History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
the way; for there are some situations in which nice and delicate
women would not be discovered by their husbands.
To say the truth, there are several ceremonies instituted among the
polished part of mankind, which, though they may, to coarser
judgments, appear as matters of mere form, are found to have much of
substance in them, by the more discerning; and lucky would it have
been had the custom above mentioned been observed by our gentleman in
the present instance. Knock, indeed, he did at the door, but not with
one of those gentle raps which is usual on such occasions. On the
contrary, when he found the door locked, he flew at it with such
violence, that the lock immediately gave way, the door burst open, and
he fell headlong into the room.
He had no sooner recovered his legs than forth from the bed, upon his
legs likewise, appeared--with shame and sorrow are we obliged to
proceed--our heroe himself, who, with a menacing voice, demanded of
the gentleman who he was, and what he meant by daring to burst open
his chamber in that outrageous manner.
The gentleman at first thought he had committed a mistake, and was
going to ask pardon and retreat, when, on a sudden, as the moon shone
very bright, he cast his eyes on stays, gowns, petticoats, caps,
ribbons, stockings, garters, shoes, clogs, &c., all which lay in a
disordered manner on the floor. All these, operating on the natural
jealousy of his temper, so enraged him, that he lost all power of
speech; and, without returning any answer to Jones, he endeavoured to
approach the bed.
Jones immediately interposing, a fierce contention arose, which soon
proceeded to blows on both sides. And now Mrs Waters (for we must
confess she was in the same bed), being, I suppose, awakened from her
sleep, and seeing two men fighting in her bedchamber, began to scream
in the most violent manner, crying out murder! robbery! and more
frequently rape! which last, some, perhaps, may wonder she should
mention, who do not consider that these words of exclamation are used
by ladies in a fright, as fa, la, la, ra, da, &c., are in music, only
as the vehicles of sound, and without any fixed ideas.
Next to the lady's chamber was deposited the body of an Irish
gentleman who arrived too late at the inn to have been mentioned
before. This gentleman was one of those whom the Irish call a
calabalaro, or cavalier. He was a younger brother of a good family,
and, having no fortune at home, was obliged to look abroad in order to
get one; for which purpose he was proceeding to the Bath, to try his
luck with cards and the women.
This young fellow lay in bed reading one of Mrs Behn's novels; for he
had been instructed by a friend that he would find no more effectual
method of recommending himself to the ladies than the improving his
understanding, and filling his mind with good literature. He no
sooner, therefore, heard the violent uproar in the next room, than he
leapt from his bolster, and, taking his sword in one hand, and the
candle which burnt by him in the other, he went directly to Mrs
Waters's chamber.
If the sight of another man in his shirt at first added some shock to
the decency of the lady, it made her presently amends by considerably
abating her fears; for no sooner had the calabalaro entered the room
than he cried out, “Mr Fitzpatrick, what the devil is the maning of
this?” Upon which the other immediately answered, “O, Mr Maclachlan! I
am rejoiced you are here.--This villain hath debauched my wife, and is
got into bed with her.”--“What wife?” cries Maclachlan; “do not I know
Mrs Fitzpatrick very well, and don't I see that the lady, whom the
gentleman who stands here in his shirt is lying in bed with, is none
of her?”
Fitzpatrick, now perceiving, as well by the glimpse he had of the
lady, as by her voice, which might have been distinguished at a
greater distance than he now stood from her, that he had made a very
unfortunate mistake, began to ask many pardons of the lady; and then,
turning to Jones, he said, “I would have you take notice I do not ask
your pardon, for you have bate me; for which I am resolved to have
your blood in the morning.”
Jones treated this menace with much contempt; and Mr Maclachlan
answered, “Indeed, Mr Fitzpatrick, you may be ashamed of your own
self, to disturb people at this time of night; if all the people in
the inn were not asleep, you would have awakened them as you have me.
The gentleman has served you very rightly. Upon my conscience, though
I have no wife, if you had treated her so, I would have cut your
throat.”
Jones was so confounded with his fears for his lady's reputation, that
he knew neither what to say or do; but the invention of women is, as
hath been observed, much readier than that of men. She recollected
that there was a communication between her chamber and that of Mr
Jones; relying, therefore, on his honour and her own assurance, she
answered, “I know not what you mean, villains! I am wife to none of
you. Help! Rape! Murder! Rape!”--And now, the landlady coming into the
room, Mrs Waters fell upon her with the utmost virulence, saying, “She
thought herself in a sober inn, and not in a bawdy-house; but that a
set of villains had broke into her room, with an intent upon her
honour, if not upon her life; and both, she said, were equally dear to
her.”
The landlady now began to roar as loudly as the poor woman in bed had
done before. She cried, “She was undone, and that the reputation of
her house, which was never blown upon before, was utterly destroyed.”
Then, turning to the men, she cried, “What, in the devil's name, is
the reason of all this disturbance in the lady's room?” Fitzpatrick,
hanging down his head, repeated, “That he had committed a mistake, for
which he heartily asked pardon,” and then retired with his countryman.
