History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
brought about. “O, ma'am,” cries Honour, “your la'ship may trust that
to me; we servants very well know how to obtain this favour of our
masters and mistresses; though sometimes, indeed, where they owe us
more wages than they can readily pay, they will put up with all our
affronts, and will hardly take any warning we can give them; but the
squire is none of those; and since your la'ship is resolved upon
setting out to-night, I warrant I get discharged this afternoon.” It
was then resolved that she should pack up some linen and a night-gown
for Sophia, with her own things; and as for all her other clothes, the
young lady abandoned them with no more remorse than the sailor feels
when he throws over the goods of others, in order to save his own
life.
Chapter viii.
Containing scenes of altercation, of no very uncommon kind.
Mrs Honour had scarce sooner parted from her young lady, than
something (for I would not, like the old woman in Quevedo, injure the
devil by any false accusation, and possibly he might have no hand in
it)--but something, I say, suggested itself to her, that by
sacrificing Sophia and all her secrets to Mr Western, she might
probably make her fortune. Many considerations urged this discovery.
The fair prospect of a handsome reward for so great and acceptable a
service to the squire, tempted her avarice; and again, the danger of
the enterprize she had undertaken; the uncertainty of its success;
night, cold, robbers, ravishers, all alarmed her fears. So forcibly
did all these operate upon her, that she was almost determined to go
directly to the squire, and to lay open the whole affair. She was,
however, too upright a judge to decree on one side, before she had
heard the other. And here, first, a journey to London appeared very
strongly in support of Sophia. She eagerly longed to see a place in
which she fancied charms short only of those which a raptured saint
imagines in heaven. In the next place, as she knew Sophia to have much
more generosity than her master, so her fidelity promised her a
greater reward than she could gain by treachery. She then
cross-examined all the articles which had raised her fears on the
other side, and found, on fairly sifting the matter, that there was
very little in them. And now both scales being reduced to a pretty
even balance, her love to her mistress being thrown into the scale of
her integrity, made that rather preponderate, when a circumstance
struck upon her imagination which might have had a dangerous effect,
had its whole weight been fairly put into the other scale. This was
the length of time which must intervene before Sophia would be able to
fulfil her promises; for though she was intitled to her mother's
fortune at the death of her father, and to the sum of £3000 left her
by an uncle when she came of age; yet these were distant days, and
many accidents might prevent the intended generosity of the young
lady; whereas the rewards she might expect from Mr Western were
immediate. But while she was pursuing this thought the good genius of
Sophia, or that which presided over the integrity of Mrs Honour, or
perhaps mere chance, sent an accident in her way, which at once
preserved her fidelity, and even facilitated the intended business.
Mrs Western's maid claimed great superiority over Mrs Honour on
several accounts. First, her birth was higher; for her great-grandmother
by the mother's side was a cousin, not far removed, to an Irish peer.
Secondly, her wages were greater. And lastly, she had been at London,
and had of consequence seen more of the world. She had always behaved,
therefore, to Mrs Honour with that reserve, and had always exacted of
her those marks of distinction, which every order of females preserves
and requires in conversation with those of an inferior order. Now as
Honour did not at all times agree with this doctrine, but would
frequently break in upon the respect which the other demanded, Mrs
Western's maid was not at all pleased with her company; indeed, she
earnestly longed to return home to the house of her mistress, where
she domineered at will over all the other servants. She had been
greatly, therefore, disappointed in the morning, when Mrs Western had
changed her mind on the very point of departure; and had been in what
is vulgarly called a glouting humour ever since.
In this humour, which was none of the sweetest, she came into the room
where Honour was debating with herself in the manner we have above
related. Honour no sooner saw her, than she addressed her in the
following obliging phrase: “Soh, madam, I find we are to have the
pleasure of your company longer, which I was afraid the quarrel
between my master and your lady would have robbed us of.”--“I don't
know, madam,” answered the other, “what you mean by we and us. I
assure you I do not look on any of the servants in this house to be
proper company for me. I am company, I hope, for their betters every
day in the week. I do not speak on your account, Mrs Honour; for you
are a civilized young woman; and when you have seen a little more of
the world, I should not be ashamed to walk with you in St James's
Park.”--“Hoity toity!” cries Honour, “madam is in her airs, I protest.
Mrs Honour, forsooth! sure, madam, you might call me by my sir-name;
for though my lady calls me Honour, I have a sir-name as well as other
folks. Ashamed to walk with me, quotha! marry, as good as yourself, I
hope.”--“Since you make such a return to my civility,” said the other,
“I must acquaint you, Mrs Honour, that you are not so good as me. In
the country, indeed, one is obliged to take up with all kind of
trumpery; but in town I visit none but the women of women of quality.
