11. CHAPTER XI.
A short chapter; but which contains sufficient matter to affect
the good-natured reader
It was Mr. Allworthy's custom never to punish any one, not even to
turn away a servant, in a passion. He resolved therefore to delay
passing sentence on Jones till the afternoon.
The poor young man attended at dinner, as usual; but his heart was
too much loaded to suffer him to eat. His grief too was a good deal
aggravated by the unkind looks of Mr. Allworthy; whence he concluded
that Western had discovered the whole affair between him and Sophia;
but as to Mr. Blifil's story, he had not the least apprehension; for
of much the greater part he was entirely innocent; and for the
residue, as he had forgiven and forgotten it himself, so he
suspected no remembrance on the other side. When dinner was over,
and the servants departed, Mr. Allworthy began to harangue. He set
forth, in a long speech, the many iniquities of which Jones had been
guilty, particularly those which this day had brought to light; and
concluded by telling him, "That unless he could clear himself of the
charge, he was resolved to banish him his sight for ever."
Many disadvantages attended poor Jones in making his defence; nay,
indeed, he hardly knew his accusation; for as Mr. Allworthy, in
recounting the drunkenness, etc., while he lay ill, out of modesty sunk
everything that related particularly to himself, which indeed
principally constituted the crime; Jones could not deny the charge.
His heart was, besides, almost broken already; and his spirits were so
sunk, that he could say nothing for himself; but acknowledge the
whole, and, like a criminal in despair, threw himself upon mercy;
concluding, "That though he must own himself guilty of many follies
and inadvertencies, he hoped he had done nothing to deserve what would
be to him the greatest punishment in the world."
Allworthy answered, "That he had forgiven him too often already,
in compassion to his youth, and in hopes of his amendment: that he now
found he was an abandoned reprobate, and such as it would be
criminal in any one to support and encourage. Nay," said Mr. Allworthy
to him, "your audacious attempt to steal away the young lady, calls
upon me to justify my own character in punishing you. The world who
have already censured the regard I have shown for you may think,
with some colour at least of justice, that I connive at so base and
barbarous an action- an action of which you must have known my
abhorrence: and which, had you had any concern for my ease and honour,
as well as for my friendship, you would never have thought of
undertaking. Fie upon it, young man! indeed there is scarce any
punishment equal to your crimes, and I can scarce think myself
justifiable in what I am now going to bestow on you. However, as I
have educated you like a child of my own, I will not turn you naked
into the world. When you open this paper, therefore, you will find
something which may enable you, with industry, to get an honest
livelihood; but if you employ it to worse purposes, I shall not
think myself obliged to supply you farther, being resolved, from
this day forward, to converse no more with you on any account. I
cannot avoid saying, there is no part of your conduct which I resent
more than your ill-treatment of that good young man (meaning Blifil)
who hath behaved with so much tenderness and honour towards you."
These last words were a dose almost too bitter to be swallowed. A
flood of tears now gushed from the eyes of Jones, and every faculty of
speech and motion seemed to have deserted him. It was some time before
he was able to obey Allworthy's peremptory commands of departing;
which he at length did, having first kissed his hands with a passion
difficult to be affected, and as difficult to be described.
The reader must be very weak, if, when he considers the light in
which Jones then appeared to Mr. Allworthy, he should blame the rigour
of his sentence. And yet all the neighbourhood, either from this
weakness, or from some worse motive, condemned this justice and
severity as the highest cruelty. Nay, the very persons who had
before censured the good man for the kindness and tenderness shown
to a bastard (his own, according to the general opinion), now cried
out as loudly against turning his own child out of doors. The women
especially were unanimous in taking the part of Jones, and raised more
stories on the occasion than I have room, in this chapter, to set
down.
One thing must not be omitted, that, in their censures on this
occasion, none ever mentioned the sum contained in the paper which
Allworthy gave Jones, which was no less than five hundred pounds;
but all agreed that he was sent away penniless, and some said naked,
from the house of his inhuman father.