Macklachlan, who was much the sharper Man of the two, no sooner heard that this Lady came from Chester, with the other Circumstances which he learned from the Hostler, than it came into his Head that she might possibly be his Friend’s Wife; and presently acquainted him with this Suspicion, which had never once occurred to Fitzpatrick himself. To say the Truth, he was one of those Compositions which Nature makes up in too great a Hurry, and forgets to put any Brains into their Head.
Now it happens to this Sort of Men, as to bad Hounds, who never hit off a Fault3 themselves; but no sooner doth a Dog of Sagacity open his Mouth, than they immediately do the same, and without the Guidance of any Scent, run directly forwards as fast as they are able. In the same Manner, the very Moment Mr. Maclachlan had mentioned his Apprehension, Mr. Fitzpatrick instantly concurred, and flew directly up Stairs to surprize his Wife before he knew where she was; and unluckily (as Fortune loves to play Tricks with those Gentlemen who put themselves entirely under her Conduct) ran his Head against several Doors and Posts to no Purpose. Much kinder was she to me, when she suggested that Simile of the Hounds, just before inserted; since the poor Wife may, on these Occasions, be so justly compared to a hunted Hare. Like that little wretched Animal she pricks up her Ears to listen after the Voice of her Pursuer; like her, flies away trembling when she hears it; and like her, is generally overtaken and destroyed in the End.
This was not however the Case at present; for after a long fruitless Search, Mr. Fitzpatrick returned to the Kitchin, where, as if this had been a real Chace, entered a Gentleman hallowing as Hunters do when the Hounds are at a Fault. He was just alighted from his Horse, and had many Attendants at his Heels.
Here, Reader, it may be necessary to acquaint thee with some Matters, which, if thou dost know already, thou art wiser than I take thee to be. And this Information thou shalt receive in the next Chapter.
CHAPTER VII.
In which are concluded the Adventures that happened at the Inn at Upton.
In the first Place then, this Gentleman just arrived was no other Person than Squire Western himself, who was come hither in Pursuit of his Daughter; and had he fortunately been two Hours earlier, he had not only found her, but his Niece into the Bargain; for such was the Wife of Mr. Fitzpatrick, who had run away with her five Years before, out of the Custody of that sage Lady Madam Western.
Now this Lady had departed from the Inn much about at the same Time with Sophia: For having been waked by the Voice of her Husband, she had sent up for the Landlady, and being by her apprized of the Matter, had bribed the good Woman, at an extravagant Price, to furnish her with Horses for her Escape. Such Prevalence had Money in this Family; and tho’ the Mistress would have turned away her Maid for a corrupt Hussy, if she had known as much as the Reader, yet she was no more Proof against Corruption herself than poor Susan had been.
Mr. Western and his Nephew were not known to one another; nor indeed would the former have taken any Notice of the latter, if he had known him; for this being a stolen Match, and consequently an unnatural one in the Opinion of the good Squire, he had, from the Time of her committing it, abandoned the poor young Creature, who was then no more than Eighteen, as a Monster, and had never since suffered her to be named in his Presence.
The Kitchin was now a Scene of universal Confusion, Western enquiring after his Daughter, and Fitzpatrick as eagerly after his Wife, when Jones entered the Room, unfortunately having Sophia’s Muff in his Hand.
As soon as Western saw Jones, he set up the same Holla as is used by Sportsmen when their Game is in View. He then immediately run up and laid hold of Jones, crying, ‘We have got the Dog Fox, I warrant the Bitch is not far off.’ The Jargon which followed for some Minutes, where many spoke different Things at the same Time, as it would be very difficult to describe, so would it be no less unpleasant to read.
Jones having, at length, shaken Mr. Western off, and some of the Company having interfered between then, our Heroe protested his Innocence as to knowing any thing of the Lady; when Parson Supple stepped up, and said, ‘It is Folly to deny it; for why, the Marks of Guilt are in thy Hands. I will myself asseverate and bind it by an Oath, that the Muff thou bearest in thy Hand belongeth unto Madam Sophia; for I have frequently observed her, of later Days, to bear it about her.’ ‘My Daughter’s Muff!’ cries the Squire, in a Rage. ‘Hath he got my Daughter’s Muff! Bear Witness the Goods are found upon him. I’ll have him before a Justice of Peace this Instant. Where is my Daughter, Villain?’ ‘Sir,’ said Jones, ‘I beg you would be pacified. The Muff, I acknowledge, is the young Lady’s; but, upon my Honour, I have never seen her.’ At these Words Western lost all Patience, and grew inarticulate with Rage.
