History of Tom Jones, a Foundling - 46

papishes. I know a great many papishes that are very honest sort of
people, and spend their money very freely; and it is always a maxim
with me, that one man's money is as good as another's."

"Very true, mistress," said the puppet-show man, "I don't care what
religion comes; provided the Presbyterians are not uppermost; for they
are enemies to puppet-shows."

"And so you would sacrifice your religion to your interest," cries the
exciseman; "and are desirous to see popery brought in, are you?"

"Not I, truly," answered the other; "I hate popery as much as any man;
but yet it is a comfort to one, that one should be able to live under
it, which I could not do among Presbyterians. To be sure, every man
values his livelihood first; that must be granted; and I warrant, if
you would confess the truth, you are more afraid of losing your place
than anything else; but never fear, friend, there will be an excise
under another government as well as under this."

"Why, certainly," replied the exciseman, "I should be a very ill man
if I did not honour the king, whose bread I eat. That is no more than
natural, as a man may say: for what signifies it to me that there
would be an excise-office under another government, since my friends
would be out, and I could expect no better than to follow them? No,
no, friend, I shall never be bubbled out of my religion in hopes only
of keeping my place under another government; for I should certainly
be no better, and very probably might be worse."

"Why, that is what I say," cries the landlord, "whenever folks say who
knows what may happen! Odsooks! should not I be a blockhead to lend my
money to I know not who, because mayhap he may return it again? I am
sure it is safe in my own bureau, and there I will keep it."

The attorney's clerk had taken a great fancy to the sagacity of
Partridge. Whether this proceeded from the great discernment which the
former had into men, as well as things, or whether it arose from the
sympathy between their minds; for they were both truly Jacobites in
principle; they now shook hands heartily, and drank bumpers of strong
beer to healths which we think proper to bury in oblivion.

These healths were afterwards pledged by all present, and even by my
landlord himself, though reluctantly; but he could not withstand the
menaces of the clerk, who swore he would never set his foot within his
house again, if he refused. The bumpers which were swallowed on this
occasion soon put an end to the conversation. Here, therefore, we will
put an end to the chapter.



Chapter viii.

In which fortune seems to have been in a better humour with Jones than
we have hitherto seen her.


As there is no wholesomer, so perhaps there are few stronger, sleeping
potions than fatigue. Of this Jones might be said to have taken a very
large dose, and it operated very forcibly upon him. He had already
slept nine hours, and might perhaps have slept longer, had he not been
awakened by a most violent noise at his chamber-door, where the sound
of many heavy blows was accompanied with many exclamations of murder.
Jones presently leapt from his bed, where he found the master of the
puppet-show belabouring the back and ribs of his poor Merry-Andrew,
without either mercy or moderation.

Jones instantly interposed on behalf of the suffering party, and
pinned the insulting conqueror up to the wall: for the puppet-show man
was no more able to contend with Jones than the poor party-coloured
jester had been to contend with this puppet-man.

But though the Merry-Andrew was a little fellow, and not very strong,
he had nevertheless some choler about him. He therefore no sooner
found himself delivered from the enemy, than he began to attack him
with the only weapon at which he was his equal. From this he first
discharged a volley of general abusive words, and thence proceeded to
some particular accusations--"D--n your bl--d, you rascal," says he,
"I have not only supported you (for to me you owe all the money you
get), but I have saved you from the gallows. Did you not want to rob
the lady of her fine riding-habit, no longer ago than yesterday, in
the back-lane here? Can you deny that you wished to have her alone in
a wood to strip her--to strip one of the prettiest ladies that ever
was seen in the world? and here you have fallen upon me, and have
almost murdered me, for doing no harm to a girl as willing as myself,
only because she likes me better than you."

Jones no sooner heard this than he quitted the master, laying on him
at the same time the most violent injunctions of forbearance from any
further insult on the Merry-Andrew; and then taking the poor wretch
with him into his own apartment, he soon learned tidings of his
Sophia, whom the fellow, as he was attending his master with his drum
the day before, had seen pass by. He easily prevailed with the lad to
show him the exact place, and then having summoned Partridge, he
departed with the utmost expedition.

It was almost eight of the clock before all matters could be got ready
for his departure: for Partridge was not in any haste, nor could the
reckoning be presently adjusted; and when both these were settled and
over, Jones would not quit the place before he had perfectly
reconciled all differences between the master and the man.

