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The History of Tom Jones, a foundling

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




"If you are a friend," cries another of the men in the barn, "you had
better alight till the storm is over" (for indeed it was now more
violent than ever;) "you are very welcome to put up your horse; for
there is sufficient room for him at the end of the barn."

"You are very obliging," returned Jones; "and I will accept your offer
for a few minutes, whilst the rain continues; and here are two more
who will be glad of the same favour." This was accorded with more
good-will than it was accepted: for Partridge would rather have
submitted to the utmost inclemency of the weather than have trusted to
the clemency of those whom he took for hobgoblins; and the poor
post-boy was now infected with the same apprehensions; but they were
both obliged to follow the example of Jones; the one because he durst
not leave his horse, and the other because he feared nothing so much
as being left by himself.

Had this history been writ in the days of superstition, I should have
had too much compassion for the reader to have left him so long in
suspense, whether Beelzebub or Satan was about actually to appear in
person, with all his hellish retinue; but as these doctrines are at
present very unfortunate, and have but few, if any believers, I have
not been much aware of conveying any such terrors. To say truth, the
whole furniture of the infernal regions hath long been appropriated by
the managers of playhouses, who seem lately to have laid them by as
rubbish, capable only of affecting the upper gallery; a place in which
few of our readers ever sit.

However, though we do not suspect raising any great terror on this
occasion, we have reason to fear some other apprehensions may here
arise in our reader, into which we would not willingly betray him; I
mean that we are going to take a voyage into fairy-land, and introduce
a set of beings into our history, which scarce any one was ever
childish enough to believe, though many have been foolish enough to
spend their time in writing and reading their adventures.

To prevent, therefore, any such suspicions, so prejudicial to the
credit of an historian, who professes to draw his materials from
nature only, we shall now proceed to acquaint the reader who these
people were, whose sudden appearance had struck such terrors into
Partridge, had more than half frightened the post-boy, and had a
little surprized even Mr Jones himself.

The people then assembled in this barn were no other than a company of
Egyptians, or, as they are vulgarly called, gypsies, and they were now
celebrating the wedding of one of their society.

It is impossible to conceive a happier set of people than appeared
here to be met together. The utmost mirth, indeed, shewed itself in
every countenance; nor was their ball totally void of all order and
decorum. Perhaps it had more than a country assembly is sometimes
conducted with: for these people are subject to a formal government
and laws of their own, and all pay obedience to one great magistrate,
whom they call their king.

Greater plenty, likewise, was nowhere to be seen than what flourished
in this barn. Here was indeed no nicety nor elegance, nor did the keen
appetite of the guests require any. Here was good store of bacon,
fowls, and mutton, to which every one present provided better sauce
himself than the best and dearest French cook can prepare.

Aeneas is not described under more consternation in the temple of
Juno,

_Dum stupet obtutuque haeret defixus in uno_,

than was our heroe at what he saw in this barn. While he was looking
everywhere round him with astonishment, a venerable person approached
him with many friendly salutations, rather of too hearty a kind to be
called courtly. This was no other than the king of the gypsies
himself. He was very little distinguished in dress from his subjects,
nor had he any regalia of majesty to support his dignity; and yet
there seemed (as Mr Jones said) to be somewhat in his air which
denoted authority, and inspired the beholders with an idea of awe and
respect; though all this was perhaps imaginary in Jones; and the truth
may be, that such ideas are incident to power, and almost inseparable
from it.

There was somewhat in the open countenance and courteous behaviour of
Jones which, being accompanied with much comeliness of person, greatly
recommended him at first sight to every beholder. These were, perhaps,
a little heightened in the present instance, by that profound respect
which he paid to the king of the gypsies, the moment he was acquainted
with his dignity, and which was the sweeter to his gypseian majesty,
as he was not used to receive such homage from any but his own
subjects.

The king ordered a table to be spread with the choicest of their
provisions for his accommodation; and, having placed himself at his
right hand, his majesty began to discourse with our heroe in the
following manner:--

"Me doubt not, sir, but you have often seen some of my people, who are
what you call de parties detache: for dey go about everywhere; but me
fancy you imagine not we be so considrable body as we be; and may be
you will be surprize more when you hear de gypsy be as orderly and
well govern people as any upon face of de earth.

