The Landlady answered in the Affirmative, saying, ‘There were a great many very good Quality and Gentlefolks in it now. There’s young Squire Allworthy, as that Gentleman there knows.’
‘And pray who is this young Gentleman of Quality, this young Squire Allworthy?’ said Abigail.
‘Who should he be,’ answered Partridge, ‘but the Son and Heir of the great Squire Allworthy, of Somersetshire.’
‘Upon my Word,’ said she, ‘you tell me strange News: For I know Mr. Allworthy of Somersetshire very well, and I know he hath no Son alive.’
The Landlady pricked up her Ears at this, and Partridge looked a little confounded. However, after a short Hesitation, he answered, ‘Indeed, Madam, it is true, every body doth not know him to be Squire Allworthy’s Son; for he was never married to his Mother; but his Son he certainly is, and will be his Heir too as certainly as his Name is Jones.’ At that Word, Abigail let drop the Bacon, which she was conveying to her Mouth, and cried out, ‘You surprize me, Sir. Is it possible Mr. Jones should be now in the House?’ ‘Quare non?’ answered Partridge, ‘it is possible, and it is certain.’
Abigail now made Haste to finish the Remainder of her Meal, and then repaired back to her Mistress, when the Conversation passed, which may be read in the next Chapter.
CHAPTER V.
Shewing who the amiable Lady, and her unamiable Maid, were.
As in the Month of June, the Damask Rose, which Chance hath planted among the Lilies, with their candid Hue mixes his Vermilion: Or, as some playsome Heifer in the pleasant Month of May diffuses her odoriferous Breath over the flowery Meadows: Or as, in the blooming Month of April, the gentle, constant Dove, perched on some fair Bough, sits meditating on her Mate; so looking a hundred Charms and breathing as many Sweets, her Thoughts being fixed on her Tommy, with a Heart as good and innocent, as her Face was beautiful: Sophia (for it was she herself) lay reclining her lovely Head on her Hand, when her Maid entered the Room, and running directly to the Bed, cried, ‘Madam— Madam—who doth your Ladyship think is in the House?’ Sophia starting up, cried, ‘I hope my Father hath not overtaken us.’ ‘No, Madam, it is one worth a hundred Fathers; Mr. Jones himself is here at this very Instant.’ ‘Mr. Jones!’ says Sophia, ‘it is impossible; I cannot be so fortunate.’ Her Maid averred the Fact, and was presently detached by her Mistress to order him to be called; for she said she was resolved to see him immediately.
Mrs. Honour had no sooner left the Kitchin in the manner we have before seen, than the Landlady fell severely upon her. The poor Woman had indeed been loading her Heart with foul Language for some Time; and now it scoured out of her Mouth, as Filth doth from a Mud-Cart, when the Board which confines it is removed. Partridge likewise shovelled in his Share of Calumny; and (what may surprize the Reader) not only bespattered the Maid, but attempted to sully the Lily-white Character of Sophia herself. ‘Never a Barrel the better Herring,’ cries he. ‘Noscitur a socio, is a true Saying.1 It must be confessed indeed that the Lady in the fine Garments is the civiller of the two; but I warrant neither of them are a Bit better than they should be. A Couple of Bath Trulls, I’ll answer for them; your Quality don’t ride about at this Time o’Night without Servants.’ ‘Sbodlikins, and that’s true,’ cries the Landlady, ‘you have certainly hit upon the very Matter; for Quality don’t come into a House without bespeaking a Supper, whether they eat or no.’
While they were thus discoursing, Mrs. Honour returned, and discharged her Commission, by bidding the Landlady immediately wake Mr. Jones, and tell him a Lady wanted to speak with him. The Landlady referred her to Partridge, saying, ‘he was the Squire’s Friend; but, for her Part, she never called Men-folks, especially Gentlemen,’ and then walked sullenly out of the Kitchin. Honour applied herself to Partridge; but he refused; ‘For my Friend,’ cries he, ‘went to Bed very late, and he would be very angry to be disturbed so soon.’ Mrs. Honour insisted still to have him called, saying, ‘she was sure, instead of being angry, that he would be to the highest Degree delighted when he knew the Occasion.’ ‘Another Time, perhaps, he might,’ cries Partridge; ‘but non omnia possumus omnes. One Woman is enough at once for a reasonable Man.’ ‘What do you mean by one Woman, Fellow?’ cries Honour. ‘None of your Fellow,’ answered Partridge. He then proceeded to inform her plainly, that Jones was in Bed with a Wench, and made use of an Expression too indelicate to be here inserted; which so enraged Mrs. Honour, that she called him Jackanapes, and returned in a violent Hurry to her Mistress, whom she acquainted with the Success of her Errand, and with the Account she had received; which, if possible, she exaggerated, being as angry with Jones as if he had pronounced all the Words that came from the Mouth of Partridge. She discharged a Torrent of Abuse on the Master, and advised her Mistress to quit all Thoughts of a Man who had never shewn himself deserving of her. She then ripped up the Story of Molly Seagrim, and gave the most malicious Turn to his formerly quitting Sophia herself; which, I must confess, the present Incident not a little countenanced.
