The Clock had now struck Twelve, and every one in the House were in their Beds, except the Centinel who stood to guard Northerton, when Jones softly opening his Door, issued forth in Pursuit of his Enemy, of whose Place of Confinement he had received a perfect Description from the Drawer. It is not easy to conceive a much more tremendous Figure than he now exhibited. He had on, as we have said, a light-coloured Coat, covered with Streams of Blood. His Face, which missed that very Blood, as well as twenty Ounces more drawn from him by the Surgeon, was pallid. Round his Head was a Quantity of Bandage, not unlike a Turban. In the right Hand he carried a Sword, and in the left a Candle. So that the bloody Banquo2 was not worthy to be compared to him. In Fact, I believe a more dreadful Apparition was never raised in a Churchyard, nor in the Imagination of any good People met in a Winter Evening over a Christmas Fire in Somersetshire.
When the Centinel first saw our Heroe approach, his Hair began gently to lift up his Grenadier Cap; and in the same Instant his Knees fell to Blows with each other. Presently his whole Body was seized with worse than an Ague Fit. He then fired his Piece, and fell flat on his Face.
Whether Fear or Courage was the Occasion of his Firing, or whether he took Aim at the Object of his Terror, I cannot say. If he did, however, he had the good Fortune to miss his Man.
Jones seeing the Fellow fall, guessed the Cause of his Fright, at which he could not forbear smiling, not in the least reflecting on the Danger from which he had just escaped. He then passed by the Fellow, who still continued in the Posture in which he fell, and entered the Room where Northerton, as he had heard, was confined. Here, in a solitary Situation, he found—an empty Quart-Pot standing on the Table, on which some Beer being spilt, it looked as if the Room had lately been inhabited; but at present it was entirely vacant.
Jones then apprehended it might lead to some other Apartment; but, upon searching all round it, he could perceive no other Door than that at which he entered, and where the Centinel had been posted. He then proceeded to call Northerton several Times by his Name; but no one answered; nor did this serve to any other Purpose than to confirm the Centinel in his Terrors, who was now convinced that the Volunteer was dead of his Wounds, and that his Ghost was come in Search of the Murtherer: He now lay in all the Agonies of Horror; and I wish, with all my Heart, some of those Actors, who are hereafter to represent a Man frighted out of his Wits, had seen him, that they might be taught to copy Nature, instead of performing several antic Tricks and Gestures, for the Entertainment and Applause of the Galleries.
Perceiving the Bird was flown, at least despairing to find him, and rightly apprehending that the Report of the Firelock would alarm the whole House, our Heroe now blew out his Candle, and gently stole back again to his Chamber, and to his Bed: Whither he would not have been able to have gotten undiscovered, had any other Person been on the same Stair-case, save only one Gentleman who was confined to his Bed by the Gout; for before he could reach the Door to his Chamber, the Hall where the Centinel had been posted, was half full of People, some in their Shirts, and others not half drest, all very earnestly enquiring of each other, what was the Matter?
The Soldier was now found lying in the same Place and Posture in which we just now left him. Several immediately applied themselves to raise him, and some concluded him dead: But they presently saw their Mistake; for he not only struggled with those who laid their Hands on him, but fell a roaring like a Bull. In reality, he imagined so many Spirits or Devils were handling him; for his Imagination being possessed with the Horror of an Apparition, converted every Object he saw or felt, into nothing but Ghosts and Spectres.
At length he was overpowered by Numbers, and got upon his Legs; when Candles being brought, and seeing two or three of his Comrades present, he came a little to himself; but when they asked him what was the Matter? he answered, ‘I am a dead Man, that’s all, I am a dead Man. I can’t recover it. I have seen him.’ ‘What hast thou seen, Jack?’ says one of the Soldiers. ‘Why, I have seen the young Volunteer that was killed Yesterday.’ He then imprecated the most heavy Curses on himself, if he had not seen the Volunteer, all over Blood, vomiting Fire out of his Mouth and Nostrils, pass by him into the Chamber where Ensign Northerton was, and then seizing the Ensign by the Throat, fly away with him in a Clap of Thunder.
