Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

by Henry Fielding

  News of this kind seldom wants wings; it reached Wells, and the ears of the Doctor’s mother before her return from Glastonbury. Upon this the old Woman immediately sent for her Daughter, and very strictly examined her, telling her the great sin she would be guilty of, if she concealed a fact of this kind, and the great Disgrace she would bring on her own Family, and even on her whole Sex, by living quietly and contentedly with a Husband who was in any degree less a man than the rest of his Neighbours.

  Molly assured her mother of the Falsehood of this report; and as it is usual for Persons who are too eager in any cause, to prove too much, she asserted some things which staggered her Mother’s belief, and made her cry out, O child, there is no such thing in Human Nature.

  Such was the progress this story had made in Wells, that before the Doctor arrived there, it was in every body’s mouth; and as the Doctor rode through the streets, the Mob, especially the Women, all paid their compliments of congratulation. Some laughed at her, others threw dirt at her, and others made use of terms of reproach not fit to be commemorated. When she came to her own house, she found her wife in tears, and having asked her the cause, was informed of the Dialogue which had past between her and her mother. Upon which the Doctor, tho’ he knew not yet by what means the Discovery had been made, yet too well knowing the Truth, began to think of using the same method, which she had heard before put in Practice, of delivering herself from any impertinence; for as to Danger, she was not sufficiently versed in the Laws to apprehend any.

  In the mean time the mother, at the solicitation of some of her relations, who, notwithstanding the stout denial of the wife, had given credit to the story, had applied herself to a Magistrate, before whom the Totness man appeared, and gave evidence as is before mentioned. Upon this a Warrant was granted to apprehend the Doctor, with which the Constable arrive at her house, just as she was meditating her escape.

  The Husband was no sooner seized, but the wife threw herself into the greatest agonies of Rage and Grief, vowing that he was injured, and that the information was False and Malicious, and that she was resolved to attend her husband wherever they conveyed him.

  And now they all proceeded before the Justice, where a strict examination being made into the Affair, the whole happened to be true, to the great Shock and Astonishment to every body; but more especially to the poor Wife, who fell into Fits, out of which she was with great difficulty recovered. The whole Truth having been disclosed before the Justice, and something of too Vile, Wicked and Scandalous a Nature, which was found in the Doctor’s trunk, having been produced in evidence against her, she was Committed to Bridewell, and Mr. Gold, an Eminent and Learned Counsellor at Law, who lives in those parts, was consulted with upon the occasion, who gave his advice that she should be Prosecuted at the next Sessions, on the Clause in the Vagrant act, for having by False and Deceitful practices endeavoured to impose on some of his Majesty’s Subjects.

  As the Doctor was conveyed to Bridewell, she was attended by many insults from the Mob; but what was more unjustifiable, was the Cruel Treatment which the poor innocent wife received from her own Sex, upon the extraordinary accounts which she had formerly given of her Husband. Accordingly at the ensuing Sessions of the Peace for the County of Somerset, the Doctor was Indicted for the abovementioned Diabolical fact, and after a fair trail convicted, to the entire satisfaction of the whole Court.

  At the Trial the said Mary Price the wife, was produced as a Witness, and being asked by the Council, whether she had ever any Suspicion of the Doctor’s Sex during the whole time of the Courtship she answered positively in the Negative. She was then asked how long they had been Married, to which she answered three Months; and whether they had Cohabited the whole time together? to which her reply was in the Affirmative. Then the Council asked her, whether during the time of this Cohabitation, she imagined the Doctor had behaved to her as a Husband ought to his Wife? her modesty Confounded her a little at this Question; but she at last answered she did imagine so. Lastly, she was asked when it was that she first harboured any Suspicion of her being imposed upon? to which she answered, she had not the least Suspicion till her Husband was carried before a Magistrate, and there discovered, as hath been said above.