When this was happily accomplished, he set forwards, and was by the
trusty Merry-Andrew conducted to the spot by which Sophia had past;
and then having handsomely rewarded his conductor, he again pushed on
with the utmost eagerness, being highly delighted with the
extraordinary manner in which he received his intelligence. Of this
Partridge was no sooner acquainted, than he, with great earnestness,
began to prophesy, and assured Jones that he would certainly have good
success in the end: for, he said, "two such accidents could never have
happened to direct him after his mistress, if Providence had not
designed to bring them together at last." And this was the first time
that Jones lent any attention to the superstitious doctrines of his
companion.

They had not gone above two miles when a violent storm of rain
overtook them; and, as they happened to be at the same time in sight
of an ale-house, Partridge, with much earnest entreaty, prevailed with
Jones to enter, and weather the storm. Hunger is an enemy (if indeed
it may be called one) which partakes more of the English than of the
French disposition; for, though you subdue this never so often, it
will always rally again in time; and so it did with Partridge, who was
no sooner arrived within the kitchen, than he began to ask the same
questions which he had asked the night before. The consequence of this
was an excellent cold chine being produced upon the table, upon which
not only Partridge, but Jones himself, made a very hearty breakfast,
though the latter began to grow again uneasy, as the people of the
house could give him no fresh information concerning Sophia.

Their meal being over, Jones was again preparing to sally,
notwithstanding the violence of the storm still continued; but
Partridge begged heartily for another mug; and at last casting his
eyes on a lad at the fire, who had entered into the kitchen, and who
at that instant was looking as earnestly at him, he turned suddenly to
Jones, and cried, "Master, give me your hand, a single mug shan't
serve the turn this bout. Why, here's more news of Madam Sophia come
to town. The boy there standing by the fire is the very lad that rode
before her. I can swear to my own plaister on his face."--"Heavens
bless you, sir," cries the boy, "it is your own plaister sure enough;
I shall have always reason to remember your goodness; for it hath
almost cured me."

At these words Jones started from his chair, and, bidding the boy
follow him immediately, departed from the kitchen into a private
apartment; for, so delicate was he with regard to Sophia, that he
never willingly mentioned her name in the presence of many people;
and, though he had, as it were, from the overflowings of his heart,
given Sophia as a toast among the officers, where he thought it was
impossible she should be known; yet, even there, the reader may
remember how difficultly he was prevailed upon to mention her surname.

Hard therefore was it, and perhaps, in the opinion of many sagacious
readers, very absurd and monstrous, that he should principally owe his
present misfortune to the supposed want of that delicacy with which he
so abounded; for, in reality, Sophia was much more offended at the
freedoms which she thought (and not without good reason) he had taken
with her name and character, than at any freedoms, in which, under his
present circumstances, he had indulged himself with the person of
another woman; and to say truth, I believe Honour could never have
prevailed on her to leave Upton without her seeing Jones, had it not
been for those two strong instances of a levity in his behaviour, so
void of respect, and indeed so highly inconsistent with any degree of
love and tenderness in great and delicate minds.

But so matters fell out, and so I must relate them; and if any reader
is shocked at their appearing unnatural, I cannot help it. I must
remind such persons that I am not writing a system, but a history, and
I am not obliged to reconcile every matter to the received notions
concerning truth and nature. But if this was never so easy to do,
perhaps it might be more prudent in me to avoid it. For instance, as
the fact at present before us now stands, without any comment of mine
upon it, though it may at first sight offend some readers, yet, upon
more mature consideration, it must please all; for wise and good men
may consider what happened to Jones at Upton as a just punishment for
his wickedness with regard to women, of which it was indeed the
immediate consequence; and silly and bad persons may comfort
themselves in their vices by flattering their own hearts that the
characters of men are rather owing to accident than to virtue. Now,
perhaps the reflections which we should be here inclined to draw would
alike contradict both these conclusions, and would show that these
incidents contribute only to confirm the great, useful, and uncommon
doctrine, which it is the purpose of this whole work to inculcate, and
which we must not fill up our pages by frequently repeating, as an
ordinary parson fills his sermon by repeating his text at the end of
every paragraph.

We are contented that it must appear, however unhappily Sophia had
erred in her opinion of Jones, she had sufficient reason for her
opinion; since, I believe, every other young lady would, in her
situation, have erred in the same manner. Nay, had she followed her
lover at this very time, and had entered this very alehouse the moment
he was departed from it, she would have found the landlord as well
acquainted with her name and person as the wench at Upton had appeared
to be. For while Jones was examining his boy in whispers in an inner
room, Partridge, who had no such delicacy in his disposition, was in
the kitchen very openly catechising the other guide who had attended
Mrs Fitzpatrick; by which means the landlord, whose ears were open on
all such occasions, became perfectly well acquainted with the tumble
of Sophia from her horse, &c., with the mistake concerning Jenny
Cameron, with the many consequences of the punch, and, in short, with
almost everything which had happened at the inn whence we despatched
our ladies in a coach-and-six when we last took our leaves of them.



