The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics)

by Henry Fielding

  ‘I hope, Madam,’ cries Sophia, with a little Elevation of Voice, ‘I shall never do any Thing to dishonour my Family; but as for Mr. Blifil, whatever may be the Consequence, I am resolved against him, and no Force shall prevail in his Favour.’

  Western, who had been within hearing during the greater Part of the preceding Dialogue, had now exhausted all his Patience; he therefore entered the Room in a violent Passion, crying, ‘D—n me then if shatunt ha’un, d—n me if shatunt, that’s all—that’s all——D—n me if shatunt.’

  Mrs. Western had collected a sufficient Quantity of Wrath for the Use of Sophia; but she now transferred it all to the Squire. ‘Brother,’ said she, ‘it is astonishing that you will interfere in a Matter which you had totally left to my Negotiation. Regard to my Family hath made me take upon myself to be the mediating Power, in order to rectify those Mistakes in Policy which you have committed in your Daughter’s Education. For, Brother, it is you; it is your preposterous Conduct which hath eradicated all the Seeds that I had formerly sown in her tender Mind.—It is you yourself who have taught her Disobedience.’——‘Blood!’ cries the Squire, foaming at the Mouth, ‘you are enough to conquer the Patience of the Devil! Have I ever taught my Daughter Disobedience?—Here she stands; Speak honestly, Girl, did ever I bid you be disobedient to me? Have not I done every Thing to humour, and to gratify you, and to make you obedient to me? And very obedient to me she was when a little Child, before you took her in Hand and spoiled her, by filling her Head with a Pack of Court Notions.— Why—why—why—did not I over-hear you telling her she must behave like a Princess? You have made a Whig of the Girl;6 and how should her Father, or any body else, expect any Obedience from her?’ ‘Brother,’ answered Mrs. Western, with an Air of great Disdain, ‘I cannot express the Contempt I have for your Politics of all Kinds; but I will appeal likewise to the young Lady herself, whether I have ever taught her any Principles of Disobedience. On the contrary, Niece, have I not endeavoured to inspire you with a true Idea of the several Relations in which a human Creature stands in Society? Have I not taken infinite Pains to shew you, that the Law of Nature hath enjoined a Duty on Children to their Parents? Have I not told you what Plato says on that Subject?7— A Subject on which you was so notoriously ignorant when you came first under my Care, that I verily believe you did not know the Relation between a Daughter and a Father.’ ‘’Tis a Lie,’ answered Western. ‘The Girl is no such Fool, as to live to eleven Years old without knowing that she was her Father’s Relation.’ ‘O more than Gothic Ignorance,’ answered the Lady.——‘And as for your Manners, Brother, I must tell you, they deserve a Cane.’ ‘Why then you may gi’it me, if you think you are able,’ cries the Squire; ‘nay, I suppose your Niece there will be ready enough to help you.’ ‘Brother,’ said Mrs. Western, ‘tho’ I despise you beyond Expression, yet I shall endure your Insolence no longer; so I desire my Coach may be got ready immediately, for I am resolved to leave your House this very Morning.’ ‘And a good Riddance too,’ answered he; ‘I can bear your Insolence no longer, an you come to that. Blood! it is almost enough of itself, to make my Daughter undervalue my Sense, when she hears you telling me every Minute you despise me.’ ‘It is impossible, it is impossible,’ cries the Aunt, ‘no one can undervalue such a Boor.’ ‘Boar,’ answered the Squire, ‘I am no Boar; no, nor Ass; no, nor Rat neither, Madam. Remember that—I am no Rat. I am a true Englishman, and not of your Hanover Breed, that have eat up the Nation.’ ‘Thou art one of those wise Men,’ cries she, ‘whose nonsensical Principles have undone the Nation; by weakening the Hands of our Government at home, and by discouraging our Friends, and encouraging our Enemies abroad.’ ‘Ho! are you come back to your Politics,’ cries the Squire, ‘as for those I despise them as much as I do a F—t.’ Which last Word he accompanied and graced with the very Action, which, of all others, was the most proper to it. And whether it was this Word, or the Contempt exprest for her Politics, which most affected Mrs. Western, I will not determine; but she flew into the most violent Rage, uttered Phrases improper to be here related, and instantly burst out of the House. Nor did her Brother or her Niece think proper either to stop or to follow her: For the one was so much possessed by Concern, and the other by Anger, that they were rendered almost motionless.

