained the same gravity of countenance the next morning at
breakfast; whence she retired likewise earlier than usual, leaving her
father and aunt together. The squire took no notice of this change in
his daughter's disposition. To say the truth, though he was somewhat
of a politician, and had been twice a candidate in the country
interest at an election, he was a man of no great observation. His
sister was a lady of a different turn. She 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, which was near six foot high, added to her manner
and learning, possibly prevented the other sex from regarding her,
notwithstanding her petticoats, in the light of a woman. However, as
she had considered the matter scientifically, she perfectly well knew,
though she had never practised them, all the arts which fine ladies
use when they desire to give encouragement, or to conceal liking, with
all the long appendage of smiles, ogles, glances, &c., as they are at
present practised in the beau-monde. To sum the whole, no species of
disguise or affectation had escaped her notice; but as to the plain
simple workings of honest nature, as she had never seen any such, she
could know but little of them.

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 sufficiently
alarmed Sophia, but did not at all affect her brother.

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,"
cries Western; "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 Mrs Western, "turn this daughter, whom you love better than