History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
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.”
If anything could add to the satisfaction which the poor man now
enjoyed, he received this addition by the arrival of an excellent
shoulder of mutton, that at this instant came smoaking to the table.
On which, having both plentifully feasted, they again mounted their
horses, and set forward for London.
Chapter xiv.
What happened to Mr Jones in his journey from St Albans.
They were got about two miles beyond Barnet, and it was now the dusk
of the evening, when a genteel-looking man, but upon a very shabby
horse, rode up to Jones, and asked him whether he was going to London;
to which Jones answered in the affirmative. The gentleman replied, “I
should be obliged to you, sir, if you will accept of my company; for
it is very late, and I am a stranger to the road.” Jones readily
complied with the request; and on they travelled together, holding
that sort of discourse which is usual on such occasions.
Of this, indeed, robbery was the principal topic: upon which subject
the stranger expressed great apprehensions; but Jones declared he had
very little to lose, and consequently as little to fear. Here
Partridge could not forbear putting in his word. “Your honour,” said
he, “may think it a little, but I am sure, if I had a hundred-pound
bank-note in my pocket, as you have, I should be very sorry to lose
it; but, for my part, I never was less afraid in my life; for we are
four of us, and if we all stand by one another, the best man in
England can't rob us. Suppose he should have a pistol, he can kill but
one of us, and a man can die but once.--That's my comfort, a man can
die but once.”
Besides the reliance on superior numbers, a kind of valour which hath
raised a certain nation among the moderns to a high pitch of glory,
there was another reason for the extraordinary courage which Partridge
now discovered; for he had at present as much of that quality as was
in the power of liquor to bestow.
Our company were now arrived within a mile of Highgate, when the
stranger turned short upon Jones, and pulling out a pistol, demanded
that little bank-note which Partridge had mentioned.
Jones was at first somewhat shocked at this unexpected demand;
however, he presently recollected himself, and told the highwayman,
all the money he had in his pocket was entirely at his service; and so
saying, he pulled out upwards of three guineas, and offered to deliver
it; but the other answered with an oath, That would not do. Jones
answered coolly, he was very sorry for it, and returned the money into
his pocket.
The highwayman then threatened, if he did not deliver the bank-note
that moment, he must shoot him; holding his pistol at the same time
very near to his breast. Jones instantly caught hold of the fellow's
hand, which trembled so that he could scarce hold the pistol in it,
and turned the muzzle from him. A struggle then ensued, in which the
former wrested the pistol from the hand of his antagonist, and both
came from their horses on the ground together, the highwayman upon his
back, and the victorious Jones upon him.
The poor fellow now began to implore mercy of the conqueror: for, to
say the truth, he was in strength by no means a match for Jones.
“Indeed, sir,” says he, “I could have had no intention to shoot you;
for you will find the pistol was not loaded. This is the first robbery
I ever attempted, and I have been driven by distress to this.”
At this instant, at about a hundred and fifty yards' distance, lay
another person on the ground, roaring for mercy in a much louder voice
than the highwayman. This was no other than Partridge himself, who,
endeavouring to make his escape from the engagement, had been thrown
from his horse, and lay flat on his face, not daring to look up, and
expecting every minute to be shot.
In this posture he lay, till the guide, who was no otherwise concerned
than for his horses, having secured the stumbling beast, came up to
him, and told him his master had got the better of the highwayman.
Partridge leapt up at this news, and ran back to the place where Jones
stood with his sword drawn in his hand to guard the poor fellow; which
Partridge no sooner saw than he cried out, “Kill the villain, sir, run
him through the body, kill him this instant!”
Luckily, however, for the poor wretch, he had fallen into more
merciful hands; for Jones having examined the pistol, and found it to
be really unloaded, began to believe all the man had told him, before
Partridge came up: namely, that he was a novice in the trade, and that
he had been driven to it by the distress he mentioned, the greatest
indeed imaginable, that of five hungry children, and a wife lying in
of the sixth, in the utmost want and misery. The truth of all which
the highwayman most vehemently asserted, and offered to convince Mr
Jones of it, if he would take the trouble to go to his house, which
was not above two miles off; saying, “That he desired no favour, but
upon condition of proving all he had all alledged.”
Jones at first pretended that he would take the fellow at his word,
and go with him, declaring that his fate should depend entirely on the
truth of his story. Upon this the poor fellow immediately expressed so
much alacrity, that Jones was perfectly satisfied with his veracity,
and began now to entertain sentiments of compassion for him. He
returned the fellow his empty pistol, advised him to think of honester
means of relieving his distress, and gave him a couple of guineas for
the immediate support of his wife and his family; adding, “he wished
he had more for his sake, for the hundred pound that had been
mentioned was not his own.”
Our readers will probably be divided in their opinions concerning this
action; some may applaud it perhaps as an act of extraordinary
humanity, while those of a more saturnine temper will consider it as a
want of regard to that justice which every man owes his country.
Partridge certainly saw it in that light; for he testified much
dissatisfaction on the occasion, quoted an old proverb, and said, he
should not wonder if the rogue attacked them again before they reached
London.
The highwayman was full of expressions of thankfulness and gratitude.
He actually dropt tears, or pretended so to do. He vowed he would
immediately return home, and would never afterwards commit such a
transgression: whether he kept his word or no, perhaps may appear
hereafter.
Our travellers having remounted their horses, arrived in town without
encountering any new mishap. On the road much pleasant discourse
passed between Jones and Partridge, on the subject of their last
adventure: in which Jones exprest a great compassion for those
highwaymen who are, by unavoidable distress, driven, as it were, to