History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
hath worn it upon her arm almost ever since, and I warrants hath given
it many a kiss when nobody hath seen her.”
Here the conversation was interrupted by Mr Western himself, who came
to summon Jones to the harpsichord; whither the poor young fellow went
all pale and trembling. This Western observed, but, on seeing Mrs
Honour, imputed it to a wrong cause; and having given Jones a hearty
curse between jest and earnest, he bid him beat abroad, and not poach
up the game in his warren.
Sophia looked this evening with more than usual beauty, and we may
believe it was no small addition to her charms, in the eye of Mr
Jones, that she now happened to have on her right arm this very muff.
She was playing one of her father's favourite tunes, and he was
leaning on her chair, when the muff fell over her fingers, and put her
out. This so disconcerted the squire, that he snatched the muff from
her, and with a hearty curse threw it into the fire. Sophia instantly
started up, and with the utmost eagerness recovered it from the
flames.
Though this incident will probably appear of little consequence to
many of our readers; yet, trifling as it was, it had so violent an
effect on poor Jones, that we thought it our duty to relate it. In
reality, there are many little circumstances too often omitted by
injudicious historians, from which events of the utmost importance
arise. The world may indeed be considered as a vast machine, in which
the great wheels are originally set in motion by those which are very
minute, and almost imperceptible to any but the strongest eyes.
Thus, not all the charms of the incomparable Sophia; not all the
dazzling brightness, and languishing softness of her eyes; the harmony
of her voice, and of her person; not all her wit, good-humour,
greatness of mind, or sweetness of disposition, had been able so
absolutely to conquer and enslave the heart of poor Jones, as this
little incident of the muff. Thus the poet sweetly sings of Troy--
_--Captique dolis lachrymisque coacti
Quos neque Tydides, nec Larissaeus Achilles,
Non anni domuere decem, non mille Carinae._
What Diomede or Thetis' greater son,
A thousand ships, nor ten years' siege had done
False tears and fawning words the city won.
The citadel of Jones was now taken by surprize. All those
considerations of honour and prudence which our heroe had lately with
so much military wisdom placed as guards over the avenues of his
heart, ran away from their posts, and the god of love marched in, in
triumph.
Chapter v.
A very long chapter, containing a very great incident.
But though this victorious deity easily expelled his avowed enemies
from the heart of Jones, he found it more difficult to supplant the
garrison which he himself had placed there. To lay aside all allegory,
the concern for what must become of poor Molly greatly disturbed and
perplexed the mind of the worthy youth. The superior merit of Sophia
totally eclipsed, or rather extinguished, all the beauties of the poor
girl; but compassion instead of contempt succeeded to love. He was
convinced the girl had placed all her affections, and all her prospect
of future happiness, in him only. For this he had, he knew, given
sufficient occasion, by the utmost profusion of tenderness towards
her: a tenderness which he had taken every means to persuade her he
would always maintain. She, on her side, had assured him of her firm
belief in his promise, and had with the most solemn vows declared,
that on his fulfilling or breaking these promises, it depended,
whether she should be the happiest or most miserable of womankind. And
to be the author of this highest degree of misery to a human being,
was a thought on which he could not bear to ruminate a single moment.
He considered this poor girl as having sacrificed to him everything in
her little power; as having been at her own expense the object of his
pleasure; as sighing and languishing for him even at that very
instant. Shall then, says he, my recovery, for which she hath so
ardently wished; shall my presence, which she hath so eagerly
expected, instead of giving her that joy with which she hath flattered
herself, cast her at once down into misery and despair? Can I be such
a villain? Here, when the genius of poor Molly seemed triumphant, the
love of Sophia towards him, which now appeared no longer dubious,
rushed upon his mind, and bore away every obstacle before it.
At length it occurred to him, that he might possibly be able to make
Molly amends another way; namely, by giving her a sum of money. This,
nevertheless, he almost despaired of her accepting, when he
recollected the frequent and vehement assurances he had received from
her, that the world put in balance with him would make her no amends
for his loss. However, her extreme poverty, and chiefly her egregious
vanity (somewhat of which hath been already hinted to the reader),
gave him some little hope, that, notwithstanding all her avowed
tenderness, she might in time be brought to content herself with a
fortune superior to her expectation, and which might indulge her
vanity, by setting her above all her equals. He resolved therefore to
take the first opportunity of making a proposal of this kind.
One day, accordingly, when his arm was so well recovered that he could
walk easily with it slung in a sash, he stole forth, at a season when
the squire was engaged in his field exercises, and visited his fair
one. Her mother and sisters, whom he found taking their tea, informed
him first that Molly was not at home; but afterwards the eldest sister
acquainted him, with a malicious smile, that she was above stairs
a-bed. Tom had no objection to this situation of his mistress, and
immediately ascended the ladder which led towards her bed-chamber; but
when he came to the top, he, to his great surprize, found the door
fast; nor could he for some time obtain any answer from within; for
Molly, as she herself afterwards informed him, was fast asleep.