"Me have honour, as me say, to be deir king, and no monarch can do
boast of more dutiful subject, ne no more affectionate. How far me
deserve deir good-will, me no say; but dis me can say, dat me never
design anyting but to do dem good. Me sall no do boast of dat neider:
for what can me do oderwise dan consider of de good of dose poor
people who go about all day to give me always de best of what dey get.
Dey love and honour me darefore, because me do love and take care of
dem; dat is all, me know no oder reason.

"About a tousand or two tousand year ago, me cannot tell to a year or
two, as can neider write nor read, dere was a great what you call--a
volution among de gypsy; for dere was de lord gypsy in dose days; and
dese lord did quarrel vid one anoder about de place; but de king of de
gypsy did demolish dem all, and made all his subject equal vid each
oder; and since dat time dey have agree very well; for dey no tink of
being king, and may be it be better for dem as dey be; for me assure
you it be ver troublesome ting to be king, and always to do justice;
me have often wish to be de private gypsy when me have been forced to
punish my dear friend and relation; for dough we never put to death,
our punishments be ver severe. Dey make de gypsy ashamed of demselves,
and dat be ver terrible punishment; me ave scarce ever known de gypsy
so punish do harm any more."

The king then proceeded to express some wonder that there was no such
punishment as shame in other governments. Upon which Jones assured him
to the contrary; for that there were many crimes for which shame was
inflicted by the English laws, and that it was indeed one consequence
of all punishment. "Dat be ver strange," said the king; "for me know
and hears good deal of your people, dough me no live among dem; and me
have often hear dat sham is de consequence and de cause too of many of
your rewards. Are your rewards and punishments den de same ting?"

While his majesty was thus discoursing with Jones, a sudden uproar
arose in the barn, and as it seems upon this occasion:--the courtesy
of these people had by degrees removed all the apprehensions of
Partridge, and he was prevailed upon not only to stuff himself with
their food, but to taste some of their liquors, which by degrees
entirely expelled all fear from his composition, and in its stead
introduced much more agreeable sensations.

A young female gypsy, more remarkable for her wit than her beauty, had
decoyed the honest fellow aside, pretending to tell his fortune. Now,
when they were alone together in a remote part of the barn, whether it
proceeded from the strong liquor, which is never so apt to inflame
inordinate desire as after moderate fatigue; or whether the fair gypsy
herself threw aside the delicacy and decency of her sex, and tempted
the youth Partridge with express solicitations; but they were
discovered in a very improper manner by the husband of the gypsy, who,
from jealousy it seems, had kept a watchful eye over his wife, and had
dogged her to the place, where he found her in the arms of her
gallant.

To the great confusion of Jones, Partridge was now hurried before the
king; who heard the accusation, and likewise the culprit's defence,
which was indeed very trifling; for the poor fellow was confounded by
the plain evidence which appeared against him, and had very little to
say for himself. His majesty, then turning towards Jones, said, "Sir,
you have hear what dey say; what punishment do you tink your man
deserve?"

Jones answered, "He was sorry for what had happened, and that
Partridge should make the husband all the amends in his power: he
said, he had very little money about him at that time;" and, putting
his hand into his pocket, offered the fellow a guinea. To which he
immediately answered, "He hoped his honour would not think of giving
him less than five."

This sum, after some altercation, was reduced to two; and Jones,
having stipulated for the full forgiveness of both Partridge and the
wife, was going to pay the money; when his majesty, restraining his
hand, turned to the witness and asked him, "At what time he had
discovered the criminals?" To which he answered, "That he had been
desired by the husband to watch the motions of his wife from her first
speaking to the stranger, and that he had never lost sight of her
afterwards till the crime had been committed." The king then asked,
"if the husband was with him all that time in his lurking-place?" To
which he answered in the affirmative. His Egyptian majesty then
addressed himself to the husband as follows: "Me be sorry to see any
gypsy dat have no more honour dan to sell de honour of his wife for
money. If you had de love for your wife, you would have prevented dis
matter, and not endeavour to make her de whore dat you might discover
her. Me do order dat you have no money given you, for you deserve
punishment, not reward; me do order derefore, dat you be de infamous
gypsy, and do wear pair of horns upon your forehead for one month, and
dat your wife be called de whore, and pointed at all dat time; for you
be de infamous gypsy, but she be no less de infamous whore."

