History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter x.

  In which our travellers meet with a very extraordinary adventure.

  Just as Jones and his friend came to the end of their dialogue in thepreceding chapter, they arrived at the bottom of a very steep hill.Here Jones stopt short, and directing his eyes upwards, stood for awhile silent. At length he called to his companion, and said,"Partridge, I wish I was at the top of this hill; it must certainlyafford a most charming prospect, especially by this light; for thesolemn gloom which the moon casts on all objects, is beyond expressionbeautiful, especially to an imagination which is desirous ofcultivating melancholy ideas."--"Very probably," answered Partridge;"but if the top of the hill be properest to produce melancholythoughts, I suppose the bottom is the likeliest to produce merry ones,and these I take to be much the better of the two. I protest you havemade my blood run cold with the very mentioning the top of thatmountain; which seems to me to be one of the highest in the world. No,no, if we look for anything, let it be for a place under ground, toscreen ourselves from the frost."--"Do so," said Jones; "let it be butwithin hearing of this place, and I will hallow to you at my returnback."--"Surely, sir, you are not mad," said Partridge.--"Indeed, Iam," answered Jones, "if ascending this hill be madness; but as youcomplain so much of the cold already, I would have you stay below. Iwill certainly return to you within an hour."--"Pardon me, sir," criesPartridge; "I have determined to follow you wherever you go." Indeedhe was now afraid to stay behind; for though he was coward enough inall respects, yet his chief fear was that of ghosts, with which thepresent time of night, and the wildness of the place, extremely wellsuited.

  At this instant Partridge espied a glimmering light through sometrees, which seemed very near to them. He immediately cried out in arapture, "Oh, sir! Heaven hath at last heard my prayers, and hathbrought us to a house; perhaps it may be an inn. Let me beseech you,sir, if you have any compassion either for me or yourself, do notdespise the goodness of Providence, but let us go directly to yonlight. Whether it be a public-house or no, I am sure if they beChristians that dwell there, they will not refuse a little house-roomto persons in our miserable condition." Jones at length yielded to theearnest supplications of Partridge, and both together made directlytowards the place whence the light issued.

  They soon arrived at the door of this house, or cottage, for it mightbe called either, without much impropriety. Here Jones knocked severaltimes without receiving any answer from within; at which Partridge,whose head was full of nothing but of ghosts, devils, witches, andsuch like, began to tremble, crying, "Lord, have mercy upon us! surelythe people must be all dead. I can see no light neither now, and yet Iam certain I saw a candle burning but a moment before.--Well! I haveheard of such things."--"What hast thou heard of?" said Jones. "Thepeople are either fast asleep, or probably, as this is a lonely place,are afraid to open their door." He then began to vociferate prettyloudly, and at last an old woman, opening an upper casement, asked,Who they were, and what they wanted? Jones answered, They weretravellers who had lost their way, and having seen a light in thewindow, had been led thither in hopes of finding some fire to warmthemselves. "Whoever you are," cries the woman, "you have no businesshere; nor shall I open the door to any one at this time of night."Partridge, whom the sound of a human voice had recovered from hisfright, fell to the most earnest supplications to be admitted for afew minutes to the fire, saying, he was almost dead with the cold; towhich fear had indeed contributed equally with the frost. He assuredher that the gentleman who spoke to her was one of the greatestsquires in the country; and made use of every argument, save one,which Jones afterwards effectually added; and this was, the promise ofhalf-a-crown;--a bribe too great to be resisted by such a person,especially as the genteel appearance of Jones, which the light of themoon plainly discovered to her, together with his affable behaviour,had entirely subdued those apprehensions of thieves which she had atfirst conceived. She agreed, therefore, at last, to let them in; wherePartridge, to his infinite joy, found a good fire ready for hisreception.

  The poor fellow, however, had no sooner warmed himself, than thosethoughts which were always uppermost in his mind, began a little todisturb his brain. There was no article of his creed in which he had astronger faith than he had in witchcraft, nor can the reader conceivea figure more adapted to inspire this idea, than the old woman who nowstood before him. She answered exactly to that picture drawn by Otwayin his Orphan. Indeed, if this woman had lived in the reign of Jamesthe First, her appearance alone would have hanged her, almost withoutany evidence.

  Many circumstances likewise conspired to confirm Partridge in hisopinion. Her living, as he then imagined, by herself in so lonely aplace; and in a house, the outside of which seemed much too good forher, but its inside was furnished in the most neat and elegant manner.To say the truth, Jones himself was not a little surprized at what hesaw; for, besides the extraordinary neatness of the room, it wasadorned with a great number of nicknacks and curiosities, which mighthave engaged the attention of a virtuoso.