Chapter ix.

Containing little more than a few odd observations.


Jones had been absent a full half-hour, when he returned into the
kitchen in a hurry, desiring the landlord to let him know that instant
what was to pay. And now the concern which Partridge felt at being
obliged to quit the warm chimney-corner, and a cup of excellent
liquor, was somewhat compensated by hearing that he was to proceed no
farther on foot, for Jones, by golden arguments, had prevailed with
the boy to attend him back to the inn whither he had before conducted
Sophia; but to this however the lad consented, upon condition that the
other guide would wait for him at the alehouse; because, as the
landlord at Upton was an intimate acquaintance of the landlord at
Gloucester, it might some time or other come to the ears of the latter
that his horses had been let to more than one person; and so the boy
might be brought to account for money which he wisely intended to put
in his own pocket.

We were obliged to mention this circumstance, trifling as it may seem,
since it retarded Mr Jones a considerable time in his setting out; for
the honesty of this latter boy was somewhat high--that is, somewhat
high-priced, and would indeed have cost Jones very dear, had not
Partridge, who, as we have said, was a very cunning fellow, artfully
thrown in half-a-crown to be spent at that very alehouse, while the
boy was waiting for his companion. This half-crown the landlord no
sooner got scent of, than he opened after it with such vehement and
persuasive outcry, that the boy was soon overcome, and consented to
take half-a-crown more for his stay. Here we cannot help observing,
that as there is so much of policy in the lowest life, great men often
overvalue themselves on those refinements in imposture, in which they
are frequently excelled by some of the lowest of the human species.

The horses being now produced, Jones directly leapt into the
side-saddle, on which his dear Sophia had rid. The lad, indeed, very
civilly offered him the use of his; but he chose the side-saddle,
probably because it was softer. Partridge, however, though full as
effeminate as Jones, could not bear the thoughts of degrading his
manhood; he therefore accepted the boy's offer: and now, Jones being
mounted on the side-saddle of his Sophia, the boy on that of Mrs
Honour, and Partridge bestriding the third horse, they set forwards on
their journey, and within four hours arrived at the inn where the
reader hath already spent so much time. Partridge was in very high
spirits during the whole way, and often mentioned to Jones the many
good omens of his future success which had lately befriended him; and
which the reader, without being the least superstitious, must allow to
have been particularly fortunate. Partridge was moreover better
pleased with the present pursuit of his companion than he had been
with his pursuit of glory; and from these very omens, which assured
the pedagogue of success, he likewise first acquired a clear idea of
the amour between Jones and Sophia; to which he had before given very
little attention, as he had originally taken a wrong scent concerning
the reasons of Jones's departure; and as to what happened at Upton, he
was too much frightened just before and after his leaving that place
to draw any other conclusions from thence than that poor Jones was a
downright madman: a conceit which was not at all disagreeable to the
opinion he before had of his extraordinary wildness, of which, he
thought, his behaviour on their quitting Gloucester so well justified
all the accounts he had formerly received. He was now, however, pretty
well satisfied with his present expedition, and henceforth began to
conceive much worthier sentiments of his friend's understanding.

The clock had just struck three when they arrived, and Jones
immediately bespoke post-horses; but unluckily there was not a horse
to be procured in the whole place; which the reader will not wonder at
when he considers the hurry in which the whole nation, and especially
this part of it, was at this time engaged, when expresses were passing
and repassing every hour of the day and night.

Jones endeavoured all he could to prevail with his former guide to
escorte him to Coventry; but he was inexorable. While he was arguing
with the boy in the inn-yard, a person came up to him, and saluting
him by his name, enquired how all the good family did in
Somersetshire; and now Jones casting his eyes upon this person,
presently discovered him to be Mr Dowling, the lawyer, with whom he
had dined at Gloucester, and with much courtesy returned the
salutation.

Dowling very earnestly pressed Mr Jones to go no further that night;
and backed his solicitations with many unanswerable arguments, such
as, that it was almost dark, that the roads were very dirty, and that
he would be able to travel much better by day-light, with many others
equally good, some of which Jones had probably suggested to himself
before; but as they were then ineffectual, so they were still: and he
continued resolute in his design, even though he should be obliged to
set out on foot.

When the good attorney found he could not prevail on Jones to stay, he
as strenuously applied himself to persuade the guide to accompany him.
He urged many motives to induce him to undertake this short journey,
and at last concluded with saying, "Do you think the gentleman won't
very well reward you for your trouble?"

