BOOK III
CONTAINING THE MOST MEMORABLE TRANSACTIONS WHICH PASSED IN
THE
FAMILY OF MR. ALLWORTHY, FROM THE TIME WHEN TOMMY JONES ARRIVED
AT THE
AGE OF FOURTEEN, TILL HE ATTAINED THE AGE OF NINETEEN. IN THIS BOOK
THE READER MAY PICK UP SOME HINTS CONCERNING THE EDUCATION OF
CHILDREN
1. CHAPTER I.
Containing little or nothing
The reader will be pleased to remember, that, at the beginning of
the second book of this history, we gave him a hint of our intention
to pass over several large periods of time, in which nothing
happened worthy of being recorded in a chronicle of this kind.
In so doing, we do not only consult our own dignity and ease, but
the good and advantage of the reader: for besides that by these
means we prevent him from throwing away his time, in reading without
either pleasure or emolument, we give him, at all such seasons, an
opportunity of employing that wonderful sagacity, of which he is
master, by filling up these vacant spaces of time with his
conjectures; for which purpose we have taken care to qualify him in
the preceding pages.
For instance, what reader but knows that Mr. Allworthy felt, at
first, for the loss of his friend, those emotions of grief, which on
such occasions enter into all men whose hearts are not composed of
flint, or their heads of as solid materials? Again, what reader doth
not know that philosophy and religion in time moderated, and at last
extinguished, this grief? The former of these teaching the folly and
vanity of it, and the latter correcting it as unlawful, and at the
same time assuaging it, by raising future hopes and assurances,
which enable a strong and religious mind to take leave of a friend, on
his deathbed, with little less indifference than if he was preparing
for a long journey; and, indeed, with little less hope of seeing him
again.
Nor can the judicious reader be at a greater loss on account of Mrs.
Bridget Blifil, who, he may be assured, conducted herself through
the whole season in which grief is to make its appearance on the
outside of the body, with the strictest regard to all the rules of
custom and decency, suiting the alterations of her countenance to
the several alterations of her habit: for as this changed from weeds
to black, from black to grey, from grey to white, so did her
countenance change from dismal to sorrowful, from sorrowful to sad,
and from sad to serious, till the day came in which she was allowed to
return to her former serenity.
We have mentioned these two, as examples only of the task which
may be imposed on readers of the lowest class. Much higher and
harder exercises of judgment and penetration may reasonably be
expected from the upper graduates in criticism. Many notable
discoveries will, I doubt not, be made by such, of the transactions
which happened in the family of our worthy man, during all the years
which we have thought proper to pass over: for though nothing worthy
of a place in this history occurred within that period, yet did
several incidents happen of equal importance with those reported by
the daily and weekly historians of the age; in reading which great
numbers of persons consume a considerable part of their time, very
little, I am afraid, to their emolument. Now, in the conjectures
here proposed, some of the most excellent faculties of the mind may be
employed to much advantage, since it is a more useful capacity to be
able to foretel the actions of men, in any circumstance, from their
characters, than to judge of their characters from their actions.
The former, I own, requires the greater penetration; but may be
accomplished by true sagacity with no less certainty than the latter.
As we are sensible that much the greatest part of our readers are
very eminently possessed of this quality, we have left them a space of
twelve years to exert it in; and shall now bring forth our heroe, at
about fourteen years of age, not questioning that many have been
long impatient to be introduced to his acquaintance.
2. CHAPTER II.
The heroe of this great history appears with very bad omens. A
little tale of so low a kind that some may think it not worth their
notice. A word or two concerning a squire, and more relating to a
gamekeeper and a schoolmaster
As we determined, when we first sat down to write this history, to
flatter no man, but to guide our pen throughout by the directions of
truth, we are obliged to bring our heroe on the stage in a much more
disadvantageous manner than we could wish; and to declare honestly,
even at his first appearance, that it was the universal opinion of all
Mr. Allworthy's family that he was certainly born to be hanged.
Indeed, I am sorry to say there was too much reason for this
conjecture; the lad having from his earliest years discovered a
propensity to many vices, and especially to one which hath as direct a
tendency as any other to that fate which we have just now observed
to have been prophetically denounced against him: he had been
already convicted of three robberies, viz., of robbing an orchard,
of stealing a duck out of a farmer's yard, and of picking Master
Blifil's pocket of a ball.
The vices of this young man were, moreover, heightened by the
disadvantageous light in which they appeared when opposed to the
virtues of Master Blifil, his companion; a youth of so different a
cast from little Jones, that not only the family but all the
neighbourhood resounded his praises. He was, indeed, a lad of a
remarkable disposition; sober, discreet, and pious beyond his age;
qualities which gained him the love of every one who knew him: while
Tom Jones was universally disliked; and many expressed their wonder
that Mr. Allworthy would suffer such a lad to be educated with his
nephew, lest the morals of the latter should be corrupted by his
example.
An incident which happened about this time will set the characters
of these two lads more fairly before the discerning reader than is
in the power of the longest dissertation.
Tom Jones, who, bad as he is, must serve for the heroe of this
history, had only one friend among all the servants of the family; for
as to Mrs. Wilkins, she had long since given him up, and was perfectly
reconciled to her mistress. This friend was the gamekeeper, a fellow
of a loose kind of disposition, and who was thought not to entertain
much stricter notions concerning the difference of meum and
tuum than the young gentleman himself. And hence this friendship gave
occasion to many sarcastical remarks among the domestics, most of
which were either proverbs before, or at least are become so now; and,
indeed, the wit of them all may be comprised in that short Latin
proverb, 'Noscitur a socio;' which, I think, is thus expressed in
English, "You may know him by the company he keeps."
To say the truth, some of that atrocious wickedness in Jones, of
which we have just mentioned three examples, might perhaps be
derived from the encouragement he had received from this fellow who,
in two or three instances, had been what the law calls an accessary
after the fact: for the whole duck, and great part of the apples, were
converted to the use of the gamekeeper and his family; though, as
Jones alone was discovered, the poor lad bore not only the whole
smart, but the whole blame; both which fell again to his lot on the
following occasion.
Contiguous to Mr. Allworthy's estate was the manor of one of those
gentlemen who are called preservers of the game. This species of
men, from the great severity with which they revenge the death of a
hare or partridge, might be thought to cultivate the same superstition
with the Bannians in India; many of whom, we are told, dedicate
their whole lives to the preservation and protection of certain
animals; was it not that our English Bannians, while they preserve
them from other enemies, will most unmercifully slaughter whole
horseloads themselves; so that they stand clearly acquitted of any
such heathenish superstition.
I have, indeed, a much better opinion of this kind of men than is
entertained by some, as I take them to answer the order of Nature, and
the good purposes for which they were ordained, in a more ample manner
than many others. Now, as Horace tells us that there are a set of
human beings
Fruges consumere nati,
'Born to consume the fruits of the earth'; so I make no manner of
doubt but that there are others
Feras consumere nati,
'Born to consume the beasts of the field'; or, as it is commonly
called, the game; and none, I believe, will deny but that those
squires fulfil this end of their creation.
