The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics)

by Henry Fielding

  But if ever any Couple enjoyed this Pleasure, it was at present experienced by the Captain and his Lady. It was always a sufficient Reason to either of them to be obstinate in any Opinion, that the other had previously asserted the contrary. If the one proposed any Amusement, the other constantly objected to it: They never loved or hated, commended or abused, the same Person. And for this Reason, as the Captain looked with an evil Eye on the little Foundling, his Wife began now to caress it almost equally with her own Child.

  The Reader will be apt to conceive, that this Behaviour between the Husband and Wife did not greatly contribute to Mr. Allworthy’s Repose, as it tended so little to that serene Happiness which he had designed for all three, from this Alliance; but the Truth is, tho’ he might be a little disappointed in his sanguine Expectations, yet he was far from being acquainted with the whole Matter: For, as the Captain was, from certain obvious Reasons, much on his Guard before him, the Lady was obliged, for fear of her Brother’s Displeasure, to pursue the same Conduct. In Fact, it is possible for a third Person to be very intimate, nay even to live long in the same House, with a married Couple, who have any tolerable Discretion, and not even guess at the sour Sentiments which they bear to each other: For tho’ the whole Day may be sometimes too short for Hatred, as well as for Love; yet the many Hours which they naturally spend together, apart from all Observers, furnish People, of tolerable Moderation, with such ample Opportunity for the Enjoyment of either Passion, that, if they love, they can support being a few Hours in Company without toying, or if they hate, without spitting in each others Faces.

  It is possible, however, that Mr. Allworthy saw enough to render him a little uneasy; for we are not always to conclude, that a wise Man is not hurt, because he doth not cry out and lament himself, like those of a childish or effeminate Temper. But indeed it is possible he might see some Faults in the Captain without any Uneasiness at all: For Men of true Wisdom and Goodness are contented to take Persons and Things as they are, without complaining of their Imperfections, or attempting to amend them. They can see a Fault in a Friend, a Relation, or an Acquaintance, without ever mentioning it to the Parties themselves, or to any others; and this often without lessening their Affection. Indeed, unless great Discernment be tempered with this overlooking Disposition, we ought never to contract Friendship but with a Degree of Folly which we can deceive: For I hope my Friends will pardon me, when I declare, I know none of them without a Fault; and I should be sorry if I could imagine, I had any Friend who could not see mine. Forgiveness, of this Kind, we give and demand in Turn. It is an Exercise of Friendship, and perhaps none of the least pleasant. And this Forgiveness we must bestow, without Desire of Amendment. There is, perhaps, no surer Mark of Folly, than an Attempt to correct the natural Infirmities of those we love. The finest Composition of human Nature, as well as the finest China, may have a Flaw in it; and this, I am afraid, in either Case, is equally incurable; though, nevertheless, the Pattern may remain of the highest Value.

  Upon the whole then, Mr. Allworthy certainly saw some Imperfections in the Captain; but, as this was a very artful Man, and eternally upon his Guard before him, these appeared to him no more than Blemishes in a good Character; which his Goodness made him overlook, and his Wisdom prevented him from discovering to the Captain himself. Very different would have been his Sentiments, had he discovered the whole; which, perhaps, would, in Time, have been the Case, had the Husband and Wife long continued this Kind of Behaviour to each other; but this kind Fortune took effectual Means to prevent, by forcing the Captain to do that which rendered him again dear to his Wife, and restored all her Tenderness and Affection towards him.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  A Receipt to regain the lost Affections of a Wife,

  which hath never been known to fail in the most

  desperate Cases.

  The Captain was made large Amends for the unpleasant Minutes which he passed in the Conversation of his Wife, (and which were as few as he could contrive to make them) by the pleasant Meditations he enjoyed when alone.

  These Meditations were entirely employed on Mr. Allworthy’s Fortune; for first, he exercised much Thought in calculating, as well as he could, the exact Value of the Whole; which Calculations he often saw Occasion to alter in his own Favour: And secondly, and chiefly, he pleased himself with intended Alterations in the House and Gardens, and in projecting many other Schemes, as well for the Improvement of the Estate, as of the Grandeur of the Place: For this Purpose he applied himself to the Studies of Architecture and Gardening, and read over many Books on both these Subjects; for these Sciences, indeed, employed his whole Time, and formed his only Amusement. He, at last, completed a most excellent Plan; and very sorry we are, that it is not in our Power to present it to our Reader, since even the Luxury of the present Age, I believe, would hardly match it. It had, indeed, in a superlative Degree, the two principal Ingredients which serve to recommend all great and noble Designs of this Nature; for it required an immoderate Expence to execute, and a vast Length of Time to bring it to any Sort of Perfection. The former of these, the immense Wealth of which the Captain supposed Mr. Allworthy possessed, and which he thought himself sure of inheriting, promised very effectually to supply; and the latter, the Soundness of his own Constitution, and his Time of Life, which was only what is called Middle Age, removed all Apprehension of his not living to accomplish.