  The Squire, however, sent after his Sister the same Holla which attends the Departure of a Hare, when she is first started before the Hounds. He was indeed a great Master of his Kind of Vociferation, and had a Holla proper for most Occasions in Life.

  Women who, like Mrs. Western, know the World, and have applied themselves to Philosophy and Politics, would have immediately availed themselves of the present Disposition of Mr. Western’s Mind; by throwing in a few artful Compliments to his Understanding at the Expence of his absent Adversary; but poor Sophia was all Simplicity. By which Word we do not intend to insinuate to the Reader, that she was silly, which is generally understood as a synonimous Term with simple: For she was indeed a most sensible Girl, and her Understanding was of the first Rate; but she wanted all that useful Art which Females convert to so many good Purposes in Life, and which, as it rather arises from the Heart, than from the Head, is often the Property of the silliest of Women.

  CHAPTER IV.

  A Picture of a Country Gentlewoman taken from the Life.

  Mr. Western having finished his Holla, and taken a little Breath, began to lament, in very pathetic Terms, the unfortunate Condition of Men, who are, says he, always whipt in by the Humours of some d—nd B—— or other. I think I was hard run enough by your Mother for one Man; but after giving her a Dodge, here’s another B—— follows me upon the Foil; but curse my Jacket if I will be run down in this Manner by any o’um.

  Sophia never had a single Dispute with her Father, till this unlucky Affair of Blifil, on any Account, except in Defence of her Mother, whom she had loved most tenderly, though she lost her in the eleventh Year of her Age. The Squire, to whom that poor Woman had been a faithful upper Servant all the Time of their Marriage, had returned that Behaviour, by making what the World calls a good Husband. He very seldom swore at her (perhaps not above once a Week) and never beat her: She had not the least Occasion for Jealousy, and was perfect Mistress of her Time; for she was never interrupted by her Husband, who was engaged all the Morning in his Field Exercises, and all the Evening with Bottle Companions. She scarce indeed ever saw him but at Meals; where she had the Pleasure of carving those Dishes which she had before attended at the Dressing. From these Meals she retired about five Minutes after the other Servants, having only stayed to drink the King over the Water.1 Such were, it seems, Mr. Western’s Orders: For it was a Maxim with him, that Women should come in with the first Dish, and go out after the first Glass. Obedience to these Orders was perhaps no difficult Task: For the Conversation (if it may be called so) was seldom such as could entertain a Lady. It consisted chiefly of Hallowing, Singing, Relations of sporting Adventures, B—d—y,2 and Abuse of Women and of the Government.

  These, however, were the only Seasons when Mr. Western saw his Wife: For when he repaired to her Bed, he was generally so drunk that he could not see; and in the sporting Season he always rose from her before it was light. Thus was she perfect Mistress of her Time; and had besides a Coach and four usually at her Command; tho’ unhappily indeed the Badness of the Neighbourhood, and of the Roads, made this of little Use: For none who had set much Value on their Necks would have passed through the one, or who had set any Value on their Hours, would have visited the other. Now to deal honestly with the Reader, she did not make all the Return expected to so much Indulgence: For she had been married against her Will, by a fond Father, the Match having been rather advantageous on her Side: For the Squire’s Estate was upwards of 3000l. a Year, and her Fortune no more than a bare 8000l. Hence perhaps she had contracted a little Gloominess of Temper: For she was rather a good Servant than a good Wife; nor had she always the Gratitude to return the extraordinary Degree of roaring Mirth, with which the Squire
received her, even with a good humoured Smile. She would, moreover, sometimes interfere with Matters which did not concern her, as the violent Drinking of her Husband, which in the gentlest Terms she would take some of the few Opportunities he gave her of remonstrating against. And once in her Life she very earnestly entreated him to carry her for two Months to London, which he peremptorily denied; nay, was angry with his Wife for the Request ever after, being well assured, that all the Husbands in London are Cuckolds.

