The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics)

by Henry Fielding

  This Compliment was so apparently directed to Jones, that we should have been sorry had he passed it by unregarded. He made her indeed a very polite Answer, and concluded with an oblique Hint, that her own Silence subjected her to a Suspicion of the same Kind: For indeed she had scarce opened her Lips either now or the last Evening.

  ‘I am glad, Nanny,’ says Mrs. Miller, ‘the Gentleman hath made the Observation; I protest I am almost of his Opinion. What can be the Matter with you, Child? I never saw such an Alteration. What is become of all your Gayety? Would you think, Sir, I used to call her my little Prattler. She hath not spoke twenty Words this Week.’

  Here their Conversation was interrupted by the Entrance of a Maid-Servant, who brought a Bundle in her Hands, which, she said, ‘was delivered by a Porter for Mr. Jones.’ She added, ‘that the Man immediately went away, saying, it required no Answer.’

  Jones expressed some Surprize on this Occasion, and declared it must be some Mistake: But the Maid persisting that she was certain of the Name, all the Women were desirous of having the Bundle immediately opened; which Operation was at length performed by little Betsey, with the Consent of Mr. Jones; and the Contents were found to be a Domino,1 a Mask, and a Masquerade Ticket.

  Jones was now more positive than ever, in asserting, that these Things must have been delivered by Mistake; and Mrs. Miller herself expressed some Doubt, and said, ‘she knew not what to think.’ But when Mr. Nightingale was asked, he delivered a very different Opinion. ‘All I can conclude from it, Sir,’ said he, ‘is that you are a very happy Man: For I make no Doubt but these were sent you by some Lady whom you will have the Happiness of meeting at the Masquerade.’

  Jones had not a sufficient Degree of Vanity to entertain any such flattering Imagination; nor did Mrs. Miller herself give much Assent to what Mr. Nightingale had said, ’till Miss Nancy having lifted up the Domino, a Card dropt from the Sleeve, in which was written as follows:

  To Mr. Jones.

  The Queen of the Fairies sends you this;

  Use her Favours not amiss.

  Mrs. Miller and Miss Nancy now both agreed with Mr. Nightingale; nay, Jones himself was almost persuaded to be of the same Opinion. And as no other Lady but Mrs. Fitzpatrick, he thought, knew his Lodging, he began to flatter himself with some Hopes, that it came from her, and that he might possibly see his Sophia. These Hopes had surely very little Foundation; but as the Conduct of Mrs. Fitzpatrick, in not seeing him according to her Promise, and in quitting her Lodgings, had been very odd and unaccountable, he conceived some faint Hopes, that she (of whom he had formerly heard a very whimsical Character) might possibly intend to do him that Service, in a strange Manner, which she declined doing by more ordinary Methods. To say the Truth, as nothing certain could be concluded from so odd and uncommon an Incident, he had the greater Latitude to draw what imaginary Conclusions from it he pleased. As his Temper therefore was naturally sanguine, he indulged it on this Occasion, and his Imagination worked up a thousand Conceits, to favour and support his Expectations of meeting his dear Sophia in the Evening.

  Reader, if thou hast any good Wishes towards me, I will fully repay them, by wishing thee to be possessed of this sanguine Disposition of Mind: Since, after having read much, and considered long on that Subject of Happiness which hath employed so many great Pens, I am almost inclined to fix it in the Possession of this Temper; which puts us, in a Manner, out of the Reach of Fortune, and makes us happy without her Assistance. Indeed the Sensations of Pleasure it gives are much more constant, as well as much keener than those which that blind Lady bestows; Nature having wisely contrived, that some Satiety and Languor should be annexed to all our real Enjoyments, lest we should be so taken up by them, as to be stopt from further Pursuits. I make no manner of Doubt but that, in this Light, we may see the imaginary future Chancellor just called to the Bar, the Archbishop in Crape,2 and the Prime Minister at the Tail of an Opposition, more truly happy than those who are invested with all the Power and Profit of these respective Offices.