  Nothing was wanting to enable him to enter upon the immediate Execution of this Plan, but the Death of Mr. Allworthy; in calculating which he had employed much of his own Algebra, besides purchasing every Book extant that treats of the Value of Lives, Reversions, &c. From all which he satisfied himself, that as he had every Day a Chance of this happening, so had he more than an even Chance of its happening within a few Years.

  But while the Captain was one Day busied in deep Contemplations of this Kind, one of the most unlucky, as well as unseasonable Accidents, happened to him. The utmost Malice of Fortune could, indeed, have contrived nothing so cruel, so mal a-propos, so absolutely destructive to all his Schemes. In short, not to keep the Reader in long Suspence, just at the very Instant when his Heart was exulting in Meditations on the Happiness which would accrue to him by Mr. Allworthy’s Death, he himself——died of an Apoplexy.

  This unfortunately befel the Captain as he was taking his Evening Walk by himself, so that no Body was present to lend him any Assistance, if indeed any Assistance could have preserved him. He took, therefore, Measure of that Proportion of Soil, which was now become adequate to all his future Purposes, and he lay dead on the Ground, a great (tho’ not a living) Example of the Truth of that Observation of Horace:

  Tu secanda marmora

  Locas sub ipsum funus:& sepulchri

  Immemor, struis domos.1

  Which Sentiment, I shall thus give to the English Reader: ‘You provide the noblest Materials for Building, when a Pick-ax and a Spade are only necessary; and build Houses of five hundred by a hundred Feet, forgetting that of six by two.’

  CHAPTER IX.

  A Proof of the Infallibility of the foregoing Receipt, in the Lamentations of the Widow; with other suitable Decorations of Death, such as Physicians, &c. and an Epitaph in the true Stile.

  Mr. Allworthy, his Sister, and another Lady, were assembled at the accustomed Hour in the Supper Room, where having waited a considerable Time longer than usual, Mr. Allworthy first declared, he began to grow uneasy at the Captain’s Stay; (for he was always most punctual at his Meals) and gave Orders that the Bell should be rung without the Doors, and especially towards those Walks which the Captain was wont to use.

  All these Summons proving ineffectual, (for the Captain had, by perverse Accident, betaken himself to a new Walk that Evening) Mrs. Blifil declared she was seriously frightned. Upon which the other Lady, who was one of her most intimate Acquaintance, and who well knew the true State of her Affections, endeavoured all she could to pacify her; telling her–To be sure she could not help being uneasy; but that sh
e should hope the best. That, perhaps, the Sweetness of the Evening had inticed the Captain to go farther than his usual Walk; or he might be detained at some Neighbour’s. Mrs. Blifil answered, No; she was sure some Accident had befallen him; for that he would never stay out without sending her Word, as he must know how uneasy it would make her. The other Lady, having no other Arguments to use, betook herself to the Entreaties usual on such Occasions, and begged her not to frighten herself, for it might be of very ill Consequence to her own Health; and, filling out a very large Glass of Wine, advised, and at last prevailed with, her to drink it.

  Mr. Allworthy now returned into the Parlour; for he had been himself in Search after the Captain. His Countenance sufficiently shewed the Consternation he was under, which, indeed had a good deal deprived him of Speech; but as Grief operates variously on different Minds, so the same Apprehension which depressed his Voice, elevated that of Mrs. Blifil. She now began to bewail herself in very bitter Terms, and Floods of Tears accompanied her Lamentations, which the Lady, her Companion, declared she could not blame; but, at the same Time, dissuaded her from indulging; attempting to moderate the Grief of her Friend, by philosophical Observations on the many Disappointments to which human Life is daily subject, which, she said, was a sufficient Consideration to fortify our Minds against any Accidents, how sudden or terrible soever. She said, her Brother’s Example ought to teach her Patience, who, tho’ indeed he could not be supposed as much concerned as herself, yet was, doubtless, very uneasy, tho’ his Resignation to the Divine Will had restrained his Grief within due Bounds.

  ‘Mention not my Brother,’ said Mrs. Blifil, ‘I alone am the Object of your Pity. What are the Terrors of Friendship to what a Wife feels on these Occasions? O he is lost! Somebody hath murdered him—I shall never see him more’—Here a Torrent of Tears had the same Consequence with what the Suppression had occasioned to Mr. Allworthy, and she remained silent.

  At this Interval, a Servant came running in, out of Breath, and cried out, ‘The Captain was found;’ and, before he could proceed farther, he was followed by two more, bearing the dead Body between them.

  Here the curious Reader may observe another Diversity in the Operations of Grief: For as Mr. Allworthy had been before silent, from the same Cause which had made his Sister vociferous; so did the present Sight, which drew Tears from the Gentleman, put an entire Stop to those of the Lady; who first gave a violent Scream, and presently after fell into a Fit.

  The Room was soon full of Servants, some of whom, with the Lady visitant, were employed in Care of the Wife; and others, with Mr. Allworthy, assisted in carrying off the Captain to a warm Bed; where every Method was tried, in order to restore him to Life.

