History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
as she had before spoken in dispraise of his birth, character, and
fortune.
When Lady Bellaston had heard the whole, she answered gravely,
“Indeed, madam, this is a matter of great consequence. Nothing can
certainly be more commendable than the part you act; and I shall be
very glad to have my share in the preservation of a young lady of so
much merit, and for whom I have so much esteem.”
“Doth not your ladyship think,” says Mrs Fitzpatrick eagerly, “that it
would be the best way to write immediately to my uncle, and acquaint
him where my cousin is?”
The lady pondered a little upon this, and thus answered--“Why, no,
madam, I think not. Di Western hath described her brother to me to be
such a brute, that I cannot consent to put any woman under his power
who hath escaped from it. I have heard he behaved like a monster to
his own wife, for he is one of those wretches who think they have a
right to tyrannise over us, and from such I shall ever esteem it the
cause of my sex to rescue any woman who is so unfortunate to be under
their power.--The business, dear cousin, will be only to keep Miss
Western from seeing this young fellow, till the good company, which
she will have an opportunity of meeting here, give her a properer
turn.”
“If he should find her out, madam,” answered the other, “your ladyship
may be assured he will leave nothing unattempted to come at her.”
“But, madam,” replied the lady, “it is impossible he should come
here--though indeed it is possible he may get some intelligence where
she is, and then may lurk about the house--I wish therefore I knew his
person.
“Is there no way, madam, by which I could have a sight of him? for,
otherwise, you know, cousin, she may contrive to see him here without
my knowledge.” Mrs Fitzpatrick answered, “That he had threatened her
with another visit that afternoon, and that, if her ladyship pleased
to do her the honour of calling upon her then, she would hardly fail
of seeing him between six and seven; and if he came earlier she would,
by some means or other, detain him till her ladyship's arrival.”--Lady
Bellaston replied, “She would come the moment she could get from
dinner, which she supposed would be by seven at farthest; for that it
was absolutely necessary she should be acquainted with his person.
Upon my word, madam,” says she, “it was very good to take this care of
Miss Western; but common humanity, as well as regard to our family,
requires it of us both; for it would be a dreadful match indeed.”
Mrs Fitzpatrick failed not to make a proper return to the compliment
which Lady Bellaston had bestowed on her cousin, and, after some
little immaterial conversation, withdrew; and, getting as fast as she
could into her chair, unseen by Sophia or Honour, returned home.
Chapter iv.
Which consists of visiting.
Mr Jones had walked within sight of a certain door during the whole
day, which, though one of the shortest, appeared to him to be one of
the longest in the whole year. At length, the clock having struck
five, he returned to Mrs Fitzpatrick, who, though it was a full hour
earlier than the decent time of visiting, received him very civilly;
but still persisted in her ignorance concerning Sophia.
Jones, in asking for his angel, had dropped the word cousin, upon
which Mrs Fitzpatrick said, “Then, sir, you know we are related: and,
as we are, you will permit me the right of enquiring into the
particulars of your business with my cousin.” Here Jones hesitated a
good while, and at last answered, “He had a considerable sum of money
of hers in his hands, which he desired to deliver to her.” He then
produced the pocket-book, and acquainted Mrs Fitzpatrick with the
contents, and with the method in which they came into his hands. He
had scarce finished his story, when a most violent noise shook the
whole house. To attempt to describe this noise to those who have heard
it would be in vain; and to aim at giving any idea of it to those who
have never heard the like, would be still more vain: for it may be
truly said--
_--Non acuta
Sic geminant Corybantes aera._
The priests of Cybele do not so rattle their sounding brass.
In short, a footman knocked, or rather thundered, at the door. Jones
was a little surprized at the sound, having never heard it before; but
Mrs Fitzpatrick very calmly said, that, as some company were coming,
she could not make him any answer now; but if he pleased to stay till
they were gone, she intimated she had something to say to him.
The door of the room now flew open, and, after pushing in her hoop
sideways before her, entered Lady Bellaston, who having first made a
very low courtesy to Mrs Fitzpatrick, and as low a one to Mr Jones,
was ushered to the upper end of the room.
We mention these minute matters for the sake of some country ladies of
our acquaintance, who think it contrary to the rules of modesty to
bend their knees to a man.
The company were hardly well settled, before the arrival of the peer
lately mentioned, caused a fresh disturbance, and a repetition of
ceremonials.
These being over, the conversation began to be (as the phrase is)
extremely brilliant. However, as nothing past in it which can be
thought material to this history, or, indeed, very material in itself,
I shall omit the relation; the rather, as I have known some very fine
polite conversation grow extremely dull, when transcribed into books,
or repeated on the stage. Indeed, this mental repast is a dainty, of
which those who are excluded from polite assemblies must be contented
to remain as ignorant as they must of the several dainties of French
cookery, which are served only at the tables of the great. To say the
truth, as neither of these are adapted to every taste, they might both
be often thrown away on the vulgar.