The gypsies immediately proceeded to execute the sentence, and left
Jones and Partridge alone with his majesty.

Jones greatly applauded the justice of the sentence: upon which the
king, turning to him, said, "Me believe you be surprize: for me
suppose you have ver bad opinion of my people; me suppose you tink us
all de tieves."

"I must confess, sir," said Jones, "I have not heard so favourable an
account of them as they seem to deserve."

"Me vil tell you," said the king, "how the difference is between you
and us. My people rob your people, and your people rob one anoder."

Jones afterwards proceeded very gravely to sing forth the happiness of
those subjects who live under such a magistrate.

Indeed their happiness appears to have been so compleat, that we are
aware lest some advocate for arbitrary power should hereafter quote
the case of those people, as an instance of the great advantages which
attend that government above all others.

And here we will make a concession, which would not perhaps have been
expected from us, that no limited form of government is capable of
rising to the same degree of perfection, or of producing the same
benefits to society, with this. Mankind have never been so happy, as
when the greatest part of the then known world was under the dominion
of a single master; and this state of their felicity continued during
the reigns of five successive princes.[*] This was the true aera of
the golden age, and the only golden age which ever had any existence,
unless in the warm imaginations of the poets, from the expulsion from
Eden down to this day.

[*] Nerva, Trajan, Adrian, and the two Antonini.

In reality, I know but of one solid objection to absolute monarchy.
The only defect in which excellent constitution seems to be, the
difficulty of finding any man adequate to the office of an absolute
monarch: for this indispensably requires three qualities very
difficult, as it appears from history, to be found in princely
natures: first, a sufficient quantity of moderation in the prince, to
be contented with all the power which is possible for him to have.
2ndly, Enough of wisdom to know his own happiness. And, 3rdly,
Goodness sufficient to support the happiness of others, when not only
compatible with, but instrumental to his own.

Now if an absolute monarch, with all these great and rare
qualifications, should be allowed capable of conferring the greatest
good on society; it must be surely granted, on the contrary, that
absolute power, vested in the hands of one who is deficient in them
all, is likely to be attended with no less a degree of evil.

In short, our own religion furnishes us with adequate ideas of the
blessing, as well as curse, which may attend absolute power. The
pictures of heaven and of hell will place a very lively image of both
before our eyes; for though the prince of the latter can have no power
but what he originally derives from the omnipotent Sovereign in the
former, yet it plainly appears from Scripture that absolute power in
his infernal dominions is granted to their diabolical ruler. This is
indeed the only absolute power which can by Scripture be derived from
heaven. If, therefore, the several tyrannies upon earth can prove any
title to a Divine authority, it must be derived from this original
grant to the prince of darkness; and these subordinate deputations
must consequently come immediately from him whose stamp they so
expressly bear.

To conclude, as the examples of all ages shew us that mankind in
general desire power only to do harm, and, when they obtain it, use it
for no other purpose; it is not consonant with even the least degree
of prudence to hazard an alteration, where our hopes are poorly kept
in countenance by only two or three exceptions out of a thousand
instances to alarm our fears. In this case it will be much wiser to
submit to a few inconveniencies arising from the dispassionate
deafness of laws, than to remedy them by applying to the passionate
open ears of a tyrant.

Nor can the example of the gypsies, though possibly they may have long
been happy under this form of government, be here urged; since we must
remember the very material respect in which they differ from all other
people, and to which perhaps this their happiness is entirely owing,
namely, that they have no false honours among them, and that they look
on shame as the most grievous punishment in the world.



Chapter xiii.

A dialogue between Jones and Partridge.


The honest lovers of liberty will, we doubt not, pardon that long
digression into which we were led at the close of the last chapter, to
prevent our history from being applied to the use of the most
pernicious doctrine which priestcraft had ever the wickedness or the
impudence to preach.

We will now proceed with Mr Jones, who, when the storm was over, took
leave of his Egyptian majesty, after many thanks for his courteous
behaviour and kind entertainment, and set out for Coventry; to which
place (for it was still dark) a gypsy was ordered to conduct him.

