Chapter xiii.
In which the foregoing story is farther continued.
"My fellow-collegiate had now entered me in a new scene of life. Isoon became acquainted with the whole fraternity of sharpers, and waslet into their secrets; I mean, into the knowledge of those grosscheats which are proper to impose upon the raw and unexperienced; forthere are some tricks of a finer kind, which are known only to a fewof the gang, who are at the head of their profession; a degree ofhonour beyond my expectation; for drink, to which I was immoderatelyaddicted, and the natural warmth of my passions, prevented me fromarriving at any great success in an art which requires as muchcoolness as the most austere school of philosophy.
"Mr Watson, with whom I now lived in the closest amity, had unluckilythe former failing to a very great excess; so that instead of making afortune by his profession, as some others did, he was alternately richand poor, and was often obliged to surrender to his cooler friends,over a bottle which they never tasted, that plunder that he had takenfrom culls at the public table.
"However, we both made a shift to pick up an uncomfortable livelihood;and for two years I continued of the calling; during which time Itasted all the varieties of fortune, sometimes flourishing inaffluence, and at others being obliged to struggle with almostincredible difficulties. To-day wallowing in luxury, and to-morrowreduced to the coarsest and most homely fare. My fine clothes beingoften on my back in the evening, and at the pawn-shop the nextmorning.
"One night, as I was returning pennyless from the gaming-table, Iobserved a very great disturbance, and a large mob gathered togetherin the street. As I was in no danger from pickpockets, I ventured intothe croud, where upon enquiry I found that a man had been robbed andvery ill used by some ruffians. The wounded man appeared very bloody,and seemed scarce able to support himself on his legs. As I had nottherefore been deprived of my humanity by my present life andconversation, though they had left me very little of either honesty orshame, I immediately offered my assistance to the unhappy person, whothankfully accepted it, and, putting himself under my conduct, beggedme to convey him to some tavern, where he might send for a surgeon,being, as he said, faint with loss of blood. He seemed indeed highlypleased at finding one who appeared in the dress of a gentleman; foras to all the rest of the company present, their outside was such thathe could not wisely place any confidence in them.
"I took the poor man by the arm, and led him to the tavern where wekept our rendezvous, as it happened to be the nearest at hand. Asurgeon happening luckily to be in the house, immediately attended,and applied himself to dressing his wounds, which I had the pleasureto hear were not likely to be mortal.
"The surgeon having very expeditiously and dextrously finished hisbusiness, began to enquire in what part of the town the wounded manlodged; who answered, `That he was come to town that very morning;that his horse was at an inn in Piccadilly, and that he had no otherlodging, and very little or no acquaintance in town.'
"This surgeon, whose name I have forgot, though I remember it beganwith an R, had the first character in his profession, and wasserjeant-surgeon to the king. He had moreover many good qualities, andwas a very generous good-natured man, and ready to do any service tohis fellow-creatures. He offered his patient the use of his chariot tocarry him to his inn, and at the same time whispered in his ear, `Thatif he wanted any money, he would furnish him.'
"The poor man was not now capable of returning thanks for thisgenerous offer; for having had his eyes for some time stedfastly onme, he threw himself back in his chair, crying, `Oh, my son! my son!'and then fainted away.
"Many of the people present imagined this accident had happenedthrough his loss of blood; but I, who at the same time began torecollect the features of my father, was now confirmed in mysuspicion, and satisfied that it was he himself who appeared beforeme. I presently ran to him, raised him in my arms, and kissed his coldlips with the utmost eagerness. Here I must draw a curtain over ascene which I cannot describe; for though I did not lose my being, asmy father for a while did, my senses were however so overpowered withaffright and surprize, that I am a stranger to what passed during someminutes, and indeed till my father had again recovered from his swoon,and I found myself in his arms, both tenderly embracing each other,while the tears trickled a-pace down the cheeks of each of us.
"Most of those present seemed affected by this scene, which we, whomight be considered as the actors in it, were desirous of removingfrom the eyes of all spectators as fast as we could; my fathertherefore accepted the kind offer of the surgeon's chariot, and Iattended him in it to his inn.
