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The History of Tom Jones, a foundling

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




The mistress of the inn, being summoned to attend Mr Jones and his
companion at their tea, gave a full relation of the latter part of the
foregoing scene; and at the same time expressed great concern for the
young lady, "who," she said, "was under the utmost uneasiness at being
prevented from pursuing her journey. She is a sweet pretty creature,"
added she, "and I am certain I have seen her face before. I fancy she
is in love, and running away from her friends. Who knows but some
young gentleman or other may be expecting her, with a heart as heavy
as her own?"

Jones fetched a heavy sigh at those words; of which, though Mrs Waters
observed it, she took no notice while the landlady continued in the
room; but, after the departure of that good woman, she could not
forbear giving our heroe certain hints on her suspecting some very
dangerous rival in his affections. The aukward behaviour of Mr Jones
on this occasion convinced her of the truth, without his giving her a
direct answer to any of her questions; but she was not nice enough in
her amours to be greatly concerned at the discovery. The beauty of
Jones highly charmed her eye; but as she could not see his heart, she
gave herself no concern about it. She could feast heartily at the
table of love, without reflecting that some other already had been, or
hereafter might be, feasted with the same repast. A sentiment which,
if it deals but little in refinement, deals, however, much in
substance; and is less capricious, and perhaps less ill-natured and
selfish, than the desires of those females who can be contented enough
to abstain from the possession of their lovers, provided they are
sufficiently satisfied that no one else possesses them.



Chapter vii.

Containing a fuller account of Mrs Waters, and by what means she came
into that distressful situation from which she was rescued by Jones.


Though Nature hath by no means mixed up an equal share either of
curiosity or vanity in every human composition, there is perhaps no
individual to whom she hath not allotted such a proportion of both as
requires much arts, and pains too, to subdue and keep under;--a
conquest, however, absolutely necessary to every one who would in any
degree deserve the characters of wisdom or good breeding.

As Jones, therefore, might very justly be called a well-bred man, he
had stifled all that curiosity which the extraordinary manner in which
he had found Mrs Waters must be supposed to have occasioned. He had,
indeed, at first thrown out some few hints to the lady; but, when he
perceived her industriously avoiding any explanation, he was contented
to remain in ignorance, the rather as he was not without suspicion
that there were some circumstances which must have raised her blushes,
had she related the whole truth.

Now since it is possible that some of our readers may not so easily
acquiesce under the same ignorance, and as we are very desirous to
satisfy them all, we have taken uncommon pains to inform ourselves of
the real fact, with the relation of which we shall conclude this book.

This lady, then, had lived some years with one Captain Waters, who was
a captain in the same regiment to which Mr Northerton belonged. She
past for that gentleman's wife, and went by his name; and yet, as the
serjeant said, there were some doubts concerning the reality of their
marriage, which we shall not at present take upon us to resolve.

Mrs Waters, I am sorry to say it, had for some time contracted an
intimacy with the above-mentioned ensign, which did no great credit to
her reputation. That she had a remarkable fondness for that young
fellow is most certain; but whether she indulged this to any very
criminal lengths is not so extremely clear, unless we will suppose
that women never grant every favour to a man but one, without granting
him that one also.

The division of the regiment to which Captain Waters belonged had two
days preceded the march of that company to which Mr Northerton was the
ensign; so that the former had reached Worcester the very day after
the unfortunate re-encounter between Jones and Northerton which we
have before recorded.

Now, it had been agreed between Mrs Waters and the captain that she
would accompany him in his march as far as Worcester, where they were
to take their leave of each other, and she was thence to return to
Bath, where she was to stay till the end of the winter's campaign
against the rebels.

With this agreement Mr Northerton was made acquainted. To say the
truth, the lady had made him an assignation at this very place, and
promised to stay at Worcester till his division came thither; with
what view, and for what purpose, must be left to the reader's
divination; for, though we are obliged to relate facts, we are not
obliged to do a violence to our nature by any comments to the
disadvantage of the loveliest part of the creation.

Northerton no sooner obtained a release from his captivity, as we have
seen, than he hasted away to overtake Mrs Waters; which, as he was a
very active nimble fellow, he did at the last-mentioned city, some few
hours after Captain Waters had left her. At his first arrival he made
no scruple of acquainting her with the unfortunate accident; which he
made appear very unfortunate indeed, for he totally extracted every
particle of what could be called fault, at least in a court of honour,
though he left some circumstances which might be questionable in a
court of law.

