Chapter v.
In which Jones receives a letter from Sophia, and goes to a play withMrs Miller and Partridge.
The arrival of Black George in town, and the good offices which thatgrateful fellow had promised to do for his old benefactor, greatlycomforted Jones in the midst of all the anxiety and uneasiness whichhe had suffered on the account of Sophia; from whom, by the means ofthe said George, he received the following answer to his letter, whichSophia, to whom the use of pen, ink, and paper was restored with herliberty, wrote the very evening when she departed from herconfinement:
"Sir,
"As I do not doubt your sincerity in what you write, you will be pleased to hear that some of my afflictions are at an end, by the arrival of my aunt Western, with whom I am at present, and with whom I enjoy all the liberty I can desire. One promise my aunt hath insisted on my making, which is, that I will not see or converse with any person without her knowledge and consent. This promise I have most solemnly given, and shall most inviolably keep: and though she hath not expressly forbidden me writing, yet that must be an omission from forgetfulness; or this, perhaps, is included in the word conversing. However, as I cannot but consider this as a breach of her generous confidence in my honour, you cannot expect that I shall, after this, continue to write myself or to receive letters, without her knowledge. A promise is with me a very sacred thing, and to be extended to everything understood from it, as well as to what is expressed by it; and this consideration may, perhaps, on reflection, afford you some comfort. But why should I mention a comfort to you of this kind; for though there is one thing in which I can never comply with the best of fathers, yet am I firmly resolved never to act in defiance of him, or to take any step of consequence without his consent. A firm persuasion of this must teach you to divert your thoughts from what fortune hath (perhaps) made impossible. This your own interest persuades you. This may reconcile, I hope, Mr Allworthy to you; and if it will, you have my injunctions to pursue it. Accidents have laid some obligations on me, and your good intentions probably more. Fortune may, perhaps, be some time kinder to us both than at present. Believe this, that I shall always think of you as I think you deserve, and am,
Sir, your obliged humble servant, Sophia Western.
"I charge you write to me no more--at present at least; and accept this, which is now of no service to me, which I know you must want, and think you owe the trifle only to that fortune by which you found it."[*]
[*] Meaning, perhaps, the bank-bill for L100.
A child who hath just learnt his letters would have spelt this letterout in less time than Jones took in reading it. The sensations itoccasioned were a mixture of joy and grief; somewhat like what dividethe mind of a good man when he peruses the will of his deceasedfriend, in which a large legacy, which his distresses make the morewelcome, is bequeathed to him. Upon the whole, however, he was morepleased than displeased; and, indeed, the reader may probably wonderthat he was displeased at all; but the reader is not quite so much inlove as was poor Jones; and love is a disease which, though it may, insome instances, resemble a consumption (which it sometimes causes), inothers proceeds in direct opposition to it, and particularly in this,that it never flatters itself, or sees any one symptom in a favourablelight.
One thing gave him complete satisfaction, which was, that his mistresshad regained her liberty, and was now with a lady where she might atleast assure herself of a decent treatment. Another comfortablecircumstance was the reference which she made to her promise of nevermarrying any other man; for however disinterested he might imagine hispassion, and notwithstanding all the generous overtures made in hisletter, I very much question whether he could have heard a moreafflicting piece of news than that Sophia was married to another,though the match had been never so great, and never so likely to endin making her completely happy. That refined degree of Platonicaffection which is absolutely detached from the flesh, and is, indeed,entirely and purely spiritual, is a gift confined to the female partof the creation; many of whom I have heard declare (and, doubtless,with great truth), that they would, with the utmost readiness, resigna lover to a rival, when such resignation was proved to be necessaryfor the temporal interest of such lover. Hence, therefore, I concludethat this affection is in nature, though I cannot pretend to say Ihave ever seen an instance of it.
Mr Jones having spent three hours in reading and kissing the aforesaidletter, and being, at last, in a state of good spirits, from thelast-mentioned considerations, he agreed to carry an appointment,which he had before made, into execution. This was, to attend MrsMiller, and her younger daughter, into the gallery at the play-house,and to admit Mr Partridge as one of the company. For as Jones hadreally that taste for humour which many affect, he expected to enjoymuch entertainment in the criticisms of Partridge, from whom heexpected the simple dictates of nature, unimproved, indeed, butlikewise unadulterated, by art.
