the beauties of the poor girl; but compassion instead of contempt
succeeded to love. He was convinced the girl had placed all her
affections, and all her prospect of future happiness, in him only. For
this he had, he knew, given sufficient occasion, by the utmost
profusion of tenderness towards her: a tenderness which he had taken
every means to persuade her he would always maintain. She, on her
side, had assured him of her firm belief in his promise, and had
with the most solemn vows declared, that on his fulfilling or breaking
these promises, it depended, whether she should be the happiest or
most miserable of womankind. And to be the author of this highest
degree of misery to a human being, was a thought on which he could not
bear to ruminate a single moment. He considered this poor girl as
having sacrificed to him everything in her little power; as having
been at her own expense the object of his pleasure; as sighing and
languishing for him even at that very instant. Shall then, says he, my
recovery, for which she hath so ardently wished; shall my presence,
which she hath so eagerly expected, instead of giving her that joy
with which she hath flattered herself, cast her at once down into
misery and despair? Can I be such a villain? Here, when the genius
of poor Molly seemed triumphant, the love of Sophia towards him, which
now appeared no longer dubious, rushed upon his mind, and bore away
every obstacle before it.
At length it occurred to him, that he might possibly be able to make
Molly amends another way; namely, by giving her a sum of money.
This, nevertheless, he almost despaired of her accepting, when he
recollected the frequent and vehement assurances he had received
from her, that the world put in balance with him would make her no
amends for his loss. However, her extreme poverty, and chiefly her
egregious vanity (somewhat of which hath been already hinted to the
reader), gave him some little hope, that, notwithstanding all her
avowed tenderness, she might in time be brought to content herself
with a fortune superior to her expectation, and which might indulge
her vanity, by setting her above all her equals. He resolved therefore
to take the first opportunity of making a proposal of this kind.
One day, accordingly, when his arm was so well recovered that he
could walk easily with it slung in a sash, he stole forth, at a season
when the squire was engaged in his field exercises, and visited his
fair one. Her mother and sisters, whom he found taking their tea,
informed him first that Molly was not at home; but afterwards the
eldest sister acquainted him, with a malicious smile, that she was
above stairs a-bed. Tom had no objection to this situation of his
mistress, and immediately ascended the ladder which let towards her
bed-chamber; but when he came to the top, he, to his great surprise,
found the door fast; nor could he for some time obtain any answer from
within; for Molly, as she herself afterwards informed him, was fast
asleep.
The extremes of grief and joy have been remarked to produce very
similar effects; and when either of these rushes on us by surprize, it
is apt to create such a total perturbation and confusion, that we
are often thereby deprived of the use of all our faculties. It
cannot therefore be wondered at, that the unexpected sight of Mr.
Jones should so strongly operate on the mind of Molly, and should
overwhelm her with such confusion, that for some minutes she was
unable to express the great raptures, with which the reader will
suppose she was affected on this occasion. As for Jones, he was so
entirely possessed, and as it were enchanted, by the presence of his
beloved object, that he for a while forgot Sophia, and consequently
the principal purpose of his visit.
This, however, soon recurred to his memory; and after the first
transports of their meeting were over, he found means by degrees to
introduce a discourse on the fatal consequences which must attend
their amour, if Mr. Allworthy, who had strictly forbidden him ever
seeing her more, should discover that he still carried on this
commerce. Such a discovery, which his enemies gave him reason to think
would be unavoidable, must, he said, end in his ruin, and consequently
in hers. Since therefore their hard fates had determined that they
must separate, he advised her to bear it with resolution, and swore he
would never omit any opportunity, through the course of his life, of
showing her the sincerity of his affection, by providing for her in
a manner beyond her utmost expectation, or even beyond her wishes,
if ever that should be in his power; concluding at last, that she
might soon find some man who would marry her, and who would make hei
much happier than she could be by leading a disreputable life with
him.
Molly remained a few moments in silence, and then bursting into a
flood of tears, she began to upbraid him in the following words:
"And this is your love for me, to forsake me in this manner, now you
have ruined me! How often, when I have told you that all men are false
and perjury alike, and grow tired of us as soon as ever they have
had their wicked wills of us, how often have you sworn you would never
forsake me! And can you be such a perjury man after all? What
signifies all the riches in the world to me without you, now you
have gained my heart, so you have- you have-? Why do you mention
another man to me? I can never love any other man as long as I live.
All other men are nothing to me. if the greatest squire in all the
country would come a suiting to me to-morrow, I would not give my
company to him. No, I shall always hate and despise the whole sex
for your sake."-
She was proceeding thus, when an accident put a stop to her
tongue, before it had run out half its career. The room, or rather
garret, in which Molly lay, being up one pair of stairs, that is to
say, at the top of the house, was of a sloping figure, resembling
the great Delta of the Greeks. The English reader may perhaps form a
better idea of it, by being told that it was impossible to stand
upright anywhere but in the middle. Now, as this room wanted the
conveniency of a closet, Molly had, to supply that defect, nailed up
an old rug against the rafters of the house, which enclosed a little
hole where her best apparel, such as the remains of that sack which we
have formerly mentioned, some caps, and other things with which she
had lately provided herself, were hung up and secured from the dust.
This enclosed place exactly fronted the foot of the bed, to which,
indeed, the rug hung so near, that it served in a manner to supply the
want of curtains. Now, whether Molly, in the agonies of her rage,
pushed this rug with her feet; or Jones might touch it; or whether the
pin or nail gave way of its own accord, I am not certain; but as Molly
pronounced those last words, which are recorded above, the wicked
rug got loose from its fastening, and discovered everything hid behind
it; where among other female utensils appeared- (with shame I write
it, and with sorrow will it be read)- the philosopher Square, in a
posture (for the place would not near admit his standing upright) as
ridiculous as can possibly be conceived.