Women, to their glory be it spoken, are more generally capable of that
violent and apparently disinterested passion of love, which seeks only
the good of its object, than men. Mrs Waters, therefore, was no sooner
apprized of the danger to which her lover was exposed, than she lost
every consideration besides that of his safety; and this being a
matter equally agreeable to the gentleman, it became the immediate
subject of debate between them.

After much consultation on this matter, it was at length agreed that
the ensign should go across the country to Hereford, whence he might
find some conveyance to one of the sea-ports in Wales, and thence
might make his escape abroad. In all which expedition Mrs Waters
declared she would bear him company; and for which she was able to
furnish him with money, a very material article to Mr Northerton, she
having then in her pocket three bank-notes to the amount of £90,
besides some cash, and a diamond ring of pretty considerable value on
her finger. All which she, with the utmost confidence, revealed to
this wicked man, little suspecting she should by these means inspire
him with a design of robbing her. Now, as they must, by taking horses
from Worcester, have furnished any pursuers with the means of
hereafter discovering their route, the ensign proposed, and the lady
presently agreed, to make their first stage on foot; for which purpose
the hardness of the frost was very seasonable.

The main part of the lady's baggage was already at Bath, and she had
nothing with her at present besides a very small quantity of linen,
which the gallant undertook to carry in his own pockets. All things,
therefore, being settled in the evening, they arose early the next
morning, and at five o'clock departed from Worcester, it being then
above two hours before day, but the moon, which was then at the full,
gave them all the light she was capable of affording.

Mrs Waters was not of that delicate race of women who are obliged to
the invention of vehicles for the capacity of removing themselves from
one place to another, and with whom consequently a coach is reckoned
among the necessaries of life. Her limbs were indeed full of strength
and agility, and, as her mind was no less animated with spirit, she
was perfectly able to keep pace with her nimble lover.

Having travelled on for some miles in a high road, which Northerton
said he was informed led to Hereford, they came at the break of day to
the side of a large wood, where he suddenly stopped, and, affecting to
meditate a moment with himself, expressed some apprehensions from
travelling any longer in so public a way. Upon which he easily
persuaded his fair companion to strike with him into a path which
seemed to lead directly through the wood, and which at length brought
them both to the bottom of Mazard Hill.

Whether the execrable scheme which he now attempted to execute was the
effect of previous deliberation, or whether it now first came into his
head, I cannot determine. But being arrived in this lonely place,
where it was very improbable he should meet with any interruption, he
suddenly slipped his garter from his leg, and, laying violent hands on
the poor woman, endeavoured to perpetrate that dreadful and detestable
fact which we have before commemorated, and which the providential
appearance of Jones did so fortunately prevent.

Happy was it for Mrs Waters that she was not of the weakest order of
females; for no sooner did she perceive, by his tying a knot in his
garter, and by his declarations, what his hellish intentions were,
than she stood stoutly to her defence, and so strongly struggled with
her enemy, screaming all the while for assistance, that she delayed
the execution of the villain's purpose several minutes, by which means
Mr Jones came to her relief at that very instant when her strength
failed and she was totally overpowered, and delivered her from the
ruffian's hands, with no other loss than that of her cloaths, which
were torn from her back, and of the diamond ring, which during the
contention either dropped from her finger, or was wrenched from it by
Northerton.

Thus, reader, we have given thee the fruits of a very painful enquiry
which for thy satisfaction we have made into this matter. And here we
have opened to thee a scene of folly as well as villany, which we
could scarce have believed a human creature capable of being guilty
of, had we not remembered that this fellow was at that time firmly
persuaded that he had already committed a murder, and had forfeited
his life to the law. As he concluded therefore that his only safety
lay in flight, he thought the possessing himself of this poor woman's
money and ring would make him amends for the additional burthen he was
to lay on his conscience.

And here, reader, we must strictly caution thee that thou dost not
take any occasion, from the misbehaviour of such a wretch as this, to
reflect on so worthy and honourable a body of men as are the officers
of our army in general. Thou wilt be pleased to consider that this
fellow, as we have already informed thee, had neither the birth nor
education of a gentleman, nor was a proper person to be enrolled among
the number of such. If, therefore, his baseness can justly reflect on
any besides himself, it must be only on those who gave him his
commission.




