History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter viii.

  A battle sung by the muse in the Homerican style, and which none butthe classical reader can taste.

  Mr Western had an estate in this parish; and as his house stood atlittle greater distance from this church than from his own, he veryoften came to Divine Service here; and both he and the charming Sophiahappened to be present at this time.

  Sophia was much pleased with the beauty of the girl, whom she pitiedfor her simplicity in having dressed herself in that manner, as shesaw the envy which it had occasioned among her equals. She no soonercame home than she sent for the gamekeeper, and ordered him to bringhis daughter to her; saying she would provide for her in the family,and might possibly place the girl about her own person, when her ownmaid, who was now going away, had left her.

  Poor Seagrim was thunderstruck at this; for he was no stranger to thefault in the shape of his daughter. He answered, in a stammeringvoice, "That he was afraid Molly would be too awkward to wait on herladyship, as she had never been at service." "No matter for that,"says Sophia; "she will soon improve. I am pleased with the girl, andam resolved to try her."

  Black George now repaired to his wife, on whose prudent counsel hedepended to extricate him out of this dilemma; but when he camethither he found his house in some confusion. So great envy had thissack occasioned, that when Mr Allworthy and the other gentry were gonefrom church, the rage, which had hitherto been confined, burst into anuproar; and, having vented itself at first in opprobrious words,laughs, hisses, and gestures, betook itself at last to certain missileweapons; which, though from their plastic nature they threatenedneither the loss of life or of limb, were however sufficientlydreadful to a well-dressed lady. Molly had too much spirit to bearthis treatment tamely. Having therefore--but hold, as we are diffidentof our own abilities, let us here invite a superior power to ourassistance.

  Ye Muses, then, whoever ye are, who love to sing battles, andprincipally thou who whilom didst recount the slaughter in thosefields where Hudibras and Trulla fought, if thou wert not starved withthy friend Butler, assist me on this great occasion. All things arenot in the power of all.

  As a vast herd of cows in a rich farmer's yard, if, while they aremilked, they hear their calves at a distance, lamenting the robberywhich is then committing, roar and bellow; so roared forth theSomersetshire mob an hallaloo, made up of almost as many squalls,screams, and other different sounds as there were persons, or indeedpassions among them: some were inspired by rage, others alarmed byfear, and others had nothing in their heads but the love of fun; butchiefly Envy, the sister of Satan, and his constant companion, rushedamong the crowd, and blew up the fury of the women; who no sooner cameup to Molly than they pelted her with dirt and rubbish.

  Molly, having endeavoured in vain to make a handsome retreat, facedabout; and laying hold of ragged Bess, who advanced in the front ofthe enemy, she at one blow felled her to the ground. The whole army ofthe enemy (though near a hundred in number), seeing the fate of theirgeneral, gave back many paces, and retired behind a new-dug grave; forthe churchyard was the field of battle, where there was to be afuneral that very evening. Molly pursued her victory, and catching upa skull which lay on the side of the grave, discharged it with suchfury, that having hit a taylor on the head, the two skulls sentequally forth a hollow sound at their meeting, and the taylor tookpresently measure of his length on the ground, where the skulls layside by side, and it was doubtful which was the more valuable of thetwo. Molly then taking a thigh-bone in her hand, fell in among theflying ranks, and dealing her blows with great liberality on eitherside, overthrew the carcass of many a mighty heroe and heroine.

  Recount, O Muse, the names of those who fell on this fatal day. First,Jemmy Tweedle felt on his hinder head the direful bone. Him thepleasant banks of sweetly-winding Stour had nourished, where he firstlearnt the vocal art, with which, wandering up and down at wakes andfairs, he cheered the rural nymphs and swains, when upon the greenthey interweaved the sprightly dance; while he himself stood fiddlingand jumping to his own music. How little now avails his fiddle! Hethumps the verdant floor with his carcass. Next, old Echepole, thesowgelder, received a blow in his forehead from our Amazonian heroine,and immediately fell to the ground. He was a swinging fat fellow, andfell with almost as much noise as a house. His tobacco-box dropped atthe same time from his pocket, which Molly took up as lawful spoils.Then Kate of the Mill tumbled unfortunately over a tombstone, whichcatching hold of her ungartered stocking inverted the order of nature,and gave her heels the superiority to her head. Betty Pippin, withyoung Roger her lover, fell both to the ground; where, oh perversefate! she salutes the earth, and he the sky. Tom Freckle, the smith'sson, was the next victim to her rage. He was an ingenious workman, andmade excellent pattens; nay, the very patten with which he was knockeddown was his own workmanship. Had he been at that time singing psalmsin the church, he would have avoided a broken head. Miss Crow, thedaughter of a farmer; John Giddish, himself a farmer; Nan Slouch,Esther Codling, Will Spray, Tom Bennet; the three Misses Potter, whosefather keeps the sign of the Red Lion; Betty Chambermaid, Jack Ostler,and many others of inferior note, lay rolling among the graves.