The posture, indeed, in which he stood, was not greatly unlike
that of a soldier who is tied neck and heels; or rather resembling the
attitude in which we often see fellows in the public streets of
London, who are not suffering but deserving punishment by so standing.
He had a nightcap belonging to Molly on his head, and his two large
eyes, the moment the rug fell, stared directly at Jones; so that
when the idea of philosophy was added to the figure now discovered, it
would have been very difficult for any spectator to have refrained
from immoderate laughter.
I question not but the surprize of the reader will be here equal
to that of Jones; as the suspicions which must arise from the
appearance of this wise and grave man in such a place, may seem so
inconsistent with that character which he hath, doubtless,
maintained hitherto, in the opinion of every one.
But to confess the truth, this inconsistency is rather imaginary
than real. Philosophers are composed of flesh and blood as well as
other human creatures; and however sublimated and refined the theory
of these may be, a little practical frailty is as incident to them
as to other mortals. It is, indeed, in theory only, and not in
practice, as we have before hinted, that consists the difference:
for though such great beings think much better and more wisely, they
always act exactly like other men. They know very well how to subdue
all appetites and passions, and to despise both pain and pleasure; and
this knowledge affords much delightful contemplation, and is easily
acquired; but the practice would be vexatious and troublesome; and,
therefore, the same wisdom which teaches them to know this, teaches
them to avoid carrying it into execution.
Mr. Square happened to be at church on that Sunday, when, as the
reader may be pleased to remember, the appearance of Molly in her sack
had caused all that disturbance. Here he first observed her, and was
so pleased with her beauty, that he prevailed with the young gentlemen
to change their intended ride that evening, that he might pass by
the habitation of Molly, and by that means might obtain a second
chance of seeing her. This reason, however, as he did not at that time
mention to any, so neither did we think proper to communicate it
then to the reader.
Among other particulars which constituted the unfitness of things in
Mr. Square's opinion, danger and difficulty were two. The difficulty
therefore which he apprehended there might be in corrupting this young
wench, and the danger which would accrue to his character on the
discovery, were such strong dissuasives, that it is probable he at
first intended to have contented himself with the pleasing ideas which
the sight of beauty furnishes us with. These the gravest men, after
a full meal of serious meditation, often allow themselves by way of
dessert: for which purpose, certain books and pictures find their
way into the most private recesses of their study, and a certain
liquorish part of natural philosophy is often the principal subject of
their conversation.
But when the philosopher heard, a day or two afterwards, that the
fortress of virtue had already been subdued, he began to give a larger
scope to his desires. His appetite was not of that squeamish kind
which cannot feed on a dainty because another hath tasted it. In
short, he liked the girl the better for the want of that chastity,
which, if she had possessed it, must have been a bar to his pleasures;
he pursued and obtained her.
The reader will be mistaken, if he thinks Molly gave Square the
preference to her younger lover: on the contrary, had she been
confined to the choice of one only, Tom Jones would undoubtedly have
been, of the two, the victorious person. Nor was it solely the
consideration that two are better than one (though this had its proper
weight) to which Mr. Square owed his success: the absence of Jones
during his, confinement was an unlucky circumstance; and in that
interval some well-chosen presents from the philosopher so softened
and unguarded the girl's heart, that a favourable opportunity became
irresistible, and Square triumphed over the poor remains of virtue
which subsisted in the bosom of Molly.
It was now about a fortnight since this conquest, when Jones paid
the above-mentioned visit to his mistress, at a time when she and
Square were in bed together. This was the true reason why the mother
denied her as we have seen; for as the old woman shared in the profits
arising from the iniquity of her daughter, she encouraged and
protected her in it to the utmost of her power; but such was the
envy and hatred which the elder sister bore towards Molly, that,
notwithstanding she had some part of the booty, she would willingly
have parted with this to ruin her sister and spoil her trade. Hence
she had acquainted Jones with her being above-stairs in bed, in
hopes that he might have caught her in Square's arms. This, however,
Molly found means to prevent, as the door was fastened; which gave her
an opportunity of conveying her lover behind that rug or blanket where
he now was unhappily discovered.
Square no sooner made his appearance than Molly flung herself back
in her bed, cried out she was undone, and abandoned herself to
despair. This poor girl, who was yet but a novice in her business, had
not arrived to that perfection of assurance which helps off a town
lady in any extremity; and either prompts her with an excuse, or
else inspires her to brazen out the matter with her husband, who, from
love of quiet, or out of fear of his reputation- and sometimes,
perhaps, from fear of the gallant, who, like Mr. Constant in the play,
wears a sword- is glad to shut his eyes, and content to put his horns
in his pocket. Molly, on the contrary, was silenced by this
evidence, and very fairly gave up a cause which she had hitherto
maintained with so many tears, and with such solemn and vehement
protestations of the purest love and constancy.
As to the gentleman behind the arras, he was not in much less
consternation. He stood for a while motionless, and seemed equally
at a loss what to say, or whither to direct his eyes. Jones, though
perhaps the most astonished of the three, first found his tongue;
and being immediately recovered from those uneasy sensations which
Molly by her upbraidings had occasioned he burst into a loud laughter,
and then saluting Mr. Square, advanced to take him by the hand, and to
relieve him from his place of confinement.
Square being now arrived in the middle of the room, in which part
only he could stand upright, looked at Jones with a very grave
countenance, and said to him, "Well, sir, I see you enjoy this
mighty discovery, and, I dare swear, take great delight in the
thoughts of exposing me; but if you will consider the matter fairly,