This Relation met with a gracious Reception from the Audience. All the Women present believed it firmly, and prayed Heaven to defend them from Murther. Amongst the Men too, many had Faith in the Story; but others turned it into Derision and Ridicule; and a Serjeant who was present, answered very coolly: ‘Young Man, you will hear more of this for going to sleep, and dreaming on your Post.’
The Soldier replied, ‘You may punish me if you please; but I was as broad awake as I am now; and the Devil carry me away, as he hath the Ensign, if I did not see the dead Man, as I tell you, with Eyes as big and as fiery as two large Flambeaux.’
The Commander of the Forces, and the Commander of the House, were now both arrived: For the former being awake at the Time, and hearing the Centinel fire his Piece, thought it his Duty to rise immediately, tho’ he had no great Apprehensions of any Mischief; whereas the Apprehensions of the latter were much greater, lest her Spoons and Tankards should be upon the March, without having received any such Orders from her.
Our poor Centinel, to whom the Sight of this Officer was not much more welcome than the Apparition, as he thought it, which he had seen before, again related the dreadful Story, and with many Additions of Blood and Fire: But he had the Misfortune to gain no Credit with either of the last-mentioned Persons; for the Officer, tho’ a very religious Man, was free from all Terrors of this Kind; besides, having so lately left Jones in the Condition we have seen, he had no Suspicion of his being dead. As for the Landlady, tho’ not over religious, she had no kind of Aversion to the Doctrine of Spirits; but there was a Circumstance in the Tale which she well knew to be false, as we shall inform the Reader presently.
But whether Northerton was carried away in Thunder or Fire, or in whatever other Manner he was gone; it was now certain, that his Body was no longer in Custody. Upon this Occasion, the Lieutenant formed a Conclusion not very different from what the Serjeant is just mentioned to have made before, and immediately ordered the Centinel to be taken Prisoner. So that, by a strange Reverse of Fortune, (tho’ not very uncommon in a military Life) the Guard became the guarded.
CHAPTER XV.
The Conclusion of the foregoing Adventure.
Besides the Suspicion of Sleep, the Lieutenant harboured another, and worse Doubt against the poor Centinel, and this was that of Treachery: For as he believed not one Syllable of the Apparition, so he imagined the whole to be an Invention, formed only to impose upon him, and that the Fellow had, in Reality, been bribed by Northerton to let him escape. And this he imagined the rather, as the Fright appeared to him the more unnatural in one who had the Character of as brave and bold a Man as any in the Regiment, having been in several Actions, having received several Wounds, and, in a Word, having behaved himself always like a good and valiant Soldier.
That the Reader, therefore, may not conceive the least ill Opinion of such a Person, we shall not delay a Moment in rescuing his Character from the Imputation of this Guilt.
Mr. Northerton then, as we have before observed, was fully satisfied with the Glory which he had obtained from this Action. He had, perhaps, seen, or heard, or guessed, that Envy is apt to attend Fame. Not that I would here insinuate, that he was heathenishly inclined to believe in, or to worship, the Goddess Nemesis; for, in Fact, I am convinced he never heard of her Name. He was, besides, of an active Disposition, and had a great Antipathy to those close Winter Quarters in the Castle of Gloucester, for which a Justice of Peace might possibly give him a Billet. Nor was he moreover free from some uneasy Meditations on a certain wooden Edifice, which I forbear to name, in Conformity to the Opinion of Mankind, who, I think, rather ought to honour than to be ashamed of this Building, as it is, or at least might b
e made, of more Benefit to Society than almost any other public Erection. In a Word, to hint at no more Reasons for his Conduct, Mr. Northerton was desirous of departing that Evening, and nothing remained for him but to contrive the Quomodo, which appeared to be a Matter of some Difficulty.