In the first row then of the first gallery did Mr Jones, Mrs Miller,her youngest daughter, and Partridge, take their places. Partridgeimmediately declared it was the finest place he had ever been in. Whenthe first music was played, he said, "It was a wonder how so manyfiddlers could play at one time, without putting one another out."While the fellow was lighting the upper candles, he cried out to MrsMiller, "Look, look, madam, the very picture of the man in the end ofthe common-prayer book before the gunpowder-treason service." Norcould he help observing, with a sigh, when all the candles werelighted, "That here were candles enough burnt in one night, to keep anhonest poor family for a whole twelvemonth."
As soon as the play, which was Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, began,Partridge was all attention, nor did he break silence till theentrance of the ghost; upon which he asked Jones, "What man that wasin the strange dress; something," said he, "like what I have seen in apicture. Sure it is not armour, is it?" Jones answered, "That is theghost." To which Partridge replied with a smile, "Persuade me to that,sir, if you can. Though I can't say I ever actually saw a ghost in mylife, yet I am certain I should know one, if I saw him, better thanthat comes to. No, no, sir, ghosts don't appear in such dresses asthat, neither." In this mistake, which caused much laughter in theneighbourhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue, till thescene between the ghost and Hamlet, when Partridge gave that credit toMr Garrick, which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so violent atrembling, that his knees knocked against each other. Jones asked himwhat was the matter, and whether he was afraid of the warrior upon thestage? "O la! sir," said he, "I perceive now it is what you told me. Iam not afraid of anything; for I know it is but a play. And if it wasreally a ghost, it could do one no harm at such a distance, and in somuch company; and yet if I was frightened, I am not the only person.""Why, who," cries Jones, "dost thou take to be such a coward herebesides thyself?" "Nay, you may call me coward if you will; but ifthat little man there upon the stage is not frightened, I never sawany man frightened in my life. Ay, ay: go along with you: Ay, to besure! Who's fool then? Will you? Lud have mercy upon suchfool-hardiness!--Whatever happens, it is good enough foryou.----Follow you? I'd follow the devil as soon. Nay, perhaps it isthe devil----for they say he can put on what likeness he pleases.--Oh!here he is again.----No farther! No, you have gone far enough already;farther than I'd have gone for all the king's dominions." Jonesoffered to speak, but Partridge cried "Hush, hush! dear sir, don't youhear him?" And during the whole speech of the ghost, he sat with hiseyes fixed partly on the ghost and partly on Hamlet, and with hismouth open; the same passions which succeeded each other in Hamlet,succeeding likewise in him.
When the scene was over Jones said, "Why, Partridge, you exceed myexpectations. You enjoy the play more than I conceived possible.""Nay, sir," answered Partridge, "if you are not afraid of the devil, Ican't help it; but to be sure, it is natural to be surprized at suchthings, though I know there is nothing in them: not that it was theghost that surprized me, neither; for
I should have known that to havebeen only a man in a strange dress; but when I saw the little man sofrightened himself, it was that which took hold of me." "And dost thouimagine, then, Partridge," cries Jones, "that he was reallyfrightened?" "Nay, sir," said Partridge, "did not you yourself observeafterwards, when he found it was his own father's spirit, and how hewas murdered in the garden, how his fear forsook him by degrees, andhe was struck dumb with sorrow, as it were, just as I should havebeen, had it been my own case?--But hush! O la! what noise is that?There he is again.----Well, to be certain, though I know there isnothing at all in it, I am glad I am not down yonder, where those menare." Then turning his eyes again upon Hamlet, "Ay, you may draw yoursword; what signifies a sword against the power of the devil?"
During the second act, Partridge made very few remarks. He greatlyadmired the fineness of the dresses; nor could he help observing uponthe king's countenance. "Well," said he, "how people may be deceivedby faces! _Nulla fides fronti_ is, I find, a true saying. Who wouldthink, by looking in the king's face, that he had ever committed amurder?" He then enquired after the ghost; but Jones, who intended heshould be surprized, gave him no other satisfaction, than, "that hemight possibly see him again soon, and in a flash of fire."
