History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
cloathed with the skin of an ass, made something into the form of a
coat. He wore likewise boots on his legs, and a cap on his head, both
composed of the skin of some other animals.
As soon as the old gentleman came into his house, the old woman began
her congratulations on his happy escape from the ruffians. “Yes,”
cried he, “I have escaped, indeed, thanks to my preserver.”--“O the
blessing on him!” answered she: “he is a good gentleman, I warrant
him. I was afraid your worship would have been angry with me for
letting him in; and to be certain I should not have done it, had not I
seen by the moon-light, that he was a gentleman, and almost frozen to
death. And to be certain it must have been some good angel that sent
him hither, and tempted me to do it.”
“I am afraid, sir,” said the old gentleman to Jones, “that I have
nothing in this house which you can either eat or drink, unless you
will accept a dram of brandy; of which I can give you some most
excellent, and which I have had by me these thirty years.” Jones
declined this offer in a very civil and proper speech, and then the
other asked him, “Whither he was travelling when he mist his way?”
saying, “I must own myself surprized to see such a person as you
appear to be, journeying on foot at this time of night. I suppose,
sir, you are a gentleman of these parts; for you do not look like one
who is used to travel far without horses?”
“Appearances,” cried Jones, “are often deceitful; men sometimes look
what they are not. I assure you I am not of this country; and whither
I am travelling, in reality I scarce know myself.”
“Whoever you are, or whithersoever you are going,” answered the old
man, “I have obligations to you which I can never return.”
“I once more,” replied Jones, “affirm that you have none; for there
can be no merit in having hazarded that in your service on which I set
no value; and nothing is so contemptible in my eyes as life.”
“I am sorry, young gentleman,” answered the stranger, “that you have
any reason to be so unhappy at your years.”
“Indeed I am, sir,” answered Jones, “the most unhappy of
mankind.”--“Perhaps you have had a friend, or a mistress?” replied the
other. “How could you,” cries Jones, “mention two words sufficient to
drive me to distraction?”--“Either of them are enough to drive any man
to distraction,” answered the old man. “I enquire no farther, sir;
perhaps my curiosity hath led me too far already.”
“Indeed, sir,” cries Jones, “I cannot censure a passion which I feel
at this instant in the highest degree. You will pardon me when I
assure you, that everything which I have seen or heard since I first
entered this house hath conspired to raise the greatest curiosity in
me. Something very extraordinary must have determined you to this
course of life, and I have reason to fear your own history is not
without misfortunes.”
Here the old gentleman again sighed, and remained silent for some
minutes: at last, looking earnestly on Jones, he said, “I have read
that a good countenance is a letter of recommendation; if so, none
ever can be more strongly recommended than yourself. If I did not feel
some yearnings towards you from another consideration, I must be the
most ungrateful monster upon earth; and I am really concerned it is no
otherwise in my power than by words to convince you of my gratitude.”
Jones, after a moment's hesitation, answered, “That it was in his
power by words to gratify him extremely. I have confest a curiosity,”
said he, “sir; need I say how much obliged I should be to you, if you
would condescend to gratify it? Will you suffer me therefore to beg,
unless any consideration restrains you, that you would be pleased to
acquaint me what motives have induced you thus to withdraw from the
society of mankind, and to betake yourself to a course of life to
which it sufficiently appears you were not born?”
“I scarce think myself at liberty to refuse you anything after what
hath happened,” replied the old man. “If you desire therefore to hear
the story of an unhappy man, I will relate it to you. Indeed you judge
rightly, in thinking there is commonly something extraordinary in the
fortunes of those who fly from society; for however it may seem a
paradox, or even a contradiction, certain it is, that great
philanthropy chiefly inclines us to avoid and detest mankind; not on
account so much of their private and selfish vices, but for those of a
relative kind; such as envy, malice, treachery, cruelty, with every
other species of malevolence. These are the vices which true
philanthropy abhors, and which rather than see and converse with, she
avoids society itself. However, without a compliment to you, you do
not appear to me one of those whom I should shun or detest; nay, I
must say, in what little hath dropt from you, there appears some
parity in our fortunes: I hope, however, yours will conclude more
successfully.”
Here some compliments passed between our heroe and his host, and then
the latter was going to begin his history, when Partridge interrupted
him. His apprehensions had now pretty well left him, but some effects
of his terrors remained; he therefore reminded the gentleman of that
excellent brandy which he had mentioned. This was presently brought,
and Partridge swallowed a large bumper.
The gentleman then, without any farther preface, began as you may read
in the next chapter.
Chapter xi.
In which the Man of the Hill begins to relate his history.