  Mr. Jones having now determined to go to the Masquerade that Evening, Mr. Nightingale offered to conduct him thither. The young Gentleman, at the same Time, offered Tickets to Miss Nancy and her Mother; but the good Woman would not accept them. She said, ‘she did not conceive the Harm which some People imagined in a Masquerade; but that such extravagant Diversions were proper only for Persons of Quality and Fortune, and not for young Women who were to get their Living, and could, at best, hope to be married to a good Tradesman.’——‘A Tradesman!’ cries Nightingale, ‘you shan’t undervalue my Nancy. There is not a Nobleman upon Earth above her Merit.’ ‘O fie! Mr. Nightingale,’ answered Mrs. Miller, ‘you must not fill the Girl’s Head with such Fancies: But if it was her good Luck (says the Mother with a Simper) to find a Gentleman of your generous Way of Thinking, I hope she would make a better Return to his Generosity, than to give her Mind up to extravagant Pleasures. Indeed where young Ladies bring great Fortunes themselves, they have some Right to insist on spending what is their own; and on that Account, I have heard the Gentlemen say, a Man has sometimes a better Bargain with a poor Wife, than with a rich one.—But let my Daughters marry whom they will, I shall endeavour to make them Blessings to their Husbands:—I beg, therefore, I may hear of no more Masquerades. Nancy is, I am certain, too good a Girl to desire to go; for she must remember when you carried her thither last Year, it almost turned her Head; and she did not return to herself, or to her Needle, in a Month afterwards.’

  Though a gentle Sigh, which stole from the Bosom of Nancy, seemed to argue some secret Disapprobation of these Sentiments, she did not dare openly to oppose them. For as this good Woman had all the Tenderness, so she had preserved all the Authority of a Parent; and as her Indulgence to the Desires of her Children, was restrained only by her Fears for their Safety and future Welfare, so she never suffered those Commands, which proceeded from such Fears, to be either disobeyed or disputed. And this the young Gentleman who had lodged two Years in the House, knew so well, that he presently acquiesced in the Refusal.

  Mr. Nightingale, who grew every Minute fonder of Jones, was very desirous of his Company that Day to Dinner at the Tavern, where he offered to introduce him to some of his Acquaintance; but Jones begged to be excused, ‘as his Cloaths,’ he said, ‘were not yet come to Town.’

  To confess the Truth, Mr. Jones was now in a Situation, which sometimes happens to be the Case of young Gentlemen of much better Figure than himself. In short, he had not one Penny in his Pocket; a Situation in much greater Credit among the ancient Philosophers, than among the modern wise Men who live in Lombard street, or those who frequent White’s Chocolate-House.3 And, perhaps, the great Honours which those Philosophers have ascribed to an empty Pocket, may be one of the Reasons of that high Contempt in which they are held in the aforesaid Street and Chocolate-House.

  Now if the antient Opinion, that Men might live very comfortably on Virtue only, be, as the modern wise Men just above-mentioned pretend to have discovered, a notorious Error; no less false is, I apprehend, that Position of some Writers of Romance, that a Man can live altogether on Love: For however delicious Repasts this may afford to some of our Senses or Appetites, it is most certain it can afford none to others. Those, therefore, who have placed too great a Confidence in such Writers, have experienced their Error when it was too late; and have found that Love was no more capable of allaying Hunger, than a Rose is capable of delighting the Ear, or a Violin of gratifying the Smell.

  Notwithstanding, therefore, all the Delicacies which Love had set before him, namely, the Hopes of seeing Sophia at the Masquerade; on which, however ill-founded his Imagination might be, he had voluptuously feasted during the whole Day, the Evening no sooner came, than Mr. Jones began to languish for some Food of a grosser Kind. Partridge discovered this by Intuition, and took the Occasion to give some oblique Hints concerning the Bank-Bill, and when these were rejected with Disdain, he collected Courage enough once more to mentio
n a Return to Mr. Allworthy.

  ‘Partridge,’ cries Jones, ‘you cannot see my Fortune in a more desperate Light than I see it myself; and I begin heartily to repent, that I suffered you to leave a Place, where you was settled, and to follow me. However, I insist now on your returning home; and for the Expence and Trouble which you have so kindly put yourself to on my Account, all the Cloaths I left behind in your Care, I desire you would take as your own. I am sorry I can make you no other Acknowledgment.’

  He spoke these Words with so pathetic an Accent, that Partridge, among whose Vices Ill-nature or Hardness of Heart were not numbered, burst into Tears; and after swearing he would not quit him in his Distress, he began with the most earnest Intreaties to urge his Return home. ‘For Heaven’s Sake, Sir,’ says he, ‘do but consider: What can your Honour do? How is it possible you can live in this Town without Money? Do what you will, Sir, or go wherever you please, I am resolved not to desert you.—But pray, Sir, consider, —Do pray, Sir, for your own Sake, take it into your Consideration; and I’m sure,’ says he, ‘that your own Good-Sense will bid you return home.’

