History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
brought forth, and deposited before the stage, as a testimony of his
skill.
Instead, therefore, of answering my landlady, the puppet-show man ran
out to punish his Merry Andrew; and now the moon beginning to put
forth her silver light, as the poets call it (though she looked at
that time more like a piece of copper), Jones called for his
reckoning, and ordered Partridge, whom my landlady had just awaked
from a profound nap, to prepare for his journey; but Partridge, having
lately carried two points, as my reader hath seen before, was
emboldened to attempt a third, which was to prevail with Jones to take
up a lodging that evening in the house where he then was. He
introduced this with an affected surprize at the intention which Mr
Jones declared of removing; and, after urging many excellent arguments
against it, he at last insisted strongly that it could be to no manner
of purpose whatever; for that, unless Jones knew which way the lady
was gone, every step he took might very possibly lead him the farther
from her; “for you find, sir,” said he, “by all the people in the
house, that she is not gone this way. How much better, therefore,
would it be to stay till the morning, when we may expect to meet with
somebody to enquire of?”
This last argument had indeed some effect on Jones, and while he was
weighing it the landlord threw all the rhetoric of which he was master
into the same scale. “Sure, sir,” said he, “your servant gives you
most excellent advice; for who would travel by night at this time of
the year?” He then began in the usual stile to trumpet forth the
excellent accommodation which his house afforded; and my landlady
likewise opened on the occasion----But, not to detain the reader with
what is common to every host and hostess, it is sufficient to tell him
Jones was at last prevailed on to stay and refresh himself with a few
hours' rest, which indeed he very much wanted; for he had hardly shut
his eyes since he had left the inn where the accident of the broken
head had happened.
As soon as Jones had taken a resolution to proceed no farther that
night, he presently retired to rest, with his two bedfellows, the
pocket-book and the muff; but Partridge, who at several times had
refreshed himself with several naps, was more inclined to eating than
to sleeping, and more to drinking than to either.
And now the storm which Grace had raised being at an end, and my
landlady being again reconciled to the puppet-man, who on his side
forgave the indecent reflections which the good woman in her passion
had cast on his performances, a face of perfect peace and tranquillity
reigned in the kitchen; where sat assembled round the fire the
landlord and landlady of the house, the master of the puppet-show, the
attorney's clerk, the exciseman, and the ingenious Mr Partridge; in
which company past the agreeable conversation which will be found in
the next chapter.
Chapter vii.
Containing a remark or two of our own and many more of the good
company assembled in the kitchen.
Though the pride of Partridge did not submit to acknowledge himself a
servant, yet he condescended in most particulars to imitate the
manners of that rank. One instance of this was, his greatly magnifying
the fortune of his companion, as he called Jones: such is a general
custom with all servants among strangers, as none of them would
willingly be thought the attendant on a beggar: for, the higher the
situation of the master is, the higher consequently is that of the man
in his own opinion; the truth of which observation appears from the
behaviour of all the footmen of the nobility.
But, though title and fortune communicate a splendor all around them,
and the footmen of men of quality and of estate think themselves
entitled to a part of that respect which is paid to the quality and
estate of their masters, it is clearly otherwise with regard to virtue
and understanding. These advantages are strictly personal, and swallow
themselves all the respect which is paid to them. To say the truth,
this is so very little, that they cannot well afford to let any others
partake with them. As these therefore reflect no honour on the
domestic, so neither is he at all dishonoured by the most deplorable
want of both in his master. Indeed it is otherwise in the want of what
is called virtue in a mistress, the consequence of which we have
before seen: for in this dishonour there is a kind of contagion,
which, like that of poverty, communicates itself to all who approach
it.
Now for these reasons we are not to wonder that servants (I mean among
the men only) should have so great regard for the reputation of the
wealth of their masters, and little or none at all for their character
in other points, and that, though they would be ashamed to be the
footman of a beggar, they are not so to attend upon a rogue or a
blockhead; and do consequently make no scruple to spread the fame of
the iniquities and follies of their said masters as far as possible,
and this often with great humour and merriment. In reality, a footman
is often a wit as well as a beau, at the expence of the gentleman
whose livery he wears.
After Partridge, therefore, had enlarged greatly on the vast fortune
to which Mr Jones was heir, he very freely communicated an
apprehension, which he had begun to conceive the day before, and for
which, as we hinted at that very time, the behaviour of Jones seemed
to have furnished a sufficient foundation. In short, he was now pretty
well confirmed in an opinion that his master was out of his wits, with
which opinion he very bluntly acquainted the good company round the
fire.
With this sentiment the puppet-show man immediately coincided. “I
own,” said he, “the gentleman surprized me very much, when he talked
so absurdly about puppet-shows. It is indeed hardly to be conceived
that any man in his senses should be so much mistaken; what you say
now accounts very well for all his monstrous notions. Poor gentleman!
