to be under the cook; but I shan't wash dishes for anybody. My
gentleman will provide better for me. See what he hath given me this
afternoon. He hath promised I shall never want money; and you shan't
want money neither, mother, if you will hold your tongue, and know
when you are well." And so saying, she pulled out several guineas, and
gave her mother one of them.
The good woman no sooner felt the gold within her palm, than her
temper began (such is the efficacy of that panacea) to be mollified.
"Why, husband," says she, "would any but such a blockhead as you not
have enquired what place this was before he had accepted it?
Perhaps, as Molly says, it may be in the kitchen; and truly I don't
care my daughter should be a scullion wench; for, poor as I am, I am a
gentlewoman. And thof I was obliged, as my father, who was a
clergyman, died worse than nothing, and so could not give me a
shilling of portion, to undervalue myself by marrying a poor man;
yet I would have you to know, I have a spirit above all them things.
Marry come up! it would better become Madam Western to look at home,
and remember who her own grandfather was. Some of my family, for aught
I know, might ride in their coaches, when the grandfathers of some
voke walked a-voot. I warrant she fancies she did a mighty matter,
when she sent us that old gownd; some of my family would not have
picked up such rags in the street; but poor people are always trampled
upon.- The parish need not have been in such a fluster with Molly.
You might have told them, child, your grandmother wore better things
new out of the shop."
"Well, but consider," cried George, "what answer shall I make to
madam?"
"I don't know what answer," says she; "you are always bringing
your family into one quandary or other. Do you remember when you
shot the partridge, the occasion of all our misfortunes? Did not I
advise you never to go into Squire Western's manor? Did not I tell you
many a good year ago what would come of it? But you would have your
own headstrong ways; yes, you would, you villain."
Black George was, in the main, a peaceable kind of fellow, and
nothing choleric nor rash; yet did he bear about him something of what
the antients called the irascible, and which his wife, if she had been
endowed with much wisdom, would have feared. He had long
experienced, that when the storm grew very high, arguments were but
wind, which served rather to increase, than to abate it. He was
therefore seldom unprovided with a small switch, a remedy of wonderful
force, as he had often essayed, and which the word villain served as a
hint for his applying.
No sooner, therefore, had this symptom appeared, than he had
immediate recourse to the said remedy, which though, as it is usual in
all very efficacious medicines, it at first seemed to heighten and
inflame the disease, soon produced a total calm, and restored the
patient to perfect ease and tranquillity.
This is, however, a kind of horse-medicine, which requires a very
robust constitution to digest, and is therefore proper only for the
vulgar, unless in one single instance, viz., where superiority of
birth breaks out; in which case, we should not think it very
improperly applied by any husband whatever, if the application was not
in itself so base, that, like certain applications of the physical
kind which need not be mentioned, it so much degrades and contaminates
the hand employed in it, that no gentleman should endure the thought
of anything so low and detestable.
The whole family were soon reduced to a state of perfect quiet;
for the virtue of this medicine, like that of electricity, is often
communicated through one person to many others, who are not touched by
the instrument. To say the truth, as they both operate by friction, it
may be doubted whether there is not something analogous between
them, of which Mr. Freke would do well to enquire, before he publishes
the next edition of his book.
A council was now called, in which, after many debates, Molly
still persisting that she would not go to service, it was at length
resolved, that Goody Seagrim herself should wait on Miss Western,
and endeavour to procure the place for her eldest daughter, who
declared great readiness to accept it: but Fortune, who seems to
have been an enemy of this little family, afterwards put a stop to her
promotion.
Chapter 10
A story told by Mr. Supple, the curate. The penetration of Squire
Western. His great love for his daughter, and the return to it made by
her
The next morning Tom Jones hunted with Mr. Western, and was at his
return invited by that gentleman to dinner.
The lovely Sophia shone forth that day with more gaiety and
sprightliness than usual. Her battery was certainly levelled at our
heroe; though, I believe, she herself scarce yet knew her own
intention; but if she had any design of charming him, she now
succeeded.
Mr. Supple, the curate of Mr. Allworthy's parish, made one of the
company. He was a good-natured worthy man; but chiefly remarkable
for his great taciturnity at table, though his mouth was never shut at
it. In short, he had one of the best appetites in the world.
However, the cloth was no sooner taken away, than he always made
sufficient amends for his silence: for he was a very hearty fellow;
and his conversation was often entertaining, never offensive.
At his first arrival, which was immediately before the entrance of
the roast-beef, he had given an intimation that he had brought some
news with him, and was beginning to tell, that he came that moment
from Mr. Allworthy's, when the sight of the roast-beef struck him
dumb, permitting him only to say grace, and to declare he must pay his
respect to the baronet, for so he called the sirloin.
When dinner was over, being reminded by Sophia of his news, he began
as follows: "I believe, lady, your ladyship observed a young woman
at church yesterday at even-song, who was drest in one of your
outlandish garments; I think I have seen your ladyship in such a
one. However, in the country, such dresses are
Rara avis in terris, nigroque simillima cygno.
That is, madam, as much as to say, 'A rare bird upon the earth, and
very like a black swan.' The verse is in Juvenal. But to return to
what I was relating. I was saying such garments are rare sights in the
country; and perchance, too, it was thought the more rare, respect
being had to the person who wore it, who, they tell me, is the
daughter of Black George, your worship's gamekeeper, whose sufferings,
I should have opined, might have taught him more wit, than to dress
forth his wenches in such gaudy apparel. She created so much confusion
in the congregation, that if Squire Allworthy had not silenced it,
it would have interrupted the service: for I was once about to stop in
the middle of the first lesson. Howbeit, nevertheless, after prayer
was over, and I was departed home, this occasioned a battle in the
churchyard, where, amongst other mischief, the head of a travelling
fidler was very much broken. This morning the fidler came to Squire
Allworthy for a warrant, and the wench was brought before him. The
squire was inclined to have compounded matters; when, lo! on a
sudden the wench appeared (I ask your ladyship's pardon) to be, as
it were, at the eve of bringing forth a bastard. The squire demanded
of her who was the father? But she pertinaciously refused to make
any response. So that he was about to make her mittimus to Bridewell
when I departed."
