History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
within these twelve hours for my poor girl, I am convinced she would
not engross all your pity. Passion leads me only to her; and, if I had
any foolish scruples of honour, you have fully satisfied them: could
my father be induced to comply with my desires, nothing would be
wanting to compleat my own happiness or that of my Nancy.”
“Then I am resolved to undertake it,” said Jones. “You must not be
angry with me, in whatever light it may be necessary to set this
affair, which, you may depend on it, could not otherwise be long hid
from him: for things of this nature make a quick progress when once
they get abroad, as this unhappily hath already. Besides, should any
fatal accident follow, as upon my soul I am afraid will, unless
immediately prevented, the public would ring of your name in a manner
which, if your father hath common humanity, must offend him. If you
will therefore tell me where I may find the old gentleman, I will not
lose a moment in the business; which, while I pursue, you cannot do a
more generous action than by paying a visit to the poor girl. You will
find I have not exaggerated in the account I have given of the
wretchedness of the family.”
Nightingale immediately consented to the proposal; and now, having
acquainted Jones with his father's lodging, and the coffee-house where
he would most probably find him, he hesitated a moment, and then said,
“My dear Tom, you are going to undertake an impossibility. If you knew
my father you would never think of obtaining his consent.----Stay,
there is one way--suppose you told him I was already married, it might
be easier to reconcile him to the fact after it was done; and, upon my
honour, I am so affected with what you have said, and I love my Nancy
so passionately, I almost wish it was done, whatever might be the
consequence.”
Jones greatly approved the hint, and promised to pursue it. They then
separated, Nightingale to visit his Nancy, and Jones in quest of the
old gentleman.
Chapter viii.
What passed between Jones and old Mr Nightingale; with the arrival of
a person not yet mentioned in this history.
Notwithstanding the sentiment of the Roman satirist, which denies the
divinity of fortune, and the opinion of Seneca to the same purpose;
Cicero, who was, I believe, a wiser man than either of them, expressly
holds the contrary; and certain it is, there are some incidents in
life so very strange and unaccountable, that it seems to require more
than human skill and foresight in producing them.
Of this kind was what now happened to Jones, who found Mr Nightingale
the elder in so critical a minute, that Fortune, if she was really
worthy all the worship she received at Rome, could not have contrived
such another. In short, the old gentleman, and the father of the young
lady whom he intended for his son, had been hard at it for many hours;
and the latter was just now gone, and had left the former delighted
with the thoughts that he had succeeded in a long contention, which
had been between the two fathers of the future bride and bridegroom;
in which both endeavoured to overreach the other, and, as it not
rarely happens in such cases, both had retreated fully satisfied of
having obtained the victory.
This gentleman, whom Mr Jones now visited, was what they call a man of
the world; that is to say, a man who directs his conduct in this world
as one who, being fully persuaded there is no other, is resolved to
make the most of this. In his early years he had been bred to trade;
but, having acquired a very good fortune, he had lately declined his
business; or, to speak more properly, had changed it from dealing in
goods, to dealing only in money, of which he had always a plentiful
fund at command, and of which he knew very well how to make a very
plentiful advantage, sometimes of the necessities of private men, and
sometimes of those of the public. He had indeed conversed so entirely
with money, that it may be almost doubted whether he imagined there
was any other thing really existing in the world; this at least may be
certainly averred, that he firmly believed nothing else to have any
real value.
The reader will, I fancy, allow that Fortune could not have culled out
a more improper person for Mr Jones to attack with any probability of
success; nor could the whimsical lady have directed this attack at a
more unseasonable time.
As money then was always uppermost in this gentleman's thoughts, so
the moment he saw a stranger within his doors it immediately occurred
to his imagination, that such stranger was either come to bring him
money, or to fetch it from him. And according as one or other of these
thoughts prevailed, he conceived a favourable or unfavourable idea of
the person who approached him.
Unluckily for Jones, the latter of these was the ascendant at present;
for as a young gentleman had visited him the day before, with a bill
from his son for a play debt, he apprehended, at the first sight of
Jones, that he was come on such another errand. Jones therefore had no
sooner told him that he was come on his son's account than the old
gentleman, being confirmed in his suspicion, burst forth into an
exclamation, “That he would lose his labour.” “Is it then possible,
sir,” answered Jones, “that you can guess my business?” “If I do guess
it,” replied the other, “I repeat again to you, you will lose your
labour. What, I suppose you are one of those sparks who lead my son
into all those scenes of riot and debauchery, which will be his
destruction? but I shall pay no more of his bills, I promise you. I
expect he will quit all such company for the future. If I had imagined
otherwise, I should not have provided a wife for him; for I would be
instrumental in the ruin of nobody.” “How, sir,” said Jones, “and was
this lady of your providing?” “Pray, sir,” answered the old gentleman,
“how comes it to be any concern of yours?”--“Nay, dear sir,” replied
Jones, “be not offended that I interest myself in what regards your
son's happiness, for whom I have so great an honour and value. It was
upon that very account I came to wait upon you. I can't express the
satisfaction you have given me by what you say; for I do assure you
your son is a person for whom I have the highest honour.--Nay, sir, it
is not easy to express the esteem I have for you; who could be so
generous, so good, so kind, so indulgent to provide such a match for
your son; a woman, who, I dare swear, will make him one of the
happiest men upon earth.”