Jones having, by reason of his deviation, travelled eleven miles
instead of six, and most of those through very execrable roads, where
no expedition could have been made in quest of a midwife, did not
arrive at Coventry till near twelve. Nor could he possibly get again
into the saddle till past two; for post-horses were now not easy to
get; nor were the hostler or post-boy in half so great a hurry as
himself, but chose rather to imitate the tranquil disposition of
Partridge; who, being denied the nourishment of sleep, took all
opportunities to supply its place with every other kind of
nourishment, and was never better pleased than when he arrived at an
inn, nor ever more dissatisfied than when he was again forced to leave
it.

Jones now travelled post; we will follow him, therefore, according to
our custom, and to the rules of Longinus, in the same manner. From
Coventry he arrived at Daventry, from Daventry at Stratford, and from
Stratford at Dunstable, whither he came the next day a little after
noon, and within a few hours after Sophia had left it; and though he
was obliged to stay here longer than he wished, while a smith, with
great deliberation, shoed the post-horse he was to ride, he doubted
not but to overtake his Sophia before she should set out from St
Albans; at which place he concluded, and very reasonably, that his
lordship would stop and dine.

And had he been right in this conjecture, he most probably would have
overtaken his angel at the aforesaid place; but unluckily my lord had
appointed a dinner to be prepared for him at his own house in London,
and, in order to enable him to reach that place in proper time, he had
ordered a relay of horses to meet him at St Albans. When Jones
therefore arrived there, he was informed that the coach-and-six had
set out two hours before.

If fresh post-horses had been now ready, as they were not, it seemed
so apparently impossible to overtake the coach before it reached
London, that Partridge thought he had now a proper opportunity to
remind his friend of a matter which he seemed entirely to have
forgotten; what this was the reader will guess, when we inform him
that Jones had eat nothing more than one poached egg since he had left
the alehouse where he had first met the guide returning from Sophia;
for with the gypsies he had feasted only his understanding.

The landlord so entirely agreed with the opinion of Mr Partridge, that
he no sooner heard the latter desire his friend to stay and dine, than
he very readily put in his word, and retracting his promise before
given of furnishing the horses immediately, he assured Mr Jones he
would lose no time in bespeaking a dinner, which, he said, could be
got ready sooner than it was possible to get the horses up from grass,
and to prepare them for their journey by a feed of corn.

Jones was at length prevailed on, chiefly by the latter argument of
the landlord; and now a joint of mutton was put down to the fire.
While this was preparing, Partridge, being admitted into the same
apartment with his friend or master, began to harangue in the
following manner.

"Certainly, sir, if ever man deserved a young lady, you deserve young
Madam Western; for what a vast quantity of love must a man have, to be
able to live upon it without any other food, as you do? I am positive
I have eat thirty times as much within these last twenty-four hours as
your honour, and yet I am almost famished; for nothing makes a man so
hungry as travelling, especially in this cold raw weather. And yet I
can't tell how it is, but your honour is seemingly in perfect good
health, and you never looked better nor fresher in your life. It must
be certainly love that you live upon."

"And a very rich diet too, Partridge," answered Jones. "But did not
fortune send me an excellent dainty yesterday? Dost thou imagine I
cannot live more than twenty-four hours on this dear pocket-book?"

"Undoubtedly," cries Partridge, "there is enough in that pocket-book
to purchase many a good meal. Fortune sent it to your honour very
opportunely for present use, as your honour's money must be almost out
by this time."