  ‘How often shall I tell thee,’ answered Jones, ‘that I have no Home to return to? Had I any Hopes that Mr. Allworthy’s Doors would be open to receive me, I want no Distress to urge me:— Nay, there is no other Cause upon Earth, which could detain me a Moment from flying to his Presence; but, alas! that I am for ever banished from. His last Words were, —O Partridge, they still ring in my Ears——His last Words were, when he gave me a Sum of Money, what it was I know not, but considerable I’m sure it was.— His last Words were—“I am resolved from this Day forward, on no Account, to converse with you any more.”’

  Here Passion stopt the Mouth of Jones, as Surprize, for a Moment, did that of Partridge: But he soon recovered the Use of Speech, and after a short Preface, in which he declared he had no Inquisitiveness in his Temper, enquired, what Jones meant by a considerable Sum; he knew not how much; and what was become of the Money.

  In both these Points he now received full Satisfaction; on which he was proceeding to comment, when he was interrupted by a Message from Mr. Nightingale, who desired his Master’s Company in his Apartment.

  When the two Gentlemen were both attired for the Masquerade, and Mr. Nightingale had given Orders for Chairs to be sent for, a Circumstance of Distress occurred to Jones, which will appear very ridiculous to many of my Readers. This was how to procure a Shilling; but if such Readers will reflect a little on what they have themselves felt from the Want of a Thousand Pound, or, perhaps, of Ten or Twenty, to execute a favourite Scheme, they will have a perfect Idea of what Mr. Jones felt on this Occasion. For this Sum, therefore, he applied to Partridge, which was the first he had permitted him to advance, and was the last he intended that poor Fellow should advance in his Service. To say the Truth, Partridge had lately made no Offer of this Kind; whether it was that he desired to see the Bank-Bill broke in upon, or that Distress should prevail on Jones to return home, or from what other Motive it proceeded, I will not determine.

  CHAPTER VII.

  Containing the whole Humours of a Masquerade.

  Our Cavaliers now arrived at that Temple, where Heydegger, the great Arbiter Deliciarum, the great High Priest of Pleasure presides;1 and, like other Heathen Priests, imposes on his Votaries by the pretended Presence of the Deity, when in Reality no such Deity is there.

  Mr. Nightingale having taken a Turn or two with his Companion, soon left him, and walked off with a Female, saying, ‘Now you are here, Sir, you must beat about for your own Game.’

  Jones began to entertain strong Hopes that his Sophia was present; and these Hopes gave him more Spirits than the Lights, the Music, and the Company; though these are pretty strong Antidotes against the Spleen. He now accosted every Woman he saw, whose Stature, Shape, or Air, bore any Resemblance to his Angel. To all of whom he endeavoured to say something smart, in order to engage an Answer, by which he might discover that Voice which he thought it impossible he should mistake. Some of these answered by a Question, in a squeaking Voice, Do you know me? Much the greater Numbers said, I don’t know you, Sir; and nothing more. Some called him an impertinent Fellow; some made him no Answer at all; some said, Indeed I don’t know your Voice, and I shall have nothing to say to you; and many gave him as kind Answers as he could wish, but not in the Voice he desired to hear.

  Whilst he was talking with one of these last, (who was in the Habit of a Shepherdess) a Lady in a Domino came up to him, and slapping him on the Shoulder, whispered him, at the same Time, in the Ear, ‘If you talk any longer with that Trollop, I will acquaint Miss Western.’

  Jones no sooner heard that Name, than, immediately quitting his former Companion, he applied to the Domino, begging and entreating her to shew him the Lady she had mentioned, if she was then in the Room.

  The Mask walked hastily to the upper End of the innermost Apartment before she spoke; and then, instead of answering him, sat down, and declared she was tired. Jones sat down by her, and still persisted in his Entreaties; at last the Lady coldly answered, ‘I imagined Mr. Jones had been a more discerning Lover; than to suffer any Disguise to conceal his Mistress from him.’ ‘Is she here then, Madam?’ replied Jones, with some Vehemence. Upon which the Lady cry’d.—‘Hush, Sir, you will be observed.—I promise you, upon my Honour, Miss Western is not here.’