  Not that the strenuous arm of Molly reached all these; for many ofthem in their flight overthrew each other.

  But now Fortune, fearing she had acted out of character, and hadinclined too long to the same side, especially as it was the rightside, hastily turned about: for now Goody Brown--whom Zekiel Browncaressed in his arms; nor he alone, but half the parish besides; sofamous was she in the fields of Venus, nor indeed less in those ofMars. The trophies of both these her husband always bore about on hishead and face; for if ever human head did by its horns display theamorous glories of a wife, Zekiel's did; nor did his well-scratchedface less denote her talents (or rather talons) of a different kind.

  No longer bore this Amazon the shameful flight of her party. She stoptshort, and, calling aloud to all who fled, spoke as follows: "YeSomersetshire men, or rather ye Somersetshire women, are ye notashamed thus to fly from a single woman? But if no other will opposeher, I myself and Joan Top here will have the honour of the victory."Having thus said, she flew at Molly Seagrim, and easily wrenched thethigh-bone from her hand, at the same time clawing off her cap fromher head. Then laying hold of the hair of Molly with her left hand,she attacked her so furiously in the face with the right, that theblood soon began to trickle from her nose. Molly was not idle thiswhile. She soon removed the clout from the head of Goody Brown, andthen fastening on her hair with one hand, with the other she causedanother bloody stream to issue forth from the nostrils of the enemy.

  When each of the combatants had borne off sufficient spoils of hairfrom the head of her antagonist, the next rage was against thegarments. In this attack they exerted so much violence, that in a veryfew minutes they were both naked to the middle.

  It is lucky for the women that the seat of fistycuff war is not thesame with them as among men; but though they may seem a little todeviate from their sex, when they go forth to battle, yet I haveobserved, they never so far forget, as to assail the bosoms of eachother; where a few blows would be fatal to most of them. This, I know,some derive from their being of a more bloody inclination than themales. On which account they apply to the nose, as to the part whenceblood may most easily be drawn; but this seems a far-fetched as wellas ill-natured supposition.

  Goody Brown had great advantage of Molly in this particular; for theformer had indeed no breasts, her bosom (if it may be so called), aswell in colour as in many other properties, exactly resembling anantient piece of parchment, upon which any one might have drummed aconsiderable while without doing her any great damage.

  Molly, beside her present unhappy condition, was differently formed inthose parts, and might, perhaps, have tempted the envy of Brown togive her a fatal blow, had not the lucky arrival of Tom Jones at thisinstant put an immediate end to the bloody scene.

  This accident was luckily owing to Mr Square; for he, Master Blifil,and
Jones, had mounted their horses, after church, to take the air,and had ridden about a quarter of a mile, when Square, changing hismind (not idly, but for a reason which we shall unfold as soon as wehave leisure), desired the young gentlemen to ride with him anotherway than they had at first purposed. This motion being complied with,brought them of necessity back again to the churchyard.

  Master Blifil, who rode first, seeing such a mob assembled, and twowomen in the posture in which we left the combatants, stopt his horseto enquire what was the matter. A country fellow, scratching his head,answered him: "I don't know, measter, un't I; an't please your honour,here hath been a vight, I think, between Goody Brown and MollSeagrim."

  "Who, who?" cries Tom; but without waiting for an answer, havingdiscovered the features of his Molly through all the discomposure inwhich they now were, he hastily alighted, turned his horse loose, and,leaping over the wall, ran to her. She now first bursting into tears,told him how barbarously she had been treated. Upon which, forgettingthe sex of Goody Brown, or perhaps not knowing it in his rage--for, inreality, she had no feminine appearance but a petticoat, which hemight not observe--he gave her a lash or two with his horsewhip; andthen flying at the mob, who were all accused by Moll, he dealt hisblows so profusely on all sides, that unless I would again invoke themuse (which the good-natured reader may think a little too hard uponher, as she hath so lately been violently sweated), it would beimpossible for me to recount the horse-whipping of that day.

  Having scoured the whole coast of the enemy, as well as any of Homer'sheroes ever did, or as Don Quixote or any knight-errant in the worldcould have done, he returned to Molly, whom he found in a conditionwhich must give both me and my reader pain, was it to be describedhere. Tom raved like a madman, beat his breast, tore his hair, stampedon the ground, and vowed the utmost vengeance on all who had beenconcerned. He then pulled off his coat, and buttoned it round her, puthis hat upon her head, wiped the blood from her face as well as hecould with his handkerchief, and called out to the servant to ride asfast as possible for a side-saddle, or a pillion, that he might carryher safe home.

  Master Blifil objected to the sending away the servant, as they hadonly one with them; but as Square seconded the order of Jones, he wasobliged to comply.

  The servant returned in a very short time with the pillion, and Molly,having collected her rags as well as she could, was placed behind him.In which manner she was carried home, Square, Blifil, and Jonesattending.

  Here Jones having received his coat, given her a sly kiss, andwhispered her, that he would return in the evening, quitted his Molly,and rode on after his companions.