The History of Tom Jones (Penguin Classics)

by Henry Fielding

  Thus ended this unfortunate Adventure to the Satisfaction only of Mrs. Honour; for a Secret (as some of my Readers will perhaps acknowledge from Experience) is often a very valuable Possession; and that not only to those who faithfully keep it, but sometimes to such as whisper it about till it come to the Ears of every one, except the ignorant Person, who pays for the supposed concealing of what is publickly known.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Short and sweet.

  Notwithstanding all the Obligations she had received from Jones, Mrs. Miller could not forbear in the Morning some gentle Remonstrances for the Hurricane which had happened the preceding Night in his Chamber. These were however so gentle and so friendly; professing, and indeed truly, to aim at nothing more than the real Good of Mr. Jones himself, that he, far from being offended, thankfully received the Admonition of the good Woman, expressed much Concern for what had past, excused it as well as he could, and promised never more to bring the same Disturbances into the House.

  But though Mrs. Miller did not refrain from a short Expostulation in private at their first meeting; yet the Occasion of his being summoned down Stairs that Morning was of a much more agreeable Kind; being indeed to perform the Office of a Father to Miss Nancy, and to give her in Wedlock to Mr. Nightingale, who was now ready drest, and full as sober as many of my Readers will think a Man ought to be who receives a Wife in so imprudent a Manner.

  And here perhaps it may be proper to account for the Escape which this young Gentleman had made from his Uncle, and for his Appearance in the Condition in which we have seen him the Night before.

  Now when the Uncle had arrived at his Lodgings with his Nephew, partly to indulge his own Inclinations (for he dearly loved his Bottle) and partly to disqualify his Nephew from the immediate Execution of his Purpose, he ordered Wine to be set on the Table; with which he so briskly ply’d the young Gentleman, that this latter, who, though not much used to Drinking, did not detest it so as to be guilty of Disobedience, or of Want of Complaisance by refusing, was soon completely finished.

  Just as the Uncle had obtained this Victory, and was preparing a Bed for his Nephew, a Messenger arrived with a Piece of News, which so entirely disconcerted and shocked him, that he in a Moment lost all Consideration for his Nephew, and his whole Mind became entirely taken up with his own Concerns.

  This sudden and afflicting News was no less than that his Daughter had taken the Opportunity of almost the first Moment of his Absence, and had gone off with a neighbouring young Clergyman; against whom, tho’ her Father could have had but one Objection, namely, that he was worth nothing, yet she had never thought proper to communicate her Amour even to that Father; and so artfully had she managed, that it had never been once suspected by any, till now that it was consummated.

  Old Mr. Nightingale no sooner received this Account, than in the utmost Confusion he ordered a Post-chaise to be instantly got ready, and having recommended his Nephew to the Care of a Servant, he directly left the House, scarce knowing what he did, nor whither he went.

  The Uncle thus departed, when the Servant came to attend the Nephew to Bed, had waked him for that Purpose, and had at last made him sensible that his Uncle was gone, he, instead of accepting the kind Offices tendered him, insisted on a Chair being called; with this the Servant, who had received no strict Orders to the contrary, readily complied; and thus being conducted back to the House of Mrs. Miller, he had staggered up to Mr. Jones’s Chamber, as hath been before recounted.

  This Bar of the Uncle being now removed (though young Nightingale knew not as yet in what Manner) and all Parties being quickly ready, the Mother, Mr. Jones, Mr. Nightingale, and his Love stept into a Hackney-Coach, which conveyed him to Doctor’s Commons;1 where Miss Nancy was, in vulgar Language, soon made an honest Woman, and the poor Mother became in the purest Sense of the Word, one of the happiest of all human Beings.

  And now Mr. Jones having seen his good Offices to that poor Woman and her Family brought to a happy Conclusion, began to apply himself to his own Concerns; but here lest many of my Readers should censure his Folly for thus troubling himself with the Affairs of others, and lest some few should think he acted more disinterestedly than indeed he did, we think proper to assure our Reader, that he was so far from being unconcerned in this Matter, that he had indeed a very considerable Interest in bringing it to that final Consummation.

