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




"When you consider the hurry of spirits in which I must have writ,
you cannot be surprized at any expressions in my former note.--Yet,
perhaps, on reflection, they were rather too warm. At least I would,
if possible, think all owing to the odious playhouse, and to the
impertinence of a fool, which detained me beyond my
appointment.----How easy is it to think well of those we
love!----Perhaps you desire I should think so. I have resolved to
see you to-night; so come to me immediately.

"_P.S._--I have ordered to be at home to none but yourself.

"_P.S._--Mr Jones will imagine I shall assist him in his defence;
for I believe he cannot desire to impose on me more than I desire to
impose on myself.

"_P.S._--Come immediately."

To the men of intrigue I refer the determination, whether the angry or
the tender letter gave the greatest uneasiness to Jones. Certain it
is, he had no violent inclination to pay any more visits that evening,
unless to one single person. However, he thought his honour engaged,
and had not this been motive sufficient, he would not have ventured to
blow the temper of Lady Bellaston into that flame of which he had
reason to think it susceptible, and of which he feared the consequence
might be a discovery to Sophia, which he dreaded. After some
discontented walks therefore about the room, he was preparing to
depart, when the lady kindly prevented him, not by another letter, but
by her own presence. She entered the room very disordered in her
dress, and very discomposed in her looks, and threw herself into a
chair, where, having recovered her breath, she said--"You see, sir,
when women have gone one length too far, they will stop at none. If
any person would have sworn this to me a week ago, I would not have
believed it of myself." "I hope, madam," said Jones, "my charming Lady
Bellaston will be as difficult to believe anything against one who is
so sensible of the many obligations she hath conferred upon him."
"Indeed!" says she, "sensible of obligations! Did I expect to hear
such cold language from Mr Jones?" "Pardon me, my dear angel," said
he, "if, after the letters I have received, the terrors of your anger,
though I know not how I have deserved it."--"And have I then," says
she, with a smile, "so angry a countenance?--Have I really brought a
chiding face with me?"--"If there be honour in man," said he, "I have
done nothing to merit your anger.--You remember the appointment you
sent me; I went in pursuance."--"I beseech you," cried she, "do not
run through the odious recital.--Answer me but one question, and I
shall be easy. Have you not betrayed my honour to her?"--Jones fell
upon his knees, and began to utter the most violent protestations,
when Partridge came dancing and capering into the room, like one drunk
with joy, crying out, "She's found! she's found!--Here, sir, here,
she's here--Mrs Honour is upon the stairs." "Stop her a moment," cries
Jones--"Here, madam, step behind the bed, I have no other room nor
closet, nor place on earth to hide you in; sure never was so damned an
accident."--"D--n'd indeed!" said the lady, as she went to her place
of concealment; and presently afterwards in came Mrs Honour.
"Hey-day!" says she, "Mr Jones, what's the matter?--That impudent
rascal your servant would scarce let me come upstairs. I hope he hath
not the same reason to keep me from you as he had at Upton.--I suppose
you hardly expected to see me; but you have certainly bewitched my
lady. Poor dear young lady! To be sure, I loves her as tenderly as if
she was my own sister. Lord have mercy upon you, if you don't make her
a good husband! and to be sure, if you do not, nothing can be bad
enough for you." Jones begged her only to whisper, for that there was
a lady dying in the next room. "A lady!" cries she; "ay, I suppose one
of your ladies.--O Mr Jones, there are too many of them in the world;
I believe we are got into the house of one, for my Lady Bellaston I
darst to say is no better than she should be."--"Hush! hush!" cries
Jones, "every word is overheard in the next room." "I don't care a
farthing," cries Honour, "I speaks no scandal of any one; but to be
sure the servants make no scruple of saying as how her ladyship meets
men at another place--where the house goes under the name of a poor
gentlewoman; but her ladyship pays the rent, and many's the good thing
besides, they say, she hath of her."--Here Jones, after expressing the
utmost uneasiness, offered to stop her mouth:--"Hey-day! why sure, Mr
Jones, you will let me speak; I speaks no scandal, for I only says
what I heard from others--and thinks I to myself, much good may it do
the gentlewoman with her riches, if she comes by it in such a wicked
manner. To be sure it is better to be poor and honest." "The servants
are villains," cries Jones, "and abuse their lady unjustly."--"Ay, to
be sure, servants are always villains, and so my lady says, and won't
hear a word of it."--"No, I am convinced," says Jones, "my Sophia is
above listening to such base scandal." "Nay, I believe it is no
scandal, neither," cries Honour, "for why should she meet men at
another house?--It can never be for any good: for if she had a lawful
design of being courted, as to be sure any lady may lawfully give her
company to men upon that account: why, where can be the sense?"--"I
protest," cries Jones, "I can't hear all this of a lady of such
honour, and a relation of Sophia; besides, you will distract the poor
lady in the next room.--Let me entreat you to walk with me down
stairs."--"Nay, sir, if you won't let me speak, I have done.--Here,
sir, is a letter from my young lady--what would some men give to have
this? But, Mr Jones, I think you are not over and above generous, and
yet I have heard some servants say----but I am sure you will do me the
justice to own I never saw the colour of your money." Here Jones
hastily took the letter, and presently after slipped five pieces into
her hand. He then returned a thousand thanks to his dear Sophia in a
whisper, and begged her to leave him to read her letter: she presently
departed, not without expressing much grateful sense of his
generosity.

