History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
here. Tom raved like a madman, beat his breast, tore his hair, stamped
on the ground, and vowed the utmost vengeance on all who had been
concerned. He then pulled off his coat, and buttoned it round her, put
his hat upon her head, wiped the blood from her face as well as he
could with his handkerchief, and called out to the servant to ride as
fast as possible for a side-saddle, or a pillion, that he might carry
her safe home.
Master Blifil objected to the sending away the servant, as they had
only one with them; but as Square seconded the order of Jones, he was
obliged to comply.
The servant returned in a very short time with the pillion, and Molly,
having collected her rags as well as she could, was placed behind him.
In which manner she was carried home, Square, Blifil, and Jones
attending.
Here Jones having received his coat, given her a sly kiss, and
whispered her, that he would return in the evening, quitted his Molly,
and rode on after his companions.
Chapter ix.
Containing matter of no very peaceable colour.
Molly had no sooner apparelled herself in her accustomed rags, than
her sisters began to fall violently upon her, particularly her eldest
sister, who told her she was well enough served. “How had she the
assurance to wear a gown which young Madam Western had given to
mother! If one of us was to wear it, I think,” says she, “I myself
have the best right; but I warrant you think it belongs to your
beauty. I suppose you think yourself more handsomer than any of
us.”--“Hand her down the bit of glass from over the cupboard,” cries
another; “I'd wash the blood from my face before I talked of my
beauty.”--“You'd better have minded what the parson says,” cries the
eldest, “and not a harkened after men voke.”--“Indeed, child, and so
she had,” says the mother, sobbing: “she hath brought a disgrace upon
us all. She's the vurst of the vamily that ever was a whore.”
“You need not upbraid me with that, mother,” cries Molly; “you
yourself was brought-to-bed of sister there, within a week after you
was married.”
“Yes, hussy,” answered the enraged mother, “so I was, and what was the
mighty matter of that? I was made an honest woman then; and if you was
to be made an honest woman, I should not be angry; but you must have
to doing with a gentleman, you nasty slut; you will have a bastard,
hussy, you will; and that I defy any one to say of me.”
In this situation Black George found his family, when he came home for
the purpose before mentioned. As his wife and three daughters were all
of them talking together, and most of them crying, it was some time
before he could get an opportunity of being heard; but as soon as such
an interval occurred, he acquainted the company with what Sophia had
said to him.
Goody Seagrim then began to revile her daughter afresh. “Here,” says
she, “you have brought us into a fine quandary indeed. What will madam
say to that big belly? Oh that ever I should live to see this day!”
Molly answered with great spirit, “And what is this mighty place which
you have got for me, father?” (for he had not well understood the
phrase used by Sophia of being about her person). “I suppose it is to
be under the cook; but I shan't wash dishes for anybody. My gentleman
will provide better for me. See what he hath given me this afternoon.
He hath promised I shall never want money; and you shan't want money
neither, mother, if you will hold your tongue, and know when you are
well.” And so saying, she pulled out several guineas, and gave her
mother one of them.
The good woman no sooner felt the gold within her palm, than her
temper began (such is the efficacy of that panacea) to be mollified.
“Why, husband,” says she, “would any but such a blockhead as you not
have enquired what place this was before he had accepted it? Perhaps,
as Molly says, it may be in the kitchen; and truly I don't care my
daughter should be a scullion wench; for, poor as I am, I am a
gentlewoman. And thof I was obliged, as my father, who was a
clergyman, died worse than nothing, and so could not give me a
shilling of _potion_, to undervalue myself by marrying a poor man; yet
I would have you to know, I have a spirit above all them things. Marry
come up! it would better become Madam Western to look at home, and
remember who her own grandfather was. Some of my family, for aught I
know, might ride in their coaches, when the grandfathers of some voke
walked a-voot. I warrant she fancies she did a mighty matter, when she
sent us that old gownd; some of my family would not have picked up
such rags in the street; but poor people are always trampled
upon.--The parish need not have been in such a fluster with Molly. You
might have told them, child, your grandmother wore better things new
out of the shop.”
“Well, but consider,” cried George, “what answer shall I make to
madam?”
“I don't know what answer,” says she; “you are always bringing your
family into one quandary or other. Do you remember when you shot the
partridge, the occasion of all our misfortunes? Did not I advise you
never to go into Squire Western's manor? Did not I tell you many a
good year ago what would come of it? But you would have your own
headstrong ways; yes, you would, you villain.”
Black George was, in the main, a peaceable kind of fellow, and nothing
choleric nor rash; yet did he bear about him something of what the
antients called the irascible, and which his wife, if she had been
endowed with much wisdom, would have feared. He had long experienced,
that when the storm grew very high, arguments were but wind, which
served rather to increase, than to abate it. He was therefore seldom
unprovided with a small switch, a remedy of wonderful force, as he had
often essayed, and which the word villain served as a hint for his
applying.