Little Jones went one day a shooting with the gamekeeper; when
happening to spring a covey of partridges near the border of that
manor over which Fortune, to fulfil the wise purposes of Nature, had
planted one of the game consumers, the birds flew into it, and were
marked (as it is called) by the two sportsmen, in some furze bushes,
about two or three hundred paces beyond Mr. Allworthy's dominions.
Mr. Allworthy had given the fellow strict orders, on pain of
forfeiting his place, never to trespass on any of his neighbours; no
more on those who were less rigid in this matter than on the lord of
this manor. With regard to others, indeed, these orders had not been
always very scrupulously kept; but as the disposition of the gentleman
with whom the partridges had taken sanctuary was well known, the
gamekeeper had never yet attempted to invade his territories. Nor
had he done it now, had not the younger sportsman, who was excessively
eager to pursue the flying game, over-persuaded him; but Jones being
very importunate, the other, who was himself keen enough after the
sport, yielded to his persuasions, entered the manor, and shot one
of the partridges.
The gentleman himself was at that time on horse-back, at a little
distance from them; and hearing the gun go off, he immediately made
towards the place, and discovered poor Tom; for the gamekeeper had
leapt into the thickest part of the furze-brake, where he had
happily concealed himself.
The gentleman having searched the lad, and found the partridge
upon him, denounced great vengeance, swearing he would acquaint Mr.
Allworthy. He was as good as his word: for he rode immediately to
his house, and complained of the trespass on his manor in as high
terms and as bitter language as if his house had been broken open, and
the most valuable furniture stole out of it. He added, that some other
person was in his company, though he could not discover him; for
that two guns had been discharged almost in the same instant. And,
says he, "We have found only this partridge, but the Lord knows what
mischief they have done."
At his return home, Tom was presently convened before Mr. Allworthy.
He owned the fact, and alledged no other excuse but what was really
true, viz., that the covey was originally sprung in Mr. Allworthy's
own manor.
Tom was then interrogated who was with him, which Mr. Allworthy
declared he was resolved to know, acquainting the culprit with the
circumstance of the two guns, which had been deposed by the squire and
both his servants; but Tom stoutly persisted in asserting that he
was alone; yet, to say the truth, he hesitated a little at first,
which would have confirmed Mr. Allworthy's belief, had what the squire
and his servants said wanted any further confirmation.
The gamekeeper, being a suspected person, was now sent for, and
the question put to him; but he, relying on the promise which Tom
had made him, to take all upon himself, very resolutely denied being
in company with the young gentleman, or indeed having seen him the
whole afternoon.
Mr. Allworthy then turned towards Tom, with more than usual anger in
his countenance, and advised him to confess who was with him;
repeating, that he was resolved to know. The lad, however, still
maintained his resolution, and was dismissed with much wrath by Mr.
Allworthy, who told him he should have to the next morning to consider
of it, when he should be questioned by another person, and in
another manner.
Poor Jones spent a very melancholy night; and the more so, as he was
without his usual companion; for Master Blifil was gone abroad on a
visit with his mother. Fear of the punishment he was to suffer was
on this occasion his least evil; his chief anxiety being, lest his
constancy should fail him, and he should be brought to betray the
gamekeeper, whose ruin he knew must now be the consequence.
Nor did the gamekeeper pass his time much better. He had the same
apprehensions with the youth; for whose honour he had likewise a
much tenderer regard than for his skin.
In the morning, when Tom attended the reverend Mr. Thwackum, the
person to whom Mr. Allworthy had committed the instruction of the
two boys, he had the same questions put to him by that gentleman which
he been asked the evening before, to which he returned the same
answers. The consequence of this was, so severe a whipping, that it
possibly fell little short of the torture with which confessions are
in some countries extorted from criminals.
Tom bore his punishment with great resolution; and though his master
asked him, between every stroke, whether he would not confess, he
was contented to be flead rather than betray his friend, or break
the promise he had made.
The gamekeeper was now relieved from his anxiety, and Mr.
Allworthy himself began to be concerned at Tom's sufferings: for
besides that Mr. Thwackum, being highly enraged that he was not able
to make the boy say what he himself pleased, had carried his
severity much beyond the good man's intention, this latter began now
to suspect that the squire had been mistaken; which his extreme
eagerness and anger seemed to make probable; and as for what the
servants had said in confirmation of their master's account, he laid
no great stress upon that. Now, as cruelty and injustice were two
ideas of which Mr. Allworthy could by no means support the
consciousness a single moment, he sent for Tom, and after many kind
and friendly exhortations, said, "I am convinced, my dear child,
that my suspicions have wronged you; I am sorry that you have been
so severely punished on this account." And at last gave him a little
horse to make him amends; again repeating his sorrow for what had
past.
Tom's guilt now flew in his face more than any severity could make
it. He could more easily bear the lashes of Thwackum, than the
generosity of Allworthy. The tears burst from his eyes, and he fell
upon his knees, crying, "Oh, sir, you are too good to me. Indeed you
are. Indeed I don't deserve it." And at that very instant, from the
fulness of his heart, had almost betrayed the secret; but the good
genius of the gamekeeper suggested to him what might be the
consequence to the poor fellow, and this consideration sealed his
lips.
Thwackum did all he could to persuade Allworthy from showing any
compassion or kindness to the boy, saying, "He had persisted in an
untruth"; and gave some hints, that a second whipping might probably
bring the matter to light.
But Mr. Allworthy absolutely refused to consent to the experiment.
He said, the boy had suffered enough already for concealing the truth,
even if he was guilty, seeing that he could have no motive but a
mistaken point of honour for so doing.
"Honour!" cryed Thwackum, with some warmth, "mere stubbornness and
obstinacy! Can honour teach any one to tell a lie, or can any honour
exist independent of religion?"
This discourse happened at table when dinner was just ended; and
there were present Mr. Allworthy, Mr. Thwackum, and a third gentleman,
who now entered into the debate, and whom, before we proceed any
further, we shall briefly introduce to our reader's acquaintance.
3. CHAPTER III.
The character of Mr. Square the philosopher, and of Mr. Thwackum the
divine; with a dispute concerning-
The name of this gentleman, who had then resided some time at Mr.
Allworthy's house, was Mr. Square. His natural parts were not of the
first rate, but he had greatly improved them by a learned education.
He was deeply read in the antients, and a profest master of all the
works of Plato and Aristotle. Upon which great models he had
principally formed himself; sometimes according with the opinion of
the one, and sometimes with that of the other. In morals he was a
profest Platonist, and in religion he inclined to be an Aristotelian.