“I was born in a village of Somersetshire, called Mark, in the year
1657. My father was one of those whom they call gentlemen farmers. He
had a little estate of about £300 a year of his own, and rented
another estate of near the same value. He was prudent and industrious,
and so good a husbandman, that he might have led a very easy and
comfortable life, had not an arrant vixen of a wife soured his
domestic quiet. But though this circumstance perhaps made him
miserable, it did not make him poor; for he confined her almost
entirely at home, and rather chose to bear eternal upbraidings in his
own house, than to injure his fortune by indulging her in the
extravagancies she desired abroad.
“By this Xanthippe” (so was the wife of Socrates called, said
Partridge)--“by this Xanthippe he had two sons, of which I was the
younger. He designed to give us both good education; but my elder
brother, who, unhappily for him, was the favourite of my mother,
utterly neglected his learning; insomuch that, after having been five
or six years at school with little or no improvement, my father, being
told by his master that it would be to no purpose to keep him longer
there, at last complied with my mother in taking him home from the
hands of that tyrant, as she called his master; though indeed he gave
the lad much less correction than his idleness deserved, but much
more, it seems, than the young gentleman liked, who constantly
complained to his mother of his severe treatment, and she as
constantly gave him a hearing.”
“Yes, yes,” cries Partridge, “I have seen such mothers; I have been
abused myself by them, and very unjustly; such parents deserve
correction as much as their children.”
Jones chid the pedagogue for his interruption, and then the stranger
proceeded.
“My brother now, at the age of fifteen, bade adieu to all learning,
and to everything else but to his dog and gun; with which latter he
became so expert, that, though perhaps you may think it incredible, he
could not only hit a standing mark with great certainty, but hath
actually shot a crow as it was flying in the air. He was likewise
excellent at finding a hare sitting, and was soon reputed one of the
best sportsmen in the country; a reputation which both he and his
mother enjoyed as much as if he had been thought the finest scholar.
“The situation of my brother made me at first think my lot the harder,
in being continued at school: but I soon changed my opinion; for as I
advanced pretty fast in learning, my labours became easy, and my
exercise so delightful, that holidays were my most unpleasant time;
for my mother, who never loved me, now apprehending that I had the
greater share of my father's affection, and finding, or at least
thinking, that I was more taken notice of by some gentlemen of
learning, and particularly by the parson of the parish, than my
brother, she now hated my sight, and made home so disagreeable to me,
that what is called by school-boys Black Monday, was to me the whitest
in the whole year.
“Having at length gone through the school at Taunton, I was thence
removed to Exeter College in Oxford, where I remained four years; at
the end of which an accident took me off entirely from my studies; and
hence, I may truly date the rise of all which happened to me
afterwards in life.
“There was at the same college with myself one Sir George Gresham, a
young fellow who was intitled to a very considerable fortune, which he
was not, by the will of his father, to come into full possession of
till he arrived at the age of twenty-five. However, the liberality of
his guardians gave him little cause to regret the abundant caution of
his father; for they allowed him five hundred pounds a year while he
remained at the university, where he kept his horses and his whore,
and lived as wicked and as profligate a life as he could have done had
he been never so entirely master of his fortune; for besides the five
hundred a year which he received from his guardians, he found means to
spend a thousand more. He was above the age of twenty-one, and had no
difficulty in gaining what credit he pleased.
“This young fellow, among many other tolerable bad qualities, had one
very diabolical. He had a great delight in destroying and ruining the
youth of inferior fortune, by drawing them into expenses which they
could not afford so well as himself; and the better, and worthier, and
soberer any young man was, the greater pleasure and triumph had he in
his destruction. Thus acting the character which is recorded of the
devil, and going about seeking whom he might devour.
“It was my misfortune to fall into an acquaintance and intimacy with
this gentleman. My reputation of diligence in my studies made me a
desirable object of his mischievous intention; and my own inclination
made it sufficiently easy for him to effect his purpose; for though I
had applied myself with much industry to books, in which I took great
delight, there were other pleasures in which I was capable of taking
much greater; for I was high-mettled, had a violent flow of animal
spirits, was a little ambitious, and extremely amorous.
“I had not long contracted an intimacy with Sir George before I became
a partaker of all his pleasures; and when I was once entered on that
scene, neither my inclination nor my spirit would suffer me to play an
under part. I was second to none of the company in any acts of
debauchery; nay, I soon distinguished myself so notably in all riots
and disorders, that my name generally stood first in the roll of
delinquents; and instead of being lamented as the unfortunate pupil of
Sir George, I was now accused as the person who had misled and
debauched that hopeful young gentleman; for though he was the
ringleader and promoter of all the mischief, he was never so
considered. I fell at last under the censure of the vice-chancellor,
and very narrowly escaped expulsion.
“You will easily believe, sir, that such a life as I am now describing
must be incompatible with my further progress in learning; and that in
proportion as I addicted myself more and more to loose pleasure, I
must grow more and more remiss in application to my studies. This was
truly the consequence; but this was not all. My expenses now greatly
exceeded not only my former income, but those additions which I