  The Prisoner having been Convicted of this Base and Scandalous Crime, was by the Court sentenced to be Publickly and Severely whipt four several times, in four Market Towns within the County of Somerset, to wit, once in each Market Town, and to be Imprisoned, Etc.

  These Whippings she has accordingly undergone, and very Severely have they been inflicted, insomuch, that those Persons who have more regard to Beauty than to Justice, could not refrain from exerting some Pity toward her, when they saw so lovely a skin scarified with Rods, in such a manner that her back was almost flead: yet so little effect had the smart or Shame of this Punishment on the Person who underwent it, that the very evening she had suffered the first Whipping, she offered the Goaler money, to Procure her a young Girl to satisfy her most Monstrous and Unnatural Desires.

  But it is to be hoped that this example will be Sufficient to deter all others from the Commission of any such Foul and Unnatural Crimes: for which, if they should escape the Shame and Ruin which they so well Deserve in this World, they will be most certain of meeting with their full Punishment in the next: for Unnatural Affections are equally Vicious and equally Detestable in both Sexes, Nay, if Modesty be the Peculiar Characteristick of the Fair Sex, it is in them most Shocking and Odious to Prostitute and Debase it.

  In order to caution therefore that Lovely Sex, which, while they Preserve their Natural Innocence and Purity, will still look most Lovely in the eyes of men, the above Pages have been written, which, that they might be Worthy of their perusal, such strict regard hath been had to the Utmost Decency, that notwithstanding the Subject of this Narrative be of a Nature so difficult to be handled inoffensively, not a single word occurs through the whole, which might shock the most Delicate ear, or give Offence to the Purest Chastity.

  Finis.

  FAMILIAR LETTER S

  NOTE.

  (See Introduction.)

  The following five letters were given me by the Author of the preface. I should have thought this hint unnecessary, had not much nonsense and scurrility been unjustly imputed to him by the good judgment or good-nature of the age. They can know but little of his writings, who want to have them pointed out; but they know much less of him, who impute any such base and scandalous productions to his pen.

  Letter cli.

  A letter from a French gentleman to his friend in Paris; in imitation of Horace, Addison, and all other writers of travelling letters.

  Done into English.

  MONSIEUR, —

  AT Whitehall we took a pair of oars for Putney. These we had indeed some difficulty to procure; for many refused to go with us farther than Foxhall or Ranelagh Gardens. At last we prevailed with two fellows for three half-crowns to take us on board.

  I have been told there was formerly a law regulating the fares of these people; but that is to be sure obsolete. I think it pity it was not revived.

  As the weather was extremely fine, we did not regret the tide’s running against us, since by that means we had more opportunity of making observations on the finest river in the world except the Seine.

  After taking a survey of the New Bridge, which must be greatly admired by all who have not seen the Pontneuf, we past by a row of buildings, not very remarkable for their elegance, being chiefly built of wood, and irregular. Many of them are supported by pillars; but of what order we could not plainly discern.

  We came now to Lambeth, where is a palace of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the metropolitan of England. This is a vast pile of building, not very beautiful indeed in its structure, but wonderfully well calculated, as well to signify, as to answer the use for which it was, I suppose, originally intended; containing a great number of little apartments for the reception of travelling and distressed Christians.

  Lambeth is per
haps so called from Lamb, which is the type of meekness.

  The next place of note, as we ascend the river, is Fox-Hall, or rather Fox-Hole, the first syllable of which is corrupted into Vaux by the vulgar, who tell a foolish story of one Vaux who resided here, and attempted to blow up the Thames. But the true reading is Fox-Hole, as appears by an ancient piece of painting, representing that animal whence it takes its name, and which is now to be seen on a high wooden pillar, Anglice a sign-post, not far from the landing-place.

  A very little farther stands Marble-Hall, of which we had a full view from the water. This is a most august edifice, built all of a rich marble, which, reflecting the sun-beams, creates an object too dazzling for the sight.

