History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter ii.

  In which, though the squire doth not find his daughter, something isfound which puts an end to his pursuit.

  The history now returns to the inn at Upton, whence we shall firsttrace the footsteps of Squire Western; for, as he will soon arrive atan end of his journey, we shall have then full leisure to attend ourheroe.

  The reader may be pleased to remember that the said squire departedfrom the inn in great fury, and in that fury he pursued his daughter.The hostler having informed him that she had crossed the Severn, helikewise past that river with his equipage, and rode full speed,vowing the utmost vengeance against poor Sophia, if he should butovertake her.

  He had not gone far before he arrived at a crossway. Here he called ashort council of war, in which, after hearing different opinions, heat last gave the direction of his pursuit to fortune, and struckdirectly into the Worcester road.

  In this road he proceeded about two miles, when he began to bemoanhimself most bitterly, frequently crying out, "What pity is it! Surenever was so unlucky a dog as myself!" And then burst forth a volleyof oaths and execrations.

  The parson attempted to administer comfort to him on this occasion."Sorrow not, sir," says he, "like those without hope. Howbeit we havenot yet been able to overtake young madam, we may account it some goodfortune that we have hitherto traced her course aright. Peradventureshe will soon be fatigated with her journey, and will tarry in someinn, in order to renovate her corporeal functions; and in that case,in all moral certainty, you will very briefly be _compos voti_."

  "Pogh! d--n the slut!" answered the squire, "I am lamenting the lossof so fine a morning for hunting. It is confounded hard to lose one ofthe best scenting days, in all appearance, which hath been thisseason, and especially after so long a frost."

  Whether Fortune, who now and then shows some compassion in herwantonest tricks, might not take pity of the squire; and, as she haddetermined not to let him overtake his daughter, might not resolve tomake him amends some other way, I will not assert; but he had hardlyuttered the words just before commemorated, and two or three oaths attheir heels, when a pack of hounds began to open their melodiousthroats at a small distance from them, which the squire's horse andhis rider both perceiving, both immediately pricked up their ears, andthe squire, crying, "She's gone, she's gone! Damn me if she is notgone!" instantly clapped spurs to the beast, who little needed it,having indeed the same inclination with his master; and now the wholecompany, crossing into a corn-field, rode directly towards the hounds,with much hallowing and whooping, while the poor parson, blessinghimself, brought up the rear.

  Thus fable reports that the fair Grimalkin, whom Venus, at the desireof a passionate lover, converted from a cat into a fine woman, nosooner perceived a mouse than, mindful of her former sport, and stillretaining her pristine nature, she leaped from the bed of her husbandto pursue the little animal.

  What are we to understand by this? Not that the bride was displeasedwith the embraces of her amorous bridegroom; for, though some haveremarked that cats are subject to ingratitude, yet women and cats toowill be pleased and purr on certain occasions. The truth is, as thesagacious Sir Roger L'Estrange observes, in his deep reflections,that, "if we shut Nature out at the door, she will come in at thewindow; and that puss, though a madam, will be a mouser still." In thesame manner we are not to arraign the squire of any want of love forhis daughter; for in reality he had a great deal; we are only toconsider that he was a squire and a sportsman, and then we may applythe fable to him, and the judicious reflections likewise.

  The hounds ran very hard, as it is called, and the squire pursued overhedge and ditch, with all his usual vociferation and alacrity, andwith all his usual pleasure; nor did the thoughts of Sophia ever onceintrude themselves to allay the satisfaction he enjoyed in the chace,which, he said, was one of the finest he ever saw, and which he sworewas very well worth going fifty miles for. As the squire forgot hisdaughter, the servants, we may easily believe, forgot their mistress;and the parson, after having expressed much astonishment, in Latin, tohimself, at length likewise abandoned all farther thoughts of theyoung lady, and, jogging on at a distance behind, began to meditate aportion of doctrine for the ensuing Sunday.

  The squire who owned the hounds was highly pleased with the arrival ofhis brother squire and sportsman; for all men approve merit in theirown way, and no man was more expert in the field than Mr Western, nordid any other better know how to encourage the dogs with his voice,and to animate the hunt with his holla.

  Sportsmen, in the warmth of a chace, are too much engaged to attend toany manner of ceremony, nay, even to the offices of humanity: for, ifany of them meet with an accident by tumbling into a ditch, or into ariver, the rest pass on regardless, and generally leave him to hisfate: during this time, therefore, the two squires, though often closeto each other, interchanged not a single word. The master of the hunt,however, often saw and approved the great judgment of the stranger indrawing the dogs when they were at a fault, and hence conceived a veryhigh opinion of his understanding, as the number of his attendantsinspired no small reverence to his quality. As soon, therefore, as thesport was ended by the death of the little animal which had occasionedit, the two squires met, and in all squire-like greeting saluted eachother.

  The conversation was entertaining enough, and what we may perhapsrelate in an appendix, or on some other occasion; but as it nowiseconcerns this history, we cannot prevail on ourselves to give it aplace here. It concluded with a second chace, and that with aninvitation to dinner. This being accepted, was followed by a heartybout of drinking, which ended in as hearty a nap on the part of SquireWestern.

  Our squire was by no means a match either for his host, or for parsonSupple, at his cups that evening; for which the violent fatigue ofmind as well as body that he had undergone, may very well account,without the least derogation from his honour. He was indeed, accordingto the vulgar phrase, whistle drunk; for before he had swallowed thethird bottle, he became so entirely overpowered that though he was notcarried off to bed till long after, the parson considered him asabsent, and having acquainted the other squire with all relating toSophia, he obtained his promise of seconding those arguments which heintended to urge the next morning for Mr Western's return.

  No sooner, therefore, had the good squire shaken off his evening, andbegan to call for his morning draught, and to summon his horses inorder to renew his pursuit, than Mr Supple began his dissuasives,which the host so strongly seconded, that they at length prevailed,and Mr Western agreed to return home; being principally moved by oneargument, viz., that he knew not which way to go, and might probablybe riding farther from his daughter instead of towards her. He thentook leave of his brother sportsman, and expressing great joy that thefrost was broken (which might perhaps be no small motive to hishastening home), set forwards, or rather backwards, for Somersetshire;but not before he had first despatched part of his retinue in quest ofhis daughter, after whom he likewise sent a volley of the most bitterexecrations which he could invent.