History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter ii.

  A whimsical adventure which befel the squire, with the distressedsituation of Sophia.

  We must now convey the reader to Mr Western's lodgings, which were inPiccadilly, where he was placed by the recommendation of the landlordat the Hercules Pillars at Hyde Park Corner; for at the inn, which wasthe first he saw on his arrival in town, he placed his horses, and inthose lodgings, which were the first he heard of, he depositedhimself.

  Here, when Sophia alighted from the hackney-coach, which brought herfrom the house of Lady Bellaston, she desired to retire to theapartment provided for her; to which her father very readily agreed,and whither he attended her himself. A short dialogue, neither verymaterial nor pleasant to relate minutely, then passed between them, inwhich he pressed her vehemently to give her consent to the marriagewith Blifil, who, as he acquainted her, was to be in town in a fewdays; but, instead of complying, she gave a more peremptory andresolute refusal than she had ever done before. This so incensed herfather, that after many bitter vows, that he would force her to havehim whether she would or no, he departed from her with many hard wordsand curses, locked the door, and put the key into his pocket.

  While Sophia was left with no other company than what attend theclosest state prisoner, namely, fire and candle, the squire sat downto regale himself over a bottle of wine, with his parson and thelandlord of the Hercules Pillars, who, as the squire said, would makean excellent third man, and could inform them of the news of the town,and how affairs went; for to be sure, says he, he knows a great deal,since the horses of many of the quality stand at his house.

  In this agreeable society Mr Western past that evening and great partof the succeeding day, during which period nothing happened ofsufficient consequence to find a place in this history. All this timeSophia past by herself; for her father swore she should never come outof her chamber alive, unless she first consented to marry Blifil; nordid he ever suffer the door to be unlocked, unless to convey her food,on which occasions he always attended himself.

  The second morning after his arrival, while he and the parson were atbreakfast together on a toast and tankard, he was informed that agentleman was below to wait on him.

  "A gentleman!" quoth the squire, "who the devil can he be? Do, doctor,go down and see who 'tis. Mr Blifil can hardly be come to townyet.--Go down, do, and know what his business is."

  The doctor returned with an account that it was a very well-drest man,and by the ribbon in his hat he took him for an officer of the army;that he said he had some particular business, which he could deliverto none but Mr Western himself.

  "An officer!" cries the squire; "what can any such fellow have to dowith me? If he wants an order for baggage-waggons, I am no justice ofpeace here, nor can I grant a warrant.--Let un come up then, if hemust speak to me."

  A very genteel man now entered the room; who, having made hiscompliments to the squire, and desired the favour of being alone withhim, delivered himself as follows:--

  "Sir, I come to wait upon you by the command of my Lord Fellamar; butwith a very different message from what I suppose you expect, afterwhat past the other night."

  "My lord who?" cries the squire; "I never heard the name o'un."

  "His lordship," said the gentleman, "is willing to impute everythingto the effect of liquor, and the most trifling acknowledgment of thatkind will set everything right; for as he hath the most violentattachment to your daughter, you, sir, are the last person upon earthfrom whom he would resent an affront; and happy is it for you boththat he hath given such public demonstrations of his courage as to beable to put up an affair of this kind without danger of any imputationon his honour. All he desires, therefore, is, that you will before memake some acknowledgment; the slightest in the world will besufficient; and he intends this afternoon to pay his respects to you,in order to obtain your leave of visiting the young lady on thefooting of a lover."

  "I don't understand much of what you say, sir," said the squire; "butI suppose, by what you talk about my daughter, that this is the lordwhich my cousin, Lady Bellaston, mentioned to me, and said somethingabout his courting my daughter. If so be that how that be thecase--you may give my service to his lordship, and tell un the girl isdisposed of already."

  "Perhaps, sir," said the gentleman, "you are not sufficiently apprizedof the greatness of this offer. I believe such a person, title, andfortune would be nowhere refused."

  "Lookee, sir," answered the squire; "to be very plain, my daughter isbespoke already; but if she was not, I would not marry her to a lordupon any account; I hate all lords; they are a parcel of courtiers andHanoverians, and I will have nothing to do with them."

  "Well, sir," said the gentleman, "if that is your resolution, themessage I am to deliver to you is that my lord desires the favour ofyour company this morning in Hyde Park."

  "You may tell my lord," answered the squire, "that I am busy andcannot come. I have enough to look after at home, and can't stirabroad on any account."

