A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

The History of Tom Jones, a foundling

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






Chapter vi.

What arrived while the company were at breakfast, with some hints
concerning the government of daughters.


Our company brought together in the morning the same good inclinations
towards each other, with which they had separated the evening before;
but poor Jones was extremely disconsolate; for he had just received
information from Partridge, that Mrs Fitzpatrick had left her lodging,
and that he could not learn whither she was gone. This news highly
afflicted him, and his countenance, as well as his behaviour, in
defiance of all his endeavours to the contrary, betrayed manifest
indications of a disordered mind.

The discourse turned at present, as before, on love; and Mr
Nightingale again expressed many of those warm, generous, and
disinterested sentiments upon this subject, which wise and sober men
call romantic, but which wise and sober women generally regard in a
better light. Mrs Miller (for so the mistress of the house was called)
greatly approved these sentiments; but when the young gentleman
appealed to Miss Nancy, she answered only, "That she believed the
gentleman who had spoke the least was capable of feeling most."

This compliment was so apparently directed to Jones, that we should
have been sorry had he passed it by unregarded. He made her indeed a
very polite answer, and concluded with an oblique hint, that her own
silence subjected her to a suspicion of the same kind: for indeed she
had scarce opened her lips either now or the last evening.

"I am glad, Nanny," says Mrs Miller, "the gentleman hath made the
observation; I protest I am almost of his opinion. What can be the
matter with you, child? I never saw such an alteration. What is become
of all your gaiety? Would you think, sir, I used to call her my little
prattler? She hath not spoke twenty words this week."

Here their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a
maid-servant, who brought a bundle in her hand, which, she said, "was
delivered by a porter for Mr Jones." She added, "That the man
immediately went away, saying, it required no answer."

Jones expressed some surprize on this occasion, and declared it must
be some mistake; but the maid persisting that she was certain of the
name, all the women were desirous of having the bundle immediately
opened; which operation was at length performed by little Betsy, with
the consent of Mr Jones: and the contents were found to be a domino, a
mask, and a masquerade ticket.

Jones was now more positive than ever in asserting, that these things
must have been delivered by mistake; and Mrs Miller herself expressed
some doubt, and said, "She knew not what to think." But when Mr
Nightingale was asked, he delivered a very different opinion. "All I
can conclude from it, sir," said he, "is, that you are a very happy
man; for I make no doubt but these were sent you by some lady whom you
will have the happiness of meeting at the masquerade."

Jones had not a sufficient degree of vanity to entertain any such
flattering imagination; nor did Mrs Miller herself give much assent to
what Mr Nightingale had said, till Miss Nancy having lifted up the
domino, a card dropt from the sleeve, in which was written as
follows:--

To MR JONES.

The queen of the fairies sends you this;
Use her favours not amiss.

Mrs Miller and Miss Nancy now both agreed with Mr Nightingale; nay,
Jones himself was almost persuaded to be of the same opinion. And as
no other lady but Mrs Fitzpatrick, he thought, knew his lodging, he
began to flatter himself with some hopes, that it came from her, and
that he might possibly see his Sophia. These hopes had surely very
little foundation; but as the conduct of Mrs Fitzpatrick, in not
seeing him according to her promise, and in quitting her lodgings, had
been very odd and unaccountable, he conceived some faint hopes, that
she (of whom he had formerly heard a very whimsical character) might
possibly intend to do him that service in a strange manner, which she
declined doing by more ordinary methods. To say the truth, as nothing
certain could be concluded from so odd and uncommon an incident, he
had the greater latitude to draw what imaginary conclusions from it he
pleased. As his temper therefore was naturally sanguine, he indulged
it on this occasion, and his imagination worked up a thousand
conceits, to favour and support his expectations of meeting his dear
Sophia in the evening.

Reader, if thou hast any good wishes towards me, I will fully repay
them by wishing thee to be possessed of this sanguine disposition of
mind; since, after having read much and considered long on that
subject of happiness which hath employed so many great pens, I am
almost inclined to fix it in the possession of this temper; which puts
us, in a manner, out of the reach of Fortune, and makes us happy
without her assistance. Indeed, the sensations of pleasure it gives
are much more constant as well as much keener, than those which that
blind lady bestows; nature having wisely contrived, that some satiety
and languor should be annexed to all our real enjoyments, lest we
should be so taken up by them, as to be stopt from further pursuits. I
make no manner of doubt but that, in this light, we may see the
imaginary future chancellor just called to the bar, the archbishop in
crape, and the prime minister at the tail of an opposition, more truly
happy than those who are invested with all the power and profit of
those respective offices.