Some of the Servants had acquainted Fitzpatrick who Mr. Western was. The good Irishman therefore thinking he had now an Opportunity to do an Act of Service to his Uncle, and by that Means might possibly obtain his Favour, stept up to Jones, and cried out, ‘Upon my Conscience, Sir, you may be ashamed of denying your having seen the Gentleman’s Daughter before my Face, when you know I found you there upon the Bed together.’ Then turning to Western, he offered to conduct him immediately to the Room where his Daughter was; which Offer being accepted, he, the Squire, the Parson, and some others, ascended directly to Mrs. Waters’s Chamber, which they entered with no less Violence than Mr. Fitzpatrick had done before.
The poor Lady started from her Sleep with as much Amazement as Terror, and beheld at her Bed-side a Figure which might very well be supposed to have escaped out of Bedlam. Such Wildness and Confusion were in the Looks of Mr. Western: who no sooner saw the Lady, than he started back, shewing sufficiently by his Manner, before he spoke, that this was not the Person sought after.
So much more tenderly do Women value their Reputation than their Persons, that tho’ the latter seemed now in more Danger than before; yet as the former was secure, the Lady screamed not with such Violence as she had done on the other Occasion. However, she no sooner found herself alone, than she abandoned all Thoughts of further Repose; and as she had sufficient Reason to be dissatisfied with her present Lodging, she dressed herself with all possible Expedition.
Mr. Western now proceeded to search the whole House, but to as little Purpose as he had disturbed poor Mrs. Waters. He then returned disconsolate into the Kitchin, where he found Jones in the Custody of his Servants.
This violent Uproar had raised all the People in the House, tho’ it was yet scarcely Day-light. Among these was a grave Gentleman, who had the Honour to be in the Commission of the Peace for the County of Worcester. Of which Mr. Western was no sooner informed, than he offered to lay his Complaint before him. The Justice declined executing his Office, as he said he had no Clerk present, nor no Book about Justice Business; and that he could not carry all the Law in his Head about stealing away Daughters, and such sort of Things.
Here Mr. Fitzpatrick offered to lend him his Assistance; informing the Company that he had been himself bred to the Law. (And indeed he had served three Years as Clerk to an Attorney in the North of Ireland, when chusing a genteeler Walk in Life, he quitted his Master, came over to England, and set up that Business which requires no Apprenticeship, namely, that of a Gentleman, in which he had succeeded as hath been already partly mentioned.)
Mr. Fitzpatrick declared that the Law concerning Daughters was out of the present Case; that stealing a Muff was undoubtedly Felony, and the Goods being found upon the Person, were sufficient Evidence of the Fact.
The Magistrate, upon the Encouragement of so learned a Coadjutor, and upon the violent Intercession of the Squire, was at length prevailed upon to seat himself in the Chair of Justice, where being placed, upon viewing the Muff which Jones still held in his Hand, and upon the Parson’s swearing it to be the Property of Mr. Western, he desired Mr. Fitzpatrick to draw up a Commitment, which he said he would sign.
Jones now desired to be heard, which was at last, with Difficulty, granted him. He then produced the Evidence of Mr. Partridge, as to the fin
ding it; but what was still more, Susan deposed that Sophia herself had delivered the Muff to her, and had ordered her to convey it into the Chamber where Mr. Jones had found it.
Whether a natural Love of Justice, or the extraordinary Comeliness of Jones, had wrought on Susan to make the Discovery, I will not determine; but such were the Effects of her Evidence, that the Magistrate, throwing himself back in his Chair, declared that the Matter was now altogether as clear on the Side of the Prisoner, as it had before been against him; with which the Parson concurred, saying, The Lord forbid he should be instrumental in committing an innocent Person to Durance. The Justice then arose, acquitted the Prisoner, and broke up the Court.