  While Jones was admiring these things, and Partridge sat tremblingwith the firm belief that he was in the house of a witch, the oldwoman said, "I hope, gentlemen, you will make what haste you can; forI expect my master presently, and I would not for double the money heshould find you here."--"Then you have a master?" cried Jones."Indeed, you will excuse me, good woman, but I was surprized to seeall those fine things in your house."--"Ah, sir," said she, "if thetwentieth part of these things were mine, I should think myself a richwoman. But pray, sir, do not stay much longer, for I look for him inevery minute."--"Why, sure he would not be angry with you," saidJones, "for doing a common act of charity?"--"Alack-a-day, sir!" saidshe, "he is a strange man, not at all like other people. He keeps nocompany with anybody, and seldom walks out but by night, for he dothnot care to be seen; and all the country people are as much afraid ofmeeting him; for his dress is enough to frighten those who are notused to it. They call him, the Man of the Hill (for there he walks bynight), and the country people are not, I believe, more afraid of thedevil himself. He would be terribly angry if he found youhere."--"Pray, sir," says Partridge, "don't let us offend thegentleman; I am ready to walk, and was never warmer in my life. Dopray, sir, let us go. Here are pistols over the chimney: who knowswhether they be charged or no, or what he may do with them?"--"Fearnothing, Partridge," cries Jones; "I will secure thee fromdanger."--"Nay, for matter o' that, he never doth any mischief," saidthe woman; "but to be sure it is necessary he should keep some armsfor his own safety; for his house hath been beset more than once; andit is not many nights ago that we thought we heard thieves about it:for my own part, I have often wondered that he is not murdered by somevillain or other, as he walks out by himself at such hours; but then,as I said, the people are afraid of him; and besides, they think, Isuppose, he hath nothing about him worth taking."--"I should imagine,by this collection of rarities," cries Jones, "that your master hadbeen a traveller."--"Yes, sir," answered she, "he hath been a verygreat one: there be few gentlemen that know more of all matters thanhe. I fancy he hath been crost in love, or whatever it is I know not;but I have lived with him above these thirty years, and in all thattime he hath hardly spoke to six living people." She then againsolicited their departure, in which she was backed by Partridge; butJones purposely protracted the time, for his curiosity was greatlyraised to see this extraordinary person. Though the old woman,therefore, concluded every one of her answers with desiring him to begone, and Partridge proceeded so far as to pull him by the sleeve, hestill continued to invent new questions, till the old woman, with anaffrighted countenance, declared she heard her master's signal; and atthe same instant more than one voice was heard without the door,crying, "D--n your blood, show us your money this instant. Your money,you villain, or we will blow your brains about your ears."

  "O, good heaven!" cries the old woman, "some villains, to be sure,have attacked my master. O la! what shall I do? what shall Ido?"--"How!" cries Jones, "how!--Are these pistols loaded?"--"O, g
oodsir, there is nothing in them, indeed. O pray don't murder us,gentlemen!" (for in reality she now had the same opinion of thosewithin as she had of those without). Jones made her no answer; butsnatching an old broad sword which hung in the room, he instantlysallied out, where he found the old gentleman struggling with tworuffians, and begging for mercy. Jones asked no questions, but fell sobriskly to work with his broad sword, that the fellows immediatelyquitted their hold; and without offering to attack our heroe, betookthemselves to their heels and made their escape; for he did notattempt to pursue them, being contented with having delivered the oldgentleman; and indeed he concluded he had pretty well done theirbusiness, for both of them, as they ran off, cried out with bitteroaths that they were dead men.

  Jones presently ran to lift up the old gentleman, who had been throwndown in the scuffle, expressing at the same time great concern lest heshould have received any harm from the villains. The old man stared amoment at Jones, and then cried, "No, sir, no, I have very littleharm, I thank you. Lord have mercy upon me!"--"I see, sir," saidJones, "you are not free from apprehensions even of those who have hadthe happiness to be your deliverers; nor can I blame any suspicionswhich you may have; but indeed you have no real occasion for any; hereare none but your friends present. Having mist our way this coldnight, we took the liberty of warming ourselves at your fire, whencewe were just departing when we heard you call for assistance, which, Imust say, Providence alone seems to have sent you."--"Providence,indeed," cries the old gentleman, "if it be so."--"So it is, I assureyou," cries Jones. "Here is your own sword, sir; I have used it inyour defence, and I now return it into your hand." The old man havingreceived the sword, which was stained with the blood of his enemies,looked stedfastly at Jones during some moments, and then with a sighcried out, "You will pardon me, young gentleman; I was not always of asuspicious temper, nor am I a friend to ingratitude."

  "Be thankful then," cries Jones, "to that Providence to which you oweyour deliverance: as to my part, I have only discharged the commonduties of humanity, and what I would have done for any fellow-creaturein your situation."--"Let me look at you a little longer," cries theold gentleman. "You are a human creature then? Well, perhaps you are.Come pray walk into my little hutt. You have been my delivererindeed."

