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The History of Tom Jones, a foundling

H >> Henry Fielding >> The History of Tom Jones, a foundling






Chapter ii.

Containing a very surprizing adventure indeed, which Mr Jones met with
in his walk with the Man of the Hill.


Aurora now first opened her casement, _Anglice_ the day began to
break, when Jones walked forth in company with the stranger, and
mounted Mazard Hill; of which they had no sooner gained the summit
than one of the most noble prospects in the world presented itself to
their view, and which we would likewise present to the reader, but for
two reasons: first, we despair of making those who have seen this
prospect admire our description; secondly, we very much doubt whether
those who have not seen it would understand it.

Jones stood for some minutes fixed in one posture, and directing his
eyes towards the south; upon which the old gentleman asked, What he
was looking at with so much attention? "Alas! sir," answered he with a
sigh, "I was endeavouring to trace out my own journey hither. Good
heavens! what a distance is Gloucester from us! What a vast track of
land must be between me and my own home!"--"Ay, ay, young gentleman,"
cries the other, "and by your sighing, from what you love better than
your own home, or I am mistaken. I perceive now the object of your
contemplation is not within your sight, and yet I fancy you have a
pleasure in looking that way." Jones answered with a smile, "I find,
old friend, you have not yet forgot the sensations of your youth. I
own my thoughts were employed as you have guessed."

They now walked to that part of the hill which looks to the
north-west, and which hangs over a vast and extensive wood. Here they
were no sooner arrived than they heard at a distance the most violent
screams of a woman, proceeding from the wood below them. Jones
listened a moment, and then, without saying a word to his companion
(for indeed the occasion seemed sufficiently pressing), ran, or rather
slid, down the hill, and, without the least apprehension or concern
for his own safety, made directly to the thicket, whence the sound had
issued.

He had not entered far into the wood before he beheld a most shocking
sight indeed, a woman stript half naked, under the hands of a ruffian,
who had put his garter round her neck, and was endeavouring to draw
her up to a tree. Jones asked no questions at this interval, but fell
instantly upon the villain, and made such good use of his trusty oaken
stick that he laid him sprawling on the ground before he could defend
himself, indeed almost before he knew he was attacked; nor did he
cease the prosecution of his blows till the woman herself begged him
to forbear, saying, she believed he had sufficiently done his
business.

The poor wretch then fell upon her knees to Jones, and gave him a
thousand thanks for her deliverance. He presently lifted her up, and
told her he was highly pleased with the extraordinary accident which
had sent him thither for her relief, where it was so improbable she
should find any; adding, that Heaven seemed to have designed him as
the happy instrument of her protection. "Nay," answered she, "I could
almost conceive you to be some good angel; and, to say the truth, you
look more like an angel than a man in my eye." Indeed he was a
charming figure; and if a very fine person, and a most comely set of
features, adorned with youth, health, strength, freshness, spirit, and
good-nature, can make a man resemble an angel, he certainly had that
resemblance.

The redeemed captive had not altogether so much of the human-angelic
species: she seemed to be at least of the middle age, nor had her face
much appearance of beauty; but her cloaths being torn from all the
upper part of her body, her breasts, which were well formed and
extremely white, attracted the eyes of her deliverer, and for a few
moments they stood silent, and gazing at each other; till the ruffian
on the ground beginning to move, Jones took the garter which had been
intended for another purpose, and bound both his hands behind him. And
now, on contemplating his face, he discovered, greatly to his
surprize, and perhaps not a little to his satisfaction, this very
person to be no other than ensign Northerton. Nor had the ensign
forgotten his former antagonist, whom he knew the moment he came to
himself. His surprize was equal to that of Jones; but I conceive his
pleasure was rather less on this occasion.

Jones helped Northerton upon his legs, and then looking him stedfastly
in the face, "I fancy, sir," said he, "you did not expect to meet me
any more in this world, and I confess I had as little expectation to
find you here. However, fortune, I see, hath brought us once more
together, and hath given me satisfaction for the injury I have
received, even without my own knowledge."

"It is very much like a man of honour, indeed," answered Northerton,
"to take satisfaction by knocking a man down behind his back. Neither
am I capable of giving you satisfaction here, as I have no sword; but
if you dare behave like a gentleman, let us go where I can furnish
myself with one, and I will do by you as a man of honour ought."