But though he had, as we have said, formed his morals on the
Platonic model, yet he perfectly agreed with the opinion of Aristotle,
in considering that great man rather in the quality of a philosopher
or a speculatist, than as a legislator. This sentiment he carried a
great way; indeed, so far, as to regard all virtue as matter of theory
only. This, it is true, he never affirmed, as I have heard, to any
one; and yet upon the least attention to his conduct, I cannot help
thinking it was his real opinion, as it will perfectly reconcile
some contradictions which might otherwise appear in his character.
This gentleman and Mr. Thwackum scarce ever met without a
disputation; for their tenets were indeed diametrically opposite to
each other. Square held human nature to be the perfection of all
virtue, and that vice was a deviation from our nature, in the same
manner as deformity of body is. Thwackum, on the contrary,
maintained that the human mind, since the fall, was nothing but a sink
of iniquity, till purified and redeemed by grace. In one point only
they agreed, which was, in all their discourses on morality never to
mention the word goodness. The favourite phrase of the former, was the
natural beauty of virtue; that of the latter, was the divine power
of grace. The former measured all actions by the unalterable rule of
right, and the eternal fitness of things; the latter decided all
matters by authority; but in doing this, he always used the scriptures
and their commentators, as the lawyer doth his Coke upon Lyttleton,
where the comment is of equal authority with the text.
After this short introduction, the reader will be pleased to
remember, that the parson had concluded his speech with a triumphant
question, to which he had apprehended no answer; viz., Can any
honour exist independent of religion?
To this Square answered; that it was impossible to discourse
philosophically concerning words, till their meaning was first
established: that there were scarce any two words of a more vague
and uncertain signification, than the two he had mentioned; for that
there were almost as many different opinions concerning honour, as
concerning religion. "But," says he, "if by honour you mean the true
natural beauty of virtue, I will maintain it may exist independent
of any religion whatever. Nay," added he, "you yourself will allow
it may exist independent of all but one: so will a Mahometan, a Jew,
and all the maintainers of all the different sects in the world."
Thwackum replied, this was arguing with the usual malice of all
the enemies to the true Church. He said, he doubted not but that all
the infidels and hereticks in the world would, if they could,
confine honour to their own absurd errors and damnable deceptions;
"but honour," says he, "is not therefore manifold, because there are
many absurd opinions about it; nor is religion manifold, because there
are various sects and heresies in the world. When I mention
religion, I mean the Christian religion; and not only the Christian
religion, but the Protestant religion; and not only the Protestant
religion, but the Church of England. And when I mention honour, I mean
that mode of Divine grace which is not only consistent with, but
dependent upon, this religion; and is consistent with and dependent
upon no other. Now to say that the honour I here mean, and which
was, I thought, all the honour I could be supposed to mean, will
uphold, must less dictate an untruth, is to assert an absurdity too
shocking to be conceived."
"I purposely avoided," says Square, "drawing a conclusion which I
thought evident from what I have said; but if you perceived it, I am
sure you have not attempted to answer it. However, to drop the article
of religion, I think it is plain, from what you have said, that we
have different ideas of honour; or why do we not agree in the same
terms of its explanation? I have asserted, that true honour and true
virtue are almost synonymous terms, and they are both founded on the
unalterable rule of right, and the eternal fitness of things; to which
an untruth being absolutely repugnant and contrary, it is certain that
true honour cannot support an untruth. In this, therefore, I think
we are agreed; but that this honour can be said to be founded on
religion, to which it is antecedent, if by religion be meant any
positive law--"
"I agree," answered Thwackum, with great warmth, "with a man who
asserts honour to be antecedent to religion! Mr. Allworthy, did I
agree--?"
He was proceeding when Mr. Allworthy interposed, telling them very
coldly, they had both mistaken his meaning; for that he had said
nothing of true honour.- It is possible, however, he would not have
easily quieted the disputants, who were growing equally warm, had
not another matter now fallen out, which put a final end to the
conversation at present.
4. CHAPTER IV.
Containing a necessary apology for the author; and a childish
incident, which perhaps requires an apology likewise
Before I proceed farther, I shall beg leave to obviate some
misconstructions into which the zeal of some few readers may lead
them; for I would not willingly give offence to any, especially to men
who are warm in the cause of virtue or religion.
I hope, therefore, no man will, by the grossest misunderstanding
of perversion of my meaning, misrepresent me, as endeavouring to
cast any ridicule on the greatest perfections of human nature; and
which do, indeed, alone purify and ennoble the heart of man, and raise
him above the brute creation. This, reader, I will venture to say (and
by how much the better man you are yourself, by so much the more
will you be inclined to believe me), that I would rather have buried
the sentiments of these two persons in eternal oblivion, than have
done any injury to either of these glorious causes.
On the contrary, it is with a view to their service, that I have
taken upon me to record the lives and actions of two of their false
and pretended champions. A treacherous friend is the most dangerous
enemy; and I will say boldly, that both religion and virtue have
received more real discredit from hypocrites than the wittiest
profligates or infidels could ever cast upon them: nay, farther, as
these two, in their purity, are rightly called the bands of civil
society, and are indeed the greatest of blessings; so when poisoned
and corrupted with fraud, pretence, and effectation, they have
become the worst of civil curses, and have enabled men to perpetrate
the most cruel mischiefs to their own species.
Indeed, I doubt not but this ridicule will in general be allowed: my
chief apprehension is, as many true and just sentiments often came
from the mouths of these persons, lest the whole should be taken
together, and I should be conceived to ridicule all alike. Now the
reader will be pleased to consider, that, as neither of these men were
fools, they could not be supposed to have holden none but wrong
principles, and to have uttered nothing but absurdities; what
injustice, therefore, must I have done to their characters, had I
selected only what was bad! And how horribly wretched and maimed
must their arguments have appeared!
Upon the whole, it is not religion or virtue, but the want or
them, which is here exposed. Had not Thwackum too much neglected
virtue, and Square, religion, in the composition of their several
systems, and had not both utterly discarded all natural goodness of
heart, they had never been represented as the objects of derision in
this history; in which we will now proceed.
This matter then, which put an end to the debate mentioned in the
last chapter, was no other than a quarrel between Master Blifil and
Tom Jones, the consequence of which had been a bloody nose to the
former; for though Master Blifil, notwithstanding he was the
younger, was in size above the other's match, yet Tom was much his
superior at the noble art of boxing.
Tom, however, cautiously avoided all engagements with that youth;
for besides that Tommy Jones was an inoffensive lad amidst all his
roguery, and really loved Blifil, Mr. Thwackum being always the second
of the latter, would have been sufficient to deter him.
But well says a certain author, No man is wise at all hours; it is
therefore no wonder that a boy is not so. A difference arising at play
between the two lads, Master Blifil called Tom a beggarly bastard.
Upon which the latter, who was somewhat passionate in his disposition,
immediately caused that phenomenon in the face of the former, which we
have above remembered.