Mr. Western now gave every one present a hearty Curse, and immediately ordering his Horses, departed in Pursuit of his Daughter, without taking the least Notice of his Nephew Fitzpatrick, or returning any Answer to his Claim of Kindred, notwithstanding all the Obligations he had just received from that Gentleman. In the Violence, moreover, of his Hurry, and of his Passion, he luckily forgot to demand the Muff of Jones: I say luckily; for he would have died on the Spot rather than have parted with it.
Jones likewise, with his Friend Partridge, set forward the Moment he had paid his Reckoning, in Quest of his lovely Sophia, whom he now resolved never more to abandon the Pursuit of. Nor could he bring himself even to take Leave of Mrs. Waters; of whom he detested the very Thoughts, as she had been, tho’ not designedly, the Occasion of his missing the happiest Interview with Sophia, to whom he now vowed eternal Constancy.
As for Mrs. Waters, she took the Opportunity of the Coach which was going to Bath; for which Place she set out in Company with the two Irish Gentlemen, the Landlady kindly lending her her Clothes; in Return for which she was contented only to receive about double their Value, as a Recompence for the Loan. Upon the Road she was perfectly reconciled to Mr. Fitzpatrick, who was a very handsome Fellow, and indeed did all she could to console him in the Absence of his Wife.
Thus ended the many odd Adventures which Mr. Jones encountered at his Inn at Upton, where they talk, to this Day, of the Beauty and lovely Behaviour of the charming Sophia, by the Name of the Somersetshire Angel.
CHAPTER VIII.
In which the History goes backward.
Before we proceed any farther in our History, it may be proper to look a little back, in order to account for the extraordinary Appearance of Sophia and her Father at the Inn at Upton.
The Reader may be pleased to remember, that in the Ninth Chapter of the Seventh Book of our History, we left Sophia, after a long Debate between Love and Duty, deciding the Cause, as it usually, I believe, happens, in Favour of the former.
This Debate had arisen, as we have there shewn, from a Visit which her Father had just before made her, in order to force her Consent to a Marriage with Blifil; and which he had understood to be fully implied in her Acknowledgment, that she neither must, nor could refuse any absolute Command of his.
Now from this Visit the Squire retired to his Evening Potation, overjoyed at the Success he had gained with his Daughter; and as he was of a social Disposition, and willing to have Partakers in his Happiness, the Beer was ordered to flow very liberally into the Kitchin; so that before Eleven in the Evening, there was not a single Person sober in the House, except only Mrs. Western herself, and the charming Sophia.
Early in the Morning a Messenger was dispatched to summon Mr. Blifil: For tho’ the Squire imagined that young Gentleman had been much less acquainted than he really was, with the former Aversion of his Daughter; as he had not, however, yet received her Consent, he longed impatiently to communicate it to him, not doubting but that the intended Bride herself would confirm it with her Lips. As to the Wedding, it had the Evening before been fixed, by the Male Parties, to be celebrated on the next Morning save one.
Breakfast was now set forth in the Parlour, where Mr. Blifil attended, and where the Squire and his Sister likewise were assembled; and now Sophia was ordered to be called.
O, Shakespear, had I thy Pen! O, Hogarth, had I thy Pencil! then would I draw the Picture of the poor Serving-Man, who, with pale Countenance, staring Eyes, chattering Teeth, faultering Tongue, and trembling Limbs,
(E’en such a Man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in Look, so woe-be-gone,
Drew Priam’s Curtains in the dead of Night,
And would have told him, half his Troy was burn’d)1
enter’d the Room, and declared,——That Madam Sophia was not to be found.
‘Not to be found!’ cries the Squire, starting from his Chair; ‘Zounds and D———nation! Blood and Fury! Where, when, how, what,—Not to be found! where?’
‘La! Brother,’ said Mrs. Western, with true political Coldness, ‘you are always throwing yourself into such violent Passions for nothing. My Niece, I suppose, is only walked out into the Garden. I protest you are grown so unreasonable, that it is impossible to live in the House with you.’
‘Nay, nay,’ answered the Squire, returning as suddenly to himself, as he had gone from himself; ‘if that be all the Matter, it signifies not much; but, upon my Soul, my Mind misgave me, when the Fellow said she was not to be found.’ He then gave Orders for the Bell to be rung in the Garden, and sat himself contentedly down.