"When we were alone together, he gently upbraided me with havingneglected to write to him during so long a time, but entirely omittedthe mention of that crime which had occasioned it. He then informed meof my mother's death, and insisted on my returning home with him,saying, `That he had long suffered the greatest anxiety on my account;that he knew not whether he had most feared my death or wished it,since he had so many more dreadful apprehensions for me. At last, hesaid, a neighbouring gentleman, who had just recovered a son from thesame place, informed him where I was; and that to reclaim me from thiscourse of life was the sole cause of his journey to London.' Hethanked Heaven he had succeeded so far as to find me out by means ofan accident which had like to have proved fatal to him; and had thepleasure to think he partly owed his preservation to my humanity, withwhich he profest himself to be more delighted than he should have beenwith my filial piety, if I had known that the object of all my carewas my own father.
"Vice had not so depraved my heart as to excite in it an insensibilityof so much paternal affection, though so unworthily bestowed. Ipresently promised to obey his commands in my return home with him, assoon as he was able to travel, which indeed he was in a very few days,by the assistance of that excellent surgeon who had undertaken hiscure.
"The day preceding my father's journey (before which time I scarceever left him), I went to take my leave of some of my most intimateacquaintance, particularly of Mr Watson, who dissuaded me from buryingmyself, as he called it, out of a simple compliance with the fonddesires of a foolish old fellow. Such sollicitations, however, had noeffect, and I once more saw my own home. My father now greatlysollicited me to think of marriage; but my inclinations were utterlyaverse to any such thoughts. I had tasted of love already, and perhapsyou know the extravagant excesses of that most tender and most violentpassion."--Here the old gentleman paused, and looked earnestly atJones; whose countenance, within a minute's space, displayed theextremities of both red and white. Upon which the old man, withoutmaking any observations, renewed his narrative.
"Being now provided with all the necessaries of life, I betook myselfonce again to study, and that with a more inordinate application thanI had ever done formerly. The books which now employed my time solelywere those, as well antient as modern, which treat of true philosophy,a word which is by many thought to be the subject only of farce andridicule. I now read over the works of Aristotle and Plato, with therest of those inestimable treasures which antient Greece hadbequeathed to the world.
"These authors, though they instructed me in no science by which menmay promise to themselves to acquire the least riches or worldlypower, taught me, however, the art of despising the highestacquisitions of both. They elevate the mind, and steel and harden itagainst the capricious invasions of fortune. They not only instruct inthe knowledge of Wisdom, but confirm men in her habits, anddemonstrate plainly, that this must be our guide, if we propose everto arrive at the greatest worldly happiness, or to defend ourselves,with any tolerable security, against the misery which everywheresurrounds and invests us.
"To this I added another study, compared to which, all the philosophytaught by the wisest heathens is little better than a dream, and isindeed as full of vanity as the silliest jester ever pleased torepresent it. This is that Divine wisdom which is alone to be found inthe Holy Scriptures; for they impart to us the knowledge and assuranceof things much more worthy our attentio
n than all which this world canoffer to our acceptance; of things which Heaven itself hathcondescended to reveal to us, and to the smallest knowledge of whichthe highest human wit unassisted could never ascend. I began now tothink all the time I had spent with the best heathen writers waslittle more than labour lost: for, however pleasant and delightfultheir lessons may be, or however adequate to the right regulation ofour conduct with respect to this world only; yet, when compared withthe glory revealed in Scripture, their highest documents will appearas trifling, and of as little consequence, as the rules by whichchildren regulate their childish little games and pastime. True it is,that philosophy makes us wiser, but Christianity makes us better men.Philosophy elevates and steels the mind, Christianity softens andsweetens it. The former makes us the objects of human admiration, thelatter of Divine love. That insures us a temporal, but this an eternalhappiness.--But I am afraid I tire you with my rhapsody."
"Not at all," cries Partridge; "Lud forbid we should be tired withgood things!"