Master Blifil now, with his blood running from his nose, and the
tears galloping after from his eyes, appeared before his uncle and the
tremendous Thwackum. In which court an indictment of assault, battery,
and wounding, was instantly preferred against Tom; who in his excuse
only pleaded the provocation, which was indeed all the matter that
Master Blifil had omitted.
It is indeed possible that this circumstance might have escaped
his memory; for, in his reply, he positively insisted, that he had
made use of no such appellation; adding, "Heaven forbid such naughty
words should ever come out of his mouth!"
Tom, though against all form of law, rejoined in affirmance of the
words. Upon which Master Blifil said, "It is no wonder. Those who will
tell one fib, will hardly stick at another. If I had told my master
such a wicked fib as you have done, I should be ashamed to show my
face."
"What fib, child?" cries Thwackum pretty eagerly.
"Why, he told you that nobody was with him a shooting when he killed
the partridge; but he knows" (here he burst into a flood of tears),
"yes, he knows, for he confessed it to me, that Black George the
gamekeeper was there. Nay, he said- yes you did- deny it if you can,
that you would not have confest the truth, though master had cut you
to pieces."
At this the fire flashed from Thwackum's eyes, and he cried out in
triumph- "Oh! ho! this is your mistaken notion of honour! This is the
boy who was not to be whipped again!" But Mr. Allworthy, with a more
gentle aspect, turned towards the lad, and said, "Is this true, child?
How came you to persist so obstinately in a falsehood?"
Tom said, "He scorned a lie as much as any one: but he thought his
honour engaged him to act as he did; for he had promised the poor
fellow to conceal him: which," he said, "he thought himself farther
obliged to, as the gamekeeper had begged him not to go into the
gentleman's manor, and had at last gone himself, in compliance with
his persuasions." He said, "This was the whole truth of the matter,
and he would take his oath of it"; and concluded with very
passionately begging Mr. Allworthy "to have compassion on the poor
fellow's family, especially as he himself only had been guilty, and
the other had been very difficultly prevailed on to do what he did.
Indeed, sir," said he, "it could hardly be called a lie that I told;
for the poor fellow was entirely innocent of the whole matter. I
should have gone alone after the birds; nay, I did go at first, and he
only followed me to prevent more mischief. Do, pray, sir, let me be
punished; take my little horse away again; but pray, sir, forgive poor
George."
Mr. Allworthy hesitated a few moments, and then dismissed the
boys, advising them to live more friendly and peaceably together.
5. CHAPTER V.
The opinions of the divine and the philosopher concerning the two
boys; with some reasons for their opinions, and other matters
It is probable, that by disclosing this secret, which had been
communicated in the utmost confidence to him, young Blifil preserved
his companion from a good lashing; for the offence of the bloody
nose would have been of itself sufficient cause for Thwackum to have
proceeded to correction; but now this was totally absorbed in the
consideration of the other matter; and with regard to this, Mr.
Allworthy declared privately, he thought the boy deserved reward
rather than punishment, so that Thwackum's hand was withheld by a
general pardon.
Thwackum, whose meditations were full of birch, exclaimed against
this weak, and, as he said he would venture to call it, wicked lenity.
To remit the punishment of such crimes was, he said, to encourage
them. He enlarged much on the correction of children, and quoted
many texts from Solomon, and others; which being to be found in so
many other books, shall not be found here. He then applied himself
to the vice of lying, on which head he was altogether as learned as he
had been on the other.
Square said, he had been endeavouring to reconcile the behaviour
of Tom with his idea of perfect virtue, but could not. He owned
there was something which at first sight appeared like fortitude in
the action; but as fortitude was a virtue, and falsehood a vice,
they could by no means agree or unite together. He added, that as this
was in some measure to confound virtue and vice, it might be worth Mr.
Thwackum's consideration, whether a larger castigation might not be
laid on upon the account.
As both these learned men concurred in censuring Jones, so were they
no less unanimous in applauding Master Blifil. To bring truth to
light, was by the parson asserted to be the duty of every religious
man; and by the philosopher this was declared to be highly conformable
with the rule of right, and the eternal and unalterable fitness of
things.
All this, however, weighed very little with Mr. Allworthy. He
could not be prevailed on to sign the warrant for the execution of
Jones. There was something within his own breast with which the
invincible fidelity which that youth had preserved, corresponded
much better than it had done with the religion of Thwackum, or with
the virtue of Square. He therefore strictly ordered the former of
these gentlemen to abstain from laying violent hands on Tom for what
had past. The pedagogue was obliged to obey those orders; but not
without great reluctance, and frequent mutterings that the boy would
be certainly spoiled.
Towards the gamekeeper the good man behaved with more severity. He
presently summoned that poor fellow before him, and after many
bitter remonstrances, paid him his wages, and dismist him from his
service; for Mr. Allworthy rightly observed, that there was a great
difference between being guilty of a falsehood to excuse yourself, and
to excuse another. He likewise urged, as the principal motive to his
inflexible severity against this man, that he had basely suffered
Tom Jones to undergo so heavy a punishment for his sake, whereas he
ought to have prevented it by making the discovery himself.
When this story became public, many people differed from Square
and Thwackum, in judging the conduct of the two lads on the
occasion. Master Blifil was generally called a sneaking rascal, a
poor-spirited wretch, with other epithets of the like kind; whilst Tom
was honoured with the appellations of a brave lad, a jolly dog, and an
honest fellow. Indeed, his behaviour to Black George much
ingratiated him with all the servants; for though that fellow was
before universally disliked, yet he was no sooner turned away than
he was as universally pitied; and the friendship and gallantry of
Tom Jones was celebrated by them all with the highest applause; and
they condemned Master Blifil as openly as they durst, without
incurring the danger of offending his mother. For all this, however,
poor Tom smarted in the flesh; for though Thwackum had been
inhibited to exercise his arm on the foregoing account, yet, as the
proverb says, It is easy to find a stick, &c. So was it easy to find a
rod; and, indeed, the not being able to find one was the only thing
which could have kept Thwackum any long time from chastising poor
Jones.
Had the bare delight in the sport been the only inducement to the
pedagogue, it is probable Master Blifil would likewise have had his
share; but though Mr. Allworthy had given him frequent orders to
make no difference between the lads, yet was Thwackum altogether as
kind and gentle to this youth, as he was harsh, nay even barbarous, to
the other. To say the truth, Blifil had greatly gained his master's
affections; partly by the profound respect he always showed his
person, but much more by the decent reverence with which he received
his doctrine; for he had got by heart, and frequently repeated, his
phrases, and maintained all his master's religious principles with a
zeal which was surprizing in one so young, and which greatly
endeared him to the worthy preceptor.
Tom Jones, on the other hand, was not only deficient in outward
tokens of respect, often forgetting to pull off his hat, or to bow
at his master's approach; but was altogether as unmindful both of
his master's precepts and example. He was indeed a thoughtless,
giddy youth, with little sobriety in his manners, and less in his
countenance; and would often very impudently and indecently laugh at
his companion for his serious behaviour.