Mr Jones having now determined to go to the masquerade that evening,
Mr Nightingale offered to conduct him thither. The young gentleman, at
the same time, offered tickets to Miss Nancy and her mother; but the
good woman would not accept them. She said, "she did not conceive the
harm which some people imagined in a masquerade; but that such
extravagant diversions were proper only for persons of quality and
fortune, and not for young women who were to get their living, and
could, at best, hope to be married to a good tradesman."----"A
tradesman!" cries Nightingale, "you shan't undervalue my Nancy. There
is not a nobleman upon earth above her merit." "O fie! Mr
Nightingale," answered Mrs Miller, "you must not fill the girl's head
with such fancies: but if it was her good luck" (says the mother with
a simper) "to find a gentleman of your generous way of thinking, I
hope she would make a better return to his generosity than to give her
mind up to extravagant pleasures. Indeed, where young ladies bring
great fortunes themselves, they have some right to insist on spending
what is their own; and on that account I have heard the gentlemen say,
a man has sometimes a better bargain with a poor wife, than with a
rich one.----But let my daughters marry whom they will, I shall
endeavour to make them blessings to their husbands:----I beg,
therefore, I may hear of no more masquerades. Nancy is, I am certain,
too good a girl to desire to go; for she must remember when you
carried her thither last year, it almost turned her head; and she did
not return to herself, or to her needle, in a month afterwards."

Though a gentle sigh, which stole from the bosom of Nancy, seemed to
argue some secret disapprobation of these sentiments, she did not dare
openly to oppose them. For as this good woman had all the tenderness,
so she had preserved all the authority of a parent; and as her
indulgence to the desires of her children was restrained only by her
fears for their safety and future welfare, so she never suffered those
commands which proceeded from such fears to be either disobeyed or
disputed. And this the young gentleman, who had lodged two years in
the house, knew so well, that he presently acquiesced in the refusal.

Mr Nightingale, who grew every minute fonder of Jones, was very
desirous of his company that day to dinner at the tavern, where he
offered to introduce him to some of his acquaintance; but Jones begged
to be excused, "as his cloaths," he said, "were not yet come to town."

To confess the truth, Mr Jones was now in a situation, which sometimes
happens to be the case of young gentlemen of much better figure than
himself. In short, he had not one penny in his pocket; a situation in
much greater credit among the antient philosophers than among the
modern wise men who live in Lombard-street, or those who frequent
White's chocolate-house. And, perhaps, the great honours which those
philosophers have ascribed to an empty pocket may be one of the
reasons of that high contempt in which they are held in the aforesaid
street and chocolate-house.

Now if the antient opinion, that men might live very comfortably on
virtue only, be, as the modern wise men just above-mentioned pretend
to have discovered, a notorious error; no less false is, I apprehend,
that position of some writers of romance, that a man can live
altogether on love; for however delicious repasts this may afford to
some of our senses or appetites, it is most certain it can afford none
to others. Those, therefore, who have placed too great a confidence in
such writers, have experienced their error when it was too late; and
have found that love was no more capable of allaying hunger, than a
rose is capable of delighting the ear, or a violin of gratifying the
smell.

Notwithstanding, therefore, all the delicacies which love had set
before him, namely, the hopes of seeing Sophia at the masquerade; on
which, however ill-founded his imagination might be, he had
voluptuously feasted during the whole day, the evening no sooner came
than Mr Jones began to languish for some food of a grosser kind.
Partridge discovered this by intuition, and took the occasion to give
some oblique hints concerning the bank-bill; and, when these were
rejected with disdain, he collected courage enough once more to
mention a return to Mr Allworthy.

"Partridge," cries Jones, "you cannot see my fortune in a more
desperate light than I see it myself; and I begin heartily to repent
that I suffered you to leave a place where you was settled, and to
follow me. However, I insist now on your returning home; and for the
expense and trouble which you have so kindly put yourself to on my
account, all the cloaths I left behind in your care I desire you would
take as your own. I am sorry I can make you no other acknowledgment."