  To explain this seeming Paradox at once, he was one who could truly say with him in Terence, Homo sum: Humani nihil a me alienum puto.2 He was never an indifferent Spectator of the Misery or Happiness of any one; and he felt either the one or the other in greater Proportion as he himself contributed to either. He could not therefore be the Instrument of raising a whole Family from the lowest State of Wretchedness to the highest Pitch of Joy without conveying great Felicity to himself; more perhaps than worldly Men often purchase to themselves by undergoing the most severe Labour, and often by wading through the deepest Iniquity.

  Those Readers who are of the same Complexion with him, will perhaps think this short Chapter contains abundance of Matter; while others may probably wish, short as it is, that it had been totally spared as impertinent to the main Design, which I suppose they conclude is to bring Mr. Jones to the Gallows, or if possible, to a more deplorable Catastrophe.

  CHAPTER IX.

  Containing Love-Letters of several Sorts.

  Mr. Jones, at his Return Home, found the following Letters lying on his Table, which he luckily opened in the Order they were sent.

  LETTER I.

  Surely I am under some strange Infatuation; I cannot keep my Resolutions a Moment, however strongly made or justly founded. Last Night I resolved never to see you more; this Morning I am willing to hear if you can, as you say, clear up this Affair. And yet I know that to be impossible. I have said every Thing to myself which you can invent.——Perhaps not. Perhaps your Invention is stronger. Come to me therefore the Moment you receive this. If you can forge an Excuse I almost promise you to believe it. Betrayed to——I will think no more.—Come to me directly.—This is the third Letter I have writ, the two former are burnt——I am almost inclined to burn this too—I wish I may preserve my Senses.—Come to me presently.

  LETTER II.

  If you ever expect to be forgiven, or even suffered within my Doors, come to me this Instant.

  LETTER III.

  I now find you was not at Home when my Notes came to your Lodgings. The Moment you receive this let me see you;—I shall not stir out; nor shall any Body be let in but yourself. Sure nothing can detain you long.

  Jones had just read over these three Billets, when Mr. Nightingale came into the Room. ‘Well Tom,’ said he, ‘any News from Lady Bellaston, after last Night’s Adventure?’ (for it was now no Secret to any one in that House who the Lady was.) ‘The Lady Bellaston?’ answered Jones very gravely.—‘Nay, dear Tom,’ cries Nightingale, ‘don’t be so reserved to your Friends. Though I was too drunk to see her last Night, I saw her at the Masquerade. Do you think I am ignorant who the Queen of the Fairies is?’ ‘And did you really then know the Lady at the Masquerade?’ said Jones. ‘Yes, upon my Soul, did I,’ said Nightingale; ‘and have given you twenty Hints of it since, though you seemed always so tender on that Point, that I would not speak plainly. I fancy, my Friend, by your extreme Nicety in this Matter, you are not so well acquainted with the Character of the Lady, as with her Person. Don’t be angry, Tom, but, upon my Honour, you are not the first young Fellow she hath debauched. Her Reputation is in no Danger, believe me.’

  Though Jones had no Reason to imagine the Lady to have been of the vestal Kind when his Amour began; yet as he was thoroughly ignorant of the Town, and had very little Acquaintance in it, he had no Knowledge of that Character which is vulgarly called a Demirep; that is to say, a Woman who intrigues with every Man she likes, under the Name and Appearance of Virtue; and who, though some over-nice Ladies will not be seen with her, is visited (as they term it) by the whole Town; in short, whom every
Body knows to be what no Body calls her.

  When he found, therefore, that Nightingale was perfectly acquainted with his Intrigue, and began to suspect, that so scrupulous a Delicacy as he had hitherto observed, was not quite necessary on the Occasion, he gave a Latitude to his Friend’s Tongue, and desired him to speak plainly what he knew, or had ever heard of the Lady.