Mr. Square had the same reason for his preference of the former lad;
for Tom Jones showed no more regard to the learned discourses which
this gentleman would sometimes throw away upon him, than to those of
Thwackum. He once ventured to make a jest of the rule of right; and at
another time said, he believed there was no rule in the world
capable of making such a man as his father (for so Mr. Allworthy
suffered himself to be called).
Master Blifil, on the contrary, had address enough at sixteen to
recommend himself at one and the same time to both these opposites.
With one he was all religion, with the other he was all virtue. And
when both were present, he was profoundly silent, which both
interpreted in his favour and in their own.
Nor was Blifil contented with flattering both these gentlemen to
their faces; he took frequent occasions of praising them behind
their backs to Allworthy; before whom, when they two were alone, and
his uncle commended any religious or virtuous sentiment (for many such
came constantly from him) he seldom failed to ascribe it to the good
instructions he had received from either Thwackum or Square; for he
knew his uncle repeated all such compliments to the persons for
whose use they were meant; and he found by experience the great
impressions which they made on the philosopher, as well as on the
divine: for, to say the truth, there is no kind of flattery so
irresistible as this, at second hand.
The young gentleman, moreover, soon perceived how extremely grateful
all those panegyrics on his instructors were to Mr. Allworthy himself,
as they so loudly resounded the praise of that singular plan of
education which he had laid down; for this worthy man having
observed the imperfect institution of our public schools, and the many
vices which boys were there liable to learn, had resolved to educate
his nephew, as well as the other lad, whom he had in a manner adopted,
in his own house; where he thought their morals would escape all
that danger of being corrupted to which they would be unavoidably
exposed in any public school or university.
Having, therefore, determined to commit these boys to the tuition of
a private tutor, Mr. Thwackum was recommended to him for that
office, by a very particular friend, of whose understanding Mr.
Allworthy had a great opinion, and in whose integrity he placed much
confidence. This Thwackum was fellow of a college, where he almost
entirely resided; and had a great reputation for learning, religion,
and sobriety of manners. And these were doubtless the qualifications
by which Mr. Allworthy's friend had been induced to recommend him;
though indeed this friend had some obligations to Thwackum's family,
who were the most considerable persons in a borough which that
gentleman represented in parliament.
Thwackum, at his first arrival, was extremely agreeable to
Allworthy; and indeed he perfectly answered the character which had
been given of him. Upon longer acquaintance, however, and more
intimate conversation, this worthy man saw infirmities in the tutor,
which he could have wished him to have been without; though as those
seemed greatly overbalanced by his good qualities, they did not
incline Mr. Allworthy to part with him: nor would they indeed have
justified such a proceeding; for the reader is greatly mistaken, if he
conceives that Thwackum appeared to Mr. Allworthy in the same light as
he doth to him in this history; and he is as much deceived, if he
imagines that the most intimate acquaintance which he himself could
have had with that divine, would have informed him of those things
which we, from our inspiration, are enabled to open and discover. Of
readers who, from such conceits as these, condemn the wisdom or
penetration of Mr. Allworthy, I shall not scruple to say, that they
make a very bad and ungrateful use of that knowledge which we have
communicated to them.
These apparent errors in the doctrine of Thwackum served greatly
to palliate the contrary errors in that of Square, which our good
man no less saw and condemned. He thought, indeed, that the
different exuberancies of these gentlemen would correct their
different imperfections; and that from both, especially with his
assistance, the two lads would derive sufficient precepts of true
religion and virtue. If the event happened contrary to his
expectations, this possibly proceeded from some fault in the plan
itself; which the reader hath my leave to discover, if he can: for
we do not pretend to introduce any infallible characters into this
history; where we hope nothing will be found which hath never yet been
seen in human nature.
To return therefore: the reader will not, I think, wonder that the
different behaviour of the two lads above commemorated, produced the
different effects of which he hath already seen some instance; and
besides this, there was another reason for the conduct of the
philosopher and the pedagogue; but this being matter of great
importance, we shall reveal it in the next chapter.
6. CHAPTER VI.
Containing a better reason still for the before-mentioned
opinions
It is to be known then, that those two learned personages, who
have lately made a considerable figure on the theatre of this history,
had, from their first arrival at Mr. Allworthy's house, taken so great
an affection, the one to his virtue, the other to his religion, that
they had meditated the closest alliance with him.
For this purpose they had cast their eyes on that fair widow,
whom, though we have not for some time made any mention of her, the
reader, we trust, hath not forgot. Mrs. Blifil was indeed the object
to which they both aspired.
It may seem remarkable, that, of four persons whom we have
commemorated at Mr. Allworthy's house, three of them should fix
their inclinations on a lady who was never greatly celebrated for
her beauty, and who was, moreover, now a little descended into the
vale of years; but in reality bosom friends, and intimate
acquaintance, have a kind of natural propensity to particular
females at the house of a friend- viz., to his grandmother, mother,
sister, daughter, aunt, niece, or cousin, when they are rich; and to
his wife, sister, daughter, niece, cousin, mistress, or
servant-maid, if they should be handsome.
We would not, however, have our reader imagine, that persons of such
characters as were supported by Thwackum and Square, would undertake a
matter of this kind, which hath been a little censured by some rigid
moralists, before they had thoroughly examined it, and considered
whether it was (as Shakespear phrases it) "Stuff o' th' conscience,"
or no. Thwackum was encouraged to the undertaking by reflecting that
to covet your neighbour's sister is nowhere forbidden: and he knew
it was a rule in the construction of all laws, that "Expressum facit
cessare tacitum." The sense of which is, "When a lawgiver sets down
plainly his whole meaning, we are prevented from making him mean
what we please ourselves." As some instances of women, therefore,
are mentioned in the divine law, which forbids us to covet our
neighbour's goods, and that of a sister omitted, he concluded it to be
lawful. And as to Square, who was in his person what is called a jolly
fellow, or a widow's man, he easily reconciled his choice to the
eternal fitness of things.
Now, as both of these gentlemen were industrious in taking every
opportunity of recommending themselves to the widow, they
apprehended one certain method was, by giving her son the constant
preference to the other lad; and as they conceived the kindness and
affection which Mr. Allworthy showed the latter, must be highly
disagreeable to her, they doubted not but the laying hold on all
occasions to degrade and vilify him, would be highly pleasing to
her; who, as she hated the boy, must love all those who did him any
hurt. In this Thwackum had the advantage; for while Square could
only scarify the poor lad's reputation, he could flea his skin; and,
indeed, he considered every lash he gave him as a compliment paid to
his mistress; so that he could, with the utmost propriety, repeat this
old flogging line, "Castigo te non quod odio habeam, sed quod
AMEN.