BOOK X.

IN WHICH THE HISTORY GOES FORWARD ABOUT TWELVE HOURS.



Chapter i.

Containing instructions very necessary to be perused by modern
critics.


Reader, it is impossible we should know what sort of person thou wilt
be; for, perhaps, thou may'st be as learned in human nature as
Shakespear himself was, and, perhaps, thou may'st be no wiser than
some of his editors. Now, lest this latter should be the case, we
think proper, before we go any farther together, to give thee a few
wholesome admonitions; that thou may'st not as grossly misunderstand
and misrepresent us, as some of the said editors have misunderstood
and misrepresented their author.

First, then, we warn thee not too hastily to condemn any of the
incidents in this our history as impertinent and foreign to our main
design, because thou dost not immediately conceive in what manner such
incident may conduce to that design. This work may, indeed, be
considered as a great creation of our own; and for a little reptile of
a critic to presume to find fault with any of its parts, without
knowing the manner in which the whole is connected, and before he
comes to the final catastrophe, is a most presumptuous absurdity. The
allusion and metaphor we have here made use of, we must acknowledge to
be infinitely too great for our occasion; but there is, indeed, no
other, which is at all adequate to express the difference between an
author of the first rate and a critic of the lowest.

Another caution we would give thee, my good reptile, is, that thou
dost not find out too near a resemblance between certain characters
here introduced; as, for instance, between the landlady who appears in
the seventh book and her in the ninth. Thou art to know, friend, that
there are certain characteristics in which most individuals of every
profession and occupation agree. To be able to preserve these
characteristics, and at the same time to diversify their operations,
is one talent of a good writer. Again, to mark the nice distinction
between two persons actuated by the same vice or folly is another;
and, as this last talent is found in very few writers, so is the true
discernment of it found in as few readers; though, I believe, the
observation of this forms a very principal pleasure in those who are
capable of the discovery; every person, for instance, can distinguish
between Sir Epicure Mammon and Sir Fopling Flutter; but to note the
difference between Sir Fopling Flutter and Sir Courtly Nice requires a
more exquisite judgment: for want of which, vulgar spectators of plays
very often do great injustice in the theatre; where I have sometimes
known a poet in danger of being convicted as a thief, upon much worse
evidence than the resemblance of hands hath been held to be in the
law. In reality, I apprehend every amorous widow on the stage would
run the hazard of being condemned as a servile imitation of Dido, but
that happily very few of our play-house critics understand enough of
Latin to read Virgil.

In the next place, we must admonish thee, my worthy friend (for,
perhaps, thy heart may be better than thy head), not to condemn a
character as a bad one, because it is not perfectly a good one. If
thou dost delight in these models of perfection, there are books enow
written to gratify thy taste; but, as we have not, in the course of
our conversation, ever happened to meet with any such person, we have
not chosen to introduce any such here. To say the truth, I a little
question whether mere man ever arrived at this consummate degree of
excellence, as well as whether there hath ever existed a monster bad
enough to verify that

_----nulla virtute redemptum
A vitiis_----[*]

[*] Whose vices are not allayed with a single virtue

in Juvenal; nor do I, indeed, conceive the good purposes served by
inserting characters of such angelic perfection, or such diabolical
depravity, in any work of invention; since, from contemplating either,
the mind of man is more likely to be overwhelmed with sorrow and shame
than to draw any good uses from such patterns; for in the former
instance he may be both concerned and ashamed to see a pattern of
excellence in his nature, which he may reasonably despair of ever
arriving at; and in contemplating the latter he may be no less
affected with those uneasy sensations, at seeing the nature of which
he is a partaker degraded into so odious and detestable a creature.

In fact, if there be enough of goodness in a character to engage the
admiration and affection of a well-disposed mind, though there should
appear some of those little blemishes _quas humana parum cavit
natura_, they will raise our compassion rather than our abhorrence.
Indeed, nothing can be of more moral use than the imperfections which
are seen in examples of this kind; since such form a kind of surprize,
more apt to affect and dwell upon our minds than the faults of very
vicious and wicked persons. The foibles and vices of men, in whom
there is great mixture of good, become more glaring objects from the
virtues which contrast them and shew their deformity; and when we find
such vices attended with their evil consequence to our favourite
characters, we are not only taught to shun them for our own sake, but
to hate them for the mischiefs they have already brought on those we
love.