  Having passed this, we were entertained with a most superb piece of architecture of white, or rather yellow brick. This belongs to one of the bourgeois, as do indeed most of the villas which border on both sides this river, and they tend to give as magnificent an idea of the riches which flow in to these people by trade, as the shipping doth, which is to be seen below the bridge of London.

  Hence a range of most delicious meadows begins to open, which, being richly enamelled with flowers of all kinds, seem to contend whether they shall convey most pleasure to your sight or to your smell. Our contemplation was however diverted from this scene by a boat, in which were two young ladies extremely handsome, who accosted us in some phrase which we, who thought ourselves pretty good masters of the English tongue, did not understand. They were answered however by our watermen, who afterwards told us, that this is called water-language; and consequently, I suppose, not to be learned on shore.

  The next place which presents itself on the Surry side (for I reserve the other shore for my return) is the pleasant village of Battersea; the true reading of which we conjectured to be Bettersee; and that it was formerly a bishoprick, and had the preference to Shelsee, of which we shall speak anon. It is chiefly famous at present for affording a retreat to one of the greatest statesmen of his time, who hath here a magnificent palace.

  From Bettersee, verging to the south-west, stands Wanser, as it is vulgarly called; but its true name was undoubtedly Windmill-Shore, from whence it is a very easy corruption; and several windmills are yet to be found in its neighbourhood. Here are to be seen a parish church, and some houses; but it is otherwise little worth the curiosity of travellers.

  As you sail from hence, two lofty towers at once salute your eyes from opposite shores of the river, divided by a magnificent wooden bridge. That on the Surry shore is called Putney or Putnigh, a fair and beautiful town, consisting principally of one vast street, which extends from north to south, and is adorned with most beautiful buildings.

  Here we went ashore, in order to regale ourselves in one of their houses of entertainment, as they are called; but in reality there is no entertainment at them. Here were no tarts nor cheesecakes, nor any sort of food but an English dish called bread and cheese, and some raw flesh.

  But if it be difficult to find anything to allay hunger, it is still more so to quench your thirst. There is a liquor sold in this country which they call wine (most of the inhabitants indeed call it wind). Of what ingredients it is composed I cannot tell; but you are not to conceive, as the word seems to import, that this is a translation of our French word vin, a liquor made of the juice of the grape; for I am very well assured there is not a drop of any such juice in it. There must be many ingredients in this liquor, from the many different tastes; some of which are sweet, others sour, and others bitter; but though it appeared so nauseous to me and my friend, that we could not swallow it, the English relish it very well; nay, they will often drink a gallon of it at a sitting; and sometimes in their cups (for it intoxicates) will wantonly give it the names of all our best wines.

  However, though we found nothing to eat or drink, we found something to pay. I send you a copy of the bill produced us on this occasion, as I think it a curiosity:

  s. d.

  For Bred and Bear 0 8

  Eating 2 0

  Wind 5 0

  Watermen’s Eating and Lickor 1 6

  ——

  9 2

  So that, with the drawer, we were at the expence of ten shillings; though no Catholic ever kept an Ash-Wednesday better.

  The drawers here may want some explanation. You must know then, that in this country, in whatever house you eat or drink, whether private or public, you are obliged to pay the servants a fee at your departure, otherwise they certainly affront you.

  These fees are called vails; and they serve instead of wages: for though in private houses the master generally contracts with his servant to give him wages, yet these are seldom or never paid; and indeed the vails commonly amount to much more.

  From Putnigh we crossed over to the other shore, where stands the fair and beautiful town of Fullhome, vulgarly called Fulham. It is principally remarkable for being the residence of a bishop; but a large grove of trees prevented our seeing his palace from the water.

  These two towns were founded by two sisters; and they received their names from the following occasion. These ladies being on the Surry shore, called for a boat to convey them across the water. The watermen being somewhat lazy, and not coming near enough to the land, the lady who had founded the town which stands in Surry, bid them put nigh; upon which her sister immediately cried out, “A good omen; let Putnigh be the name of the place.” When they came to the other side, she who had founded the other town, ordered the watermen to push the boat full home; her sister then returned the favour, and gave the name of Fullhome to the place.