I chastise thee not out of hatred, but out of love." And this, indeed,
he often had in his mouth, or rather, according to the old phrase,
never more properly applied, at his fingers' ends.
For this reason, principally, the two gentlemen concurred, as we
have seen above, in their opinion concerning the two lads; this being,
indeed, almost the only instance of their concurring on any point;
for, beside the difference of their principles, they had both long ago
strongly suspected each other's design, and hated one another with
no little degree of inveteracy.
This mutual animosity was a good deal increased by their alternate
successes; for Mrs. Blifil knew what they would be at long before they
imagined it; or, indeed, intended she should: for they proceeded
with great caution, lest she should be offended, and acquaint Mr.
Allworthy. But they had no reason for any such fear; she was well
enough pleased with a passion, of which she intended none should
have any fruits but herself. And the only fruits she designed for
herself were, flattery and courtship; for which purpose she soothed
them by turns, and a long time equally. She was, indeed, rather
inclined to favour the parson's principles; but Square's person was
more agreeable to her eye, for he was a comly man; whereas the
pedagogue did in countenance very nearly resemble that gentleman, who,
in the Harlot's Progress, is seen correcting the ladies in Bridewell.
Whether Mrs. Blifil had been surfeited with the sweets of
marriage, or disgusted by its bitters, or from what other cause it
proceeded, I will not determine; but she could never be brought to
listen to any second proposals. However, she at last conversed with
Square with such a degree of intimacy that malicious tongues began
to whisper things of her, to which as well for the sake of the lady,
as that they were highly disagreeable to the rule of right and the
fitness of things, we will give no credit, and therefore shall not
blot our paper with them. The pedagogue, 'tis certain, whipped on,
without getting a step nearer to his journey's end.
Indeed he had committed a great error, and that Square discovered
much sooner than himself. Mrs. Blifil (as, perhaps, the reader may
have formerly guessed) was not over and above pleased with the
behaviour of her husband; nay, to be honest, she absolutely hated him,
till his death at last a little reconciled him to her affections. It
will not be therefore greatly wondered at, if she had not the most
violent regard to the offspring she had by him. And, in fact, she
had so little of this regard, that in his infancy she seldom saw her
son, or took any notice of him; and hence she acquiesced, after a
little reluctance, in all the favours which Mr. Allworthy showered
on the foundling; whom the good man called his own boy, and in all
things put on an entire equality with Master Blifil. This acquiescence
in Mrs. Blifil was considered by the neighbours, and by the family, as
a mark of her condescension to her brother's humour, and she was
imagined by all others, as well as Thwackum and Square, to hate the
foundling in her heart; nay, the more civility she showed him, the
more they conceived she detested him, and the surer schemes she was
laying for his ruin: for as they thought it her interest to hate
him, it was very difficult for her to persuade them she did not.
Thwackum was the more confirmed in his opinion, as she had more than
once slily caused him to whip Tom Jones, when Mr. Allworthy, who was
an enemy to this exercise, was abroad; whereas she had never given any
such orders concerning young Blifil. And this had likewise imposed
upon Square. In reality, though she certainly hated her own son- of
which, however monstrous it appears, I am assured she is not a
singular instance- she appeared, notwithstanding all her outward
compliance, to be in her heart sufficiently displeased with all the
favour shown by Mr. Allworthy to the foundling. She frequently
complained of this behind her brother's back, and very sharply
censured him for it, both to Thwackum and Square; nay, she would throw
it in the teeth of Allworthy himself, when a little quarrel, or
miff, as it is vulgarly called, arose between them.
However, when Tom grew up, and gave tokens of that gallantry of
temper which greatly recommends men to women, this disinclination
which she had discovered to him when a child, by degrees abated, and
at last she so evidently demonstrated her affection to him to be
much stronger than what she bore her own son, that it was impossible
to mistake her any longer. She was so desirous of often seeing him,
and discovered such satisfaction and delight in his company, that
before he was eighteen years old he was become a rival to both
Square and Thwackum; and what is worse, the whole country began to
talk as loudly of her inclination to Tom, as they had before done of
that which she had shown to Square: on which account the philosopher
conceived the most implacable hatred for our poor heroe.
7. CHAPTER VII.
In which the author himself makes his appearance on the stage
Though Mr. Allworthy was not of himself hasty to see things in a
disadvantageous light, and was a stranger to the public voice, which
seldom reaches to a brother or a husband, though it rings in the
ears of all the neighbourhood; yet was this affection of Mrs. Blifil
to Tom, and the preference which she too visibly gave him to her own
son, of the utmost disadvantage to that youth.
For such was the compassion which inhabited Mr. Allworthy's mind,
that nothing but the steel of justice could ever subdue it. To be
unfortunate in any respect was sufficient, if there was no demerit
to counterpoise it, to turn the scale of that good man's pity, and
to engage his friendship and his benefaction.
When therefore he plainly saw Master Blifil was absolutely
detested (for that he was) by his own mother, he began, on that
account only, to look with an eye of compassion upon him; and what the
effects of compassion are, in good and benevolent minds, I need not
here explain to most of my readers.
Henceforward he saw every appearance of virtue in the youth
through the magnifying end, and viewed all his faults with the glass
inverted, so that they became scarce perceptible. And this perhaps the
amiable temper of pity may make commendable; but the next step the
weakness of human nature alone must excuse; for he no sooner perceived
that preference which Mrs. Blifil gave to Tom, than that poor youth
(however innocent) began to sink in his affections as he rose in hers.
This, it is true, would of itself alone never have been able to
eradicate Jones from his bosom; but it was greatly injurious to him,
and prepared Mr. Allworthy's mind for those impressions which
afterwards produced the mighty events that will be contained hereafter
in this history; and to which, it must be confest, the unfortunate
lad, by his own wantonness, wildness, and want of caution, too much
contributed.
In recording some instances of these, we shall, if rightly
understood, afford a very useful lesson to those well-disposed
youths who shall hereafter be our readers; for they may here find,
that goodness of heart, and openness of temper, though these may
give them great comfort within, and administer to an honest pride in
their own minds, will by no means, alas! do their business in the
world. Prudence and circumspection are necessary even to the best of
men. They are indeed, as it were, a guard to Virtue, without which she
can never be safe. It is not enough that your designs, nay, that
your actions, are intrinsically good; you must take care they shall
appear so. If your inside be never so beautiful, you must preserve a
fair outside also. This must be constantly looked to, or malice and
envy will take care to blacken it so, that the sagacity and goodness
of an Allworthy will not be able to see through it, and to discern the
beauties within. Let this, my young readers, be your constant maxim,
that no man can be good enough to enable him to neglect the rules of
prudence; nor will Virtue herself look beautiful, unless she be
bedecked with the outward ornaments of decency and decorum. And this
precept, my worthy disciples, if you read with due attention, you
will, I hope, find sufficiently enforced by examples in the
following pages.