Lady Bellaston now came from behind the curtain. How shall I describe
her rage? Her tongue was at first incapable of utterance; but streams
of fire darted from her eyes, and well indeed they might, for her
heart was all in a flame. And now as soon as her voice found way,
instead of expressing any indignation against Honour or her own
servants, she began to attack poor Jones. "You see," said she, "what I
have sacrificed to you; my reputation, my honour--gone for ever! And
what return have I found? Neglected, slighted for a country girl, for
an idiot."--"What neglect, madam, or what slight," cries Jones, "have
I been guilty of?"--"Mr Jones," said she, "it is in vain to dissemble;
if you will make me easy, you must entirely give her up; and as a
proof of your intention, show me the letter."--"What letter, madam?"
said Jones. "Nay, surely," said she, "you cannot have the confidence
to deny your having received a letter by the hands of that
trollop."--"And can your ladyship," cries he, "ask of me what I must
part with my honour before I grant? Have I acted in such a manner by
your ladyship? Could I be guilty of betraying this poor innocent girl
to you, what security could you have that I should not act the same
part by yourself? A moment's reflection will, I am sure, convince you
that a man with whom the secrets of a lady are not safe must be the
most contemptible of wretches."--"Very well," said she--"I need not
insist on your becoming this contemptible wretch in your own opinion;
for the inside of the letter could inform me of nothing more than I
know already. I see the footing you are upon."--Here ensued a long
conversation, which the reader, who is not too curious, will thank me
for not inserting at length. It shall suffice, therefore, to inform
him, that Lady Bellaston grew more and more pacified, and at length
believed, or affected to believe, his protestations, that his meeting
with Sophia that evening was merely accidental, and every other matter
which the reader already knows, and which, as Jones set before her in
the strongest light, it is plain that she had in reality no reason to
be angry with him.

She was not, however, in her heart perfectly satisfied with his
refusal to show her the letter; so deaf are we to the clearest reason,
when it argues against our prevailing passions. She was, indeed, well
convinced that Sophia possessed the first place in Jones's affections;
and yet, haughty and amorous as this lady was, she submitted at last
to bear the second place; or, to express it more properly in a legal
phrase, was contented with the possession of that of which another
woman had the reversion.

It was at length agreed that Jones should for the future visit at the
house: for that Sophia, her maid, and all the servants, would place
these visits to the account of Sophia; and that she herself would be
considered as the person imposed upon.

This scheme was contrived by the lady, and highly relished by Jones,
who was indeed glad to have a prospect of seeing his Sophia at any
rate; and the lady herself was not a little pleased with the
imposition on Sophia, which Jones, she thought, could not possibly
discover to her for his own sake.

The next day was appointed for the first visit, and then, after proper
ceremonials, the Lady Bellaston returned home.



Chapter iii.

Containing various matters.


Jones was no sooner alone than he eagerly broke open his letter, and
read as follows:--

"Sir, it is impossible to express what I have suffered since you
left this house; and as I have reason to think you intend coming
here again, I have sent Honour, though so late at night, as she
tells me she knows your lodgings, to prevent you. I charge you, by
all the regard you have for me, not to think of visiting here; for
it will certainly be discovered; nay, I almost doubt, from some
things which have dropt from her ladyship, that she is not already
without some suspicion. Something favourable perhaps may happen; we
must wait with patience; but I once more entreat you, if you have
any concern for my ease, do not think of returning hither."