And now, my friend, having given you these few admonitions, we will,
if you please, once more set forward with our history.



Chapter ii.

Containing the arrival of an Irish gentleman, with very extraordinary
adventures which ensued at the inn.


Now the little trembling hare, which the dread of all her numerous
enemies, and chiefly of that cunning, cruel, carnivorous animal, man,
had confined all the day to her lurking-place, sports wantonly o'er
the lawns; now on some hollow tree the owl, shrill chorister of the
night, hoots forth notes which might charm the ears of some modern
connoisseurs in music; now, in the imagination of the half-drunk
clown, as he staggers through the churchyard, or rather charnelyard,
to his home, fear paints the bloody hobgoblin; now thieves and
ruffians are awake, and honest watchmen fast asleep; in plain English,
it was now midnight; and the company at the inn, as well those who
have been already mentioned in this history, as some others who
arrived in the evening, were all in bed. Only Susan Chambermaid was
now stirring, she being obliged to wash the kitchen before she retired
to the arms of the fond expecting hostler.

In this posture were affairs at the inn when a gentleman arrived there
post. He immediately alighted from his horse, and, coming up to Susan,
enquired of her, in a very abrupt and confused manner, being almost
out of breath with eagerness, Whether there was any lady in the house?
The hour of night, and the behaviour of the man, who stared very
wildly all the time, a little surprized Susan, so that she hesitated
before she made any answer; upon which the gentleman, with redoubled
eagerness, begged her to give him a true information, saying, He had
lost his wife, and was come in pursuit of her. "Upon my shoul," cries
he, "I have been near catching her already in two or three places, if
I had not found her gone just as I came up with her. If she be in the
house, do carry me up in the dark and show her to me; and if she be
gone away before me, do tell me which way I shall go after her to meet
her, and, upon my shoul, I will make you the richest poor woman in the
nation." He then pulled out a handful of guineas, a sight which would
have bribed persons of much greater consequence than this poor wench
to much worse purposes.

Susan, from the account she had received of Mrs Waters, made not the
least doubt but that she was the very identical stray whom the right
owner pursued. As she concluded, therefore, with great appearance of
reason, that she never could get money in an honester way than by
restoring a wife to her husband, she made no scruple of assuring the
gentleman that the lady he wanted was then in the house; and was
presently afterwards prevailed upon (by very liberal promises, and
some earnest paid into her hands) to conduct him to the bedchamber of
Mrs Waters.

It hath been a custom long established in the polite world, and that
upon very solid and substantial reasons, that a husband shall never
enter his wife's apartment without first knocking at the door. The
many excellent uses of this custom need scarce be hinted to a reader
who hath any knowledge of the world; for by this means the lady hath
time to adjust herself, or to remove any disagreeable object out of
the way; for there are some situations in which nice and delicate
women would not be discovered by their husbands.

To say the truth, there are several ceremonies instituted among the
polished part of mankind, which, though they may, to coarser
judgments, appear as matters of mere form, are found to have much of
substance in them, by the more discerning; and lucky would it have
been had the custom above mentioned been observed by our gentleman in
the present instance. Knock, indeed, he did at the door, but not with
one of those gentle raps which is usual on such occasions. On the
contrary, when he found the door locked, he flew at it with such
violence, that the lock immediately gave way, the door burst open, and
he fell headlong into the room.

He had no sooner recovered his legs than forth from the bed, upon his
legs likewise, appeared--with shame and sorrow are we obliged to
proceed--our heroe himself, who, with a menacing voice, demanded of
the gentleman who he was, and what he meant by daring to burst open
his chamber in that outrageous manner.

The gentleman at first thought he had committed a mistake, and was
going to ask pardon and retreat, when, on a sudden, as the moon shone
very bright, he cast his eyes on stays, gowns, petticoats, caps,
ribbons, stockings, garters, shoes, clogs, &c., all which lay in a
disordered manner on the floor. All these, operating on the natural
jealousy of his temper, so enraged him, that he lost all power of
speech; and, without returning any answer to Jones, he endeavoured to
approach the bed.