The Spirits of Sophia were too much dissipated by Concern to enable her to stop the Torrent of her Maid. At last, however, she interrupted her, saying, ‘I never can believe this; some Villain hath belied him. You say you had it from his Friend; but surely it is not the Office of a Friend to betray such Secrets.’ ‘I suppose,’ cries Honour, ‘the Fellow is his Pimp; for I never saw so ill-looked a Villain. Besides, such profligate Rakes as Mr. Jones are never ashamed of these Matters.’
To say the Truth, this Behaviour of Partridge was a little inexcusable; but he had not slept off the Effect of the Dose which he swallowed the Evening before; which had, in the Morning, received the Addition of above a Pint of Wine, or indeed rather of Malt Spirits; for the Perry was by no means pure. Now that Part of his Head which Nature designed for the Reservoir of Drink, being very shallow, a small Quantity of Liquor overflowed it, and opened the Sluices of his Heart; so that all the Secrets there deposited run out. These Sluices were indeed naturally very ill secured. To give the best natured Turn we can to his Disposition, he was a very honest Man; for as he was the most inquisitive of Mortals, and eternally prying into the Secrets of others; so he very faithfully paid them by communicating, in Return, every thing within his Knowledge.
While Sophia, tormented with Anxiety, knew not what to believe, nor what Resolution to take, Susan arrived with the Sack-whey. Mrs. Honour immediately advised her Mistress, in a Whisper, to pump this Wench, who probably could inform her of the Truth. Sophia approved it, and began as follows: ‘Come hither, Child, now answer me truly what I am going to ask you, and I promise you I will very well reward you. Is there a young Gentleman in this House, a handsome young Gentleman that—’ Here Sophia blushed and was confounded——‘A young Gentleman,’ cries Honour, ‘that came hither in Company with that saucy Rascal who is now in the Kitchin?’ Susan answered, ‘There was.’— ‘Do you know any Thing of any Lady?’ continues Sophia, ‘any Lady? I don’t ask you whether she is handsome or no; perhaps she is not, that’s nothing to the Purpose; but do you know of any Lady?’ ‘La, Madam,’ cries Honour, ‘you will make a very bad Examiner. Harkee, Child,’ says she, ‘is not that very young Gentleman now in Bed with some nasty Trull or other?’ Here Susan smiled, and was silent. ‘Answer the Question, Child,’ says Sophia, ‘and here’s a Guinea for you.’ ‘A Guinea! Madam,’ cries Susan; ‘La, what’s a Guinea? If my Mistress should know it, I shall certainly lose my Place that very Instant.’ ‘Here’s another for you,’ says Sophia, ‘and I promise you faithfully your Mistress shall never know it.’ Susan, after a very short Hesitation, took the Money, and told the whole Story, concluding with saying, ‘If you have any great Curiosity, Madam, I can steal softly into his Room, and see whether he be in his own Bed or no.’ She accordingly did this by Sophia’s Desire, and returned with an Answer in the Negative.