He spoke these words with so pathetic an accent, that Partridge, among
whose vices ill-nature or hardness of heart were not numbered, burst
into tears; and after swearing he would not quit him in his distress,
he began with the most earnest entreaties to urge his return home.
"For heaven's sake, sir," says he, "do but consider; what can your
honour do?--how is it possible you can live in this town without
money? Do what you will, sir, or go wherever you please, I am resolved
not to desert you. But pray, sir, consider--do pray, sir, for your own
sake, take it into your consideration; and I'm sure," says he, "that
your own good sense will bid you return home."

"How often shall I tell thee," answered Jones, "that I have no home to
return to? Had I any hopes that Mr Allworthy's doors would be open to
receive me, I want no distress to urge me--nay, there is no other
cause upon earth, which could detain me a moment from flying to his
presence; but, alas! that I am for ever banished from. His last words
were--O, Partridge, they still ring in my ears--his last words were,
when he gave me a sum of money--what it was I know not, but
considerable I'm sure it was--his last words were--`I am resolved from
this day forward, on no account to converse with you any more.'"

Here passion stopt the mouth of Jones, as surprize for a moment did
that of Partridge; but he soon recovered the use of speech, and after
a short preface, in which he declared he had no inquisitiveness in his
temper, enquired what Jones meant by a considerable sum--he knew not
how much--and what was become of the money.

In both these points he now received full satisfaction; on which he
was proceeding to comment, when he was interrupted by a message from
Mr Nightingale, who desired his master's company in his apartment.

When the two gentlemen were both attired for the masquerade, and Mr
Nightingale had given orders for chairs to be sent for, a circumstance
of distress occurred to Jones, which will appear very ridiculous to
many of my readers. This was how to procure a shilling; but if such
readers will reflect a little on what they have themselves felt from
the want of a thousand pounds, or, perhaps, of ten or twenty, to
execute a favourite scheme, they will have a perfect idea of what Mr
Jones felt on this occasion. For this sum, therefore, he applied to
Partridge, which was the first he had permitted him to advance, and
was the last he intended that poor fellow should advance in his
service. To say the truth, Partridge had lately made no offer of this
kind. Whether it was that he desired to see the bank-bill broke in
upon, or that distress should prevail on Jones to return home, or from
what other motive it proceeded, I will not determine.



Chapter vii.

Containing the whole humours of a masquerade.


Our cavaliers now arrived at that temple, where Heydegger, the great
Arbiter Deliciarum, the great high-priest of pleasure, presides; and,
like other heathen priests, imposes on his votaries by the pretended
presence of the deity, when in reality no such deity is there.

Mr Nightingale, having taken a turn or two with his companion, soon
left him, and walked off with a female, saying, "Now you are here,
sir, you must beat about for your own game."

Jones began to entertain strong hopes that his Sophia was present; and
these hopes gave him more spirits than the lights, the music, and the
company; though these are pretty strong antidotes against the spleen.
He now accosted every woman he saw, whose stature, shape, or air, bore
any resemblance to his angel. To all of whom he endeavoured to say
something smart, in order to engage an answer, by which he might
discover that voice which he thought it impossible he should mistake.
Some of these answered by a question, in a squeaking voice, Do you
know me? Much the greater number said, I don't know you, sir, and
nothing more. Some called him an impertinent fellow; some made him no
answer at all; some said, Indeed I don't know your voice, and I shall
have nothing to say to you; and many gave him as kind answers as he
could wish, but not in the voice he desired to hear.

Whilst he was talking with one of these last (who was in the habit of
a shepherdess) a lady in a domino came up to him, and slapping him on
the shoulder, whispered him, at the same time, in the ear, "If you
talk any longer with that trollop, I will acquaint Miss Western."

Jones no sooner heard that name, than, immediately quitting his former
companion, he applied to the domino, begging and entreating her to
show him the lady she had mentioned, if she was then in the room.

The mask walked hastily to the upper end of the innermost apartment
before she spoke; and then, instead of answering him, sat down, and
declared she was tired. Jones sat down by her, and still persisted in
his entreaties; at last the lady coldly answered, "I imagined Mr Jones
had been a more discerning lover, than to suffer any disguise to
conceal his mistress from him." "Is she here, then, madam?" replied
Jones, with some vehemence. Upon which the lady cried--"Hush, sir, you
will be observed. I promise you, upon my honour, Miss Western is not
here."