No two Things could be more the Reverse of each other than were the Brother and Sister, in most Instances; particularly in this, That as the Brother never foresaw any thing at a Distance, but was most sagacious in immediately seeing every Thing the Moment it had happened; so the Sister eternally foresaw at a Distance, but was not so quick-sighted to Objects before her Eyes. Of both these the Reader may have observed Examples: And, indeed, both their several Talents were excessive: For as the Sister often foresaw what never came to pass, so the Brother often saw much more than was actually the Truth.
This was not however the Case at present. The same Report was brought from the Garden, as before had been brought from the Chamber, that Madam Sophia was not to be found.
The Squire himself now sallied forth, and began to roar forth the Name of Sophia as loudly, and in as hoarse a Voice, as whilome did Hercules that of Hylas: And as the Poet tells us, that the whole Shore echoed back the Name of that beautiful Youth;2 so did the House, the Garden, and all the Neighbouring Fields, resound nothing but the Name of Sophia, in the hoarse Voices of the Men, and in the shrill Pipes of the Women; while Echo seemed so pleased to repeat the beloved Sound, that if there is really such a Person, I believe Ovid hath belied her Sex.3
Nothing reigned for a long Time but Confusion; ’till at last the Squire having sufficiently spent his Breath, returned to the Parlour, where he found Mrs. Western and Mr. Blifil, and threw himself, with the utmost Dejection in his Countenance, into a great Chair.
Here Mrs. Western began to apply the following Consolation:
‘Brother, I am sorry for what hath happened; and that my Niece should have behaved herself in a Manner so unbecoming her Family; but it is all your own Doings, and you have nobody to thank but yourself. You know she hath been educated always in a Manner directly contrary to my Advice, and now you see the Consequence. Have I not a thousand Times argued with you about giving my Niece her own Will? But you know I never could prevail upon you: and when I had taken so much Pains to eradicate her headstrong Opinions, and to rectify your Errors in Policy, you know she was taken out of my Hands; so that I have nothing to answer for. Had I been trusted entirely with the Care of her Education, no such Accident as this had ever befallen you: So that you must comfort yourself by thinking it was all your own Doing; and, indeed, what else could be expected from such Indulgence?’——
‘Zounds! Sister,’ answered he, ‘you are enough to make one mad. Have I indulged her? have I given her her Will?—It was no longer ago than last Night that I threatned, if she disobeyed me, to confine her to her Chamber, upon Bread and Water, as long as she lived.—You would provoke the Patience of Job.’
‘Did ever Mortal hear the like?’ rep
lied she. ‘Brother, if I had not the Patience of fifty Jobs, you would make me forget all Decency and Decorum. Why would you interfere? Did I not beg you, did I not entreat you to leave the whole Conduct to me? You have defeated all the Operations of the Campaign by one false Step. Would any Man in his Senses have provoked a Daughter by such Threats as these? How often have I told you, that English Women are not to be treated like Ciracessian* Slaves. We have the Protection of the World: We are to be won by gentle Means only, and not to be hectored, and bullied, and beat into Compliance. I thank Heaven, no Salique Law5 governs here. Brother, you have a Roughness in your Manner which no Woman but myself would bear. I do not wonder my Niece was frightned and terrified into taking this Measure; and to speak honestly, I think my Niece will be justified to the World for what she hath done. I repeat it to you again, Brother, you must comfort yourself by remembring that it is all your own Fault. How often have I advised—’ Here Western rose hastily from his Chair, and, venting two or three horrid Imprecations, ran out of the Room.
When he was departed, his Sister expressed more Bitterness (if possible) against him, than she had done while he was present; for the Truth of which she appealed to Mr. Blifil, who, with great Complacence, acquiesced entirely in all she said; but excused all the Faults of Mr. Western, ‘as they must be considered,’ he said, ‘to have proceeded from the too inordinate Fondness of a Father, which must be allowed the Name of an amiable Weakness.’ ‘So much the more inexcusable,’ answered the Lady; ‘for whom doth he ruin by his Fondness, but his own Child?’ To which Blifil immediately agreed.
The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics) Page 63