Sophia now trembled and turned pale. Mrs. Honour begged her to be comforted, and not to think any more of so worthless a Fellow. ‘Why there,’ says Su
san, ‘I hope, Madam, your Ladyship won’t be offended; but pray, Madam, is not your Ladyship’s Name Madam Sophia Western?’ ‘How is it possible you should know me?’ answered Sophia. ‘Why that Man that the Gentlewoman spoke of, who is in the Kitchin, told about you last Night. But I hope your Ladyship is not angry with me.’ ‘Indeed, Child,’ said she, ‘I am not; pray tell me all, and I promise you I’ll reward you.’ ‘Why, Madam,’ continued Susan, ‘that Man told us all in the Kitchin, that Madam Sophia Western—Indeed I don’t know how to bring it out.’— Here she stopt, till having received Encouragement from Sophia, and being vehemently pressed by Mrs. Honour, she proceeded thus:—‘He told us, Madam, tho’ to be sure it is all a Lie, that your Ladyship was dying for Love of the young Squire, and that he was going to the Wars to get rid of you. I thought to myself then he was a false-hearted Wretch; but now to see such a fine, rich, beautiful Lady as you be, forsaken for such an ordinary Woman; for to be sure so she is, and another Man’s Wife into the Bargain. It is such a strange unnatural Thing, in a Manner.’
Sophia gave her a third Guinea, and telling her she would certainly be her Friend, if she mentioned nothing of what had passed, nor informed any one who she was, dismissed the Girl with Orders to the Post-Boy to get the Horses ready immediately.
Being now left alone with her Maid, she told her trusty Waiting-Woman, ‘That she never was more easy than at present. I am now convinced,’ said she, ‘he is not only a Villain, but a low despicable Wretch. I can forgive all rather than his exposing my Name in so barbarous a Manner. That renders him the Object of my Contempt. Yes, Honour, I am now easy. I am indeed. I am very easy;’ and then she burst into a violent Flood of Tears.
After a short Interval, spent by Sophia, chiefly in crying, and assuring her Maid that she was perfectly easy, Susan arrived with an Account that the Horses were ready, when a very extraordinary Thought suggested itself to our young Heroine, by which Mr. Jones would be acquainted with her having been at the Inn, in a Way, which, if any Sparks of Affection for her remained in him, would be at least some Punishment for his Faults.
The Reader will be pleased to remember a little Muff, which hath had the Honour of being more than once remembered already in this History. This Muff, ever since the Departure of Mr. Jones, had been the constant Companion of Sophia by Day, and her Bed-fellow by Night; and this Muff she had at this very Instant upon her Arm; whence she took it off with great Indignation, and having writ her Name with her Pencil upon a Piece of Paper which she pinned to it, she bribed the Maid to convey it into the empty Bed of Mr. Jones, in which, if he did not find it, she charged her to take some Method of conveying it before his Eyes in the Morning.
Then having paid for what Mrs. Honour had eaten, in which Bill was included an Account for what she herself might have eaten, she mounted her Horse, and once more assuring her Companion that she was perfectly easy, continued her Journey.
CHAPTER VI.
Containing, among other Things, the Ingenuity of Partridge, the Madness of Jones, and the Folly of Fitzpatrick.
It was now past Five in the Morning, and other Company began to rise and come to the Kitchin, among whom were the Serjeant and the Coachman, who being thoroughly reconciled, made a Libation, or, in the English Phrase, drank a hearty Cup together.
In this Drinking nothing more remarkable happened than the Behaviour of Partridge, who, when the Serjeant drank a Health to King George, repeated only the Word King: Nor could he be brought to utter more; for tho’ he was going to fight against his own Cause, yet he could not be prevailed upon to drink against it.
Mr. Jones being now returned to his own Bed, (but from whence he returned we must beg to be excused from relating) summoned Partridge from this agreeable Company, who, after a ceremonious Preface, having obtained Leave to offer his Advice, delivered himself as follows:
‘It is, Sir, an old Saying, and a true one, that a wise Man may sometimes learn Counsel from a Fool; I wish therefore I might be so bold as to offer you my Advice, which is to return home again, and leave these Horrida Bella, these bloody Wars, to Fellows who are contented to swallow Gunpowder, because they have nothing else to eat. Now every body knows your Honour wants for nothing at home; when that’s the Case, why should any Man travel abroad?’
‘Partridge,’ cries Jones, ‘thou art certainly a Coward; I wish therefore thou would’st return home thyself, and trouble me no more.’
‘I ask your Honour’s Pardon,’ cries Partridge, ‘I spoke on your Account more than my own; for as to me, Heaven knows my Circumstances are bad enough, and I am so far from being afraid, that I value a Pistol, or a Blunderbuss, or any such Thing, no more than a Pop-gun. Every Man must die once, and what signifies the Manner how; besides, perhaps, I may come off with the Loss only of an Arm or a Leg. I assure you, Sir, I was never less afraid in my Life; and so if your Honour is resolved to go on, I am resolved to follow you. But, in that Case, I wish I might give my Opinion. To be sure it is a scandalous Way of travelling, for a great Gentleman like you to walk afoot. Now here are two or three good Horses in the Stable, which the Landlord will certainly make no Scruple of trusting you with; but if he should, I can easily contrive to take them; and let the worst come to the worst, the King would certainly pardon you, as you are going to fight in his Cause.’