I ask pardon for this short appearance, by way of chorus, on the
stage. It is in reality for my own sake, that, while I am
discovering the rocks on which innocence and goodness often split, I
may not be misunderstood to recommend the very means to my worthy
readers, by which I intend to show them they will be undone. And this,
as I could not prevail on any of my actors to speak, I myself was
obliged to declare.
8. CHAPTER VIII
A childish incident, in which, however, is seen a good-natured
disposition in Tom Jones
The reader may remember that Mr. Allworthy gave Tom Jones a little
horse, as a kind of smart-money for the punishment which he imagined
he had suffered innocently.
This horse Tom kept above half a year, and then rode him to a
neighbouring fair, and sold him.
At his return, being questioned by Thwackum what he had done with
the money for which the horse was sold, he frankly declared he would
not tell him.
"Oho!" says Thwackum, "you will not! then I will have it out of your
br-h"; that being the place to which he always applied for information
on every doubtful occasion.
Tom was now mounted on the back of a footman, and everything
prepared for execution, when Mr. Allworthy, entering the room, gave
the criminal a reprieve, and took him with him into another apartment;
where, being alone with Tom, he put the same question to him which
Thwackum had before asked him.
Tom answered, he could in duty refuse him nothing; but as for that
tyrannical rascal, he would never make him any other answer than
with a cudgel, with which he hoped soon to be able to pay him for
all his barbarities.
Mr. Allworthy very severely reprimanded the lad for his indecent and
disrespectful expressions concerning his master; but much more for his
avowing an intention of revenge. He threatened him with the entire
loss of his favour, if he ever heard such another word from his mouth;
for, he said, he would never support or befriend a reprobate. By these
and the like declarations, he extorted some compunction from Tom, in
which that youth was not over-sincere; for he really meditated some
return for all the smarting favours he had received at the hands of
the pedagogue. He was, however, brought by Mr. Allworthy to express
a concern for his resentment against Thwackum; and then the good
man, after some wholesome admonition, permitted him to proceed,
which he did as follows:-
"Indeed, my dear sir, I love and honour you more than all the world:
I know the great obligations I have to you, and should detest myself
if I thought my heart was capable of ingratitude. Could the little
horse you gave me speak, I am sure he could tell you how fond I was of
your present; for I had more pleasure in feeding him than in riding
him. Indeed, sir, it went to my heart to part with him; nor would I
have sold him upon any other account in the world than what I did. You
yourself, sir, I am convinced, in my case, would have done the same:
for none ever so sensibly felt the misfortunes of others. What would
you feel, dear sir, if you thought yourself the occasion of them?
Indeed, sir, there never was any misery like theirs."
"Like whose, child?" says Allworthy: "What do you mean?"
"Oh, sir!" answered Tom, "your poor gamekeeper, with all his large
family, ever since your discarding him, have been perishing with all
the miseries of cold and hunger: I could not bear to see these poor
wretches naked and starving, and at the same time know myself to
have been the occasion of all their sufferings. I could not bear it,
sir; upon my soul, I could not." [Here the tears ran down his
cheeks, and he thus proceeded.] "It was to save them from absolute
destruction I parted with your dear present, notwithstanding all the
value I had for it: I sold the horse for them, and they have every
farthing of the money."
Mr. Allworthy now stood silent for some moments, and before he spoke
the tears started from his eyes. He at length dismissed Tom with a
gentle rebuke, advising him for the future to apply to him in cases of
distress, rather than to use extraordinary means of relieving them
himself.
This affair was afterwards the subject of much debate between
Thwackum and Square. Thwackum held, that this was flying in Mr.
Allworthy's face, who had intended to punish the fellow for his
disobedience. He said, in some instances, what the world called
charity appeared to him to be opposing the will of the Almighty, which
had marked some particular persons for destruction; and that this
was in like manner acting in opposition to Mr. Allworthy;
concluding, as usual, with a hearty recommendation of birch.
Square argued strongly on the other side, in opposition perhaps to
Thwackum, or in compliance with Mr. Allworthy, who seemed very much to
approve what Jones had done. As to what he urged on this occasion,
as I am convinced most of my readers will be much abler advocates
for poor Jones, it would be impertinent to relate it. Indeed it was
not difficult to reconcile to the rule of right an action which it
would have been impossible to deduce from the rule of wrong.
9. CHAPTER IX.
Containing an incident of a more heinous kind, with the comments
of Thwackum and Square
It hath been observed by some man of much greater reputation for
wisdom than myself, that misfortunes seldom come single. An instance
of this may, I believe, be seen in those gentlemen who have the
misfortune to have any of their rogueries detected; for here discovery
seldom stops till the whole is come out. Thus it happened to poor Tom;
who was no sooner pardoned for selling the horse, than he was
discovered to have some time before sold a fine Bible which Mr.
Allworthy gave him, the money arising from which sale he had
disposed of in the same manner. This Bible Master Blifil had
purchased, though he had already such another of his own, partly out
of respect for the book, and partly out of friendship to Tom, being
unwilling that the Bible should be sold out of the family at
half-price. He therefore deposited the said half-price himself; for he
was a very prudent lad, and so careful of his money, that he had
laid up almost every penny which he had received from Mr. Allworthy.
Some people have been noted to be able to read in no book but
their own. On the contrary, from the time when Master Blifil was first
possessed of this Bible, he never used any other. Nay, he was seen
reading in it much oftener than he had before been in his own. Now, as
he frequently asked Thwackum to explain difficult passages to him,
that gentleman unfortunately took notice of Tom's name, which was
written in many parts of the book. This brought on an inquiry, which
obliged Master Blifil to discover the whole matter.
Thwackum was resolved a crime of this kind, which he called
sacrilege, should not go unpunished. He therefore proceeded
immediately to castigation: and not contented with that he
acquainted Mr. Allworthy, at their next meeting, with this monstrous
crime, as it appeared to him: inveighing against Tom in the most
bitter terms, and likening him to the buyers and sellers who were
driven out of the temple.
Square saw this matter in a very different light. He said, he
could not perceive any higher crime in selling one book than in
selling another. That to sell Bibles was strictly lawful by all laws
both Divine and human, and consequently there was no unfitness in
it. He told Thwackum, that his great concern on this occasion
brought to his mind the story of a very devout woman, who, out of pure
regard to religion, stole Tillotson's Sermons from a lady of her
acquaintance.
This story caused a vast quantity of blood to rush into the parson's
face, which of itself was none of the palest; and he was going to
reply with great warmth and anger, had not Mrs. Blifil, who was
present at this debate, interposed. That lady declared herself
absolutely of Mr. Square's side. She argued, indeed, very learnedly in
support of his opinion; and concluded with saying, if Tom had been
guilty of any fault, she must confess her own son appeared to be
equally culpable; for that she could see no difference between the
buyer and the seller; both of whom were alike to be driven out of
the temple.
Mrs. Blifil having declared her opinion, put an end to the debate.