Jones, now taking the mask by the hand, fell to entreating her in the
most earnest manner, to acquaint him where he might find Sophia; and
when he could obtain no direct answer, he began to upbraid her gently
for having disappointed him the day before; and concluded, saying,
"Indeed, my good fairy queen, I know your majesty very well,
notwithstanding the affected disguise of your voice. Indeed, Mrs
Fitzpatrick, it is a little cruel to divert yourself at the expense of
my torments."

The mask answered, "Though you have so ingeniously discovered me, I
must still speak in the same voice, lest I should be known by others.
And do you think, good sir, that I have no greater regard for my
cousin, than to assist in carrying on an affair between you two, which
must end in her ruin, as well as your own? Besides, I promise you, my
cousin is not mad enough to consent to her own destruction, if you are
so much her enemy as to tempt her to it."

"Alas, madam!" said Jones, "you little know my heart, when you call me
an enemy of Sophia."

"And yet to ruin any one," cries the other, "you will allow, is the
act of an enemy; and when by the same act you must knowingly and
certainly bring ruin on yourself, is it not folly or madness, as well
as guilt? Now, sir, my cousin hath very little more than her father
will please to give her; very little for one of her fashion--you know
him, and you know your own situation."

Jones vowed he had no such design on Sophia, "That he would rather
suffer the most violent of deaths than sacrifice her interest to his
desires." He said, "he knew how unworthy he was of her, every way,
that he had long ago resolved to quit all such aspiring thoughts, but
that some strange accidents had made him desirous to see her once
more, when he promised he would take leave of her for ever. No,
madam," concluded he, "my love is not of that base kind which seeks
its own satisfaction at the expense of what is most dear to its
object. I would sacrifice everything to the possession of my Sophia,
but Sophia herself."

Though the reader may have already conceived no very sublime idea of
the virtue of the lady in the mask; and though possibly she may
hereafter appear not to deserve one of the first characters of her
sex; yet, it is certain, these generous sentiments made a strong
impression upon her, and greatly added to the affection she had before
conceived for our young heroe.

The lady now, after silence of a few moments, said, "She did not see
his pretensions to Sophia so much in the light of presumption, as of
imprudence. Young fellows," says she, "can never have too aspiring
thoughts. I love ambition in a young man, and I would have you
cultivate it as much as possible. Perhaps you may succeed with those
who are infinitely superior in fortune; nay, I am convinced there are
women----but don't you think me a strange creature, Mr Jones, to be
thus giving advice to a man with whom I am so little acquainted, and
one with whose behaviour to me I have so little reason to be pleased?"

Here Jones began to apologize, and to hope he had not offended in
anything he had said of her cousin.--To which the mask answered, "And
are you so little versed in the sex, to imagine you can well affront a
lady more than by entertaining her with your passion for another
woman? If the fairy queen had conceived no better opinion of your
gallantry, she would scarce have appointed you to meet her at the
masquerade."

Jones had never less inclination to an amour than at present; but
gallantry to the ladies was among his principles of honour; and he
held it as much incumbent on him to accept a challenge to love, as if
it had been a challenge to fight. Nay, his very love to Sophia made it
necessary for him to keep well with the lady, as he made no doubt but
she was capable of bringing him into the presence of the other.

He began therefore to make a very warm answer to her last speech, when
a mask, in the character of an old woman, joined them. This mask was
one of those ladies who go to a masquerade only to vent ill-nature, by
telling people rude truths, and by endeavouring, as the phrase is, to
spoil as much sport as they are able. This good lady, therefore,
having observed Jones, and his friend, whom she well knew, in close
consultation together in a corner of the room, concluded she could
nowhere satisfy her spleen better than by interrupting them. She
attacked them, therefore, and soon drove them from their retirement;
nor was she contented with this, but pursued them to every place which
they shifted to avoid her; till Mr Nightingale, seeing the distress of
his friend, at last relieved him, and engaged the old woman in another
pursuit.