  For this last, and many other good Reasons, Western at length heartily hated his Wife; and as he never concealed this Hatred before her Death, so he never forgot it afterwards; but when any Thing in the least soured him, as a bad scenting Day, or a Distemper among his Hounds, or any other such Misfortune, he constantly vented his Spleen by Invectives against the Deceased; saying,—‘If my Wife was alive now, she would be glad of this.’

  These Invectives he was especially desirous of throwing forth before Sophia: For as he loved her more than he did any other, so he was really jealous that she had loved her Mother better than him. And this Jealousy Sophia seldom failed of heightening on these Occasions: For he was not contented with violating her Ears with the Abuse of her Mother; but endeavoured to force an explicit Approbation of all this Abuse, with which Desire he never could prevail upon her by any Promise or Threats to comply.

  Hence some of my Readers will, perhaps, wonder that the Squire had not hated Sophia as much as he had hated her Mother; but I must inform them, that Hatred is not the Effect of Love, even through the Medium of Jealousy. It is, indeed, very possible for jealous Persons to kill the Objects of their Jealousy, but not to hate them. Which Sentiment being a pretty hard Morsel, and bearing something of the Air of a Paradox, we shall leave the Reader to chew the Cud upon it to the End of the Chapter.

  CHAPTER V.

  The generous Behaviour of Sophia towards her Aunt.

  Sophia kept Silence during the foregoing Speech of her Father, nor did she once answer otherwise than with a Sigh; but as he understood none of the Language, or, as he called it, Lingo, of the Eyes, so he was not satisfied without some further Approbation of his Sentiments; which he now demanded of his Daughter; telling her, in the usual Way ‘he expected she was ready to take the Part of every Body against him, as she had always done that of the B—— her Mother.’ Sophia remaining still silent, he cry’d out, ‘What art dumb? why dost unt speak. Was not they Mother a d—d B—— to me? Answer me that. What, I suppose, you despise your Father too, and don’t think him good enough to speak to?’

  ‘For Heaven’s Sake, Sir,’ answered Sophia, ‘do not give so cruel a Turn to my Silence. I am sure I would sooner die than be guilty of any Disrespect towards you; but how can I venture to speak, when every Word must either offend my dear Papa, or convict me of the blackest Ingratitude as well as Impiety to the Memory of the best of Mothers: For such, I am certain my Mamma was always to me?’

  ‘And your Aunt, I suppose, is the best of Sisters too!’ replied the Squire. ‘Will you be so kind as to allow that she is a B——? I may fairly insist upon that, I think.’

  ‘Indeed, Sir,’ says Sophia, ‘I have great Obligations to my Aunt. She hath been a second Mother to me.’

  ‘And a second Wife to me too,’ returned Western; ‘so you will take her Part too! You won’t confess that she hath acted the Part of the vilest Sister in the World?’

  ‘Upon my Word, Sir,’ cries Sophia, ‘I must belie my Heart wickedly if I did. I know my Aunt and you differ very much in your Ways of thinking; but I have heard her a thousand Times express the greatest Affection for you; and I am convinced, so far from her being the worst Sister in the World, there are very few who love a Brother better.’

  ‘The English of all which is,’ answered the Squire, ‘that I am in the wrong. Ay, certainly. Ay, to be sure the Woman is in the Right, and the Man in the Wrong always.’

  ‘Pardon me, Sir,’ cries Sophia, ‘I do not say so.’

  ‘What don’t you say?’ answered the Father, ‘you have the Impudence to say she’s in the right; doth it not follow then of Course that I am in the wrong? And perhaps I am in the wrong to suffer such a Presbyterian Hannoverian B—— to come into my House. She may ’dite me of a Plot for any Thing I know, and give my Estate to the Government.’1

  ‘So far, Sir, from injuring you or your Estate,’ says Sophia, ‘if my Aunt had died Yesterday, I am convinced she would have left you her whole Fortune.’