Indeed, Mrs Honour, there is some difference, I hope, between you and
me.”--“I hope so too,” answered Honour: “there is some difference in
our ages, and--I think in our persons.” Upon speaking which last
words, she strutted by Mrs Western's maid with the most provoking air
of contempt; turning up her nose, tossing her head, and violently
brushing the hoop of her competitor with her own. The other lady put
on one of her most malicious sneers, and said, “Creature! you are
below my anger; and it is beneath me to give ill words to such an
audacious saucy trollop; but, hussy, I must tell you, your breeding
shows the meanness of your birth as well as of your education; and
both very properly qualify you to be the mean serving-woman of a
country girl.”--“Don't abuse my lady,” cries Honour: “I won't take
that of you; she's as much better than yours as she is younger, and
ten thousand times more handsomer.”
Here ill luck, or rather good luck, sent Mrs Western to see her maid
in tears, which began to flow plentifully at her approach; and of
which being asked the reason by her mistress, she presently acquainted
her that her tears were occasioned by the rude treatment of that
creature there--meaning Honour. “And, madam,” continued she, “I could
have despised all she said to me; but she hath had the audacity to
affront your ladyship, and to call you ugly--Yes, madam, she called
you ugly old cat to my face. I could not bear to hear your ladyship
called ugly.”--“Why do you repeat her impudence so often?” said Mrs
Western. And then turning to Mrs Honour, she asked her “How she had
the assurance to mention her name with disrespect?”--“Disrespect,
madam!” answered Honour; “I never mentioned your name at all: I said
somebody was not as handsome as my mistress, and to be sure you know
that as well as I.”--“Hussy,” replied the lady, “I will make such a
saucy trollop as yourself know that I am not a proper subject of your
discourse. And if my brother doth not discharge you this moment, I
will never sleep in his house again. I will find him out, and have you
discharged this moment.”--“Discharged!” cries Honour; “and suppose I
am: there are more places in the world than one. Thank Heaven, good
servants need not want places; and if you turn away all who do not
think you handsome, you will want servants very soon; let me tell you
that.”
Mrs Western spoke, or rather thundered, in answer; but as she was
hardly articulate, we cannot be very certain of the identical words;
we shall therefore omit inserting a speech which at best would not
greatly redound to her honour. She then departed in search of her
brother, with a countenance so full of rage, that she resembled one of
the furies rather than a human creature.
The two chambermaids being again left alone, began a second bout at
altercation, which soon produced a combat of a more active kind. In
this the victory belonged to the lady of inferior rank, but not
without some loss of blood, of hair, and of lawn and muslin.
Chapter ix.
The wise demeanour of Mr Western in the character of a magistrate. A
hint to justices of peace, concerning the necessary qualifications of
a clerk; with extraordinary instances of paternal madness and filial
affection.
Logicians sometimes prove too much by an argument, and politicians
often overreach themselves in a scheme. Thus had it like to have
happened to Mrs Honour, who, instead of recovering the rest of her
clothes, had like to have stopped even those she had on her back from
escaping; for the squire no sooner heard of her having abused his
sister, than he swore twenty oaths he would send her to Bridewell.
Mrs Western was a very good-natured woman, and ordinarily of a
forgiving temper. She had lately remitted the trespass of a
stage-coachman, who had overturned her post-chaise into a ditch; nay,
she had even broken the law, in refusing to prosecute a highwayman who
had robbed her, not only of a sum of money, but of her ear-rings; at
the same time d--ning her, and saying, “Such handsome b--s as you
don't want jewels to set them off, and be d--n'd to you.” But now, so
uncertain are our tempers, and so much do we at different times differ
from ourselves, she would hear of no mitigation; nor could all the
affected penitence of Honour, nor all the entreaties of Sophia for her
own servant, prevail with her to desist from earnestly desiring her
brother to execute justiceship (for it was indeed a syllable more than
justice) on the wench.
But luckily the clerk had a qualification, which no clerk to a justice
of peace ought ever to be without, namely, some understanding in the
law of this realm. He therefore whispered in the ear of the justice
that he would exceed his authority by committing the girl to
Bridewell, as there had been no attempt to break the peace; “for I am
afraid, sir,” says he, “you cannot legally commit any one to Bridewell
only for ill-breeding.”
In matters of high importance, particularly in cases relating to the
game, the justice was not always attentive to these admonitions of his
clerk; for, indeed, in executing the laws under that head, many
justices of peace suppose they have a large discretionary power, by
virtue of which, under the notion of searching for and taking away
engines for the destruction of the game, they often commit trespasses,
and sometimes felony, at their pleasure.
But this offence was not of quite so high a nature, nor so dangerous
to the society. Here, therefore, the justice behaved with some
attention to the advice of his clerk; for, in fact, he had already had
two informations exhibited against him in the King's Bench, and had no
curiosity to try a third.
The squire, therefore, putting on a most wise and significant
countenance, after a preface of several hums and hahs, told his
sister, that upon more mature deliberation, he was of opinion, that
“as there was no breaking up of the peace, such as the law,” says he,
“calls breaking open a door, or breaking a hedge, or breaking a head,
or any such sort of breaking, the matter did not amount to a felonious