I am heartily concerned for him; indeed he hath a strange wildness
about his eyes, which I took notice of before, though I did not
mention it.”
The landlord agreed with this last assertion, and likewise claimed the
sagacity of having observed it. “And certainly,” added he, “it must be
so; for no one but a madman would have thought of leaving so good a
house to ramble about the country at that time of night.”
The exciseman, pulling his pipe from his mouth, said, “He thought the
gentleman looked and talked a little wildly;” and then turning to
Partridge, “if he be a madman,” says he, “he should not be suffered to
travel thus about the country; for possibly he may do some mischief.
It is a pity he was not secured and sent home to his relations.”
Now some conceits of this kind were likewise lurking in the mind of
Partridge; for, as he was now persuaded that Jones had run away from
Mr Allworthy, he promised himself the highest rewards if he could by
any means convey him back. But fear of Jones, of whose fierceness and
strength he had seen, and indeed felt, some instances, had however
represented any such scheme as impossible to be executed, and had
discouraged him from applying himself to form any regular plan for the
purpose. But no sooner did he hear the sentiments of the exciseman
than he embraced that opportunity of declaring his own, and expressed
a hearty wish that such a matter could be brought about.
“Could be brought about!” says the exciseman: “why, there is nothing
easier.”
“Ah! sir,” answered Partridge, “you don't know what a devil of a
fellow he is. He can take me up with one hand, and throw me out at
window; and he would, too, if he did but imagine--”
“Pogh!” says the exciseman, “I believe I am as good a man as he.
Besides, here are five of us.”
“I don't know what five,” cries the landlady, “my husband shall have
nothing to do in it. Nor shall any violent hands be laid upon anybody
in my house. The young gentleman is as pretty a young gentleman as
ever I saw in my life, and I believe he is no more mad than any of us.
What do you tell of his having a wild look with his eyes? they are the
prettiest eyes I ever saw, and he hath the prettiest look with them;
and a very modest civil young man he is. I am sure I have bepitied him
heartily ever since the gentleman there in the corner told us he was
crost in love. Certainly that is enough to make any man, especially
such a sweet young gentleman as he is, to look a little otherwise than
he did before. Lady, indeed! what the devil would the lady have better
than such a handsome man with a great estate? I suppose she is one of
your quality folks, one of your Townly ladies that we saw last night
in the puppet-show, who don't know what they would be at.”
The attorney's clerk likewise declared he would have no concern in the
business without the advice of counsel. “Suppose,” says he, “an action
of false imprisonment should be brought against us, what defence could
we make? Who knows what may be sufficient evidence of madness to a
jury? But I only speak upon my own account; for it don't look well for
a lawyer to be concerned in these matters, unless it be as a lawyer.
Juries are always less favourable to us than to other people. I don't
therefore dissuade you, Mr Thomson (to the exciseman), nor the
gentleman, nor anybody else.”
The exciseman shook his head at this speech, and the puppet-show man
said, “Madness was sometimes a difficult matter for a jury to decide:
for I remember,” says he, “I was once present at a tryal of madness,
where twenty witnesses swore that the person was as mad as a March
hare; and twenty others, that he was as much in his senses as any man
in England.--And indeed it was the opinion of most people, that it was
only a trick of his relations to rob the poor man of his right.”
“Very likely!” cries the landlady. “I myself knew a poor gentleman who
was kept in a mad-house all his life by his family, and they enjoyed
his estate, but it did them no good; for though the law gave it them,
it was the right of another.”
“Pogh!” cries the clerk, with great contempt, “who hath any right but
what the law gives them? If the law gave me the best estate in the
country, I should never trouble myself much who had the right.”
“If it be so,” says Partridge, “_Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula
cautum.”_
My landlord, who had been called out by the arrival of a horseman at
the gate, now returned into the kitchen, and with an affrighted
countenance cried out, “What do you think, gentlemen? The rebels have
given the duke the slip, and are got almost to London. It is certainly
true, for a man on horseback just now told me so.”
“I am glad of it with all my heart,” cries Partridge; “then there will
be no fighting in these parts.”
“I am glad,” cries the clerk, “for a better reason; for I would always
have right take place.”
“Ay, but,” answered the landlord, “I have heard some people say this
man hath no right.”
“I will prove the contrary in a moment,” cries the clerk: “if my
father dies seized of a right; do you mind me, seized of a right, I
say; doth not that right descend to his son; and doth not one right
descend as well as another?”
“But how can he have any right to make us papishes?” says the
landlord.
“Never fear that,” cries Partridge. “As to the matter of right, the
gentleman there hath proved it as clear as the sun; and as to the
matter of religion, it is quite out of the case. The papists
themselves don't expect any such thing. A popish priest, whom I know
very well, and who is a very honest man, told me upon his word and
honour they had no such design.”
“And another priest, of my acquaintance,” said the landlady, “hath
told me the same thing; but my husband is always so afraid of