Chapter ii.
Containing a very tragical incident.
While Jones was employed in those unpleasant meditations, with whichwe left him tormenting himself, Partridge came stumbling into the roomwith his face paler than ashes, his eyes fixed in his head, his hairstanding an end, and every limb trembling. In short, he looked ashe would have done had he seen a spectre, or had he, indeed, been aspectre himself.
Jones, who was little subject to fear, could not avoid being somewhatshocked at this sudden appearance. He did, indeed, himself changecolour, and his voice a little faultered while he asked him, What wasthe matter?
"I hope, sir," said Partridge, "you will not be angry with me. IndeedI did not listen, but I was obliged to stay in the outward room. I amsure I wish I had been a hundred miles off, rather than have heardwhat I have heard." "Why, what is the matter?" said Jones. "Thematter, sir? O good Heaven!" answered Partridge, "was that woman whois just gone out the woman who was with you at Upton?" "She was,Partridge," cried Jones. "And did you really, sir, go to bed with thatwoman?" said he, trembling.--"I am afraid what past between us is nosecret," said Jones.--"Nay, but pray, sir, for Heaven's sake, sir,answer me," cries Partridge. "You know I did," cries Jones. "Why then,the Lord have mercy upon your soul, and forgive you," cries Partridge;"but as sure as I stand here alive, you have been a-bed with your ownmother."
Upon these words Jones became in a moment a greater picture of horrorthan Partridge himself. He was, indeed, for some time struck dumb withamazement, and both stood staring wildly at each other. At last hiswords found way, and in an interrupted voice he said, "How! how!what's this you tell me?" "Nay, sir," cries Partridge, "I have notbreath enough left to tell you now, but what I have said is mostcertainly true.--That woman who now went out is your own mother. Howunlucky was it for you, sir, that I did not happen to see her at thattime, to have prevented it! Sure the devil himself must have contrivedto bring about this wickedness."
"Sure," cries Jones, "Fortune will never have done with me till shehath driven me to distraction. But why do I blame Fortune? I am myselfthe cause of all my misery. All the dreadful mischiefs which havebefallen me are the consequences only of my own folly and vice. Whatthou hast told me, Partridge, hath almost deprived me of my senses!And was Mrs Waters, then--but why do I ask? for thou must certainlyknow her--If thou hast any affection for me, nay, if thou hast anypity, let me beseech thee to fetch this miserable woman back again tome. O good Heavens! incest----with a mother! To what am I reserved!"He then fell into the most violent and frantic agonies of grief anddespair, in which Partridge declared he would not leave him; but atlast, having vented the first torrent of passion, he came a little tohimself; and then, having acquainted Partridge that he would find thiswretched woman in the same house where the wounded gentleman waslodged, he despatched him in quest of her.
If the reader will please to refresh his memory, by turning to thescene at Upton, in the ninth book, he will be apt to admire the manystrange accidents which unfortunately prevented any interview betweenPartridge and Mrs Waters, when she spent a whole day there with MrJones. Instances of this kind we may frequently observe in life, wherethe greatest events are produced by a nice train of littlecircumstances; and more than one example of this may be discovered bythe accurate eye, in this our history.
After a fruitless search of two or three hours, Partridge returnedback to his master, without having seen Mrs Waters. Jones, who was ina state of desperation at his delay, was almost raving mad when hebrought him his account. He was not long, however, in this conditionbefore he received the following letter:
"SIR,
"Since I left you I have seen a gentleman, from whom I have learned something concerning you which greatly surprizes and affects me; but as I have not at present leisure to communicate a matter of such high importance, you must suspend your curiosity till our next meeting, which shall be the first moment I am able to see you. O, Mr Jones, little did I think, when I past that happy day at Upton, the reflection upon which is like to embitter all my future life, who it was to whom I owed such perfect happiness. Believe me to be ever sincerely your unfortunate
"J. WATERS."
"P.S. I would have you comfort yourself as much as possible, for Mr Fitzpatrick is in no manner of danger; so that whatever other grievous crimes you may have to repent of, the guilt of blood is not among the number."
Jones having read the letter, let it drop (for he was unable to holdit, and indeed had scarce the use of any one of his faculties).Partridge took it up, and having received consent by silence, read itlikewise; nor had it upon him a less sensible effect. The pencil, andnot the pen, should describe the horrors which appeared in both theircountenances. While they both remained speechless the turnkey enteredthe room, and, without taking any notice of what sufficientlydiscovered itself in the faces of them both, acquainted Jones that aman without desired to speak with him. This person was presentlyintroduced, and was no other than Black George.
