impossible for him to raise any objection to this visit. Fortune,
however, or the gentleman lately mentioned above, stood his friend,
and prevented his undergoing so great a shock; for at the very instant
when the coach was sent for, Partridge arrived, and, having called
Mrs. Miller from the company, acquainted her with the dreadful
accident lately come to light; and hearing Mr. Allworthy's
intention, begged her to find some means of stopping him: "For,"
says he, "the matter must at all hazards be kept a secret from him;
and if he should now go, he will find Mr. Jones and his mother, who
arrived just as I left him, lamenting over one another the horrid
crime they have ignorantly committed."
The poor woman, who was almost deprived of her senses at his
dreadful news, was never less capable of invention than at present.
However, as women are much readier at this than men, she bethought
herself of an excuse, and, returning to Allworthy, said, "I am sure,
sir, you will be surprized at hearing any objection from me to the
kind proposal you just now made; and yet I am afraid of the
consequence of it, if carried immediately into execution. You must
imagine, sir, that all the calamities which have lately befallen
this poor young fellow must have thrown him into the lowest
dejection of spirits; and now, sir, should we all of a sudden fling
him into such a violent fit of joy, as I know your presence will
occasion, it may, I am afraid, produce some fatal mischief, especially
as his servant, who is without, tells me he is very far from being
well."
"Is his servant without?" cries Allworthy; "pray call him hither.
I will ask him some questions concerning his master."
Partridge was at first afraid to appear before Mr. Allworthy; but
was at length persuaded, after Mrs. Miller, who had often heard his
whole story from his own mouth, had promised to introduce him.
Allworthy recollected Partridge the moment he came into the room,
though many years had passed since he had seen him. Mrs. Miller,
therefore, might have spared here a formal oration, in which,
indeed, she was something prolix; for the reader, I believe, may
have observed already that the good woman, among other things, had a
tongue always ready for the service of her friends.
"And are you," said Allworthy to Partridge, "the servant of Mr.
Jones?" "I can't say, sir," answered he, "that I am regularly a
servant, but I live with him, an't please your honour, at present. Non
sum qualis eram; as your honour very well knows."
Mr. Allworthy then asked him many questions concerning Jones, as
to his health, and other matters; to all which Partridge answered,
without having the least regard to what was, but considered only
what he would have things appear; for a strict adherence to truth
was not among the articles of this honest fellow's morality, or his
religion.
During this dialogue Mr. Nightingale took his leave, and presently
after Mrs. Miller left the room, when Allworthy likewise dispatched
Blifil; for he imagined that Partridge, when alone with him, would
be more explicit than before company. They were no sooner left in
private together than Allworthy began, as in the following chapter.
Chapter 6
In which the history is farther continued
"Sure, friend," said the good man, "you are the strangest of all
human beings. Not only to have suffered as you have formerly, for
obstinately persisting in a falsehood, but to persist in it thus to
the last, and to pass thus upon the world for a servant of your own
son! What interest can you have in all this? What can be your motive?"
"I see, sir," said Partridge, falling down upon his knees, "that
your honour is prepossessed against me, and resolved not to believe
anything I say, and, therefore, what signifies my protestations? but
yet there is One above who knows that I am not the father of this
young man."
"How!" said Allworthy, "will you yet deny what you was formerly
convicted of upon such unanswerable, such manifest evidence? Nay, what
a confirmation is your being now found with this very man, of all
which twenty years ago appeared against you! I thought you had left
the country! nay, I thought you had been long since dead.- In what
manner did you know anything of this young man? Where did you meet
with him, unless you had kept some correspondence together? Do not
deny this; for I promise you it will greatly raise your son in my
opinion, to find that he hath such a sense of filial duty as privately
to support his father for so many years."
"If your honour will have patience to hear me," said Partridge, "I
will tell you all.- "Being bid go on, he proceeded thus: "When your
honour conceived that displeasure against me, it ended in my ruin soon
after; for I lost my little school; and the minister, thinking, I
suppose, it would be agreeable to your honour, turned me out from
the office of clerk; so that I had nothing to trust to but the
barber's shop, which, in a country place like that, is a poor
livelihood; and when my wife died (for till that time I received a
pension of L12 a year from an unknown hand, which indeed I believe was
your honour's own, for nobody that ever I heard of doth these things
besides)- but, as I was saying, when she died, this pension forsook
me; so that now, as I owed two or three small debts, which began to be
troublesome to me, particularly one* which an attorney brought up by
law-charges from 15s. to near L30, and as I found all my usual means
of living had forsook me, I packed up my little all as well as I
could, and went off.
*This is a fact which I knew happen to a poor clergyman in
Dorsetshire, by the villany of an attorney who, not contented with the
exorbitant costs to which the poor man was put by a single action,
brought afterwards another action on the judgment, as it was called. A
method frequently used to oppress the poor, and bring money into the
pockets of attorneys to the great scandal of the law, of the nation,
of Christanity, and even of human nature itself.