The extremes of grief and joy have been remarked to produce very
similar effects; and when either of these rushes on us by surprize, it
is apt to create such a total perturbation and confusion, that we are
often thereby deprived of the use of all our faculties. It cannot
therefore be wondered at, that the unexpected sight of Mr Jones should
so strongly operate on the mind of Molly, and should overwhelm her
with such confusion, that for some minutes she was unable to express
the great raptures, with which the reader will suppose she was
affected on this occasion. As for Jones, he was so entirely possessed,
and as it were enchanted, by the presence of his beloved object, that
he for a while forgot Sophia, and consequently the principal purpose
of his visit.
This, however, soon recurred to his memory; and after the first
transports of their meeting were over, he found means by degrees to
introduce a discourse on the fatal consequences which must attend
their amour, if Mr Allworthy, who had strictly forbidden him ever
seeing her more, should discover that he still carried on this
commerce. Such a discovery, which his enemies gave him reason to think
would be unavoidable, must, he said, end in his ruin, and consequently
in hers. Since therefore their hard fates had determined that they
must separate, he advised her to bear it with resolution, and swore he
would never omit any opportunity, through the course of his life, of
showing her the sincerity of his affection, by providing for her in a
manner beyond her utmost expectation, or even beyond her wishes, if
ever that should be in his power; concluding at last, that she might
soon find some man who would marry her, and who would make her much
happier than she could be by leading a disreputable life with him.
Molly remained a few moments in silence, and then bursting into a
flood of tears, she began to upbraid him in the following words: “And
this is your love for me, to forsake me in this manner, now you have
ruined me! How often, when I have told you that all men are false and
perjury alike, and grow tired of us as soon as ever they have had
their wicked wills of us, how often have you sworn you would never
forsake me! And can you be such a perjury man after all? What
signifies all the riches in the world to me without you, now you have
gained my heart, so you have--you have--? Why do you mention another
man to me? I can never love any other man as long as I live. All other
men are nothing to me. If the greatest squire in all the country would
come a suiting to me to-morrow, I would not give my company to him.
No, I shall always hate and despise the whole sex for your sake.”--
She was proceeding thus, when an accident put a stop to her tongue,
before it had run out half its career. The room, or rather garret, in
which Molly lay, being up one pair of stairs, that is to say, at the
top of the house, was of a sloping figure, resembling the great Delta
of the Greeks. The English reader may perhaps form a better idea of
it, by being told that it was impossible to stand upright anywhere but
in the middle. Now, as this room wanted the conveniency of a closet,
Molly had, to supply that defect, nailed up an old rug against the
rafters of the house, which enclosed a little hole where her best
apparel, such as the remains of that sack which we have formerly
mentioned, some caps, and other things with which she had lately
provided herself, were hung up and secured from the dust.
This enclosed place exactly fronted the foot of the bed, to which,
indeed, the rug hung so near, that it served in a manner to supply the
want of curtains. Now, whether Molly, in the agonies of her rage,
pushed this rug with her feet; or Jones might touch it; or whether the
pin or nail gave way of its own accord, I am not certain; but as Molly
pronounced those last words, which are recorded above, the wicked rug
got loose from its fastening, and discovered everything hid behind it;
where among other female utensils appeared--(with shame I write it,
and with sorrow will it be read)--the philosopher Square, in a posture
(for the place would not near admit his standing upright) as
ridiculous as can possibly be conceived.
The posture, indeed, in which he stood, was not greatly unlike that of
a soldier who is tied neck and heels; or rather resembling the
attitude in which we often see fellows in the public streets of
London, who are not suffering but deserving punishment by so standing.
He had a nightcap belonging to Molly on his head, and his two large
eyes, the moment the rug fell, stared directly at Jones; so that when
the idea of philosophy was added to the figure now discovered, it
would have been very difficult for any spectator to have refrained
from immoderate laughter.
I question not but the surprize of the reader will be here equal to
that of Jones; as the suspicions which must arise from the appearance
of this wise and grave man in such a place, may seem so inconsistent
with that character which he hath, doubtless, maintained hitherto, in
the opinion of every one.
But to confess the truth, this inconsistency is rather imaginary than
real. Philosophers are composed of flesh and blood as well as other
human creatures; and however sublimated and refined the theory of
these may be, a little practical frailty is as incident to them as to
other mortals. It is, indeed, in theory only, and not in practice, as
we have before hinted, that consists the difference: for though such
great beings think much better and more wisely, they always act
exactly like other men. They know very well how to subdue all
appetites and passions, and to despise both pain and pleasure; and
this knowledge affords much delightful contemplation, and is easily