No sooner, therefore, had this symptom appeared, than he had immediate
recourse to the said remedy, which though, as it is usual in all very
efficacious medicines, it at first seemed to heighten and inflame the
disease, soon produced a total calm, and restored the patient to
perfect ease and tranquillity.
This is, however, a kind of horse-medicine, which requires a very
robust constitution to digest, and is therefore proper only for the
vulgar, unless in one single instance, viz., where superiority of
birth breaks out; in which case, we should not think it very
improperly applied by any husband whatever, if the application was not
in itself so base, that, like certain applications of the physical
kind which need not be mentioned, it so much degrades and contaminates
the hand employed in it, that no gentleman should endure the thought
of anything so low and detestable.
The whole family were soon reduced to a state of perfect quiet; for
the virtue of this medicine, like that of electricity, is often
communicated through one person to many others, who are not touched by
the instrument. To say the truth, as they both operate by friction, it
may be doubted whether there is not something analogous between them,
of which Mr Freke would do well to enquire, before he publishes the
next edition of his book.
A council was now called, in which, after many debates, Molly still
persisting that she would not go to service, it was at length
resolved, that Goody Seagrim herself should wait on Miss Western, and
endeavour to procure the place for her eldest daughter, who declared
great readiness to accept it: but Fortune, who seems to have been an
enemy of this little family, afterwards put a stop to her promotion.
Chapter x.
A story told by Mr Supple, the curate. The penetration of Squire
Western. His great love for his daughter, and the return to it made by
her.
The next morning Tom Jones hunted with Mr Western, and was at his
return invited by that gentleman to dinner.
The lovely Sophia shone forth that day with more gaiety and
sprightliness than usual. Her battery was certainly levelled at our
heroe; though, I believe, she herself scarce yet knew her own
intention; but if she had any design of charming him, she now
succeeded.
Mr Supple, the curate of Mr Allworthy's parish, made one of the
company. He was a good-natured worthy man; but chiefly remarkable for
his great taciturnity at table, though his mouth was never shut at it.
In short, he had one of the best appetites in the world. However, the
cloth was no sooner taken away, than he always made sufficient amends
for his silence: for he was a very hearty fellow; and his conversation
was often entertaining, never offensive.
At his first arrival, which was immediately before the entrance of the
roast-beef, he had given an intimation that he had brought some news
with him, and was beginning to tell, that he came that moment from Mr
Allworthy's, when the sight of the roast-beef struck him dumb,
permitting him only to say grace, and to declare he must pay his
respect to the baronet, for so he called the sirloin.
When dinner was over, being reminded by Sophia of his news, he began
as follows: “I believe, lady, your ladyship observed a young woman at
church yesterday at even-song, who was drest in one of your outlandish
garments; I think I have seen your ladyship in such a one. However, in
the country, such dresses are
_Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cygno._
That is, madam, as much as to say, 'A rare bird upon the earth, and
very like a black swan.' The verse is in Juvenal. But to return to
what I was relating. I was saying such garments are rare sights in the
country; and perchance, too, it was thought the more rare, respect
being had to the person who wore it, who, they tell me, is the
daughter of Black George, your worship's gamekeeper, whose sufferings,
I should have opined, might have taught him more wit, than to dress
forth his wenches in such gaudy apparel. She created so much confusion
in the congregation, that if Squire Allworthy had not silenced it, it
would have interrupted the service: for I was once about to stop in
the middle of the first lesson. Howbeit, nevertheless, after prayer
was over, and I was departed home, this occasioned a battle in the
churchyard, where, amongst other mischief, the head of a travelling
fidler was very much broken. This morning the fidler came to Squire
Allworthy for a warrant, and the wench was brought before him. The
squire was inclined to have compounded matters; when, lo! on a sudden
the wench appeared (I ask your ladyship's pardon) to be, as it were,
at the eve of bringing forth a bastard. The squire demanded of her who
was the father? But she pertinaciously refused to make any response.
So that he was about to make her mittimus to Bridewell when I
departed.”
“And is a wench having a bastard all your news, doctor?” cries
Western; “I thought it might have been some public matter, something
about the nation.”
“I am afraid it is too common, indeed,” answered the parson; “but I
thought the whole story altogether deserved commemorating. As to
national matters, your worship knows them best. My concerns extend no
farther than my own parish.”
“Why, ay,” says the squire, “I believe I do know a little of that
matter, as you say. But, come, Tommy, drink about; the bottle stands
with you.”
Tom begged to be excused, for that he had particular business; and
getting up from table, escaped the clutches of the squire, who was
rising to stop him, and went off with very little ceremony.
The squire gave him a good curse at his departure; and then turning to
the parson, he cried out, “I smoke it: I smoke it. Tom is certainly
the father of this bastard. Zooks, parson, you remember how he
recommended the veather o' her to me. D--n un, what a sly b--ch 'tis.
Ay, ay, as sure as two-pence, Tom is the veather of the bastard.”
“I should be very sorry for that,” says the parson.