"And is a wench having a bastard all your news, doctor?" cries
Western; "I thought it might have been some public matter, something
about the nation."
"I am afraid it is too common, indeed," answered the parson; "but
I thought the whole story altogether deserved commemorating. As to
national matters, your worship knows them best. My concerns extend
no farther than my own parish."
"Why, ay," says the squire, "I believe I do know a little of that
matter, as you say. But come, Tommy, drink about; the bottle stands
with you."
Tom begged to be excused, for that he had particular business; and
getting up from table, escaped the clutches of the squire, who was
rising to stop him, and went off with very little ceremony.
The squire gave him a good curse at his departure; and then
turning to the parson, he cried out, "I smoke it: I smoke it. Tom is
certainly the father of this bastard. Zooks, parson, you remember
how he recommended the veather o' her to me. D--n un, what a sly b--ch
'tis. Ay, ay, as sure as two-pence, Tom is the veather of the
bastard."
"I should be very sorry for that," says the parson.
"Why sorry," cries the squire: "Where is the mighty matter o't?
What, I suppose dost pretend that thee hast never got a bastard?
Pox! more good luck's thine! for I warrant hast a done a therefore
many's the good time and often."
"Your worship is pleased to be jocular," answered the parson; "but I
do not only animadvert on the sinfulness of the action- though that
surely is to be greatly deprecated- but I fear his unrighteousness
may injure him with Mr. Allworthy. And truly I must say, though he
hath the character of being a little wild, I never saw any harm in the
young man; nor can I say I have heard any, save what your worship
now mentions. I wish, indeed, he was a little more regular in his
responses at church; but altogether he seems
Ingenui vultus puer ingenuique pudoris.
That is a classical line, young lady; and, being rendered into
English, is, 'a lad of an ingenuous countenance, and of an ingenuous
modesty'; for this was a virtue in great repute both among the
Latins and Greeks. I must say, the young gentleman (for so I think I
may call him, notwithstanding his birth) appears to me a very
modest, civil lad, and I should be sorry that he should do himself any
injury in Squire Allworthy's opinion."
"Poogh!" says the squire: "Injury, with Allworthy! Why, Allworthy
loves a wench himself. Doth not all the country know whose son Tom is?
You must talk to another person in that manner. I remember Allworthy
at college."
"I thought," said the parson, "he had never been at the university."
"Yes, yes, he was," says the squire: "and many a wench have we two
had together. As arrant a whore-master as any within five miles
o'un. No, no. It will do'n no harm with he, assure yourself; nor
with anybody else. Ask Sophy there- You have not the worse opinion of
a young fellow for getting a bastard, have you, girl? No, no, the
women will like un the better for't."
This was a cruel question to poor Sophia. She had observed Tom's
colour change at the parson's story; and that, with his hasty and
abrupt departure, gave her sufficient reason to think her father's
suspicion not groundless. Her heart now at once discovered the great
secret to her which it had been so long disclosing by little and
little; and she found herself highly interested in this matter. In
such a situation, her father's malapert question rushing suddenly upon
her, produced some symptoms which might have alarmed a suspicious
heart; but, to do the squire justice, that was not his fault. When she
rose therefore from her chair, and told him a hint from him was always
sufficient to make her withdraw, he suffered her to leave the room,
and then with great gravity of countenance remarked, "That it was
better to see a daughter over-modest than over-forward";- a sentiment
which was highly applauded by the parson.
There now ensued between the squire and the parson a most
excellent political discourse, framed out of newspapers and
political pamphlets; in which they made a libation of four bottles
of wine to the good of their country: and then, the squire being
fast asleep, the parson lighted his pipe, mounted his horse, and
rode home.
When the squire had finished his half-hour's nap, he summoned his
daughter to her harpsichord; but she begged to be excused that
evening, on account of a violent head-ache. This remission was
presently granted; for indeed she seldom had occasion to ask him
twice, as he loved her with such ardent affection, that, by gratifying
her, he commonly conveyed the highest gratification to himself. She
was really, what he frequently called her, his little darling, and she
well deserved to be so; for she returned all his affection in the most
ample manner. She had preserved the most inviolable duty to him in all
things; and this her love made not only easy, but so delightful,
that when one of her companions laughed at her for placing so much
merit in such scrupulous obedience, as that young lady called it,
Sophia answered, "You mistake me, madam, if you think I value myself
upon this account; for besides that I am barely discharging my duty, I
am likewise pleasing myself. I can truly say I have no delight equal
to that of contributing to my father's happiness; and if I value
myself, my dear, it is on having this power, and not on executing it."
This was a satisfaction, however, which poor Sophia was incapable of
tasting this evening. She therefore not only desired to be excused
from her attendance at the harpsichord, but likewise begged that he
would suffer her to absent herself from supper. To this request
likewise the squire agreed, though not without some reluctance; for he
scarce ever permitted her to be out of his sight, unless when he was
engaged with his horses, dogs, or bottle. Nevertheless he yielded to
the desire of his daughter, though the poor man was at the same time
obliged to avoid his own company (if I may so express myself), by
sending for a neighbouring farmer to sit with him.
Chapter 11