  Nightingale, who in many other Instances, was rather too effeminate in his Disposition, had a pretty strong Inclination to Tittle-Tattle. He had no sooner, therefore, received a full Liberty of speaking from Jones, than he entered upon a long Narrative concerning the Lady; which as it contained many Particulars highly to her Dishonour, we have too great a Tenderness for all Women of Condition to repeat. We would cautiously avoid giving an Opportunity to the future Commentators on our Works, of making any malicious Application; and of forcing us to be, against our Will, the Author of Scandal, which never entered into our Head.

  Jones having very attentively heard all that Nightingale had to say, fetched a deep Sigh, which the other observing, cried, ‘Heyday! Why thou art not in Love, I hope! Had I imagined my Stories would have affected you, I promise you should never have heard them.’ ‘O my dear Friend,’ cries Jones, ‘I am so entangled with this Woman, that I know not how to extricate myself. In Love indeed? No, my Friend, but I am under Obligations to her, and very great ones. Since you know so much, I will be very explicit with you. It is owing perhaps solely to her, that I have not before this, wanted a Bit of Bread. How can I possibly desert such a Woman? and yet I must desert her, or be guilty of the blackest Treachery to one, who deserves infinitely better of me than she can: A Woman, my Nightingale, for whom I have a Passion which few can have an Idea of. I am half distracted with Doubts how to Act.’ ‘And is this other, pray, an honourable Mistress?’ cries Nightingale. ‘Honourable?’ answered Jones; ‘No Breath ever yet durst sully her Reputation. The sweetest Air is not purer, the limpid Stream not clearer than her Honour. She is all over, both in Mind and Body, consummate Perfection. She is the most beautiful Creature in the Universe; and yet she is Mistress of such noble, elevated Qualities, that though she is never from my Thoughts, I scarce ever think of her Beauty; but when I see it.’—‘And can you, my good Friend,’ cries Nightingale, ‘with such an Engagement as this upon your Hands, hesitate a Moment about quitting such a——’ ‘Hold,’ said Jones, ‘no more Abuse of her; I detest the Thought of Ingratitude.’ ‘Pooh!’ answered the other, ‘you are not the first upon whom she hath conferred Obligations of this Kind. She is remarkably liberal where she likes; though, let me tell you, her Favours are so prudently bestowed, that they should rather raise a Man’s Vanity, than his Gratitude.’ In short, Nightingale proceeded so far on this Head, and told his Friend so many Stories of the Lady, which he swore to the Truth of, that he entirely removed all Esteem for her from the Breast of Jones; and his Gratitude was lessened in Proportion. Indeed he began to look on all the Favours he had received, rather as Wages than Benefits, which depreciated not only her, but himself too in his own Conceit, and put him quite out of Humour with both. From this Disgust, his Mind, by a natural Transition turned towards Sophia: Her Virtue, her Purity, her Love to him, her Sufferings on his Account, filled all his Thoughts, and made his Commerce with Lady Bellaston appear still more odious. The Result of all was, that though his turning himself out of her Service, in which Light he now saw his Affair with her, would be the Loss of his Bread; yet he determined to quit her, if he could but find a handsome Pretence; which being communicated to his Friend, Nightingale considered a little, and then said, ‘I have it, my Boy! I have found out a sure Method: Propose Marriage to her, and I would venture hanging upon the Success.’ ‘Marriage!’ cries Jones. ‘Ay, propose Marriage,’ answered Nightingale, ‘and she will declare off in a Moment. I knew a young Fellow whom she kept formerly, who made the Offer to her in earnest, and was presently turned off for his Pains.’

  Jones declared he could not venture the Experiment. ‘Perhaps,’ said he, ‘she may be less shocked at this Proposal from one Man than from another. And if she should take me at my Word, where am I then? Caught in my own Trap, and undone for ever.’ ‘No;’ answered Nightingale, ‘not if I can give you an Expedient, by which you may, at any Time, get out of the Trap.’——‘What Expedient can that be?’ replied Jones. ‘This,’ answered Nightingale. ‘The young Fellow I mentioned, who is one of the most intimate Acquaintances I have in the World, is so angry with her for some ill Offices she hath since done him, that I am sure he would, without any Difficulty, give you a Sight of her Letters; upon which you may decently break with her; and declare off before the Knot is ty’d, if she should really be willing to tie it, which I am convinced she will not.’