  Jones now taking the Mask by the Hand, fell to entreating her in the most earnest Manner, to acquaint him where he might find Sophia: And when he could obtain no direct Answer, he began to upbraid her gently for having disappointed him the Day before; and concluded, saying, ‘Indeed, my good Fairy Queen, I know your Majesty very well, notwithstanding the affected Disguise of your Voice. Indeed, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, it is a little cruel to divert yourself at the Expence of my Torments.’

  The Mask answered, ‘Though you have so ingeniously discovered me, I must still speak in the same Voice, lest I should be known by others. And do you think, good Sir, that I have no greater Regard for my Cousin, than to assist in carrying on an Affair between you two, which must end in her Ruin, as well as your own? Besides, I promise you, my Cousin is not mad enough to consent to her own Destruction, if you are so much her Enemy as to tempt her to it.’

  ‘Alas, Madam,’ said Jones, ‘you little know my Heart, when you call me an Enemy of Sophia.’

  ‘And yet to ruin any one,’ cries the other, ‘you will allow, is the Act of an Enemy; and when by the same Act you must knowingly and certainly bring Ruin on yourself, is it not Folly or Madness, as well as Guilt? Now, Sir, my Cousin hath very little more than her Father will please to give her; very little for one of her Fashion, —you know him, and you know your own Situation.’

  Jones vowed he had no such Design on Sophia, ‘That he would rather suffer the most violent of Deaths than sacrifice her Interest to his Desires. He said, he knew how unworthy he was of her every Way; that he had long ago resolved to quit all such aspiring Thoughts, but that some strange Accidents had made him desirous to see her once more, when he promised he would take Leave of her for ever. No, Madam,’ concluded he, ‘my Love is not of that base Kind, which seeks its own Satisfaction, at the Expense of what is most dear to its Object. I would sacrifice every Thing to the Possession of my Sophia, but Sophia herself.’

  Though the Reader may have already conceived no very sublime Idea of the Virtue of the Lady in the Mask; and tho’ possibly she may hereafter appear not to deserve one of the first Characters of her Sex; yet, it is certain, these generous Sentiments made a strong Impression upon her, and greatly added to the Affection she had before conceived for our young Heroe.

  The Lady now, after a Silence of a few Moments, said, ‘She did not see his Pretensions to Sophia so much in the Light of Presumption, as of Imprudence. Young Fellows,’ says she, ‘can never have too aspiring Thoughts. I love Ambition in a young Man, and I would have you cultivate it as much as possible. Perhaps you may succeed with those who are infinitely superior in Fortune; na
y, I am convinced there are Women, —but don’t you think me a strange Creature, Mr. Jones, to be thus giving Advice to a Man, with whom I am so little acquainted, and one with whose Behaviour to me I have so little Reason to be pleased?’

  Here Jones began to apologize, and to hope he had not offended in any thing he had said of her Cousin.—To which the Mask answered, ‘And are you so little versed in the Sex, to imagine you can well affront a Lady more, than by entertaining her with your Passion for another Woman? If the Fairy Queen had conceived no better Opinion of your Gallantry, she would scarce have appointed you to meet her at a Masquerade.’

  Jones had never less Inclination to an Amour than at present; but Gallantry to the Ladies was among his Principles of Honour; and he held it as much incumbent on him to accept a Challenge to Love, as if it had been a Challenge to Fight. Nay, his very Love to Sophia made it necessary for him to keep well with the Lady, as he made no doubt but she was capable of bringing him into the Presence of the other.

  He began therefore to make a very warm Answer to her last Speech, when a Mask, in the Character of an old Woman, joined them. This Mask was one of those Ladies who go to a Masquerade only to vent Ill-nature, by telling People rude Truths, and by endeavouring, as the Phrase is, to spoil as much Sport as they are able. This good Lady therefore, having observed Jones, and his Friend, whom she well knew, in close Consultation together in a Corner of the Room, concluded she could no where satisfy her Spleen better than by interrupting them. She attacked them therefore, and soon drove them from their Retirement; nor was she contented with this, but pursued them to every Place which they shifted to avoid her; till Mr. Nightingale seeing the Distress of his Friend, at last relieved him, and engaged the old Woman in another Pursuit.