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

greater fright. The former of these, however, when she heard her master speak kindly to Jones, and perceived what had happened, came again to herself; but Partridge no sooner saw the gentleman, than the strangeness of his dress infused greater terrors into that poor fellow than he had before felt, either from the strange description which he had heard, or from the uproar which had happened at the door.

To say the truth, it was an appearance which might have affected a more constant mind than that of Mr. Partridge. This person was of the tallest size, with a long beard as white as snow. His body was clothed with the skin of an ass, made something into the form of a coat. He wore likewise boots on his legs, and a cap on his head, both composed of the skin of some other animals.

As soon as the old gentleman came into his house, the old woman began her congratulations on his happy escape from the ruffians. “Yes,” cried he, “I have escaped, indeed, thanks to my preserver.”⁠—“O the blessing on him!” answered she: “he is a good gentleman, I warrant him. I was afraid your worship would have been angry with me for letting him in; and to be certain I should not have done it, had not I seen by the moonlight that he was a gentleman, and almost frozen to death. And to be certain it must have been some good angel that sent him hither, and tempted me to do it.”

“I am afraid, sir,” said the old gentleman to Jones, “that I have nothing in this house which you can either eat or drink, unless you will accept a dram of brandy; of which I can give you some most excellent, and which I have had by me these thirty years.” Jones declined this offer in a very civil and proper speech, and then the other asked him, “Whither he was travelling when he missed his way?” saying, “I must own myself surprised to see such a person as you appear to be, journeying on foot at this time of night. I suppose, sir, you are a gentleman of these parts; for you do not look like one who is used to travel far without horses?”

“Appearances,” cried Jones, “are often deceitful; men sometimes look what they are not. I assure you I am not of this country; and whither I am travelling, in reality I scarce know myself.”

“Whoever you are, or whithersoever you are going,” answered the old man, “I have obligations to you which I can never return.”

“I once more,” replied Jones, “affirm that you have none; for there can be no merit in having hazarded that in your service on which I set no value; and nothing is so contemptible in my eyes as life.”

“I am sorry, young gentleman,” answered the stranger, “that you have any reason to be so unhappy at your years.”

“Indeed I am, sir,” answered Jones, “the most unhappy of mankind.”⁠—“Perhaps you have had a friend, or a mistress?” replied the other. “How could you,” cries Jones, “mention two words sufficient to drive me to distraction?”⁠—“Either of them are enough to drive any man to distraction,” answered the old man. “I enquire no farther, sir; perhaps my curiosity hath led me too far already.”

“Indeed, sir,” cries Jones, “I cannot censure a passion which I feel at this instant in the highest degree. You will pardon me when I assure you, that everything which I have seen or heard since I first entered this house hath conspired to raise the greatest curiosity in me. Something very extraordinary must have determined you to this course of life, and I have reason to fear your own history is not without misfortunes.”

Here the old gentleman again sighed, and remained silent for some minutes: at last, looking earnestly on Jones, he said, “I have read that a good countenance is a letter of recommendation; if so, none ever can be more strongly recommended than yourself. If I did not feel some yearnings towards you from another consideration, I must be the most ungrateful monster upon earth; and I am really concerned it is no otherwise in my power than by words to convince you of my gratitude.”

Jones, after a moment’s hesitation, answered, “That it was in his power by words to gratify him extremely. I have confessed a curiosity,” said he, “sir; need I say how much obliged I should be to you, if you would condescend to gratify it? Will you suffer me therefore to beg, unless any consideration restrains you, that you would be pleased to acquaint me what motives have induced you thus to withdraw from the society of mankind, and to betake yourself to a course of life to which it sufficiently appears you were not born?”

“I scarce think myself at liberty to refuse you anything after what hath happened,” replied the old man. “If you desire therefore to hear the story of an unhappy man, I will relate it to you. Indeed you judge rightly, in thinking there is commonly something extraordinary in the fortunes of those who fly from society; for however it may seem a paradox, or even a contradiction, certain it is, that great philanthropy chiefly inclines us to avoid and detest mankind; not on account so much of their private and selfish vices, but for those of a relative kind; such as envy, malice, treachery, cruelty, with every other species of malevolence. These are the vices which true philanthropy abhors, and which rather than see and converse with, she avoids society itself. However, without a compliment to you, you do not appear to me one of those whom I should shun or detest; nay, I must say, in what little hath dropped from you, there appears some parity in our fortunes: I hope, however, yours will conclude more successfully.”

Here some compliments passed between our hero and his host, and then the latter was going to begin his history, when