Two to one are odds at every other thing as well as at foot-ball. But
the advantage which this united force hath in persuasion or entreaty
must have been visible to a curious observer; for he must have often
seen, that when a father, a master, a wife, or any other person in
authority, have stoutly adhered to a denial against all the reasons
which a single man could produce, they have afterwards yielded to the
repetition of the same sentiments by a second or third person, who
hath undertaken the cause, without attempting to advance anything new
in its behalf. And hence, perhaps, proceeds the phrase of seconding an
argument or a motion, and the great consequence this is of in all
assemblies of public debate. Hence, likewise, probably it is, that in
our courts of law we often hear a learned gentleman (generally a
serjeant) repeating for an hour together what another learned
gentleman, who spoke just before him, had been saying.

Instead of accounting for this, we shall proceed in our usual manner
to exemplify it in the conduct of the lad above mentioned, who
submitted to the persuasions of Mr Dowling, and promised once more to
admit Jones into his side-saddle; but insisted on first giving the
poor creatures a good bait, saying, they had travelled a great way,
and been rid very hard. Indeed this caution of the boy was needless;
for Jones, notwithstanding his hurry and impatience, would have
ordered this of himself; for he by no means agreed with the opinion of
those who consider animals as mere machines, and when they bury their
spurs in the belly of their horse, imagine the spur and the horse to
have an equal capacity of feeling pain.

While the beasts were eating their corn, or rather were supposed to
eat it (for, as the boy was taking care of himself in the kitchen, the
ostler took great care that his corn should not be consumed in the
stable), Mr Jones, at the earnest desire of Mr Dowling, accompanied
that gentleman into his room, where they sat down together over a
bottle of wine.



Chapter x.

In which Mr Jones and Mr Dowling drink a bottle together.


Mr Dowling, pouring out a glass of wine, named the health of the good
Squire Allworthy; adding, "If you please, sir, we will likewise
remember his nephew and heir, the young squire: Come, sir, here's Mr
Blifil to you, a very pretty young gentleman; and who, I dare swear,
will hereafter make a very considerable figure in his country. I have
a borough for him myself in my eye."

"Sir," answered Jones, "I am convinced you don't intend to affront me,
so I shall not resent it; but I promise you, you have joined two
persons very improperly together; for one is the glory of the human
species, and the other is a rascal who dishonours the name of man."

Dowling stared at this. He said, "He thought both the gentlemen had a
very unexceptionable character. As for Squire Allworthy himself," says
he, "I never had the happiness to see him; but all the world talks of
his goodness. And, indeed, as to the young gentleman, I never saw him
but once, when I carried him the news of the loss of his mother; and
then I was so hurried, and drove, and tore with the multiplicity of
business, that I had hardly time to converse with him; but he looked
so like a very honest gentleman, and behaved himself so prettily, that
I protest I never was more delighted with any gentleman since I was
born."

"I don't wonder," answered Jones, "that he should impose upon you in
so short an acquaintance; for he hath the cunning of the devil
himself, and you may live with him many years, without discovering
him. I was bred up with him from my infancy, and we were hardly ever
asunder; but it is very lately only that I have discovered half the
villany which is in him. I own I never greatly liked him. I thought he
wanted that generosity of spirit, which is the sure foundation of all
that is great and noble in human nature. I saw a selfishness in him
long ago which I despised; but it is lately, very lately, that I have
found him capable of the basest and blackest designs; for, indeed, I
have at last found out, that he hath taken an advantage of the
openness of my own temper, and hath concerted the deepest project, by
a long train of wicked artifice, to work my ruin, which at last he
hath effected."

"Ay! ay!" cries Dowling; "I protest, then, it is a pity such a person
should inherit the great estate of your uncle Allworthy."

"Alas, sir," cries Jones, "you do me an honour to which I have no
title. It is true, indeed, his goodness once allowed me the liberty of
calling him by a much nearer name; but as this was only a voluntary
act of goodness, I can complain of no injustice when he thinks proper
to deprive me of this honour; since the loss cannot be more unmerited
than the gift originally was. I assure you, sir, I am no relation of
Mr Allworthy; and if the world, who are incapable of setting a true
value on his virtue, should think, in his behaviour to me, he hath
dealt hardly by a relation, they do an injustice to the best of men:
for I--but I ask your pardon, I shall trouble you with no particulars
relating to myself; only as you seemed to think me a relation of Mr
Allworthy, I thought proper to set you right in a matter that might
draw some censures upon him, which I promise you I would rather lose
my life than give occasion to."