As sights of horror were not so usual to George as they were to theturnkey, he instantly saw the great disorder which appeared in theface of Jones. This he imputed to the accident that had happened,which was reported in the very worst light in Mr Western's family; heconcluded, therefore, that the gentleman was dead, and that Mr Joneswas in a fair way of coming to a shameful end. A thought which gavehim much uneasiness; for George was of a compassionate disposition,and notwithstanding a small breach of friendship which he had beenover-tempted to commit, was, in the main, not insensible of theobligations he had formerly received from Mr Jones.
The poor fellow, therefore, scarce refrained from a tear at thepresent sight. He told Jones he was heartily sorry for hismisfortunes, and begged him to consider if he could be of any mannerof service. "Perhaps, sir," said he, "you may want a little matter ofmoney upon this occasion; if you do, sir, what little I have isheartily at your service."
Jones shook him very heartily by the hand, and gave him many thanksfor the kind offer he had made; but answered, "He had not the leastwant of that kind." Upon which George began to press his services moreeagerly than before. Jones again thanked him, with assurances that hewanted nothing which was in the power of any man living to give."Come, come, my good master," answered George, "do not take the matterso much to heart. Things may end better than you imagine; to be sureyou an't the first gentleman who hath killed a man, and yet come off.""You are wide of the matter, George," said Partridge, "the gentlemanis not dead, nor like to die. Don't disturb my master, at present, forhe is troubled about a matter in which it is not in your power to dohim any good." "You don't know what I may be able to do, MrPartridge," answered George; "if his concern is about my young lady, Ihave some news to tell my master." "What do you say, Mr George?" criedJones. "Hath anything lately happened in which my Sophia is concerned?My Sophia! how dares such a wretch as I mention her so profanely." "Ihope she will be yours yet," answered George. "Why yes, sir, I havesomething to tell you about her. Madam Western hath just brought MadamSophia home, and there hath been a terrible to do. I could notpossibly learn the very right of it; but my master he hath been in avast big passion, and so was Madam Western, and I heard her say, asshe went out of doors into her chair, that she would never set herfoot in master's house again. I don't know what's the matter, not I,but everything was very quiet when I came out; but Robin, who waitedat supper, said he had never seen the squire for a long while in suchgood humour with young madam; that he kissed her several times, andswore she should be her own mistress, and he never would think ofconfining her any more. I thought this news would please you, and so Islipped out, though it was so late, to inform you of it." Mr Jonesassured George that it did greatly please him; for though he shouldnever more presume to lift his eyes toward that incomparable creature,nothing could so much relieve his misery as the satisfaction he shouldalways have in hearing of her welfare.
The rest of the conversation which passed at the visit is notimport
ant enough to be here related. The reader will, therefore,forgive us this abrupt breaking off, and be pleased to hear how thisgreat good-will of the squire towards his daughter was brought about.
Mrs Western, on her first arrival at her brother's lodging, began toset forth the great honours and advantages which would accrue to thefamily by the match with Lord Fellamar, which her niece had absolutelyrefused; in which refusal, when the squire took the part of hisdaughter, she fell immediately into the most violent passion, and soirritated and provoked the squire, that neither his patience nor hisprudence could bear it any longer; upon which there ensued betweenthem both so warm a bout at altercation, that perhaps the regions ofBillingsgate never equalled it. In the heat of this scolding MrsWestern departed, and had consequently no leisure to acquaint herbrother with the letter which Sophia received, which might havepossibly produced ill effects; but, to say truth, I believe it neveronce occurred to her memory at this time.
When Mrs Western was gone, Sophia, who had been hitherto silent, aswell indeed from necessity as inclination, began to return thecompliment which her father had made her, in taking her part againsther aunt, by taking his likewise against the lady. This was the firsttime of her so doing, and it was in the highest degree acceptable tothe squire. Again, he remembered that Mr Allworthy had insisted on anentire relinquishment of all violent means; and, indeed, as he made nodoubt but that Jones would be hanged, he did not in the least questionsucceeding with his daughter by fair means; he now, therefore, oncemore gave a loose to his natural fondness for her, which had such aneffect on the dutiful, grateful, tender, and affectionate heart ofSophia, that had her honour, given to Jones, and something else,perhaps, in which he was concerned, been removed, I much doubt whethershe would not have sacrificed herself to a man she did not like, tohave obliged her father. She promised him she would make it the wholebusiness of her life to oblige him, and would never marry any managainst his consent; which brought the old man so near to his highesthappiness, that he was resolved to take the other step, and went tobed completely drunk.
History of Tom Jones, a Foundling Page 197