This letter administered the same kind of consolation to poor Jones,
which Job formerly received from his friends. Besides disappointing
all the hopes which he promised to himself from seeing Sophia, he was
reduced to an unhappy dilemma, with regard to Lady Bellaston; for
there are some certain engagements, which, as he well knew, do very
difficultly admit of any excuse for the failure; and to go, after the
strict prohibition from Sophia, he was not to be forced by any human
power. At length, after much deliberation, which during that night
supplied the place of sleep, he determined to feign himself sick: for
this suggested itself as the only means of failing the appointed
visit, without incensing Lady Bellaston, which he had more than one
reason of desiring to avoid.

The first thing, however, which he did in the morning, was, to write
an answer to Sophia, which he inclosed in one to Honour. He then
despatched another to Lady Bellaston, containing the above-mentioned
excuse; and to this he soon received the following answer:--

"I am vexed that I cannot see you here this afternoon, but more
concerned for the occasion; take great care of yourself, and have
the best advice, and I hope there will be no danger.--I am so
tormented all this morning with fools, that I have scarce a moment's
time to write to you. Adieu.

"_P.S._--I will endeavour to call on you this evening, at nine.--Be
sure to be alone."

Mr Jones now received a visit from Mrs Miller, who, after some formal
introduction, began the following speech:--"I am very sorry, sir, to
wait upon you on such an occasion; but I hope you will consider the
ill consequence which it must be to the reputation of my poor girls,
if my house should once be talked of as a house of ill-fame. I hope
you won't think me, therefore, guilty of impertinence, if I beg you
not to bring any more ladies in at that time of night. The clock had
struck two before one of them went away."--"I do assure you, madam,"
said Jones, "the lady who was here last night, and who staid the
latest (for the other only brought me a letter), is a woman of very
great fashion, and my near relation."--"I don't know what fashion she
is of," answered Mrs Miller; "but I am sure no woman of virtue, unless
a very near relation indeed, would visit a young gentleman at ten at
night, and stay four hours in his room with him alone; besides, sir,
the behaviour of her chairmen shows what she was; for they did nothing
but make jests all the evening in the entry, and asked Mr Partridge,
in the hearing of my own maid, if madam intended to stay with his
master all night; with a great deal of stuff not proper to be
repeated. I have really a great respect for you, Mr Jones, upon your
own account; nay, I have a very high obligation to you for your
generosity to my cousin. Indeed, I did not know how very good you had
been till lately. Little did I imagine to what dreadful courses the
poor man's distress had driven him. Little did I think, when you gave
me the ten guineas, that you had given them to a highwayman! O
heavens! what goodness have you shown! How have you preserved this
family!--The character which Mr Allworthy hath formerly given me of
you was, I find, strictly true.--And indeed, if I had no obligation to
you, my obligations to him are such, that, on his account, I should
shew you the utmost respect in my power.--Nay, believe me, dear Mr
Jones, if my daughters' and my own reputation were out of the case, I
should, for your own sake, be sorry that so pretty a young gentleman
should converse with these women; but if you are resolved to do it, I
must beg you to take another lodging; for I do not myself like to have
such things carried on under my roof; but more especially upon the
account of my girls, who have little, heaven knows, besides their
characters, to recommend them." Jones started and changed colour at
the name of Allworthy. "Indeed, Mrs Miller," answered he, a little
warmly, "I do not take this at all kind. I will never bring any
slander on your house; but I must insist on seeing what company I
please in my own room; and if that gives you any offence, I shall, as
soon as I am able, look for another lodging."--"I am sorry we must
part then, sir," said she; "but I am convinced Mr Allworthy himself
would never come within my doors, if he had the least suspicion of my
keeping an ill house."--"Very well, madam," said Jones.--"I hope,
sir," said she, "you are not angry; for I would not for the world
offend any of Mr Allworthy's family. I have not slept a wink all night
about this matter."--"I am sorry I have disturbed your rest, madam,"
said Jones, "but I beg you will send Partridge up to me immediately;"
which she promised to do, and then with a very low courtesy retired.