"Doth it become such a villain as you are," cries Jones, "to
contaminate the name of honour by assuming it? But I shall waste no
time in discourse with you. Justice requires satisfaction of you now,
and shall have it." Then turning to the woman, he asked her, if she
was near her home; or if not, whether she was acquainted with any
house in the neighbourhood, where she might procure herself some
decent cloaths, in order to proceed to a justice of the peace.

She answered she was an entire stranger in that part of the world.
Jones then recollecting himself, said, he had a friend near who would
direct them; indeed, he wondered at his not following; but, in fact,
the good Man of the Hill, when our heroe departed, sat himself down on
the brow, where, though he had a gun in his hand, he with great
patience and unconcern had attended the issue.

Jones then stepping without the wood, perceived the old man sitting as
we have just described him; he presently exerted his utmost agility,
and with surprizing expedition ascended the hill.

The old man advised him to carry the woman to Upton, which, he said,
was the nearest town, and there he would be sure of furnishing her
with all manner of conveniencies. Jones having received his direction
to the place, took his leave of the Man of the Hill, and, desiring him
to direct Partridge the same way, returned hastily to the wood.

Our heroe, at his departure to make this enquiry of his friend, had
considered, that as the ruffian's hands were tied behind him, he was
incapable of executing any wicked purposes on the poor woman. Besides,
he knew he should not be beyond the reach of her voice, and could
return soon enough to prevent any mischief. He had moreover declared
to the villain, that if he attempted the least insult, he would be
himself immediately the executioner of vengeance on him. But Jones
unluckily forgot, that though the hands of Northerton were tied, his
legs were at liberty; nor did he lay the least injunction on the
prisoner that he should not make what use of these he pleased.
Northerton therefore having given no parole of that kind, thought he
might without any breach of honour depart; not being obliged, as he
imagined, by any rules, to wait for a formal discharge. He therefore
took up his legs, which were at liberty, and walked off through the
wood, which favoured his retreat; nor did the woman, whose eyes were
perhaps rather turned toward her deliverer, once think of his escape,
or give herself any concern or trouble to prevent it.

Jones therefore, at his return, found the woman alone. He would have
spent some time in searching for Northerton, but she would not permit
him; earnestly entreating that he would accompany her to the town
whither they had been directed. "As to the fellow's escape," said she,
"it gives me no uneasiness; for philosophy and Christianity both
preach up forgiveness of injuries. But for you, sir, I am concerned at
the trouble I give you; nay, indeed, my nakedness may well make me
ashamed to look you in the face; and if it was not for the sake of
your protection, I should wish to go alone."

Jones offered her his coat; but, I know not for what reason, she
absolutely refused the most earnest solicitations to accept it. He
then begged her to forget both the causes of her confusion. "With
regard to the former," says he, "I have done no more than my duty in
protecting you; and as for the latter, I will entirely remove it, by
walking before you all the way; for I would not have my eyes offend
you, and I could not answer for my power of resisting the attractive
charms of so much beauty."

Thus our heroe and the redeemed lady walked in the same manner as
Orpheus and Eurydice marched heretofore; but though I cannot believe
that Jones was designedly tempted by his fair one to look behind him,
yet as she frequently wanted his assistance to help her over stiles,
and had besides many trips and other accidents, he was often obliged
to turn about. However, he had better fortune than what attended poor
Orpheus, for he brought his companion, or rather follower, safe into
the famous town of Upton.



Chapter iii.

The arrival of Mr Jones with his lady at the inn; with a very full
description of the battle of Upton.


Though the reader, we doubt not, is very eager to know who this lady
was, and how she fell into the hands of Mr Northerton, we must beg him
to suspend his curiosity for a short time, as we are obliged, for some
very good reasons which hereafter perhaps he may guess, to delay his
satisfaction a little longer.

Mr Jones and his fair companion no sooner entered the town, than they
went directly to that inn which in their eyes presented the fairest
appearance to the street. Here Jones, having ordered a servant to show
a room above stairs, was ascending, when the dishevelled fair, hastily
following, was laid hold on by the master of the house, who cried,
"Heyday, where is that beggar wench going? Stay below stairs, I desire
you." But Jones at that instant thundered from above, "Let the lady
come up," in so authoritative a voice, that the good man instantly
withdrew his hands, and the lady made the best of her way to the
chamber.