  Whether Sophia intended it or no, I shall not presume to assert; but certain it is, these last Words penetrated very deep into the Ears of her Father, and produced a much more sensible Effect than all she had said before. He received the Sound with much the same Action as a Man receives a Bullet in his Head. He started, staggered and turned pale. After which he remained silent above a Minute, and then began in the following hesitating Manner. ‘Yesterday! she would have left me her Esteate Yesterday! would she? Why Yesterday of all the Days in the Year? I suppose if she dies Tomorrow she will leave it to somebody else, and perhaps out of the Vamily:’ ‘My Aunt, Sir,’ cries Sophia, ‘hath very violent Passions, and I can’t answer what she may do under their Influence.’

  ‘You can’t!’ returned the Father, ‘and pray who hath been the Occasion of putting her into those violent Passions? Nay, who hath actually put her into them? Was not you and she hard at it before I came into the Room? Besides, was not all our Quarrel about you? I have not quarrelled with Sister this many Years but upon your Account; and now you would throw the whole Blame upon me, as thof I should be the Occasion of her leaving the Esteate out o’ the Vamily. I could have expected no better indeed, this is like the Return you make to all the rest of my Fondness.’

  ‘I beseech you then,’ cries Sophia, ‘upon my Knees I beseech you, if I have been the unhappy Occasion of this Difference, that you will endeavour to make it up with my Aunt, and not suffer her to leave your House in this violent Rage of Anger: She is a very good-natured Woman, and a few civil Words will satisfy her—Let me intreat you, Sir.’

  ‘So I must go and ask Pardon for your Fault, must I?’ answered Western. ‘You have lost the Hare, and I must draw every Way to find her again? Indeed if I was certain’—Here he stopt, and Sophia throwing in more Entreaties, at length prevailed upon him; so that after venting two or three bitter sarcastical Expressions against his Daughter, he departed as fast as he could to recover his Sister, before her Equipage could be gotten ready.

  Sophia then returned to her Chamber of Mourning, where she indulged herself (if the Phrase may be allowed me) in all the Luxury of tender Grief. She read over more than once the Letter which she had received from Jones; her Muff too was used on this Occasion; and she bathed both these, as well as herself, with her Tears. In this Situation, the friendly Mrs. Honour exerted her utmost Abilities to comfort her afflicted Mistress. She ran over the Names of many young Gentlemen; and having greatly commended their Parts and Persons, assured Sophia that she might take her Choice of any. These Methods must have certainly been used with some Success in Disorders of the like Kind, or so skilful a Practitioner as Mrs. Honour would never have ventured to apply them; nay, I have heard that the College of Chambermaids hold them to be as sovereign Remedies as any in the female Dispensary; but whether it was that Sophia’s Disease differed, inwardly, from those Cases with which it agreed in external Symptoms, I will not assert; but, in Fact, the good Waiting-woman did more Harm than Good, and at last so incensed her Mistress (which was no easy Matter) that with an angry Voice she dismissed her from her Presence.

  CHAPTER VI.

  Containing great Variety of Matter.

  The Squire overtook his Sister just as she was stepping into the Coach, and partly by Force and partly by Solicitations, prevailed upon her to order her Horses back into their Quarters. He succeeded in this Attempt without much Difficulty: For the Lady was, as we have already hinted, of a most placable Disposition, and greatly loved her Brother, tho’ she despised his Parts, or rather his little Know
ledge of the World.

  Poor Sophia, who had first set on Foot this Reconciliation, was now made the Sacrifice to it. They both concurred in their Censures on her Conduct; jointly declared War against her; and directly proceeded to Counsel, how to carry it on in the most vigorous Manner. For this Purpose, Mrs. Western proposed not only an immediate Conclusion of the Treaty with Allworthy; but as immediately to carry it into Execution; saying, ‘That there was no other Way to succeed with her Niece but by violent Methods, which she was convinced Sophia had not sufficient Resolution to resist. By violent,’ says she, ‘I mean rather, hasty Measures: For as to Confinement or absolute Force, no such Things must or can be attempted. Our Plan must be concerted for a Surprize, and not for a Storm.’

  These Matters were resolved on, when Mr. Blifil came to pay a Visit to his Mistress. The Squire no sooner heard of his Arrival, than he stept aside, by his Sister’s Advice, to give his Daughter Orders for the proper Reception of her Lover; which he did with the most bitter Execrations and Denunciations of Judgment on her Refusal.