"The first place I came to was Salisbury, where I got into the
service of a gentleman belonging to the law, and one of the best
gentlemen that ever I knew, for he was not only good to me, but I know
a thousand good and charitable acts which he did while I staid with
him; and I have known him often refuse business because it was paultry
and oppressive." "You need not be so particular," said Allworthy; "I
know this gentleman, and a very worthy man he is, and an honour to his
profession."-- "Well, sir," continued Partridge, "from hence I removed
to Lymington, where I was above three years in the service of
another lawyer, who was likewise a very good sort of a man, and to
be sure one of the merriest gentlemen in England. Well, sir, at the
end of the three years I set up a little school, and was likely to
do well again, had it not been for a most unlucky accident. Here I
kept a pig; and one day, as ill fortune would have it, this pig
broke out, and did a trespass, I think they call it, in a garden
belonging to one of my neighbours, who was a proud, revengeful man,
and employed a lawyer, one- one- I can't think of his name; but he
sent for a writ against me, and had me to size. When I came there,
Lord have mercy upon me- to hear what the counsellors said! There was
one that told my lord a parcel of the confoundedest lies about me;
he said that I used to drive my hogs into other folk's gardens, and
a great deal more; and at last he said, he hoped I had at last brought
my hogs to a fair market. To be sure, one would have thought that,
instead of being owner only of one poor little pig, I had been the
greatest hog-merchant in England. Well-" "Pray," said Allworthy, "do
not be so particular, I have heard nothing of your son yet." "O it was
a great many years," answered Partridge, "before I saw my son, as
you are pleased to call him.- I went over to Ireland after this, and
taught school at Cork (for that one suit ruined me again, and I lay
seven years in Winchester jail)."-- "Well," said Allworthy, "pass that
over till your return to England."- "Then, sir," said he, "it was
about half a year ago that I landed at Bristol, where I staid some
time, and not finding it do there, and hearing of a place between that
and Gloucester where the barber was just dead, I went thither, and
there I had been about two months when Mr. Jones came thither." He
then gave Allworthy a very particular account of their first meeting,
and of everything, as well as he could remember, which had happened
from that day to this; frequently interlarding his story with
panegyrics on Jones, and not forgetting to insinuate the great love
and respect which he had for Allworthy. He concluded with saying,
"Now, sir, I have told your honour the whole truth." And then repeated
a most solemn protestation, "That he was no more the father of Jones
than the Pope of Rome;" and imprecated the most bitter curses on his
head, if he did not speak truth.
"What am I to think of this matter?" cries Allworthy. "For what
purpose should you so strongly deny a fact which I think it would be
rather your interest to own?" "Nay, sir," answered Partridge (for he
could hold no longer), "if your honour will not believe me, you are
like soon to have satisfaction enough. I wish you had mistaken the
mother of this young man, as well as you have his father."- And now
being asked what he meant, with all the symptoms of horror, both in
his voice and countenance, he told Allworthy the whole story, which he
had a little before expressed such desire to Mrs. Miller to conceal
from him.
Allworthy was almost as much shocked at this discovery as
Partridge himself had been while he related it. "Good heavens!" says
he, "in what miserable distresses do vice and imprudence involve
men! How much beyond our designs are the effects of wickedness
sometimes carried!" He had scarce uttered these words, when Mrs.
Waters came hastily and abruptly into the room. Partridge no sooner
saw her than he cried, "Here, sir, here is the very woman herself.
This is the unfortunate mother of Mr. Jones. I am sure she will acquit
me before your honour. Pray, madam--"
Mrs. Waters, without paying any regard to what Partridge said, and
almost without taking any notice of him, advanced to Mr. Allworthy. "I
believe, sir, it is so long since I had the honour of seeing you, that
you do not recollect me." "Indeed," answered Allworthy, you are so
very much altered, on many accounts, that had not this man already
acquainted me who you are, I should not have immediately called you to
my remembrance. Have you, madam, any particular business which
brings you to me?" Allworthy spoke this with great reserve; for the
reader may easily believe he was not well pleased with the conduct
of this lady; neither with what he had formerly heard, nor with what
Partridge had now delivered.
Mrs. Waters answered- "Indeed, sir, I have very particular business
with you; and it is such as I can impart only to yourself. I must
desire, therefore, the favour of a word with you alone: for I assure
you what I have to tell you is of the utmost importance."
Partridge was then ordered to withdraw, but before he went, he
begged the lady to satisfy Mr. Allworthy that he was perfectly
innocent. To which she answered, "You need be under no apprehension,
sir; I shall satisfy Mr. Allworthy very perfectly of that matter."
Then Partridge withdrew, and that past between Mr. Allworthy and
Mrs. Waters which is written in the next chapter.
Chapter 7
Continuation of the history
Mrs. Waters remaining a few moments silent, Mr. Allworthy could
not refrain from saying, "I am sorry, madam, to perceive by what I
have since heard, that you have made so very ill a use--" "Mr.
Allworthy," says she, interrupting him, "I know I have faults, but
ingratitude to you is not one of them. I never can nor shall forget
your goodness, which I own I have very little deserved; but be pleased
to wave all upbraiding me at present, as I have so important an affair
to communicate to you concerning this young man, to whom you have
given my maiden name of Jones."
"Have I then," said Allworthy, "ignorantly punished an innocent man,
in the person of him who hath just left us? Was he not the father of
the child?" "Indeed he was not," said Mrs. Waters. "You may be pleased
to remember, sir, I formerly told you, you should one day know; and
I acknowledge myself to have been guilty of a cruel neglect, in not
having discovered it to you before. Indeed, I little knew how
necessary it was." "Well, madam" said Allworthy, "be pleased to
proceed." "You must remember, sir," said she, "a young fellow, whose
name was Summer." "Very well," cries Allworthy, "he was the son of a
clergyman of great learning and virtue, for whom I had the highest
friendship." "So it appeared, sir," answered she; "for I believe you
bred the young man up, and maintained him at the university; where,
I think, he had finished his studies, when he came to reside at your
house; a finer man, I must say, the sun never shone upon; for, besides
the handsomest person I ever saw, he was so genteel, and had so much
wit and good breeding." "Poor gentleman," said Allworthy, "he was
indeed untimely snatched away; and little did I think he had any
sins of this kind to answer for; for I plainly perceive you are
going to tell me he was the father of your child."