Here Jones wished her joy of her safe arrival, and then departed, in
order, as he promised, to send the landlady up with some cloaths. The
poor woman thanked him heartily for all his kindness, and said, she
hoped she should see him again soon, to thank him a thousand times
more. During this short conversation, she covered her white bosom as
well as she could possibly with her arms; for Jones could not avoid
stealing a sly peep or two, though he took all imaginable care to
avoid giving any offence.

Our travellers had happened to take up their residence at a house of
exceeding good repute, whither Irish ladies of strict virtue, and many
northern lasses of the same predicament, were accustomed to resort in
their way to Bath. The landlady therefore would by no means have
admitted any conversation of a disreputable kind to pass under her
roof. Indeed, so foul and contagious are all such proceedings, that
they contaminate the very innocent scenes where they are committed,
and give the name of a bad house, or of a house of ill repute, to all
those where they are suffered to be carried on.

Not that I would intimate that such strict chastity as was preserved
in the temple of Vesta can possibly be maintained at a public inn. My
good landlady did not hope for such a blessing, nor would any of the
ladies I have spoken of, or indeed any others of the most rigid note,
have expected or insisted on any such thing. But to exclude all vulgar
concubinage, and to drive all whores in rags from within the walls, is
within the power of every one. This my landlady very strictly adhered
to, and this her virtuous guests, who did not travel in rags, would
very reasonably have expected of her.

Now it required no very blameable degree of suspicion to imagine that
Mr Jones and his ragged companion had certain purposes in their
intention, which, though tolerated in some Christian countries,
connived at in others, and practised in all, are however as expressly
forbidden as murder, or any other horrid vice, by that religion which
is universally believed in those countries. The landlady, therefore,
had no sooner received an intimation of the entrance of the above-said
persons than she began to meditate the most expeditious means for
their expulsion. In order to this, she had provided herself with a
long and deadly instrument, with which, in times of peace, the
chambermaid was wont to demolish the labours of the industrious
spider. In vulgar phrase, she had taken up the broomstick, and was
just about to sally from the kitchen, when Jones accosted her with a
demand of a gown and other vestments, to cover the half-naked woman
upstairs.

Nothing can be more provoking to the human temper, nor more dangerous
to that cardinal virtue, patience, than solicitations of extraordinary
offices of kindness on behalf of those very persons with whom we are
highly incensed. For this reason Shakespear hath artfully introduced
his Desdemona soliciting favours for Cassio of her husband, as the
means of inflaming, not only his jealousy, but his rage, to the
highest pitch of madness; and we find the unfortunate Moor less able
to command his passion on this occasion, than even when he beheld his
valued present to his wife in the hands of his supposed rival. In
fact, we regard these efforts as insults on our understanding, and to
such the pride of man is very difficultly brought to submit.

My landlady, though a very good-tempered woman, had, I suppose, some
of this pride in her composition, for Jones had scarce ended his
request, when she fell upon him with a certain weapon, which, though
it be neither long, nor sharp, nor hard, nor indeed threatens from its
appearance with either death or wound, hath been however held in great
dread and abhorrence by many wise men--nay, by many brave ones;
insomuch, that some who have dared to look into the mouth of a loaded
cannon, have not dared to look into a mouth where this weapon was
brandished; and rather than run the hazard of its execution, have
contented themselves with making a most pitiful and sneaking figure in
the eyes of all their acquaintance.

To confess the truth, I am afraid Mr Jones was one of these; for
though he was attacked and violently belaboured with the aforesaid
weapon, he could not be provoked to make any resistance; but in a most
cowardly manner applied, with many entreaties, to his antagonist to
desist from pursuing her blows; in plain English, he only begged her
with the utmost earnestness to hear him; but before he could obtain
his request, my landlord himself entered into the fray, and embraced
that side of the cause which seemed to stand very little in need of
assistance.