  "I am sure, sir," quoth the other, "you are too much a gentleman tosend such a message; you will not, I am convinced, have it said ofyou, that, after having affronted a noble peer, you refuse himsatisfaction. His lordship would have been willing, from his greatregard to the young lady, to have made up matters in another way; butunless he is to look on you as a father, his honour will not sufferhis putting up such an indignity as you must be sensible you offeredhim."

  "I offered him!" cries the squire; "it is a d--n'd lie! I neveroffered him anything."

  Upon these words the gentleman returned a very short verbal rebuke,and this he accompanied at the same time with some manualremonstrances, which no sooner reached the ears of Mr Western, thanthat worthy squire began to caper very briskly about the room,bellowing at the same time with all his might, as if desirous tosummon a greater number of spectators to behold his agility.

  The parson, who had left great part of the tankard unfinished, was notretired far; he immediately attended therefore on the squire'svociferation, crying, "Bless me! sir, what's the matter?"--"Matter!"quoth the squire, "here's a highwayman, I believe, who wants to roband murder me--for he hath fallen upon me with that stick there in hishand, when I wish I may be d--n'd if I gid un the least provocation."

  "How, sir," said the captain, "did you not tell me I lyed?"

  "No, as I hope to be saved," answered the squire, "--I believe I mightsay, 'Twas a lie that I had offered any affront to my lord--but Inever said the word, `you lie.'--I understand myself better, and youmight have understood yourself better than to fall upon a naked man.If I had a stick in my hand, you would not have dared strike me. I'dhave knocked thy lantern jaws about thy ears. Come down into yard thisminute, and I'll take a bout with thee at single stick for a brokenhead, that I will; or I will go into naked room and box thee for abelly-full. At unt half a man, at unt, I'm sure."

  The captain, with some indignation, replied, "I see, sir, you arebelow my notice, and I shall inform his lordship you are below his. Iam sorry I have dirtied my fingers with you." At which words hewithdrew, the parson interposing to prevent the squire from stoppinghim, in which he easily prevailed, as the other, though he made someefforts for the purpose, did not seem very violently bent on success.However, when the captain was departed, the squire sent many cursesand some menaces after him; but as these did not set out from his lipstill the officer was at the bottom of the stairs, and grew louder andlouder as he was more and more remote, they did not reach his ears, orat least did not retard his departure.

  Poor Sophia, however, who, in her prison, heard all her father'soutcries from first to last, began now first to thunder with her foot,and afterwards to scream as loudly as the old gentleman himself haddone before, though in a much sweeter voice. These screams soonsilenced the squire, and turned all his consideration towards hisdaughter, whom he loved so tenderly, that the least apprehension ofany harm happening to her, threw him presently into agonies; for,except in that single instance in which the whole future happiness
ofher life was concerned, she was sovereign mistress of hisinclinations.