"I protest, sir," cried Dowling, "you talk very much like a man of
honour; but instead of giving me any trouble, I protest it would give
me great pleasure to know how you came to be thought a relation of Mr
Allworthy's, if you are not. Your horses won't be ready this
half-hour, and as you have sufficient opportunity, I wish you would
tell me how all that happened; for I protest it seems very surprizing
that you should pass for a relation of a gentleman, without being so."

Jones, who in the compliance of his disposition (though not in his
prudence) a little resembled his lovely Sophia, was easily prevailed
on to satisfy Mr Dowling's curiosity, by relating the history of his
birth and education, which he did, like Othello.

------Even from his boyish years,
To th' very moment he was bad to tell:

the which to hear, Dowling, like Desdemona, did seriously incline;

He swore 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wonderous pitiful.

Mr Dowling was indeed very greatly affected with this relation; for he
had not divested himself of humanity by being an attorney. Indeed,
nothing is more unjust than to carry our prejudices against a
profession into private life, and to borrow our idea of a man from our
opinion of his calling. Habit, it is true, lessens the horror of those
actions which the profession makes necessary, and consequently
habitual; but in all other instances, Nature works in men of all
professions alike; nay, perhaps, even more strongly with those who
give her, as it were, a holiday, when they are following their
ordinary business. A butcher, I make no doubt, would feel compunction
at the slaughter of a fine horse; and though a surgeon can feel no
pain in cutting off a limb, I have known him compassionate a man in a
fit of the gout. The common hangman, who hath stretched the necks of
hundreds, is known to have trembled at his first operation on a head:
and the very professors of human blood-shedding, who, in their trade
of war, butcher thousands, not only of their fellow-professors, but
often of women and children, without remorse; even these, I say, in
times of peace, when drums and trumpets are laid aside, often lay
aside all their ferocity, and become very gentle members of civil
society. In the same manner an attorney may feel all the miseries and
distresses of his fellow-creatures, provided he happens not to be
concerned against them.

Jones, as the reader knows, was yet unacquainted with the very black
colours in which he had been represented to Mr Allworthy; and as to
other matters, he did not shew them in the most disadvantageous light;
for though he was unwilling to cast any blame on his former friend and
patron; yet he was not very desirous of heaping too much upon himself.
Dowling therefore observed, and not without reason, that very ill
offices must have been done him by somebody: "For certainly," cries
he, "the squire would never have disinherited you only for a few
faults, which any young gentleman might have committed. Indeed, I
cannot properly say disinherited: for to be sure by law you cannot
claim as heir. That's certain; that nobody need go to counsel for. Yet
when a gentleman had in a manner adopted you thus as his own son, you
might reasonably have expected some very considerable part, if not the
whole; nay, if you had expected the whole, I should not have blamed
you: for certainly all men are for getting as much as they can, and
they are not to be blamed on that account."

"Indeed you wrong me," said Jones; "I should have been contented with
very little: I never had any view upon Mr Allworthy's fortune; nay, I
believe I may truly say, I never once considered what he could or
might give me. This I solemnly declare, if he had done a prejudice to
his nephew in my favour, I would have undone it again. I had rather
enjoy my own mind than the fortune of another man. What is the poor
pride arising from a magnificent house, a numerous equipage, a
splendid table, and from all the other advantages or appearances of
fortune, compared to the warm, solid content, the swelling
satisfaction, the thrilling transports, and the exulting triumphs,
which a good mind enjoys, in the contemplation of a generous,
virtuous, noble, benevolent action? I envy not Blifil in the prospect
of his wealth; nor shall I envy him in the possession of it. I would
not think myself a rascal half an hour, to exchange situations. I
believe, indeed, Mr Blifil suspected me of the views you mention; and
I suppose these suspicions, as they arose from the baseness of his own
heart, so they occasioned his baseness to me. But, I thank Heaven, I
know, I feel--I feel my innocence, my friend; and I would not part
with that feeling for the world. For as long as I know I have never
done, nor even designed, an injury to any being whatever,

_Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
Arbor aestiva recreatur aura,
Quod latus mundi nebulae, malusque
Jupiter urget.

Pone sub curru nimium propinqui
Solis in terra dominibus negata;
Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
Dulce loquentem._[*]

[*] Place me where never summer breeze
Unbinds the glebe, or warms the trees:
Where ever-lowering clouds appear,
And angry Jove deforms th' inclement year.

Place me beneath the burning ray,
Where rolls the rapid car of day;
Love and the nymph shall charm my toils,
The nymph who sweetly speaks, and sweetly smiles.
MR FRANCIS.

He then filled a bumper of wine, and drunk it off to the health of his
dear Lalage; and, filling Dowling's glass likewise up to the brim,