While Jones and his mask were walking together about the room, to rid
themselves of the teazer, he observed his lady speak to several masks,
with the same freedom of acquaintance as if they had been barefaced.
He could not help expressing his surprize at this; saying, "Sure,
madam, you must have infinite discernment, to know people in all
disguises." To which the lady answered, "You cannot conceive anything
more insipid and childish than a masquerade to the people of fashion,
who in general know one another as well here as when they meet in an
assembly or a drawing-room; nor will any woman of condition converse
with a person with whom she is not acquainted. In short, the
generality of persons whom you see here may more properly be said to
kill time in this place than in any other; and generally retire from
hence more tired than from the longest sermon. To say the truth, I
begin to be in that situation myself; and if I have any faculty at
guessing, you are not much better pleased. I protest it would be
almost charity in me to go home for your sake." "I know but one
charity equal to it," cries Jones, "and that is to suffer me to wait
on you home." "Sure," answered the lady, "you have a strange opinion
of me, to imagine, that upon such an acquaintance, I would let you
into my doors at this time of night. I fancy you impute the friendship
I have shown my cousin to some other motive. Confess honestly; don't
you consider this contrived interview as little better than a
downright assignation? Are you used, Mr Jones, to make these sudden
conquests?" "I am not used, madam," said Jones, "to submit to such
sudden conquests; but as you have taken my heart by surprize, the rest
of my body hath a right to follow; so you must pardon me if I resolve
to attend you wherever you go." He accompanied these words with some
proper actions; upon which the lady, after a gentle rebuke, and saying
their familiarity would be observed, told him, "She was going to sup
with an acquaintance, whither she hoped he would not follow her; for
if you should," said she, "I shall be thought an unaccountable
creature, though my friend indeed is not censorious: yet I hope you
won't follow me; I protest I shall not know what to say if you do."

The lady presently after quitted the masquerade, and Jones,
notwithstanding the severe prohibition he had received, presumed to
attend her. He was now reduced to the same dilemma we have mentioned
before, namely, the want of a shilling, and could not relieve it by
borrowing as before. He therefore walked boldly on after the chair in
which his lady rode, pursued by a grand huzza, from all the chairmen
present, who wisely take the best care they can to discountenance all
walking afoot by their betters. Luckily, however, the gentry who
attend at the Opera-house were too busy to quit their stations, and as
the lateness of the hour prevented him from meeting many of their
brethren in the street, he proceeded without molestation, in a dress,
which, at another season, would have certainly raised a mob at his
heels.

The lady was set down in a street not far from Hanover-square, where
the door being presently opened, she was carried in, and the
gentleman, without any ceremony, walked in after her.

Jones and his companion were now together in a very well-furnished and
well-warmed room; when the female, still speaking in her masquerade
voice, said she was surprized at her friend, who must absolutely have
forgot her appointment; at which, after venting much resentment, she
suddenly exprest some apprehension from Jones, and asked him what the
world would think of their having been alone together in a house at
that time of night? But instead of a direct answer to so important a
question, Jones began to be very importunate with the lady to unmask;
and at length having prevailed, there appeared not Mrs Fitzpatrick,
but the Lady Bellaston herself.

It would be tedious to give the particular conversation, which
consisted of very common and ordinary occurrences, and which lasted
from two till six o'clock in the morning. It is sufficient to mention
all of it that is anywise material to this history. And this was a
promise that the lady would endeavour to find out Sophia, and in a few
days bring him to an interview with her, on condition that he would
then take his leave of her. When this was thoroughly settled, and a
second meeting in the evening appointed at the same place, they
separated; the lady returned to her house, and Jones to his lodgings.



Chapter viii.

Containing a scene of distress, which will appear very extraordinary
to most of our readers.


Jones having refreshed himself with a few hours' sleep, summoned
Partridge to his presence; and delivering him a bank-note of fifty
pounds, ordered him to go and change it. Partridge received this with
sparkling eyes, though, when he came to reflect farther, it raised in
him some suspicions not very advantageous to the honour of his master:
to these the dreadful idea he had of the masquerade, the disguise in
which his master had gone out and returned, and his having been abroad
all night, contributed. In plain language, the only way he could
possibly find to account for the possession of this note, was by
robbery: and, to confess the truth, the reader, unless he should
suspect it was owing to the generosity of Lady Bellaston, can hardly
imagine any other.

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.