As soon as Partridge arrived, Jones fell upon him in the most
outrageous manner. "How often," said he, "am I to suffer for your
folly, or rather for my own in keeping you? is that tongue of yours
resolved upon my destruction?" "What have I done, sir?" answered
affrighted Partridge. "Who was it gave you authority to mention the
story of the robbery, or that the man you saw here was the person?"
"I, sir?" cries Partridge. "Now don't be guilty of a falsehood in
denying it," said Jones. "If I did mention such a matter," answers
Partridge, "I am sure I thought no harm; for I should not have opened
my lips, if it had not been to his own friends and relations, who, I
imagined, would have let it go no farther." "But I have a much heavier
charge against you," cries Jones, "than this. How durst you, after all
the precautions I gave you, mention the name of Mr Allworthy in this
house?" Partridge denied that he ever had, with many oaths. "How
else," said Jones, "should Mrs Miller be acquainted that there was any
connexion between him and me? And it is but this moment she told me
she respected me on his account." "O Lord, sir," said Partridge, "I
desire only to be heard out; and to be sure, never was anything so
unfortunate: hear me but out, and you will own how wrongfully you have
accused me. When Mrs Honour came downstairs last night she met me in
the entry, and asked me when my master had heard from Mr Allworthy;
and to be sure Mrs Miller heard the very words; and the moment Madam
Honour was gone, she called me into the parlour to her. `Mr
Partridge,' says she, `what Mr Allworthy is it that the gentlewoman
mentioned? is it the great Mr Allworthy of Somersetshire?' `Upon my
word, madam,' says I, `I know nothing of the matter.' `Sure,' says
she, `your master is not the Mr Jones I have heard Mr Allworthy talk
of?' `Upon my word, madam,' says I, `I know nothing of the matter.'
`Then,' says she, turning to her daughter Nancy, says she, `as sure as
tenpence this is the very young gentleman, and he agrees exactly with
the squire's description.' The Lord above knows who it was told her:
for I am the arrantest villain that ever walked upon two legs if ever
it came out of my mouth. I promise you, sir, I can keep a secret when
I am desired. Nay, sir, so far was I from telling her anything about
Mr Allworthy, that I told her the very direct contrary; for, though I
did not contradict it at that moment, yet, as second thoughts, they
say, are best, so when I came to consider that somebody must have
informed her, thinks I to myself, I will put an end to the story; and
so I went back again into the parlour some time afterwards, and says
I, upon my word, says I, whoever, says I, told you that this gentleman
was Mr Jones; that is, says I, that this Mr Jones was that Mr Jones,
told you a confounded lie: and I beg, says I, you will never mention
any such matter, says I; for my master, says I, will think I must have
told you so; and I defy anybody in the house ever to say I mentioned
any such word. To be certain, sir, it is a wonderful thing, and I have
been thinking with myself ever since, how it was she came to know it;
not but I saw an old woman here t'other day a begging at the door, who
looked as like her we saw in Warwickshire, that caused all that
mischief to us. To be sure it is never good to pass by an old woman
without giving her something, especially if she looks at you; for all
the world shall never persuade me but that they have a great power to
do mischief, and to be sure I shall never see an old woman again, but
I shall think to myself, _Infandum, regina, jubes renovare dolorem._"

The simplicity of Partridge set Jones a laughing, and put a final end
to his anger, which had indeed seldom any long duration in his mind;
and, instead of commenting on his defence, he told him he intended
presently to leave those lodgings, and ordered him to go and endeavour
to get him others.



Chapter iv.

Which we hope will be very attentively perused by young people of both
sexes.