  Here stands a most stately and magnificent bridge. We enquired of the watermen by whose benefaction this was built. “Benefaction, do you call it?” says one of them with a sneer; “I heartily wish it had been by mine; there hath been a fine parcel of money got by that job;” a name which the English give to all works of a public nature: for so grateful are these people, that nobody ever doth anything for the public, but he is certain to make his fortune by it.

  We now returned by the shore of Middlesex, and passed by several beautiful meadows, where the new-mowed hay would have wonderfully delighted our smell, had it not been for a great variety of dead dogs, cats, and other animals, which being plentifully bestrewed along this shore, a good deal abated the sweetness which must have otherwise impregnated the air.

  We at length arrived at Shelsee, a corruption of Shallowsee; for the word shallow signifies empty, worthless. Thus a shallow purse and a shallow fellow are words of contempt. This, formerly, was doubtless a small bishoprick, and inferior to that on the other side of the water, which was called Bettersee.

  Here are many things worthy the curiosity of travellers. This place is famous for the residence of Don Saltero, a Spanish nobleman, who hath a vast collection of all sorts of rarities; but we had no time to see them.

  Here is likewise a walk called Paradise Row, from the delightful situation, and the magnificent buildings with which it is adorned. We had certainly gone on shore to admire the beauty of this walk; but here being no landing-place, we must have spoiled our stockings by stepping into the mud; and were besides informed that the road was so abominably dirty that it would be difficult to cross, the rather, as it seemed entirely stopped up by a great number of dust-carts.

  A little farther stands an hospital, or rather a palace, for the reception of old and wounded soldiers. A benefaction of so noble a kind, that it really doth honour to the English nation. Here are some very beautiful apartments, which they told us belonged to the officers; a word which led us into a mistake, as we afterwards discovered: for we imagined that these apartments were allotted to those gentlemen who had borne commissions in the army, and who had, by being disabled in the service, entitled themselves to the public favour; but on farther enquiry, we were surprized to find there was no provision at all for any such; and that these officers were a certain number of placemen, who had never borne arms, nor had any military merit whatever.

  Beyond this stan
ds Ranelagh, of which we shall say no more than that it is a very large round room, and will contain abundance of people. This is indeed a sufficient recommendation to the English, who never inquire farther into the merit of any diversion, when they hear it is very much frequented. A humour, of which we saw many instances: all their publick places being either quite empty of company, or so crouded, that we could hardly get to them.

  Hence sailing by a shore where we saw little very remarkable, save only the carcases of animals, which were here in much greater quantity than we had before found them, we arrived at a place called Mill-Bank, or Mile-Bank; and soon after we passed, as we were informed, by the Senate-houses; but though we went within a few yards of them, we could not discern with any certainty which were they.

  Having again shot (as they call it) the New Bridge, we saw the palace of a nobleman, who hath the honour to be a Duke of France as well as of England, and the happiness to be greatly esteemed in both countries.

  Near this palace stands that of another Duke, who, among other great and good qualities, is reputed the most benevolent man in the world.

  A little further we saw the palace of an Earl, of a very high character likewise among his countrymen; and who, in times of corruption, hath maintained the integrity of an old Roman.

  The palaces of these three noblemen, who do a real honour to their high rank, and who are greatly beloved and respected by their country, are extremely elegant in their buildings, as well as delightful in their situation; and, to be sincere, are the only edifices that discover any true taste which we saw in all our voyage.

  We now approached to Hungerford-Stairs, the place destined for our landing; where we were entertained with a sight very common, it seems, in this country: this was the ducking of a pickpocket. When we were first told this, we imagined it might be the execution of some legal sentence: but we were informed, that his executioners had been likewise his judges.