History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
I at last entirely demolished it. Mr Watson too, after much variety of
luck, rose from the table in some heat, and declared he had lost a
cool hundred, and would play no longer. Then coming up to me, he asked
me to return with him to the tavern; but I positively refused, saying,
I would not bring myself a second time into such a dilemma, and
especially as he had lost all his money and was now in my own
condition. `Pooh!' says he, `I have just borrowed a couple of guineas
of a friend, and one of them is at your service.' He immediately put
one of them into my hand, and I no longer resisted his inclination.
“I was at first a little shocked at returning to the same house whence
we had departed in so unhandsome a manner; but when the drawer, with
very civil address, told us, `he believed we had forgot to pay our
reckoning,' I became perfectly easy, and very readily gave him a
guinea, bid him pay himself, and acquiesced in the unjust charge which
had been laid on my memory.
“Mr Watson now bespoke the most extravagant supper he could well think
of; and though he had contented himself with simple claret before,
nothing now but the most precious Burgundy would serve his purpose.
“Our company was soon encreased by the addition of several gentlemen
from the gaming-table; most of whom, as I afterwards found, came not
to the tavern to drink, but in the way of business; for the true
gamesters pretended to be ill, and refused their glass, while they
plied heartily two young fellows, who were to be afterwards pillaged,
as indeed they were without mercy. Of this plunder I had the good
fortune to be a sharer, though I was not yet let into the secret.
“There was one remarkable accident attended this tavern play; for the
money by degrees totally disappeared; so that though at the beginning
the table was half covered with gold, yet before the play ended, which
it did not till the next day, being Sunday, at noon, there was scarce
a single guinea to be seen on the table; and this was the stranger as
every person present, except myself, declared he had lost; and what
was become of the money, unless the devil himself carried it away, is
difficult to determine.”
“Most certainly he did,” says Partridge, “for evil spirits can carry
away anything without being seen, though there were never so many folk
in the room; and I should not have been surprized if he had carried
away all the company of a set of wicked wretches, who were at play in
sermon time. And I could tell you a true story, if I would, where the
devil took a man out of bed from another man's wife, and carried him
away through the keyhole of the door. I've seen the very house where
it was done, and nobody hath lived in it these thirty years.”
Though Jones was a little offended by the impertinence of Partridge,
he could not however avoid smiling at his simplicity. The stranger did
the same, and then proceeded with his story, as will be seen in the
next chapter.
Chapter xiii.
In which the foregoing story is farther continued.
“My fellow-collegiate had now entered me in a new scene of life. I
soon became acquainted with the whole fraternity of sharpers, and was
let into their secrets; I mean, into the knowledge of those gross
cheats which are proper to impose upon the raw and unexperienced; for
there are some tricks of a finer kind, which are known only to a few
of the gang, who are at the head of their profession; a degree of
honour beyond my expectation; for drink, to which I was immoderately
addicted, and the natural warmth of my passions, prevented me from
arriving at any great success in an art which requires as much
coolness as the most austere school of philosophy.
“Mr Watson, with whom I now lived in the closest amity, had unluckily
the former failing to a very great excess; so that instead of making a
fortune by his profession, as some others did, he was alternately rich
and poor, and was often obliged to surrender to his cooler friends,
over a bottle which they never tasted, that plunder that he had taken
from culls at the public table.
“However, we both made a shift to pick up an uncomfortable livelihood;
and for two years I continued of the calling; during which time I
tasted all the varieties of fortune, sometimes flourishing in
affluence, and at others being obliged to struggle with almost
incredible difficulties. To-day wallowing in luxury, and to-morrow
reduced to the coarsest and most homely fare. My fine clothes being
often on my back in the evening, and at the pawn-shop the next
morning.
“One night, as I was returning pennyless from the gaming-table, I
observed a very great disturbance, and a large mob gathered together
in the street. As I was in no danger from pickpockets, I ventured into
the croud, where upon enquiry I found that a man had been robbed and
very ill used by some ruffians. The wounded man appeared very bloody,
and seemed scarce able to support himself on his legs. As I had not
therefore been deprived of my humanity by my present life and
conversation, though they had left me very little of either honesty or
shame, I immediately offered my assistance to the unhappy person, who
thankfully accepted it, and, putting himself under my conduct, begged
me to convey him to some tavern, where he might send for a surgeon,
being, as he said, faint with loss of blood. He seemed indeed highly
pleased at finding one who appeared in the dress of a gentleman; for
as to all the rest of the company present, their outside was such that
he could not wisely place any confidence in them.
“I took the poor man by the arm, and led him to the tavern where we
kept our rendezvous, as it happened to be the nearest at hand. A
surgeon happening luckily to be in the house, immediately attended,
and applied himself to dressing his wounds, which I had the pleasure
to hear were not likely to be mortal.