"I had spent," continued the stranger, "about four years in the mostdelightful manner to myself, totally given up to contemplation, andentirely unembarrassed with the affairs of the world, when I lost thebest of fathers, and one whom I so entirely loved, that my grief athis loss exceeds all description. I now abandoned my books, and gavemyself up for a whole month to the effects of melancholy and despair.Time, however, the best physician of the mind, at length brought merelief."--"Ay, ay; _Tempus edax rerum_" said Partridge.--"I then,"continued the stranger, "betook myself again to my former studies,which I may say perfected my cure; for philosophy and religion may becalled the exercises of the mind, and when this is disordered, theyare as wholesome as exercise can be to a distempered body. They doindeed produce similar effects with exercise; for they strengthen andconfirm the mind, till man becomes, in the noble strain of Horace--
_Fortis, et in seipso totus teres atque rotundus, Externi ne quid valeat per laeve morari; In quem manca ruit semper Fortuna._"[*]
[*] Firm in himself, who on himself relies, Polish'd and round, who runs his proper course And breaks misfortunes with superior force.--MR FRANCIS.
Here Jones smiled at some conceit which intruded itself into hisimagination; but the stranger, I believe, perceived it not, andproceeded thus:--
"My circumstances were now greatly altered by the death of that bestof men; for my brother, who was now become master of the house,differed so widely from me in his inclinations, and our pursuits inlife had been so very various, that we were the worst of company toeach other: but what made our living together still more disagreeable,was the little harmony which could subsist between the few whoresorted to me, and the numerous train of sportsmen who often attendedmy brother from the field to the table; for such fellows, besides thenoise and nonsense with which they persecute the ears of sober men,endeavour always to attack them with affront and contempt. This was somuch the case, that neither I myself, nor my friends, could ever sitdown to a meal with them without being treated with derision, becausewe were unacquainted with the phrases of sportsmen. For men of truelearning, and almost universal knowledge, always compassionate theignorance of others; but fellows who excel in some little, low,contemptible art, are always certain to despise those who areunacquainted with that art.
"In short, we soon separated, and I went, by the advice of aphysician, to drink the Bath waters; for my violent affliction, addedto a sedentary life, had thrown me into a kind of paralytic disorder,for which those waters are accounted an almost _certain_ cure. Thesecond day after my arrival, as I was walking by the river, the sunshone so intensely hot (though it was early in the year), that Iretired to the shelter of some willows, and sat down by the riverside. Here I had not been seated long before I heard a person on theother side of the willows sighing and bemoaning himself bitterly. On asudden, having uttered a most impious oath, he cried, `I am resolvedto bear it no longer,' and directly threw himself into the water. Iimmediately started, and ran towards the place, calling at the sametime as loudly as I could for assistance. An angler happened luckilyto be a-fishing a little below me, though some very high sedge had hidhim from my sight. He immediately came up, and both of us together,not without some hazard of our lives, drew the body to the shore. Atfirst we perceived no sign of life remaining; but having held the bodyup by the heels (for we soon had assistance enough), it discharged avast quantity of water at the mouth, and at length began to discoversome symptoms of breathing, and a little afterwards to move both itshands and its legs.
"An apothecary, who happened to be present among others, advised thatthe body, which seemed now to have pretty well emptied itself ofwater, and which began to have many convulsive motions, should bedirectly taken up, and carried into a warm bed. This was accordinglyperformed, the apothecary and myself attending.
"As we were going towards an inn, for we knew not the man's lodgings,luckily a woman met us, who, after some violent screaming, told usthat the gentleman lodged at her house.
"When I had seen the man safely deposited there, I left him to thecare of the apothecary; who, I suppose, used all the right methodswith him, for the next morning I heard he had perfectly recovered hissenses.
"I then went to visit him, intending to search out, as well as Icould, the cause of his having attempted so desperate an act, and toprevent, as far as I was able, his pursuing such wicked intentions forthe future. I was no sooner admitted into his chamber, than we bothinstantly knew each other; for who should this person be but my goodfriend Mr Watson! Here I will not trouble you with what past at ourfirst interview; for I would avoid prolixity as much aspossible."--"Pray let us hear all," cries Partridge; "I want mightilyto know what brought him to Bath."
"You shall hear everything material," answered the stranger; and thenproceeded to relate what we shall proceed to write, after we havegiven a short breathing time to both ourselves and the reader.
History of Tom Jones, a Foundling Page 102