There is scarce anything which so happily introduces men to our good
liking, as having conceived some alarm at their first appearance; when
once those apprehensions begin to vanish we soon forget the fears
which they occasioned, and look on ourselves as indebted for our
present ease to those very persons who at first raised our fears.
Thus it happened to Nightingale, who no sooner found that Jones had no
demand on him, as he suspected, than he began to be pleased with his
presence. “Pray, good sir,” said he, “be pleased to sit down. I do not
remember to have ever had the pleasure of seeing you before; but if
you are a friend of my son, and have anything to say concerning this
young lady, I shall be glad to hear you. As to her making him happy,
it will be his own fault if she doth not. I have discharged my duty,
in taking care of the main article. She will bring him a fortune
capable of making any reasonable, prudent, sober man, happy.”
“Undoubtedly,” cries Jones, “for she is in herself a fortune; so
beautiful, so genteel, so sweet-tempered, and so well-educated; she is
indeed a most accomplished young lady; sings admirably well, and hath
a most delicate hand at the harpsichord.” “I did not know any of these
matters,” answered the old gentleman, “for I never saw the lady: but I
do not like her the worse for what you tell me; and I am the better
pleased with her father for not laying any stress on these
qualifications in our bargain. I shall always think it a proof of his
understanding. A silly fellow would have brought in these articles as
an addition to her fortune; but, to give him his due, he never
mentioned any such matter; though to be sure they are no
disparagements to a woman.” “I do assure you, sir,” cries Jones, “she
hath them all in the most eminent degree: for my part, I own I was
afraid you might have been a little backward, a little less inclined
to the match; for your son told me you had never seen the lady;
therefore I came, sir, in that case, to entreat you, to conjure you,
as you value the happiness of your son, not to be averse to his match
with a woman who hath not only all the good qualities I have
mentioned, but many more.”--“If that was your business, sir,” said the
old gentleman, “we are both obliged to you; and you may be perfectly
easy; for I give you my word I was very well satisfied with her
fortune.” “Sir,” answered Jones, “I honour you every moment more and
more. To be so easily satisfied, so very moderate on that account, is
a proof of the soundness of your understanding, as well as the
nobleness of your mind.”----“Not so very moderate, young gentleman,
not so very moderate,” answered the father.--“Still more and more
noble,” replied Jones; “and give me leave to add, sensible: for sure
it is little less than madness to consider money as the sole
foundation of happiness. Such a woman as this with her little, her
nothing of a fortune”--“I find,” cries the old gentleman, “you have a
pretty just opinion of money, my friend, or else you are better
acquainted with the person of the lady than with her circumstances.
Why, pray, what fortune do you imagine this lady to have?” “What
fortune?” cries Jones, “why, too contemptible a one to be named for
your son.”--“Well, well, well,” said the other, “perhaps he might have
done better.”--“That I deny,” said Jones, “for she is one of the best
of women.”--“Ay, ay, but in point of fortune I mean,” answered the
other. “And yet, as to that now, how much do you imagine your friend
is to have?”--“How much?” cries Jones, “how much? Why, at the utmost,
perhaps £200.” “Do you mean to banter me, young gentleman?” said the
father, a little angry. “No, upon my soul,” answered Jones, “I am in
earnest: nay, I believe I have gone to the utmost farthing. If I do
the lady an injury, I ask her pardon.” “Indeed you do,” cries the
father; “I am certain she hath fifty times that sum, and she shall
produce fifty to that before I consent that she shall marry my son.”
“Nay,” said Jones, “it is too late to talk of consent now; if she had
not fifty farthings your son is married.”--“My son married!” answered
the old gentleman, with surprize. “Nay,” said Jones, “I thought you
was unacquainted with it.” “My son married to Miss Harris!” answered
he again. “To Miss Harris!” said Jones; “no, sir; to Miss Nancy
Miller, the daughter of Mrs Miller, at whose house he lodged; a young
lady, who, though her mother is reduced to let lodgings--“--“Are you
bantering, or are you in earnest?” cries the father, with a most
solemn voice. “Indeed, sir,” answered Jones, “I scorn the character of
a banterer. I came to you in most serious earnest, imagining, as I
find true, that your son had never dared acquaint you with a match so
much inferior to him in point of fortune, though the reputation of the
lady will suffer it no longer to remain a secret.”
While the father stood like one struck suddenly dumb at this news, a
gentleman came into the room, and saluted him by the name of brother.
But though these two were in consanguinity so nearly related, they
were in their dispositions almost the opposites to each other. The
brother who now arrived had likewise been bred to trade, in which he
no sooner saw himself worth £6000 than he purchased a small estate