History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
offer to our acceptance; of things which Heaven itself hath
condescended to reveal to us, and to the smallest knowledge of which
the highest human wit unassisted could never ascend. I began now to
think all the time I had spent with the best heathen writers was
little more than labour lost: for, however pleasant and delightful
their lessons may be, or however adequate to the right regulation of
our conduct with respect to this world only; yet, when compared with
the glory revealed in Scripture, their highest documents will appear
as trifling, and of as little consequence, as the rules by which
children regulate their childish little games and pastime. True it is,
that philosophy makes us wiser, but Christianity makes us better men.
Philosophy elevates and steels the mind, Christianity softens and
sweetens it. The former makes us the objects of human admiration, the
latter of Divine love. That insures us a temporal, but this an eternal
happiness.--But I am afraid I tire you with my rhapsody.”
“Not at all,” cries Partridge; “Lud forbid we should be tired with
good things!”
“I had spent,” continued the stranger, “about four years in the most
delightful manner to myself, totally given up to contemplation, and
entirely unembarrassed with the affairs of the world, when I lost the
best of fathers, and one whom I so entirely loved, that my grief at
his loss exceeds all description. I now abandoned my books, and gave
myself up for a whole month to the effects of melancholy and despair.
Time, however, the best physician of the mind, at length brought me
relief.”--“Ay, ay; _Tempus edax rerum_” said Partridge.--“I then,”
continued the stranger, “betook myself again to my former studies,
which I may say perfected my cure; for philosophy and religion may be
called the exercises of the mind, and when this is disordered, they
are as wholesome as exercise can be to a distempered body. They do
indeed produce similar effects with exercise; for they strengthen and
confirm the mind, till man becomes, in the noble strain of Horace--
_Fortis, et in seipso totus teres atque rotundus,
Externi ne quid valeat per laeve morari;
In quem manca ruit semper Fortuna._“[*]
[*] Firm in himself, who on himself relies,
Polish'd and round, who runs his proper course
And breaks misfortunes with superior force.--MR FRANCIS.
Here Jones smiled at some conceit which intruded itself into his
imagination; but the stranger, I believe, perceived it not, and
proceeded thus:--
“My circumstances were now greatly altered by the death of that best
of men; for my brother, who was now become master of the house,
differed so widely from me in his inclinations, and our pursuits in
life had been so very various, that we were the worst of company to
each other: but what made our living together still more disagreeable,
was the little harmony which could subsist between the few who
resorted to me, and the numerous train of sportsmen who often attended
my brother from the field to the table; for such fellows, besides the
noise and nonsense with which they persecute the ears of sober men,
endeavour always to attack them with affront and contempt. This was so
much the case, that neither I myself, nor my friends, could ever sit
down to a meal with them without being treated with derision, because
we were unacquainted with the phrases of sportsmen. For men of true
learning, and almost universal knowledge, always compassionate the
ignorance of others; but fellows who excel in some little, low,
contemptible art, are always certain to despise those who are
unacquainted with that art.
“In short, we soon separated, and I went, by the advice of a
physician, to drink the Bath waters; for my violent affliction, added
to a sedentary life, had thrown me into a kind of paralytic disorder,
for which those waters are accounted an almost _certain_ cure. The
second day after my arrival, as I was walking by the river, the sun
shone so intensely hot (though it was early in the year), that I
retired to the shelter of some willows, and sat down by the river
side. Here I had not been seated long before I heard a person on the
other side of the willows sighing and bemoaning himself bitterly. On a
sudden, having uttered a most impious oath, he cried, `I am resolved
to bear it no longer,' and directly threw himself into the water. I
immediately started, and ran towards the place, calling at the same
time as loudly as I could for assistance. An angler happened luckily
to be a-fishing a little below me, though some very high sedge had hid
him from my sight. He immediately came up, and both of us together,
not without some hazard of our lives, drew the body to the shore. At
first we perceived no sign of life remaining; but having held the body
up by the heels (for we soon had assistance enough), it discharged a
vast quantity of water at the mouth, and at length began to discover
some symptoms of breathing, and a little afterwards to move both its
hands and its legs.
“An apothecary, who happened to be present among others, advised that
the body, which seemed now to have pretty well emptied itself of
water, and which began to have many convulsive motions, should be
directly taken up, and carried into a warm bed. This was accordingly
performed, the apothecary and myself attending.
“As we were going towards an inn, for we knew not the man's lodgings,
luckily a woman met us, who, after some violent screaming, told us
that the gentleman lodged at her house.
“When I had seen the man safely deposited there, I left him to the
care of the apothecary; who, I suppose, used all the right methods
with him, for the next morning I heard he had perfectly recovered his
senses.