Now this young Gentleman, tho’ somewhat crooked in his Morals, was perfectly strait in his Person, which was extremely strong and well made. His Face too was accounted handsome by the Generality of Women, for it was broad and ruddy, with tolerably good Teeth. Such Charms did not fail making an Impression on my Landlady, who had no little Relish for this kind of Beauty. She had, indeed, a real Compassion for the young Man; and hearing from the Surgeon that Affairs were like to go ill with the Volunteer, she suspected they might hereafter wear no benign Aspect with the Ensign. Having obtained, therefore, Leave to make him a Visit, and finding him in a very melancholy Mood, which she considerably heightened, by telling him there were scarce any Hopes of the Volunteer’s Life, she proceeded to throw forth some Hints, which the other readily and eagerly taking up, they soon came to a right Understanding; and it was at length agreed, that the Ensign should, at a certain Signal, ascend the Chimney, which communicating very soon with that of the Kitchin, he might there again let himself down; for which she would give him an Opportunity, by keeping the Coast clear.
But lest our Readers, of a different Complexion, should take this Occasion of too hastily condemning all Compassion as a Folly, and pernicious to Society, we think proper to mention another Particular, which might possibly have some little Share in this Action. The Ensign happened to be at this Time possessed of the Sum of fifty Pounds, which did indeed belong to the whole Company: For the Captain having quarreled with his Lieutenant, had entrusted the Payment of his Company to the Ensign. This Money, however, he thought proper to deposite in my Landlady’s Hand, possibly by way of Bail or Security that he would hereafter appear and answer to the Charge against him; but whatever were the Conditions, certain it is, that she had the Money, and the Ensign his Liberty.
The Reader may, perhaps, expect, from the compassionate Temper of this good Woman, that when she saw the poor Centinel taken Prisoner for a Fact of which she knew him innocent, she should immediately have interposed in his Behalf; but whether it was that she had already exhausted all her Compassion in the above-mentioned Instance, or that the Features of this Fellow, tho’ not very different from those of the Ensign, could not raise it, I will not determine; but far from being an Advocate for the present Prisoner, she urged his Guilt to his Officer, declaring with uplifted Eyes and Hands, that she would not have had any Concern in the Escape of a Murderer for all the World.
Every thing was now once more quiet; and most of the Company returned again to their Beds; but the Landlady, either from the natural Activity of her Disposition, or from her Fear for her Plate, having no Propensity to sleep, prevailed with the Officers, as they were to march within little more than an Hour, to spend that Time with her over a Bowl of Punch.
Jones had lain awake all this while, and had heard great Part of the Hurry and Bustle that had passed, of which he had now some Curiosity to know the Particulars. He therefore applied to his Bell, which he rung at least twenty Times without any Effect; for my Landlady was in such high Mirth with her Company, that no Clapper could be heard there but her own, and the Drawer and Chambermaid, who were sitting together in the Kitchin (for neither durst he sit up, nor she lie in Bed alone) the more they heard the Bell ring, the more they were frightened, and, as it were, nailed down in their Places.
At last, at a lucky Interval of Chat, the Sound reached the Ears of our good Landlady, who presently sent forth her Summons, which both her Servants instantly obeyed. ‘Joo,’ says the Mistress, ‘don’t you hear the Gentleman’s Bell ring? why don’t you go up?’ ‘It is not my Business,’ answered the Drawer, ‘to wait upon the Chambers. It is Betty Chambermaid’s!’ ‘If you come to that,’ answered the Maid, ‘it is not my Business to wait upon Gentlemen. I have done it, indeed, sometimes; but the Devil fetch me if ever I do again, since you make your Preambles about it.’ The Bell still ringing violently, their Mistress fell into a Passion, and swore, if the Drawer did not go up immediately, she would turn him away that very Morning. ‘If you do, Madam,’ says he, ‘I can’t help it. I won’t do another Servant’s Business.’ She then applied herself to the Maid, and endeavoured to prevail by gentle Means; but all in vain, Betty was as inflexible as Joo. Both insisted it was not their Business, and they would not do it.
The Lieutenant then fell a laughing, and said, ‘Come, I will put an End to this Contention;’ and then turning to the Servants, commended them for their Resolution, in not giving up the Point; but added, he was sure, if one would consent to go, the other would. To which Proposal they both agreed in an Instant, and accordingly went up very lovingly and close together. When they were gone, the Lieutenant appeased the Wrath of the Landlady, by satisfying her why they were both so unwilling to go alone.