There are a sort of heroes who are supposed to be determined in their
chusing or avoiding a conflict by the character and behaviour of the
person whom they are to engage. These are said to know their men, and
Jones, I believe, knew his woman; for though he had been so submissive
to her, he was no sooner attacked by her husband, than he demonstrated
an immediate spirit of resentment, and enjoined him silence under a
very severe penalty; no less than that, I think, of being converted
into fuel for his own fire.

The husband, with great indignation, but with a mixture of pity,
answered, "You must pray first to be made able. I believe I am a
better man than yourself; ay, every way, that I am;" and presently
proceeded to discharge half-a-dozen whores at the lady above stairs,
the last of which had scarce issued from his lips, when a swinging
blow from the cudgel that Jones carried in his hand assaulted him over
the shoulders.

It is a question whether the landlord or the landlady was the most
expeditious in returning this blow. My landlord, whose hands were
empty, fell to with his fist, and the good wife, uplifting her broom
and aiming at the head of Jones, had probably put an immediate end to
the fray, and to Jones likewise, had not the descent of this broom
been prevented--not by the miraculous intervention of any heathen
deity, but by a very natural though fortunate accident, viz., by the
arrival of Partridge; who entered the house at that instant (for fear
had caused him to run every step from the hill), and who, seeing the
danger which threatened his master or companion (which you chuse to
call him), prevented so sad a catastrophe, by catching hold of the
landlady's arm, as it was brandished aloft in the air.

The landlady soon perceived the impediment which prevented her blow;
and being unable to rescue her arm from the hands of Partridge, she
let fall the broom; and then leaving Jones to the discipline of her
husband, she fell with the utmost fury on that poor fellow, who had
already given some intimation of himself, by crying, "Zounds! do you
intend to kill my friend?"

Partridge, though not much addicted to battle, would not however stand
still when his friend was attacked; nor was he much displeased with
that part of the combat which fell to his share; he therefore returned
my landlady's blows as soon as he received them: and now the fight was
obstinately maintained on all parts, and it seemed doubtful to which
side Fortune would incline, when the naked lady, who had listened at
the top of the stairs to the dialogue which preceded the engagement,
descended suddenly from above, and without weighing the unfair
inequality of two to one, fell upon the poor woman who was boxing with
Partridge; nor did that great champion desist, but rather redoubled
his fury, when he found fresh succours were arrived to his assistance.

Victory must now have fallen to the side of the travellers (for the
bravest troops must yield to numbers) had not Susan the chambermaid
come luckily to support her mistress. This Susan was as two-handed a
wench (according to the phrase) as any in the country, and would, I
believe, have beat the famed Thalestris herself, or any of her subject
Amazons; for her form was robust and man-like, and every way made for
such encounters. As her hands and arms were formed to give blows with
great mischief to an enemy, so was her face as well contrived to
receive blows without any great injury to herself, her nose being
already flat to her face; her lips were so large, that no swelling
could be perceived in them, and moreover they were so hard, that a
fist could hardly make any impression on them. Lastly, her cheek-bones
stood out, as if nature had intended them for two bastions to defend
her eyes in those encounters for which she seemed so well calculated,
and to which she was most wonderfully well inclined.

This fair creature entering the field of battle, immediately filed to
that wing where her mistress maintained so unequal a fight with one of
either sex. Here she presently challenged Partridge to single combat.
He accepted the challenge, and a most desperate fight began between
them.

Now the dogs of war being let loose, began to lick their bloody lips;
now Victory, with golden wings, hung hovering in the air; now Fortune,
taking her scales from her shelf, began to weigh the fates of Tom
Jones, his female companion, and Partridge, against the landlord, his
wife, and maid; all which hung in exact balance before her; when a
good-natured accident put suddenly an end to the bloody fray, with
which half of the combatants had already sufficiently feasted. This
accident was the arrival of a coach and four; upon which my landlord
and landlady immediately desisted from fighting, and at their entreaty
obtained the same favour of their antagonists: but Susan was not so
kind to Partridge; for that Amazonian fair having overthrown and
bestrid her enemy, was now cuffing him lustily with both her hands,
without any regard to his request of a cessation of arms, or to those
loud exclamations of murder which he roared forth.