Now as the Honesty of Partridge was equal to his Understanding, and both dealt only in small Matters, he would never have attempted a Roguery of this Kind, had he not imagined it altogether safe, for he was one of those who have more Consideration of the Gallows than of the Fitness of Things; but, in Reality, he thought he might have committed this Felony without any Danger: For, besides that he doubted not but the Name of Mr. Allworthy would sufficiently quiet the Landlord, he conceived they should be altogether safe, whatever Turn Affairs might take; as Jones, he imagined, would have Friends enough on one Side, and as his Friends would as well secure him on the other.
When Mr. Jones found that Partridge was in earnest in this Proposal, he very severely rebuked him, and that in such bitter Terms, that the other attempted to laugh it off, and presently turned the Discourse to other Matters, saying, he believed they were then in a Bawdy-House, and that he had with much ado prevented two Wenches from disturbing his Honour in the Middle of the Night. ‘Heyday!’ says he, ‘I believe they got into your Chamber whether I would or no; for here lies the Muff of one of them on the Ground.’ Indeed, as Jones returned to his Bed in the Dark, he had never perceived the Muff on the Quilt, and in leaping into his Bed he had tumbled it on the Floor. This Partridge now took up, and was going to put into his Pocket, when Jones desired to see it. The Muff was so very remarkable, that our Heroe might possibly have recollected it without the Information annexed. But his Memory was not put to that hard Office; for at the same Instant he saw and read the Words Sophia Western upon the Paper which was pinned to it. His Looks now grew frantic in a Moment, and he eagerly cried out, ‘Oh Heavens, how came this Muff here!’ ‘I know no more than your Honour,’ cried Partridge; ‘but I saw it upon the Arm of one of the Women who would have disturbed you, if I would have suffered them.’ ‘Where are they?’ cries Jones, jumping out of Bed, and laying hold of his Clothes. ‘Many Miles off, I believe, by this Time,’ said Partridge. And now Jones, upon further Enquiry, was sufficiently assured that the Bearer of this Muff was no other than the lovely Sophia herself.
The Behaviour of Jones on this Occasion, his Thoughts, his Looks, his Words, his Actions, were such as beggar all Description.1 After many bitter Execrations on Partridge, and not fewer on himself, he ordered the poor Fellow, who was frightened out of his Wits, to run down and hire him Horses at any Rate; and a very few Minutes afterwards, having shuffled on his Clothes, he hastened down Stairs to execute the Orders himself, which he had just before given.
But before we proceed to what passed on his Arrival in the Kitchin, it will be necessary to recur to what had there happened since Partridge had first left it on his Master’s Summons.
The Serjeant
was just marched off with his Party, when the two Irish Gentlemen arose, and came down Stairs; both complaining, that they had been so often waked by the Noises in the Inn, that they had never once been able to close their Eyes all Night.
The Coach, which had brought the young Lady and her Maid, and which, perhaps, the Reader may have hitherto concluded was her own, was indeed a returned Coach belonging to Mr. King of Bath, one of the worthiest and honestest Men that ever dealt in Horse-flesh, and whose Coaches we heartily recommend to all our Readers who travel that Road.2 By which Means they may, perhaps, have the Pleasure of riding in the very Coach, and being driven by the very Coachman, that is recorded in this History.
The Coachman having but two Passengers, and hearing Mr. Maclachlan was going to Bath, offered to carry him thither at a very moderate Price. He was induced to this by the Report of the Hostler, who said, that the Horse which Mr. Maclachlan had hired from Worcester, would be much more pleased with returning to his Friends there, than to prosecute a long Journey; for that the said Horse was rather a two-legged than a four-legged Animal.
Mr. Maclachlan immediately closed with the Proposal of the Coachman, and, at the same Time, persuaded his Friend Fitzpatrick to accept of the fourth Place in the Coach. This Conveyance the Soreness of his Bones made more agreeable to him than a Horse; and being well assured of meeting with his Wife at Bath, he thought a little Delay would be of no Consequence.
The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics) Page 62