"What do you mean?" answered Jones; "I hope you don't imagine that I
should be dishonest enough, even if it belonged to any other person,
besides Miss Western----"

"Dishonest!" replied Partridge, "heaven forbid I should wrong your
honour so much! but where's the dishonesty in borrowing a little for
present spending, since you will be so well able to pay the lady
hereafter? No, indeed, I would have your honour pay it again, as soon
as it is convenient, by all means; but where can be the harm in making
use of it now you want it? Indeed, if it belonged to a poor body, it
would be another thing; but so great a lady, to be sure, can never
want it, especially now as she is along with a lord, who, it can't be
doubted, will let her have whatever she hath need of. Besides, if she
should want a little, she can't want the whole, therefore I would give
her a little; but I would be hanged before I mentioned the having
found it at first, and before I got some money of my own; for London,
I have heard, is the very worst of places to be in without money.
Indeed, if I had not known to whom it belonged, I might have thought
it was the devil's money, and have been afraid to use it; but as you
know otherwise, and came honestly by it, it would be an affront to
fortune to part with it all again, at the very time when you want it
most; you can hardly expect she should ever do you such another good
turn; for _fortuna nunquam perpetuo est bona_. You will do as you
please, notwithstanding all I say; but for my part, I would be hanged
before I mentioned a word of the matter."

"By what I can see, Partridge," cries Jones, "hanging is a matter _non
longe alienum a Scaevolae studiis_." "You should say _alienus_," says
Partridge,--"I remember the passage; it is an example under _communis,
alienus, immunis, variis casibus serviunt_." "If you do remember it,"
cries Jones, "I find you don't understand it; but I tell thee, friend,
in plain English, that he who finds another's property, and wilfully
detains it from the known owner, deserves, _in foro conscientiae_, to
be hanged, no less than if he had stolen it. And as for this very
identical bill, which is the property of my angel, and was once in her
dear possession, I will not deliver it into any hands but her own,
upon any consideration whatever, no, though I was as hungry as thou
art, and had no other means to satisfy my craving appetite; this I
hope to do before I sleep; but if it should happen otherwise, I charge
thee, if thou would'st not incur my displeasure for ever, not to shock
me any more by the bare mention of such detestable baseness."

"I should not have mentioned it now," cries Partridge, "if it had
appeared so to me; for I'm sure I scorn any wickedness as much as
another; but perhaps you know better; and yet I might have imagined
that I should not have lived so many years, and have taught school so
long, without being able to distinguish between _fas et nefas_; but it
seems we are all to live and learn. I remember my old schoolmaster,
who was a prodigious great scholar, used often to say, _Polly matete
cry town is my daskalon_. The English of which, he told us, was, That
a child may sometimes teach his grandmother to suck eggs. I have lived
to a fine purpose, truly, if I am to be taught my grammar at this time
of day. Perhaps, young gentleman, you may change your opinion, if you
live to my years: for I remember I thought myself as wise when I was a
stripling of one or two and twenty as I am now. I am sure I always
taught _alienus_, and my master read it so before me."

There were not many instances in which Partridge could provoke Jones,
nor were there many in which Partridge himself could have been hurried
out of his respect. Unluckily, however, they had both hit on one of
these. We have already seen Partridge could not bear to have his
learning attacked, nor could Jones bear some passage or other in the
foregoing speech. And now, looking upon his companion with a
contemptuous and disdainful air (a thing not usual with him), he
cried, "Partridge, I see thou art a conceited old fool, and I wish
thou art not likewise an old rogue. Indeed, if I was as well convinced
of the latter as I am of the former, thou should'st travel no farther
in my company."

The sage pedagogue was contented with the vent which he had already
given to his indignation; and, as the vulgar phrase is, immediately
drew in his horns. He said, he was sorry he had uttered anything which
might give offence, for that he had never intended it; but _Nemo
omnibus horis sapit_.

As Jones had the vices of a warm disposition, he was entirely free
from those of a cold one; and if his friends must have confest his
temper to have been a little too easily ruffled, his enemies must at
the same time have confest, that it as soon subsided; nor did it at
all resemble the sea, whose swelling is more violent and dangerous
after a storm is over than while the storm itself subsists. He
instantly accepted the submission of Partridge, shook him by the hand,
and with the most benign aspect imaginable, said twenty kind things,
and at the same time very severely condemned himself, though not half
so severely as he will most probably be condemned by many of our good
readers.

Partridge was now highly comforted, as his fears of having offended
were at once abolished, and his pride completely satisfied by Jones
having owned himself in the wrong, which submission he instantly
applied to what had principally nettled him, and repeated in a
muttering voice, "To be sure, sir, your knowledge may be superior to
mine in some things; but as to the grammar, I think I may challenge
any man living. I think, at least, I have that at my finger's end."

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