The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, Henry Fielding [best ereader under 100 TXT] 📗

then,” answered she, “as I hope to be saved, and may the devil fetch me if I speak a syllable more than the truth, I have heard her mention Mr. Jones; but in a civil and modest way, I confess; yet I could perceive she thought a great deal more than she said.”⁠—“O my dear woman!” cries Jones, “her thoughts of me I shall never be worthy of. Oh, she is all gentleness, kindness, goodness! Why was such a rascal as I born, ever to give her soft bosom a moment’s uneasiness? Why am I cursed? I, who would undergo all the plagues and miseries which any daemon ever invented for mankind, to procure her any good; nay, torture itself could not be misery to me, did I but know that she was happy.”⁠—“Why, look you there now,” says the landlady; “I told her you was a constant lovier.”⁠—“But pray, madam, tell me when or where you knew anything of me; for I never was here before, nor do I remember ever to have seen you.”⁠—“Nor is it possible you should,” answered she; “for you was a little thing when I had you in my lap at the squire’s.”⁠—“How, the squire’s?” says Jones: “what, do you know that great and good Mr. Allworthy then?”⁠—“Yes, marry, do I,” says she: “who in the country doth not?”⁠—“The fame of his goodness indeed,” answered Jones, “must have extended farther than this; but heaven only can know him⁠—can know that benevolence which it copied from itself, and sent upon earth as its own pattern. Mankind are as ignorant of such divine goodness, as they are unworthy of it; but none so unworthy of it as myself. I, who was raised by him to such a height; taken in, as you must well know, a poor baseborn child, adopted by him, and treated as his own son, to dare by my follies to disoblige him, to draw his vengeance upon me. Yes, I deserve it all; for I will never be so ungrateful as ever to think he hath done an act of injustice by me. No, I deserve to be turned out of doors, as I am. And now, madam,” says he, “I believe you will not blame me for turning soldier, especially with such a fortune as this in my pocket.” At which words he shook a purse, which had but very little in it, and which still appeared to the landlady to have less.

My good landlady was (according to vulgar phrase) struck all of a heap by this relation. She answered coldly, “That to be sure people were the best judges what was most proper for their circumstances. But hark,” says she, “I think I hear somebody call. Coming! coming! the devil’s in all our volk; nobody hath any ears. I must go downstairs; if you want any more breakfast the maid will come up. Coming!” At which words, without taking any leave, she flung out of the room; for the lower sort of people are very tenacious of respect; and though they are contented to give this gratis to persons of quality, yet they never confer it on those of their own order without taking care to be well paid for their pains.

III

In which the surgeon makes his second appearance.

Before we proceed any farther, that the reader may not be mistaken in imagining the landlady knew more than she did, nor surprised that she knew so much, it may be necessary to inform him that the lieutenant had acquainted her that the name of Sophia had been the occasion of the quarrel; and as for the rest of her knowledge, the sagacious reader will observe how she came by it in the preceding scene. Great curiosity was indeed mixed with her virtues; and she never willingly suffered anyone to depart from her house, without enquiring as much as possible into their names, families, and fortunes.

She was no sooner gone than Jones, instead of animadverting on her behaviour, reflected that he was in the same bed which he was informed had held his dear Sophia. This occasioned a thousand fond and tender thoughts, which we would dwell longer upon, did we not consider that such kind of lovers will make a very inconsiderable part of our readers. In this situation the surgeon found him, when he came to dress his wound. The doctor perceiving, upon examination, that his pulse was disordered, and hearing that he had not slept, declared that he was in great danger; for he apprehended a fever was coming on, which he would have prevented by bleeding, but Jones would not submit, declaring he would lose no more blood; “and, doctor,” says he, “if you will be so kind only to dress my head, I have no doubt of being well in a day or two.”

“I wish,” answered the surgeon, “I could assure your being well in a month or two. Well, indeed! No, no, people are not so soon well of such contusions; but, sir, I am not at this time of day to be instructed in my operations by a patient, and I insist on making a revulsion before I dress you.”

Jones persisted obstinately in his refusal, and the doctor at last yielded; telling him at the same time that he would not be answerable for the ill consequence, and hoped he would do him the justice to acknowledge that he had given him a contrary advice; which the patient promised he would.

The doctor retired into the kitchen, where, addressing himself to the landlady, he complained bitterly of the undutiful behaviour of his patient, who would not be blooded, though he was in a fever.

“It is an eating fever then,” says the landlady; “for he hath devoured two swinging buttered toasts this morning for breakfast.”

“Very likely,” says the doctor: “I have known people eat in a fever; and it is very easily accounted for; because the acidity occasioned by the febrile matter may stimulate