No sooner, however, had Jones quitted the landlord, than he flew to
the rescue of his defeated companion, from whom he with much
difficulty drew off the enraged chambermaid: but Partridge was not
immediately sensible of his deliverance, for he still lay flat on the
floor, guarding his face with his hands; nor did he cease roaring till
Jones had forced him to look up, and to perceive that the battle was
at an end.

The landlord, who had no visible hurt, and the landlady, hiding her
well-scratched face with her handkerchief, ran both hastily to the
door to attend the coach, from which a young lady and her maid now
alighted. These the landlady presently ushered into that room where Mr
Jones had at first deposited his fair prize, as it was the best
apartment in the house. Hither they were obliged to pass through the
field of battle, which they did with the utmost haste, covering their
faces with their handkerchiefs, as desirous to avoid the notice of any
one. Indeed their caution was quite unnecessary; for the poor
unfortunate Helen, the fatal cause of all the bloodshed, was entirely
taken up in endeavouring to conceal her own face, and Jones was no
less occupied in rescuing Partridge from the fury of Susan; which
being happily effected, the poor fellow immediately departed to the
pump to wash his face, and to stop that bloody torrent which Susan had
plentifully set a-flowing from his nostrils.



Chapter iv.

In which the arrival of a man of war puts a final end to hostilities,
and causes the conclusion of a firm and lasting peace between all
parties.


A serjeant and a file of musqueteers, with a deserter in their
custody, arrived about this time. The serjeant presently enquired for
the principal magistrate of the town, and was informed by my landlord,
that he himself was vested in that office. He then demanded his
billets, together with a mug of beer, and complaining it was cold,
spread himself before the kitchen fire.

Mr Jones was at this time comforting the poor distressed lady, who sat
down at a table in the kitchen, and leaning her head upon her arm, was
bemoaning her misfortunes; but lest my fair readers should be in pain
concerning a particular circumstance, I think proper here to acquaint
them, that before she had quitted the room above stairs, she had so
well covered herself with a pillowbeer which she there found, that her
regard to decency was not in the least violated by the presence of so
many men as were now in the room.

One of the soldiers now went up to the serjeant, and whispered
something in his ear; upon which he stedfastly fixed his eyes on the
lady, and having looked at her for near a minute, he came up to her,
saying, "I ask pardon, madam; but I am certain I am not deceived; you
can be no other person than Captain Waters's lady?"

The poor woman, who in her present distress had very little regarded
the face of any person present, no sooner looked at the serjeant than
she presently recollected him, and calling him by his name, answered,
"That she was indeed the unhappy person he imagined her to be;" but
added, "I wonder any one should know me in this disguise." To which
the serjeant replied, "He was very much surprized to see her ladyship
in such a dress, and was afraid some accident had happened to
her."--"An accident hath happened to me, indeed," says she, "and I am
highly obliged to this gentleman" (pointing to Jones) "that it was not
a fatal one, or that I am now living to mention it."--"Whatever the
gentleman hath done," cries the serjeant, "I am sure the captain will
make him amends for it; and if I can be of any service, your ladyship
may command me, and I shall think myself very happy to have it in my
power to serve your ladyship; and so indeed may any one, for I know
the captain will well reward them for it."

The landlady, who heard from the stairs all that past between the
serjeant and Mrs Waters, came hastily down, and running directly up to
her, began to ask pardon for the offences she had committed, begging
that all might be imputed to ignorance of her quality: for, "Lud!
madam," says she, "how should I have imagined that a lady of your
fashion would appear in such a dress? I am sure, madam, if I had once
suspected that your ladyship was your ladyship, I would sooner have
burnt my tongue out, than have said what I have said; and I hope your
ladyship will accept of a gown, till you can get your own cloaths."

"Prithee, woman," says Mrs Waters, "cease your impertinence: how can
you imagine I should concern myself about anything which comes from
the lips of such low creatures as yourself? But I am surprized at your
assurance in thinking, after what is past, that I will condescend to
put on any of your dirty things. I would have you know, creature, I
have a spirit above that."

Here Jones interfered, and begged Mrs Waters to forgive the landlady,
and to accept her gown: "for I must confess," cries he, "our
appearance was a little suspicious when first we came in; and I am
well assured all this good woman did was, as she professed, out of
regard to the reputation of her house."

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