  Having ended his rage against the captain, with swearing he would takethe law of him, the squire now mounted upstairs to Sophia, whom, assoon as he had unlocked and opened the door, he found all pale andbreathless. The moment, however, that she saw her father, shecollected all her spirits, and, catching him hold by the hand, shecryed passionately, "O my dear sir, I am almost frightened to death! Ihope to heaven no harm hath happened to you." "No, no," cries thesquire, "no great harm. The rascal hath not hurt me much, but rat meif I don't ha the la o' un." "Pray, dear sir," says she, "tell mewhat's the matter; who is it that hath insulted you?" "I don't knowthe name o' un," answered Western; "some officer fellow, I suppose,that we are to pay for beating us; but I'll make him pay this bout, ifthe rascal hath got anything, which I suppose he hath not. For thof hewas drest out so vine, I question whether he had got a voot of land inthe world." "But, dear sir," cries she, "what was the occasion of yourquarrel?" "What should it be, Sophy," answered the squire, "but aboutyou, Sophy? All my misfortunes are about you; you will be the death ofyour poor father at last. Here's a varlet of a lord, the Lord knowswho, forsooth! who hath a taan a liking to you, and because I wouldnot gi un my consent, he sent me a kallenge. Come, do be a good girl,Sophy, and put an end to all your father's troubles; come, do consentto ha un; he will be in town within this day or two; do but promise meto marry un as soon as he comes, and you will make me the happiest manin the world, and I will make you the happiest woman; you shall havethe finest cloaths in London, and the finest jewels, and a coach andsix at your command. I promised Allworthy already to give up half myestate--od rabbet it! I should hardly stick at giving up the whole.""Will my papa be so kind," says she, "as to hear me speak?"--"Why woutask, Sophy?" cries he, "when dost know I had rather hear thy voicethan the musick of the best pack of dogs in England.--Hear thee, mydear little girl! I hope I shall hear thee as long as I live; for if Iwas ever to lose that pleasure, I would not gee a brass varden to livea moment longer. Indeed, Sophy, you do not know how I love you, indeedyou don't, or you never could have run away and left your poor father,who hath no other joy, no other comfort upon earth, but his littleSophy." At these words the tears stood in his eyes; and Sophia (withthe tears streaming from hers) answered, "Indeed, my dear papa, I knowyou have loved me tenderly, and heaven is my witness how sincerely Ihave returned your affection; nor could anything but an apprehensionof being forced into the arms of this man have driven me to run from afather whom I love so passionately, that I would, with pleasure,sacrifice my life to his happiness; nay, I have endeavoured to reasonmyself into doing more, and had almost worked up a resolution toendure the most miserable of all lives, to comply with yourinclination. It was that resolution alone to which I could not forcemy mind; nor can I ever." Here the squire began to look wild, and thefoam appeared at his lips, which Sophia, observing, begged to be heardout, and then proceeded: "If my father's life, his health, or any realhappiness of his was at stake, here stands your resolved daughter; mayheaven blast me if there is a misery I would not suffer to preserveyou!--No, that most detested, most loathsome of all lots would Iembrace. I would give my hand to Blifil for your sake."--"I tell thee,it will preserve me," answers the father; "it will give me health,happiness, life, everything.--Upon my soul I shall die if dost refuseme; I shall break my heart, I shall, upon my soul."--"Is it possible,"says she, "you can have such a desire to make me miserable?"--"I tellthee noa," answered he loudly, "d--n me if there is a thing upon earthI would not do to see thee happy."--"And will not my dear papa allowme to have the least knowledge of what will make me so? If it be truethat happiness consists in opinion, what must be my condition, when Ishall think myself the most miserable of all the wretches upon earth?""Better think yourself so," said he, "than know it by being married toa poor bastardly vagabond." "If it will content you, sir," saidSophia, "I will give you the most solemn promise never to marry him,nor any other, while my papa lives, without his consent. Let mededicate my whole life to your service; let me be again your poorSophy, and my whole business and pleasure be, as it hath been, toplease and divert you." "Lookee, Sophy," answered the squire, "I amnot to be choused in this manner. Your aunt Western would then havereason to think me the fool she doth. No, no, Sophy, I'd have you toknow I have a got more wisdom, and know more of the world, than totake the word of a woman in a matter where a man is concerned." "How,sir, have I deserved this want of confidence?" said she; "have I everbroke a single promise to you? or have I ever been found guilty of afalsehood from my cradle?" "Lookee, Sophy," cries he; "that's neitherhere nor there. I am determined upon this match, and have him youshall, d--n me if shat unt. D--n me if shat unt, though dost hangthyself the next morning." At repeating which words he clinched hisfist, knit his brows, bit his lips, and thundered so loud, that thepoor afflicted, terrified Sophia sunk trembling into her chair, and,had not a flood of tears come immediately to her relief, perhaps worsehad followed.

  Western beheld the deplorable condition of his daughter with no morecontrition or remorse than the turnkey of Newgate feels at viewing theagonies of a tender wife, when taking her last farewel of hercondemned husband; or rather he looked down on her with the sameemotions which arise in an honest fair tradesman, who sees his debtordragged to prison for L10, which, though a just debt, the wretch iswickedly unable to pay. Or, to hit the case still more nearly, he feltthe same compunction with a bawd, when some poor innocent, whom shehath ensnared into her hands, falls into fits at the first proposal ofwhat is called seeing company. Indeed this resemblance would be exact,was it not that the bawd hath an interest in what she doth, and thefather, though perhaps he may blindly think otherwise, can, inreality, have none in urging his daughter to almost an equalprostitution.

  In this condition he left his poor Sophia, and, departing with a veryvulgar observation on the effect of tears, he locked the room, andreturned to the parson, who said everything he durst in behalf of theyoung lady, which, though perhaps it was not quite so much as his dutyrequired, yet was it sufficient to throw the squire into a violentrage, and into many indecent reflections on the whole body of theclergy, which we have too great an honour for that sacred function tocommit to paper.