Square's triumph would almost have stopt his words, had he needed
them; and Thwackum, who, for reasons before-mentioned, durst not
venture at disobliging the lady, was almost choaked with
indignation. As to Mr. Allworthy, he said, since the boy had been
already punished he would not deliver his sentiments on the
occasion; and whether he was or was not angry with the lad, I must
leave to the reader's own conjecture.
Soon after this, an action was brought against the gamekeeper by
Squire Western (the gentleman in whose manor the partridge was
killed), for depredations of the like kind. This was a most
unfortunate circumstance for the fellow, as it not only of itself
threatened his ruin, but actually prevented Mr. Allworthy from
restoring him to his favour: for as that gentleman was walking out one
evening with Master Blifil and young Jones, the latter slily drew
him to the habitation of Black George; where the family of that poor
wretch, namely, his wife and children, were found in all the misery
with which cold, hunger, and nakedness, can affect human creatures:
for as to the money they had received from Jones, former debts had
consumed almost the whole.
Such a scene as this could not fail of affecting the heart of Mr.
Allworthy. He immediately gave the mother a couple of guineas, with
which he bid her cloath her children. The poor woman burst into
tears at this goodness, and while she was thanking him, could not
refrain from expressing her gratitude to Tom; who had, she said,
long preserved both her and hers from starving. "We have not," says
she, "had a morsel to eat, nor have these poor children had a rag to
put on, but what his goodness hath bestowed on us." For, indeed,
besides the horse and the Bible, Tom had sacrificed a night-gown,
and other things, to the use of this distressed family.
On their return home, Tom made use of all his eloquence to display
the wretchedness of these people, and the penitence of Black George
himself; and in this he succeeded so well, that Mr. Allworthy said, he
thought the man had suffered enough for what was past; that he would
forgive him, and think of some means of providing for him and his
family.
Jones was so delighted with this news, that, though it was dark when
they returned home, he could not help going back a mile, in a shower
of rain, to acquaint the poor woman with the glad tidings; but, like
other hasty divulgers of news, he only brought on himself the
trouble of contradicting it: for the ill fortune of Black George
made use of the very opportunity of his friend's absence to overturn
all again.
10. CHAPTER X.
In which Master Blifil and Jones appear in different lights
Master Blifil fell very short of his companion in the amiable
quality of mercy; but he as greatly exceeded him in one of a much
higher kind, namely, in justice: in which he followed both the
precepts and example of Thwackum and Square; for though they would
both make frequent use of the word mercy, yet it was plain that in
reality Square held it to be inconsistent with the rule of right;
and Thwackum was for doing justice, and leaving mercy to heaven. The
two gentlemen did indeed somewhat differ in opinion concerning the
objects of this sublime virtue; by which Thwackum would probably
have destroyed one half of mankind, and Square the other half.
Master Blifil then, though he had kept silence in the presence of
Jones, yet, when he had better considered the matter, could by no
means endure the thought of suffering his uncle to confer favours on
the undeserving. He therefore resolved immediately to acquaint him
with the fact which we have above slightly hinted to the reader. The
truth of which was as follows:
The gamekeeper, about a year after he was dismissed from Mr.
Allworthy's service, and before Tom's selling the horse, being in want
of bread, either to fill his own mouth or those of his family, as he
passed through a field belonging to Mr. Western espied a hare
sitting in her form. This hare he had basely and barbarously knocked
on the head, against the laws of the land, and no less against the
laws of sportsmen.
The higgler to whom the hare was sold, being unfortunately taken
many months after with a quantity of game upon him, was obliged to
make his peace with the squire, by becoming evidence against some
poacher. And now Black George was pitched upon by him, as being a
person already obnoxious to Mr. Western, and one of no good fame in
the country. He was, besides, the best sacrifice the higgler could
make, as he had supplied him with no game since; and by this means the
witness had an opportunity of screening his better customers: for
the squire, being charmed with the power of punishing Black George,
whom a single transgression was sufficient to ruin, made no further
enquiry.
Had this fact been truly laid before Mr. Allworthy, it might
probably have done the gamekeeper very little mischief. But there is
no zeal blinder than that which is inspired with the love of justice
against offenders. Master Blifil had forgot the distance of the
time. He varied likewise in the manner of the fact: and by the hasty
addition of the single letter S he considerably altered the story; for
he said that George had wired hares. These alterations might
probably have been set right, had not Master Blifil unluckily insisted
on a promise of secrecy from Mr. Allworthy before he revealed the
matter to him; but by that means the poor gamekeeper was condemned
without having an opportunity to defend himself: for as the fact of
killing the hare, and of the action brought, were certainly true,
Mr. Allworthy had no doubt concerning the rest.
Short-lived then was the joy of these poor people; for Mr. Allworthy
the next morning declared he had fresh reason, without assigning it,
for his anger, and strictly forbad Tom to mention George any more:
though as for his family, he said he would endeavour to keep them from
starving; but as to the fellow himself, he would leave him to the
laws, which nothing could keep him from breaking.
Tom could by no means divine what had incensed Mr. Allworthy, for of
Master Blifil he had not the least suspicion. However, as his
friendship was to be tired out by no disappointments, he now
determined to try another method of preserving the poor gamekeeper
from ruin.
Jones was lately grown very intimate with Mr. Western. He had so
greatly recommended himself to that gentleman, by leaping over
five-barred gates, and by other acts of sportsmanship, that the squire
had declared Tom would certainly make a great man if he had but
sufficient encouragement. He often wished he had himself a son with
such parts; and one day very solemnly asserted at a drinking bout,
that Tom should hunt a pack of hounds for a thousand pound of his
money, with any huntsman in the whole country.
By such kind of talents he had so ingratiated himself with the
squire, that he was a most welcome guest at his table, and a favourite
companion in his sport: everything which the squire held most dear, to
wit, his guns, dogs, and horses, were now as much at the command of
Jones, as if they had been his own. He resolved therefore to make
use of this favour on behalf of his friend Black George, whom he hoped
to introduce into Mr. Western's family, in the same capacity in
which he had before served Mr. Allworthy.
The reader, if he considers that this fellow was already obnoxious
to Mr. Western, and if he considers farther the weighty business by
which that gentleman's displeasure had been incurred, will perhaps
condemn this as a foolish and desperate undertaking; but if he
should totally condemn young Jones on that account, he will greatly
applaud him for strengthening himself with all imaginable interest
on so arduous an occasion.
For this purpose, then, Tom applied to Mr. Western's daughter, a
young lady of about seventeen years of age, whom her father, next
after those necessary implements of sport just before mentioned, loved
and esteemed above all the world. Now, as she had some influence on
the squire, so Tom had some little influence on her. But this being
the intended heroine of this work, a lady with whom we ourselves are
greatly in love, and with whom many of our readers will probably be in
love too, before we part, it is by no means proper she should make her
appearance at the end of a book.