  And glad should we be, could we inform the Reader, that both these Bodies had been attended with equal Success; for those who undertook the Care of the Lady, succeeded so well, that after the Fit had continued a decent Time, she again revived, to their great Satisfaction: But as to the Captain, all Experiments of Bleeding, Chafing, Dropping, &c. proved ineffectual. Death, that inexorable Judge, had passed Sentence on him, and refused to grant him a Reprieve, though two Doctors who arrived, and were fee’d at one and the same Instant, were his Counsel.

  These two Doctors, whom, to avoid any malicious Applications, we shall distinguish by the Names of Dr. Y. and Dr. Z. having felt his Pulse; to wit, Dr. Y. his Right Arm, and Dr. Z. his Left, both agreed that he was absolutely dead; but as to the Distemper, or Cause of his Death, they differed; Dr. Y. holding that he died of an Apoplexy, and Dr. Z. of an Epilepsy.

  Hence arose a Dispute between the learned Men, in which each delivered the Reasons of their several Opinions. These were of such equal Force, that they served both to confirm either Doctor in his own Sentiments, and made not the least Impression on his Adversary.

  To say the Truth, every Physician, almost, hath his favourite Disease, to which he ascribes all the Victories obtained over human Nature. The Gout, the Rheumatism, the Stone, the Gravel, and the Consumption, have all their several Patrons in the Faculty; and none more than the Nervous Fever, or the Fever on the Spirits.1 And here we may account for those Disagreements in Opinion, concerning the Cause of a Patient’s Death, which sometimes occur between the most learned of the College;2 and which have greatly surprized that Part of the World who have been ignorant of the Fact we have above asserted.

  The Reader may, perhaps, be surprized, that instead of endeavouring to revive the Patient, the learned Gentlemen should fall immediately into a Dispute on the Occasion of his Death; but in reality, all such Experiments had been made before their Arrival: For the Captain was put into a warm Bed, had his Veins scarified, his Forehead chafed, and all Sorts of strong Drops applied to his Lips and Nostrils.

  The Physicians, therefore, finding themselves anticipated in every thing they ordered, were at a Loss how to apply that Portion of Time which it is usual and decent to remain for their Fee, and were therefore necessitated to find some Subject or other for Discourse; and what could more naturally present itself than that before-mentioned?

  Our Doctors were about to take their Leave, when Mr. Allworthy, having given over the Captain, and acquiesced in the Divine Will, began to enquire after his Sister, whom he desired them to visit before their Departure.

  This Lady was now recovered of her Fit, and, to use the common Phrase, as well as could be expected for one in her Condition. The Doctors, therefore, all previous Ceremonies being complied with, as this was a new Patient, attended, according to Desire, and laid hold on each of her Hands, as they had before done on those of the Corpse.

  The Case of the Lady was in the other Extreme from that of her Husband; for, as he was past all the Assistance of Physic, so in reality she required none.

  There is nothing more unjust than the vulgar Opinion, by which Physicians are misrepresented as Friends to Death. On the contrary, I believe, if the Number of those who recover by Physic could be opposed to that of the Martyrs to it, the former would rather exceed the latter. Nay, some are so cautious on this Head, that, to avoid a Possibility of killing the Patient, they abstain from all Methods of curing, and prescribe nothing but what can neither do Good nor Harm. I have heard some of these, with great Gravity, deliver it as a Maxim, ‘That Nature should be left to do her own Work, while the Physician stands by, as it were, to clap her on the Back, and encourage her when she doth well.’

  So little then did our Doctors delight in Death, that they discharged the Corpse after a single Fee; but they were not so disgusted with their living Patient; concerning whose Case they immediately agreed, and fell to prescribing with great Diligence.

  Whether, as the Lady had, at first, persuaded her Physicians to believe her ill, they had now, in return, persuaded her to believe herself so, I will not determine; but she continued a whole Month with all the Decorations of Sickness. During this Time she was visited by Physicians, attended by Nurses, and received constant Messages from her Acquaintance, to enquire after her Health.

  At length, the decent Time for Sickness and immoderate Grief being expired, the Doctors were discharged, and the Lady began to see Company; being altered only from what she was before, by that Colour of Sadness in which she had dressed her Person and Countenance.

  The Captain was now interred, and might, perhaps, have already made a large Progress towards Oblivion, had not the Friendship of Mr. Allworthy taken Care to preserve his Memory, by the following Epitaph, which was written by a Man of as great Genius as Integrity, and one who perfectly well knew the Captain.

  Here lies,

  In Expectation of a joyful Rising,

  The Body of

  Captain JOHN BLIFIL.

  LONDON

  had the Honour of his Birth,

  OXFORD

  of his Education.

  His Parts

  were an Honour to his Profession

  and to his Country:

  His Life to his Religion

  and human Nature.

  He was a dutiful
Son,

  a tender Husband,

  an affectionate Father,

  a most kind Brother,

  a sincere Friend,

  a devout Christian,

  and a good Man.

  His inconsolable Widow

  hath erected this Stone,

  The Monument of

  His Virtues,