  After some Hesitation, Jones, upon the Strength of this Assurance, consented; but as he swore he wanted the Confidence to propose the Matter to her Face, he wrote the following Letter, which Nightingale dictated.

  Madam,

  I am extremely concerned, that, by an unfortunate Engagement abroad, I should have missed receiving the Honour of your Ladyships Commands the Moment they came; and the Delay which I must now suffer of vindicating myself to your Ladyship, greatly adds to this Misfortune. O Lady Bellaston, what a Terror have I been in, for Fear your Reputation should be exposed by these perverse Accidents. There is one only Way to secure it. I need not name what that is. Only permit me to say, that as your Honour is as dear to me as my own; so my sole Ambition is to have the Glory of laying my Liberty at your Feet; and believe me when I assure you, I can never be made completely happy, without you generously bestow on me a legal Right of calling you mine for ever. I am,

  Madam,

  With most profound Respect,

  Your Ladyship’s most Obliged,

  Obedient humble Servant,

  Thomas Jones.

  To this she presently returned the following Answer.

  Sir,

  When I read over your serious Epistle, I could from its Coldness and Formality, have sworn that you already had the legal Right you mention; nay, that we had, for many Years, composed that monstrous Animal a Husband and Wife. Do you really then imagine me a Fool? Or do you fancy yourself capable of so entirely persuading me out of my Senses, that I should deliver my whole Fortune into your Power, in order to enable you to support your Pleasures at my Expence. Are these the Proofs of Love which I expected? Is this the Return for——but I scorn to upbraid you, and am in great Admiration of your profound Respect.

  P.S. I am prevented from Revising:—Perhaps I have said more than I meant.——Come to me at Eight this Evening.

  Jones, by the Advice of his Privy-council, replied.

  Madam,

  It is impossible to express how much I am shocked at the Suspicion you entertain of me. Can Lady Bellaston have conferred Favours on a Man whom she could believe capable of so base a Design? Or can she treat the most solemn Tie of Love with Contempt? Can you imagine, Madam, that if the Violence of my Passion, in an unguarded Moment, overcame the Tenderness which I have for your Honour, I would think of indulging myself in the Continuance of an Intercourse which could not possibly escape long the Notice of the World; and which when discovered, must prove so fatal to your Reputation? If such be your Opinion of me, I must pray for a sudden Opportunity of returning those pecuniary Obligations, which I have been so unfortunate to receive at your Hands; and for those of a more tender Kind, I shall ever remain, &c.

  And so concluded in the very Words with which he had concluded the former Letter.

  The Lady answered as follows:

  I see you are a Villain; and I despise you from my Soul. If you come here I shall not be at Home.

  Though Jones was well satisfied with his Deliverance from a Thraldom which those who have ever experienced it, will, I apprehend, allow to be none of the lightest, he was not, however, perfectly easy in his Mind. There was, in this Scheme, too much of Fallacy to satisfy one who utterly detested every Species of Fals-hood or Dishonesty: nor would he, indeed
, have submitted to put it in Practice, had he not been involved in a distressful Situation, where he was obliged to be guilty of some Dishonour, either to the one Lady or the other; and surely the Reader will allow, that every good Principle, as well as Love, pleaded strongly in Favour of Sophia.

  Nightingale, highly exulted in the Success of his Stratagem, upon which he received many Thanks, and much Applause from his Friend. He answered, ‘Dear Tom, we have conferred very different Obligations on each other. To me you owe the regaining your Liberty; to you I owe the Loss of mine. But if you are as happy in the one Instance as I am in the other, I promise you, we are the two happiest Fellows in England.’

  The two Gentlemen were now summoned down to Dinner, where Mrs. Miller, who performed herself the Office of Cook, had exerted her best Talents, to celebrate the Wedding of her Daughter. This joyful Circumstance she ascribed principally to the friendly Behaviour of Jones, her whole Soul was fired with Gratitude towards him, and all her Looks, Words, and Actions were so busied in expressing it, that her Daughter, and even her new Son-inlaw, were very little the Objects of her Consideration.