Jones immediately interposing, a fierce contention arose, which soon
proceeded to blows on both sides. And now Mrs Waters (for we must
confess she was in the same bed), being, I suppose, awakened from her
sleep, and seeing two men fighting in her bedchamber, began to scream
in the most violent manner, crying out murder! robbery! and more
frequently rape! which last, some, perhaps, may wonder she should
mention, who do not consider that these words of exclamation are used
by ladies in a fright, as fa, la, la, ra, da, &c., are in music, only
as the vehicles of sound, and without any fixed ideas.

Next to the lady's chamber was deposited the body of an Irish
gentleman who arrived too late at the inn to have been mentioned
before. This gentleman was one of those whom the Irish call a
calabalaro, or cavalier. He was a younger brother of a good family,
and, having no fortune at home, was obliged to look abroad in order to
get one; for which purpose he was proceeding to the Bath, to try his
luck with cards and the women.

This young fellow lay in bed reading one of Mrs Behn's novels; for he
had been instructed by a friend that he would find no more effectual
method of recommending himself to the ladies than the improving his
understanding, and filling his mind with good literature. He no
sooner, therefore, heard the violent uproar in the next room, than he
leapt from his bolster, and, taking his sword in one hand, and the
candle which burnt by him in the other, he went directly to Mrs
Waters's chamber.

If the sight of another man in his shirt at first added some shock to
the decency of the lady, it made her presently amends by considerably
abating her fears; for no sooner had the calabalaro entered the room
than he cried out, "Mr Fitzpatrick, what the devil is the maning of
this?" Upon which the other immediately answered, "O, Mr Maclachlan! I
am rejoiced you are here.--This villain hath debauched my wife, and is
got into bed with her."--"What wife?" cries Maclachlan; "do not I know
Mrs Fitzpatrick very well, and don't I see that the lady, whom the
gentleman who stands here in his shirt is lying in bed with, is none
of her?"

Fitzpatrick, now perceiving, as well by the glimpse he had of the
lady, as by her voice, which might have been distinguished at a
greater distance than he now stood from her, that he had made a very
unfortunate mistake, began to ask many pardons of the lady; and then,
turning to Jones, he said, "I would have you take notice I do not ask
your pardon, for you have bate me; for which I am resolved to have
your blood in the morning."

Jones treated this menace with much contempt; and Mr Maclachlan
answered, "Indeed, Mr Fitzpatrick, you may be ashamed of your own
self, to disturb people at this time of night; if all the people in
the inn were not asleep, you would have awakened them as you have me.
The gentleman has served you very rightly. Upon my conscience, though
I have no wife, if you had treated her so, I would have cut your
throat."

Jones was so confounded with his fears for his lady's reputation, that
he knew neither what to say or do; but the invention of women is, as
hath been observed, much readier than that of men. She recollected
that there was a communication between her chamber and that of Mr
Jones; relying, therefore, on his honour and her own assurance, she
answered, "I know not what you mean, villains! I am wife to none of
you. Help! Rape! Murder! Rape!"--And now, the landlady coming into the
room, Mrs Waters fell upon her with the utmost virulence, saying, "She
thought herself in a sober inn, and not in a bawdy-house; but that a
set of villains had broke into her room, with an intent upon her
honour, if not upon her life; and both, she said, were equally dear to
her."

The landlady now began to roar as loudly as the poor woman in bed had
done before. She cried, "She was undone, and that the reputation of
her house, which was never blown upon before, was utterly destroyed."
Then, turning to the men, she cried, "What, in the devil's name, is
the reason of all this disturbance in the lady's room?" Fitzpatrick,
hanging down his head, repeated, "That he had committed a mistake, for
which he heartily asked pardon," and then retired with his countryman.
Jones, who was too ingenious to have missed the hint given him by his
fair one, boldly asserted, "That he had run to her assistance upon
hearing the door broke open, with what design he could not conceive,
unless of robbing the lady; which, if they intended, he said, he had
the good fortune to prevent." "I never had a robbery committed in my
house since I have kept it," cries the landlady; "I would have you to
know, sir, I harbour no highwaymen here; I scorn the word, thof I say
it. None but honest, good gentlefolks, are welcome to my house; and, I
thank good luck, I have always had enow of such customers; indeed as
many as I could entertain. Here hath been my lord--," and then she
repeated over a catalogue of names and titles, many of which we might,
perhaps, be guilty of a breach of privilege by inserting.

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