  The old woman was distracted between the fears which she had of hermaster, and for him; and Partridge was, if possible, in a greaterfright. The former of these, however, when she heard her master speakkindly to Jones, and perceived what had happened, came again toherself; but Partridge no sooner saw the gentleman, than thestrangeness of his dress infused greater terrors into that poor fellowthan he had before felt, either from the strange description which hehad heard, or from the uproar which had happened at the door.

  To say the truth, it was an appearance which might have affected amore constant mind than that of Mr Partridge. This person was of thetallest size, with a long beard as white as snow. His body wascloathed with the skin of an ass, made something into the form of acoat. He wore likewise boots on his legs, and a cap on his head, bothcomposed of the skin of some other animals.

  As soon as the old gentleman came into his house, the old woman beganher congratulations on his happy escape from the ruffians. "Yes,"cried he, "I have escaped, indeed, thanks to my preserver."--"O theblessing on him!" answered she: "he is a good gentleman, I warranthim. I was afraid your worship would have been angry with me forletting him in; and to be certain I should not have done it, had not Iseen by the moon-light, that he was a gentleman, and almost frozen todeath. And to be certain it must have been some good angel that senthim hither, and tempted me to do it."

  "I am afraid, sir," said the old gentleman to Jones, "that I havenothing in this house which you can either eat or drink, unless youwill accept a dram of brandy; of which I can give you some mostexcellent, and which I have had by me these thirty years." Jonesdeclined this offer in a very civil and proper speech, and then theother asked him, "Whither he was travelling when he mist his way?"saying, "I must own myself surprized to see such a person as youappear to be, journeying on foot at this time of night. I suppose,sir, you are a gentleman of these parts; for you do not look like onewho is used to travel far without horses?"

  "Appearances," cried Jones, "are often deceitful; men sometimes lookwhat they are not. I assure you I am not of this country; and whitherI am travelling, in reality I scarce know myself."

  "Whoever you are, or whithersoever you are going," answered the oldman, "I have obligations to you which I can never return."

  "I once more," replied Jones, "affirm that you have none; for therecan be no merit in having hazarded that in your service on which I setno value; and nothing is so contemptible in my eyes as life."

  "I am sorry, young gentleman," answered the stranger, "that you haveany reason to be so unhappy at your years."

  "Indeed I am, sir," answered Jones, "the most unhappy ofmankind."--"Perhaps you have had a friend, or a mistress?" replied theother. "How could you," cries Jones, "mention two words sufficient todrive me to distraction?"--"Either of them are enough to drive any manto distraction," answered the old man. "I enquire no farther, sir;perhaps my curiosity hath led me too far already."

  "Indeed, sir," cries Jones, "I cannot censure a passion which I feelat this instant in the highest degree. You will pardon me when Iassure you, that everything which I have seen or heard since I firstentered this house hath conspired to raise the greatest curiosity inme. Something very extraordinary must have determined you to thiscourse of life, and I have reason to fear your own history is notwithout misfortunes."

  Here the old gentleman again sighed, and remained silent for someminutes: at last, looking earnestly on Jones, he said, "I have readthat a good countenance is a letter of recommendation; if so, noneever can be more strongly recommended than yourself. If I did not feelsome yearnings towards you from another consideration, I must be themost ungrateful monster upon earth; and I am really concerned it is nootherwise in my power than by words to convince you of my gratitude."

  Jones, after a moment's hesitation, answered, "That it was in hispower by words to gratify him extremely. I have confest a curiosity,"said he, "sir; need I say how much obliged I should be to you, if youwould condescend to gratify it? Will you suffer me therefore to beg,unless any consideration restrains you, that you would be pleased toacquaint me what motives have induced you thus to withdraw from thesociety of mankind, and to betake yourself to a course of life towhich it sufficiently appears you were not born?"

  "I scarce think myself at liberty to refuse you anything after whathath happened," replied the old man. "If you desire therefore to hearthe story of an unhappy man, I will relate it to you. Indeed you judgerightly, in thinking there is commonly something extraordinary in thefortunes of those who fly from society; for however it may seem aparadox, or even a contradiction, certain it is, that greatphilanthropy chiefly inclines us to avoid and detest mankind; not onaccount so much of their private and selfish vices, but for those of arelative kind; such as envy, malice, treachery, cruelty, with everyother species of malevolence. These are the vices which truephilanthropy abhors, and which rather than see and converse with, sheavoids society itself. However, without a compliment to you, you donot appear to me one of those whom I should shun or detest; nay, Imust say, in what little hath dropt from you, there appears someparity in our fortunes: I hope, however, yours will conclude moresuccessfully."

  Here some compliments passed between our heroe and his host, and thenthe latter was going to begin his history, when Partridge interruptedhim. His apprehensions had now pretty well left him, but some effectsof his terrors remained; he therefore reminded the gentleman of thatexcellent brandy which he had mentioned. This was presently brought,and Partridge swallowed a large bumper.

  The gentleman then, without any farther preface, began as you may readin the next chapter.