Jones, who was too ingenious to have missed the hint given him by his
fair one, boldly asserted, “That he had run to her assistance upon
hearing the door broke open, with what design he could not conceive,
unless of robbing the lady; which, if they intended, he said, he had
the good fortune to prevent.” “I never had a robbery committed in my
house since I have kept it,” cries the landlady; “I would have you to
know, sir, I harbour no highwaymen here; I scorn the word, thof I say
it. None but honest, good gentlefolks, are welcome to my house; and, I
thank good luck, I have always had enow of such customers; indeed as
many as I could entertain. Here hath been my lord--,” and then she
repeated over a catalogue of names and titles, many of which we might,
perhaps, be guilty of a breach of privilege by inserting.
Jones, after much patience, at length interrupted her, by making an
apology to Mrs Waters, for having appeared before her in his shirt,
assuring her “That nothing but a concern for her safety could have
prevailed on him to do it.” The reader may inform himself of her
answer, and, indeed, of her whole behaviour to the end of the scene,
by considering the situation which she affected, it being that of a
modest lady, who was awakened out of her sleep by three strange men in
her chamber. This was the part which she undertook to perform; and,
indeed, she executed it so well, that none of our theatrical actresses
could exceed her, in any of their performances, either on or off the
stage.
And hence, I think, we may very fairly draw an argument, to prove how
extremely natural virtue is to the fair sex; for, though there is not,
perhaps, one in ten thousand who is capable of making a good actress,
and even among these we rarely see two who are equally able to
personate the same character, yet this of virtue they can all
admirably well put on; and as well those individuals who have it not,
as those who possess it, can all act it to the utmost degree of
perfection.
When the men were all departed, Mrs Waters, recovering from her fear,
recovered likewise from her anger, and spoke in much gentler accents
to the landlady, who did not so readily quit her concern for the
reputation of the house, in favour of which she began again to number
the many great persons who had slept under her roof; but the lady
stopt her short, and having absolutely acquitted her of having had any
share in the past disturbance, begged to be left to her repose, which,
she said, she hoped to enjoy unmolested during the remainder of the
night. Upon which the landlady, after much civility and many
courtsies, took her leave.
Chapter iii.
A dialogue between the landlady and Susan the chamber-maid, proper to
be read by all inn-keepers and their servants; with the arrival, and
affable behaviour of a beautiful young lady; which may teach persons
of condition how they may acquire the love of the whole world.
The landlady, remembering that Susan had been the only person out of
bed when the door was burst open, resorted presently to her, to
enquire into the first occasion of the disturbance, as well as who the
strange gentleman was, and when and how he arrived.
Susan related the whole story which the reader knows already, varying
the truth only in some circumstances, as she saw convenient, and
totally concealing the money which she had received. But whereas her
mistress had, in the preface to her enquiry, spoken much in compassion
for the fright which the lady had been in concerning any intended
depredations on her virtue, Susan could not help endeavouring to quiet
the concern which her mistress seemed to be under on that account, by
swearing heartily she saw Jones leap out from her bed.
The landlady fell into a violent rage at these words. “A likely story,
truly,” cried she, “that a woman should cry out, and endeavour to
expose herself, if that was the case! I desire to know what better
proof any lady can give of her virtue than her crying out, which, I
believe, twenty people can witness for her she did? I beg, madam, you
would spread no such scandal of any of my guests; for it will not only
reflect on them, but upon the house; and I am sure no vagabonds, nor
wicked beggarly people, come here.”
“Well,” says Susan, “then I must not believe my own eyes.” “No,
indeed, must you not always,” answered her mistress; “I would not have
believed my own eyes against such good gentlefolks. I have not had a
better supper ordered this half-year than they ordered last night; and
so easy and good-humoured were they, that they found no fault with my
Worcestershire perry, which I sold them for champagne; and to be sure
it is as well tasted and as wholesome as the best champagne in the
kingdom, otherwise I would scorn to give it 'em; and they drank me two
bottles. No, no, I will never believe any harm of such sober good sort
of people.”
Susan being thus silenced, her mistress proceeded to other matters.
“And so you tell me,” continued she, “that the strange gentleman came
post, and there is a footman without with the horses; why, then, he is
certainly some of your great gentlefolks too. Why did not you ask him
whether he'd have any supper? I think he is in the other gentleman's
room; go up and ask whether he called. Perhaps he'll order something
when he finds anybody stirring in the house to dress it. Now don't
commit any of your usual blunders, by telling him the fire's out, and
the fowls alive. And if he should order mutton, don't blab out that we
have none. The butcher, I know, killed a sheep just before I went to
bed, and he never refuses to cut it up warm when I desire it. Go,
remember there's all sorts of mutton and fowls; go, open the door
with, Gentlemen, d'ye call? and if they say nothing, ask what his
honour will be pleased to have for supper? Don't forget his honour.
Go; if you don't mind all these matters better, you'll never come to
anything.”