History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
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