Partridge sat in a fearful expectation of this; and now, when theghost made his next appearance, Partridge cried out, "There, sir, now;what say you now? is he frightened now or no? As much frightened asyou think me, and, to be sure, nobody can help some fears. I would notbe in so bad a condition as what's his name, squire Hamlet, is there,for all the world. Bless me! what's become of the spirit? As I am aliving soul, I thought I saw him sink into the earth." "Indeed, yousaw right," answered Jones. "Well, well," cries Partridge, "I know itis only a play: and besides, if there was anything in all this, MadamMiller would not laugh so; for as to you, sir, you would not beafraid, I believe, if the devil was here in person.--There, there--Ay,no wonder you are in such a passion, shake the vile wicked wretch topieces. If she was my own mother, I would serve her so. To be sure allduty to a mother is forfeited by such wicked doings.----Ay, go aboutyour business, I hate the sight of you."
Our critic was now pretty silent till the play, which Hamletintroduces before the king. This he did not at first understand, tillJones explained it to him; but he no sooner entered into the spirit ofit, than he began to bless himself that he had never committed murder.Then turning to Mrs Miller, he asked her, "If she did not imagine theking looked as if he was touched; though he is," said he, "a goodactor, and doth all he can to hide it. Well, I would not have so muchto answer for, as that wicked man there hath, to sit upon a muchhigher chair than he sits upon. No wonder he ran away; for your sakeI'll never trust an innocent face again."
The grave-digging scene next engaged the attention of Partridge, whoexpressed much surprize at the number of skulls thrown upon the stage.To which Jones answered, "That it was one of the most famousburial-places about town." "No wonder then," cries Partridge, "thatthe place is haunted. But I never saw in my life a worse grave-digger.I had a sexton, when I was clerk, that should have dug three graveswhile he is digging one. The fellow handles a spade as if it was thefirst time he had ever had one in his hand. Ay, ay, you may sing. Youhad rather sing than work, I believe."--Upon Hamlet's taking up theskull, he cried out, "Well! it is strange to see how fearless some menare: I never could bring myself to touch anything belonging to a deadman, on any account.--He seemed frightened enough too at the ghost, Ithought. _Nemo omnibus horis sapit._"
Little more worth remembering occurred during the play, at the end ofwhich Jones asked him, "Which of the players he had liked best?" Tothis he answered, with some appearance of indignation at the question,"The king, without doubt." "Indeed, Mr Partridge," says Mrs Miller,"you are not of the same opinion with the town; for they are allagreed, that Hamlet is acted by the best player who ever was on thestage." "He the best player!" cries Partridge, with a contemptuoussneer, "why, I could act as well as he myself. I am sure, if I hadseen a ghost, I should have looked in the very same manner, and donejust as he did. And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it,between him and his mother, where you told me he acted so fine, why,Lord help me, any man, that is, any good man, that had such a mother,would have done exactly the same. I know you are only joking with me;but indeed, madam, though I was never at a play in London, yet I haveseen acting before in the country; and the king for my money; hespeaks all his words distinctly, half as loud again as theother.--Anybody may see he is an actor."
While Mrs Miller was thus engaged in conversation with Partridge, alady came up to Mr Jones, whom he immediately knew to be MrsFitzpatrick. She said, she had seen him from the other part of thegallery, and had taken that opportunity of speaking to him, as she hadsomething to say, which might be of great service to himself. She thenacquainted him with her lodgings, and made him an appointment the nextday in the morning; which, upon recollection, she presently changed tothe afternoon; at which time Jones promised to attend her.
Thus ended the adventure at the playhouse; where Partridge hadafforded great mirth, not only to Jones and Mrs Miller, but to all whosat within hearing, who were more attentive to what he said, than toanything that passed on the stage.
He durst not go to bed all that night, for fear of the ghost; and formany nights after sweated two or three hours before he went to sleep,with the same apprehensions, and waked several times in great horrors,crying out, "Lord have mercy upon us! there it is."
History of Tom Jones, a Foundling Page 181