“The surgeon having very expeditiously and dextrously finished his
business, began to enquire in what part of the town the wounded man
lodged; who answered, `That he was come to town that very morning;
that his horse was at an inn in Piccadilly, and that he had no other
lodging, and very little or no acquaintance in town.'
“This surgeon, whose name I have forgot, though I remember it began
with an R, had the first character in his profession, and was
serjeant-surgeon to the king. He had moreover many good qualities, and
was a very generous good-natured man, and ready to do any service to
his fellow-creatures. He offered his patient the use of his chariot to
carry him to his inn, and at the same time whispered in his ear, `That
if he wanted any money, he would furnish him.'
“The poor man was not now capable of returning thanks for this
generous offer; for having had his eyes for some time stedfastly on
me, he threw himself back in his chair, crying, `Oh, my son! my son!'
and then fainted away.
“Many of the people present imagined this accident had happened
through his loss of blood; but I, who at the same time began to
recollect the features of my father, was now confirmed in my
suspicion, and satisfied that it was he himself who appeared before
me. I presently ran to him, raised him in my arms, and kissed his cold
lips with the utmost eagerness. Here I must draw a curtain over a
scene which I cannot describe; for though I did not lose my being, as
my father for a while did, my senses were however so overpowered with
affright and surprize, that I am a stranger to what passed during some
minutes, and indeed till my father had again recovered from his swoon,
and I found myself in his arms, both tenderly embracing each other,
while the tears trickled a-pace down the cheeks of each of us.
“Most of those present seemed affected by this scene, which we, who
might be considered as the actors in it, were desirous of removing
from the eyes of all spectators as fast as we could; my father
therefore accepted the kind offer of the surgeon's chariot, and I
attended him in it to his inn.
“When we were alone together, he gently upbraided me with having
neglected to write to him during so long a time, but entirely omitted
the mention of that crime which had occasioned it. He then informed me
of my mother's death, and insisted on my returning home with him,
saying, `That he had long suffered the greatest anxiety on my account;
that he knew not whether he had most feared my death or wished it,
since he had so many more dreadful apprehensions for me. At last, he
said, a neighbouring gentleman, who had just recovered a son from the
same place, informed him where I was; and that to reclaim me from this
course of life was the sole cause of his journey to London.' He
thanked Heaven he had succeeded so far as to find me out by means of
an accident which had like to have proved fatal to him; and had the
pleasure to think he partly owed his preservation to my humanity, with
which he profest himself to be more delighted than he should have been
with my filial piety, if I had known that the object of all my care
was my own father.
“Vice had not so depraved my heart as to excite in it an insensibility
of so much paternal affection, though so unworthily bestowed. I
presently promised to obey his commands in my return home with him, as
soon as he was able to travel, which indeed he was in a very few days,
by the assistance of that excellent surgeon who had undertaken his
cure.
“The day preceding my father's journey (before which time I scarce
ever left him), I went to take my leave of some of my most intimate
acquaintance, particularly of Mr Watson, who dissuaded me from burying
myself, as he called it, out of a simple compliance with the fond
desires of a foolish old fellow. Such sollicitations, however, had no
effect, and I once more saw my own home. My father now greatly
sollicited me to think of marriage; but my inclinations were utterly
averse to any such thoughts. I had tasted of love already, and perhaps
you know the extravagant excesses of that most tender and most violent
passion.”--Here the old gentleman paused, and looked earnestly at
Jones; whose countenance, within a minute's space, displayed the
extremities of both red and white. Upon which the old man, without
making any observations, renewed his narrative.
“Being now provided with all the necessaries of life, I betook myself
once again to study, and that with a more inordinate application than
I had ever done formerly. The books which now employed my time solely
were those, as well antient as modern, which treat of true philosophy,
a word which is by many thought to be the subject only of farce and
ridicule. I now read over the works of Aristotle and Plato, with the
rest of those inestimable treasures which antient Greece had
bequeathed to the world.
“These authors, though they instructed me in no science by which men
may promise to themselves to acquire the least riches or worldly
power, taught me, however, the art of despising the highest
acquisitions of both. They elevate the mind, and steel and harden it
against the capricious invasions of fortune. They not only instruct in
the knowledge of Wisdom, but confirm men in her habits, and
demonstrate plainly, that this must be our guide, if we propose ever
to arrive at the greatest worldly happiness, or to defend ourselves,
with any tolerable security, against the misery which everywhere
surrounds and invests us.
“To this I added another study, compared to which, all the philosophy
taught by the wisest heathens is little better than a dream, and is
indeed as full of vanity as the silliest jester ever pleased to
represent it. This is that Divine wisdom which is alone to be found in
the Holy Scriptures; for they impart to us the knowledge and assurance
of things much more worthy our attention than all which this world can