“I then went to visit him, intending to search out, as well as I
could, the cause of his having attempted so desperate an act, and to
prevent, as far as I was able, his pursuing such wicked intentions for
the future. I was no sooner admitted into his chamber, than we both
instantly knew each other; for who should this person be but my good
friend Mr Watson! Here I will not trouble you with what past at our
first interview; for I would avoid prolixity as much as
possible.”--“Pray let us hear all,” cries Partridge; “I want mightily
to know what brought him to Bath.”
“You shall hear everything material,” answered the stranger; and then
proceeded to relate what we shall proceed to write, after we have
given a short breathing time to both ourselves and the reader.
Chapter xiv.
In which the Man of the Hill concludes his history.
“Mr Watson,” continued the stranger, “very freely acquainted me, that
the unhappy situation of his circumstances, occasioned by a tide of
ill luck, had in a manner forced him to a resolution of destroying
himself.
“I now began to argue very seriously with him, in opposition to this
heathenish, or indeed diabolical, principle of the lawfulness of
self-murder; and said everything which occurred to me on the subject;
but, to my great concern, it seemed to have very little effect on him.
He seemed not at all to repent of what he had done, and gave me reason
to fear he would soon make a second attempt of the like horrible kind.
“When I had finished my discourse, instead of endeavouring to answer
my arguments, he looked me stedfastly in the face, and with a smile
said, `You are strangely altered, my good friend, since I remember
you. I question whether any of our bishops could make a better
argument against suicide than you have entertained me with; but unless
you can find somebody who will lend me a cool hundred, I must either
hang, or drown, or starve; and, in my opinion, the last death is the
most terrible of the three.'
“I answered him very gravely that I was indeed altered since I had
seen him last. That I had found leisure to look into my follies and to
repent of them. I then advised him to pursue the same steps; and at
last concluded with an assurance that I myself would lend him a
hundred pound, if it would be of any service to his affairs, and he
would not put it into the power of a die to deprive him of it.
“Mr Watson, who seemed almost composed in slumber by the former part
of my discourse, was roused by the latter. He seized my hand eagerly,
gave me a thousand thanks, and declared I was a friend indeed; adding
that he hoped I had a better opinion of him than to imagine he had
profited so little by experience, as to put any confidence in those
damned dice which had so often deceived him. `No, no,' cries he; `let
me but once handsomely be set up again, and if ever Fortune makes a
broken merchant of me afterwards, I will forgive her.'
“I very well understood the language of setting up, and broken
merchant. I therefore said to him, with a very grave face, Mr Watson,
you must endeavour to find out some business or employment, by which
you may procure yourself a livelihood; and I promise you, could I see
any probability of being repaid hereafter, I would advance a much
larger sum than what you have mentioned, to equip you in any fair and
honourable calling; but as to gaming, besides the baseness and
wickedness of making it a profession, you are really, to my own
knowledge, unfit for it, and it will end in your certain ruin.
“`Why now, that's strange,' answered he; `neither you, nor any of my
friends, would ever allow me to know anything of the matter, and yet I
believe I _am_ as good a hand at every game as any of you all; and I
heartily wish I was to play with you only for your whole fortune: I
should desire no better sport, and I would let you name your game into
the bargain: but come, my dear boy, have you the hundred in your
pocket?”
“I answered I had only a bill for £50, which I delivered him, and
promised to bring him the rest next morning; and after giving him a
little more advice, took my leave.
“I was indeed better than my word; for I returned to him that very
afternoon. When I entered the room, I found him sitting up in his bed
at cards with a notorious gamester. This sight, you will imagine,
shocked me not a little; to which I may add the mortification of
seeing my bill delivered by him to his antagonist, and thirty guineas
only given in exchange for it.
“The other gamester presently quitted the room, and then Watson
declared he was ashamed to see me; `but,' says he, `I find luck runs
so damnably against me, that I will resolve to leave off play for
ever. I have thought of the kind proposal you made me ever since, and
I promise you there shall be no fault in me, if I do not put it in
execution.'
“Though I had no great faith in his promises, I produced him the
remainder of the hundred in consequence of my own; for which he gave
me a note, which was all I ever expected to see in return for my
money.
“We were prevented from any further discourse at present by the
arrival of the apothecary; who, with much joy in his countenance, and
without even asking his patient how he did, proclaimed there was great
news arrived in a letter to himself, which he said would shortly be
public, `That the Duke of Monmouth was landed in the west with a vast
army of Dutch; and that another vast fleet hovered over the coast of
Norfolk, and was to make a descent there, in order to favour the
duke's enterprize with a diversion on that side.'
“This apothecary was one of the greatest politicians of his time. He
was more delighted with the most paultry packet, than with the best
patient, and the highest joy he was capable of, he received from
having a piece of news in his possession an hour or two sooner than
any other person in the town. His advices, however, were seldom
authentic; for he would swallow almost anything as a truth--a humour
which many made use of to impose upon him.