Partridge had no sooner left Mr Jones than Mr Nightingale, with whom
he had now contracted a great intimacy, came to him, and, after a
short salutation, said, "So, Tom, I hear you had company very late
last night. Upon my soul you are a happy fellow, who have not been in
town above a fortnight, and can keep chairs waiting at your door till
two in the morning." He then ran on with much commonplace raillery of
the same kind, till Jones at last interrupted him, saying, "I suppose
you have received all this information from Mrs Miller, who hath been
up here a little while ago to give me warning. The good woman is
afraid, it seems, of the reputation of her daughters." "Oh! she is
wonderfully nice," says Nightingale, "upon that account; if you
remember, she would not let Nancy go with us to the masquerade." "Nay,
upon my honour, I think she's in the right of it," says Jones:
"however, I have taken her at her word, and have sent Partridge to
look for another lodging." "If you will," says Nightingale, "we may, I
believe, be again together; for, to tell you a secret, which I desire
you won't mention in the family, I intend to quit the house to-day."
"What, hath Mrs Miller given you warning too, my friend?" cries Jones.
"No," answered the other; "but the rooms are not convenient enough.
Besides, I am grown weary of this part of the town. I want to be
nearer the places of diversion; so I am going to Pall-mall." "And do
you intend to make a secret of your going away?" said Jones. "I
promise you," answered Nightingale, "I don't intend to bilk my
lodgings; but I have a private reason for not taking a formal leave."
"Not so private," answered Jones; "I promise you, I have seen it ever
since the second day of my coming to the house. Here will be some wet
eyes on your departure. Poor Nancy, I pity her, faith! Indeed, Jack,
you have played the fool with that girl. You have given her a longing,
which I am afraid nothing will ever cure her of." Nightingale
answered, "What the devil would you have me do? would you have me
marry her to cure her?" "No," answered Jones, "I would not have had
you make love to her, as you have often done in my presence. I have
been astonished at the blindness of her mother in never seeing it."
"Pugh, see it!" cries Nightingale. "What, the devil should she see?"
"Why, see," said Jones, "that you have made her daughter distractedly
in love with you. The poor girl cannot conceal it a moment; her eyes
are never off from you, and she always colours every time you come
into the room. Indeed, I pity her heartily; for she seems to be one of
the best-natured and honestest of human creatures." "And so," answered
Nightingale, "according to your doctrine, one must not amuse oneself
by any common gallantries with women, for fear they should fall in
love with us." "Indeed, Jack," said Jones, "you wilfully misunderstand
me; I do not fancy women are so apt to fall in love; but you have gone
far beyond common gallantries." "What, do you suppose," says
Nightingale, "that we have been a-bed together?" "No, upon my honour,"
answered Jones, very seriously, "I do not suppose so ill of you; nay,
I will go farther, I do not imagine you have laid a regular
premeditated scheme for the destruction of the quiet of a poor little
creature, or have even foreseen the consequence: for I am sure thou
art a very good-natured fellow; and such a one can never be guilty of
a cruelty of that kind; but at the same time you have pleased your own
vanity, without considering that this poor girl was made a sacrifice
to it; and while you have had no design but of amusing an idle hour,
you have actually given her reason to flatter herself that you had the
most serious designs in her favour. Prithee, Jack, answer me honestly;
to what have tended all those elegant and luscious descriptions of
happiness arising from violent and mutual fondness? all those warm
professions of tenderness, and generous disinterested love? Did you
imagine she would not apply them? or, speak ingenuously, did not you
intend she should?" "Upon my soul, Tom," cries Nightingale, "I did not
think this was in thee. Thou wilt make an admirable parson. So I
suppose you would not go to bed to Nancy now, if she would let you?"
"No," cries Jones, "may I be d--n'd if I would." "Tom, Tom," answered
Nightingale, "last night; remember last night----

When every eye was closed, and the pale moon,
And silent stars, shone conscious of the theft."

"Lookee, Mr Nightingale," said Jones, "I am no canting hypocrite, nor
do I pretend to the gift of chastity, more than my neighbours. I have
been guilty with women, I own it; but am not conscious that I have
ever injured any.--Nor would I, to procure pleasure to myself, be
knowingly the cause of misery to any human being."

"Well, well," said Nightingale, "I believe you, and I am convinced you
acquit me of any such thing."

"I do, from my heart," answered Jones, "of having debauched the girl,
but not from having gained her affections."

"If I have," said Nightingale, "I am sorry for it; but time and
absence will soon wear off such impressions. It is a receipt I must
take myself; for, to confess the truth to you--I never liked any girl
half so much in my whole life; but I must let you into the whole
secret, Tom. My father hath provided a match for me with a woman I
never saw; and she is now coming to town, in order for me to make my
addresses to her."

At these words Jones burst into a loud fit of laughter; when
Nightingale cried--"Nay, prithee, don't turn me into ridicule. The
devil take me if I am not half mad about this matter! my poor Nancy!
Oh! Jones, Jones, I wish I had a fortune in my own possession."

"I heartily wish you had," cries Jones; "for, if this be the case, I
sincerely pity you both; but surely you don't intend to go away
without taking your leave of her?"

"I would not," answered Nightingale, "undergo the pain of taking
leave, for ten thousand pounds; besides, I am convinced, instead of
answering any good purpose, it would only serve to inflame my poor
Nancy the more. I beg, therefore, you would not mention a word of it
to-day, and in the evening, or to-morrow morning, I intend to depart."

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