Poor Jones was rather a spectator of this elegant scene, than an actor
in it; for though, in the short interval before the peer's arrival,
Lady Bellaston first, and afterwards Mrs Fitzpatrick, had addressed
some of their discourse to him; yet no sooner was the noble lord
entered, than he engrossed the whole attention of the two ladies to
himself; and as he took no more notice of Jones than if no such person
had been present, unless by now and then staring at him, the ladies
followed his example.
The company had now staid so long, that Mrs Fitzpatrick plainly
perceived they all designed to stay out each other. She therefore
resolved to rid herself of Jones, he being the visitant to whom she
thought the least ceremony was due. Taking therefore an opportunity of
a cessation of chat, she addressed herself gravely to him, and said,
“Sir, I shall not possibly be able to give you an answer to-night as
to that business; but if you please to leave word where I may send to
you to-morrow---”
Jones had natural, but not artificial good-breeding. Instead therefore
of communicating the secret of his lodgings to a servant, he
acquainted the lady herself with it particularly, and soon after very
ceremoniously withdrew.
He was no sooner gone than the great personages, who had taken no
notice of him present, began to take much notice of him in his
absence; but if the reader hath already excused us from relating the
more brilliant part of this conversation, he will surely be very ready
to excuse the repetition of what may be called vulgar abuse; though,
perhaps, it may be material to our history to mention an observation
of Lady Bellaston, who took her leave in a few minutes after him, and
then said to Mrs Fitzpatrick, at her departure, “I am satisfied on the
account of my cousin; she can be in no danger from this fellow.”
Our history shall follow the example of Lady Bellaston, and take leave
of the present company, which was now reduced to two persons; between
whom, as nothing passed, which in the least concerns us or our reader,
we shall not suffer ourselves to be diverted by it from matters which
must seem of more consequence to all those who are at all interested
in the affairs of our heroe.
Chapter v.
An adventure which happened to Mr Jones at his lodgings, with some
account of a young gentleman who lodged there, and of the mistress of
the house, and her two daughters.
The next morning, as early as it was decent, Jones attended at Mrs
Fitzpatrick's door, where he was answered that the lady was not at
home; an answer which surprized him the more, as he had walked
backwards and forwards in the street from break of day; and if she had
gone out, he must have seen her. This answer, however, he was obliged
to receive, and not only now, but to five several visits which he made
her that day.
To be plain with the reader, the noble peer had from some reason or
other, perhaps from a regard for the lady's honour, insisted that she
should not see Mr Jones, whom he looked on as a scrub, any more; and
the lady had complied in making that promise to which we now see her
so strictly adhere.
But as our gentle reader may possibly have a better opinion of the
young gentleman than her ladyship, and may even have some concern,
should it be apprehended that, during this unhappy separation from
Sophia, he took up his residence either at an inn, or in the street;
we shall now give an account of his lodging, which was indeed in a
very reputable house, and in a very good part of the town.
Mr Jones, then, had often heard Mr Allworthy mention the gentlewoman
at whose house he used to lodge when he was in town. This person, who,
as Jones likewise knew, lived in Bond-street, was the widow of a
clergyman, and was left by him, at his decease, in possession of two
daughters, and of a compleat set of manuscript sermons.
Of these two daughters, Nancy, the elder, was now arrived at the age
of seventeen, and Betty, the younger, at that of ten.
Hither Jones had despatched Partridge, and in this house he was
provided with a room for himself in the second floor, and with one for
Partridge in the fourth.
The first floor was inhabited by one of those young gentlemen, who, in
the last age, were called men of wit and pleasure about town, and
properly enough; for as men are usually denominated from their
business or profession, so pleasure may be said to have been the only
business or profession of those gentlemen to whom fortune had made all
useful occupations unnecessary. Playhouses, coffeehouses, and taverns
were the scenes of their rendezvous. Wit and humour were the
entertainment of their looser hours, and love was the business of
their more serious moments. Wine and the muses conspired to kindle the
brightest flames in their breasts; nor did they only admire, but some
were able to celebrate the beauty they admired, and all to judge of
the merit of such compositions.
Such, therefore, were properly called the men of wit and pleasure; but
I question whether the same appellation may, with the same propriety,
be given to those young gentlemen of our times, who have the same
ambition to be distinguished for parts. Wit certainly they have
nothing to do with. To give them their due, they soar a step higher
than their predecessors, and may be called men of wisdom and vertù
(take heed you do not read virtue). Thus at an age when the gentlemen
above mentioned employ their time in toasting the charms of a woman,
or in making sonnets in her praise; in giving their opinion of a play
at the theatre, or of a poem at Will's or Button's; these gentlemen
are considering the methods to bribe a corporation, or meditating
speeches for the House of Commons, or rather for the magazines. But
the science of gaming is that which above all others employs their
thoughts. These are the studies of their graver hours, while for their
amusements they have the vast circle of connoisseurship, painting,