They returned soon after, and acquainted their Mistress, that the sick Gentleman was so far from being dead, that he spoke as heartily as if he was well; and that he gave his Service to the Captain, and should be very glad of the Favour of seeing him before he marched.
The good Lieutenant immediately complied with his Desires, and sitting down by his Bed-side, acquainted him with the Scene which had happened below, concluding with his Intentions to make an Example of the Centinel.
Upon this, Jones related to him the whole Truth, and earnestly begged him not to punish the poor Soldier, ‘who, I am confident,’ says he, ‘is as innocent of the Ensign’s Escape, as he is of forging any Lie, or of endeavouring to impose on you.’
The Lieutenant hesitated a few Moments, and then answered: ‘Why, as you have cleared the Fellow of one Part of the Charge, so it will be impossible to prove the other; because he was not the only Centinel. But I have a good mind to punish the Rascal for being a Coward. Yet who knows what Effect the Terror of such an Apprehension may have? and to say the Truth, he hath always behaved well against an Enemy. Come, it is a good Thing to see any Sign of Religion in these Fellows; so I promise you he shall be set at Liberty when we march. But hark, the General1 beats. My dear Boy, give me another Buss. Don’t discompose nor hurry yourself; but remember the Christian Doctrine of Patience, and I warrant you will soon be able to do yourself Justice, and to take an honourable Revenge on the Fellow who hath injured you.’ The Lieutenant then departed, and Jones endeavoured to compose himself to Rest.
BOOK VIII.
Containing above two Days.
CHAPTER I.
A wonderful long Chapter concerning the
Marvellous; being much the longest of all our
introductory Chapters.
As we are now entering upon a Book, in which the Course of our History will oblige us to relate some Matters of a more strange and surprizing Kind than any which have hitherto occurred, it may not be amiss in the prolegomenous, or introductory Chapter, to say something of that Species of Writing which is called the Marvellous. To this we shall, as well for the Sake of ourselves, as of others, endeavour to set some certain Bounds; and indeed nothing can be more necessary, as Critics* of different Complexions are here apt to run into very different Extremes; for while some are, with M. Dacier, ready to allow, that the same Thing which is impossible may be yet probable,† others have so little Historic or Poetic Faith, that they believe nothing to be either possible or probable, the like to which hath not occurred to their own Observation.
First then, I think, it may very reasonably be required of every Writer, that he keeps within the Bounds of Possibility; and still remembers that what it is not possible for Man to perform, it is scarce possible for Man to believe he did perform. This Conviction, perhaps, gave Birth to many Stories of the antient Heathen Deities (for most of them are of poetical Original.) The Poet, being desirous to indulge a wanton and extravagant Imagination, took Refuge in that Power, of the Extent of which his Readers were no
Judges, or rather which they imagined to be infinite, and consequently they could not be shocked at any Prodigies related of it. This hath been strongly urged in Defence of Homer’s Miracles; and it is, perhaps, a Defence; not, as Mr. Pope would have it, because Ulysses told a Set of foolish Lies to the Phæacians, who were a very dull Nation;2 but because the Poet himself wrote to Heathens, to whom poetical Fables were Articles of Faith. For my own Part, I must confess, so compassionate is my Temper, I wish Polypheme had confined himself to his Milk Diet, and preserved his Eye; nor could Ulysses be much more concerned than myself, when his Companions were turned into Swine by Circe, who shewed, I think, afterwards, too much Regard for Man’s Flesh to be supposed capable of converting it into Bacon.3 I wish, likewise, with all my Heart, that Homer could have known the Rule prescribed by Horace, to introduce supernatural Agents as seldom as possible.4 We should not then have seen his Gods coming on trivial Errands, and often behaving themselves so as not only to forfeit all Title to Respect, but to become the Objects of Scorn and Derision. A Conduct which must have shocked the Credulity of a pious and sagacious Heathen; and which could never have been defended, unless by agreeing with a Supposition to which I have been sometimes almost inclined, that this most glorious Poet, as he certainly was, had an Intent to burlesque the superstitious Faith of his own Age and Country.
The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics) Page 46
