this," says she, "is your gentleman, forsooth!"- "A servant of Squire
Allworthy!" says the barber; "what's his name?"- "Why he told me his
name was Jones," says she: "perhaps he goes by a wrong name. Nay,
and he told me, too, that the squire had maintained him as his own
son, thof he had quarrelled with him now."- "And if his name be
Jones, he told you the truth," said the barber; "for I have
relations who live in that country; nay, and some people say he is his
son."- "Why doth he not go by the name of his father?"- "I can't tell
that," said the barber; "many people's sons don't go by the name of
their father."- "Nay," said the landlady, "if I thought he was a
gentleman's son, thof he was a bye-blow, I should behave to him in
another guess manner; for many of these bye-blows come to be great
men, and, as my poor first husband used to say, never affront any
customer that's a gentleman."
Chapter 5
A dialogue between Mr. Jones and the barber
This conversation passed partly while Jones was at dinner in his
dungeon, and partly while he was expecting the barber in the
parlour. And, as soon as it was ended, Mr. Benjamin, as we have
said, attended him, and was very kindly desired to sit down. Jones
then filling out a glass of wine, drank his health by the
appellation of doctissime tonsorum.* "Ago tibi gratias, domine,"
said the barber; and then looking very steadfastly at Jones, he
said, with great gravity, and with a seeming surprize, as if he had
recollected a face he had seen before, "Sir, may I crave the favour to
know if your name is not Jones?" To which the other answered, "That it
was."- "Proh deum atque hominum fidem!" says the barber; "how
strangely things come to pass! Mr. Jones, I am your most obedient
servant. I find you do not know me, which indeed is no wonder, since
you never saw me but once, and then you was very young. Pray, sir, how
doth the good Squire Allworthy? how doth ille optimus omnium
patronus?"- "I find," said Jones, "you do indeed know me; but I have
not the like happiness of recollecting you."- "I do not wonder at
that," cries Benjamin; "but I am surprized I did not know you
sooner, for you are not in the least altered. And pray, sir, may I,
without offence, enquire whither you are travelling this way?"- "Fill
the glass, Mr. Barber," said Jones, "and ask no more questions."-
"Nay, sir," answered Benjamin, "I would not be troublesome; and I hope
you don't think me a man of an impertinent curiosity, for that is a
vice which nobody can lay to my charge; but I ask pardon; for when a
gentleman of your figure travels without his servants, we may suppose
him to be, as we say, in casu incognito, and perhaps I ought not to
have mentioned your name."- "I own," says Jones, "I did not expect to
have been so well known in this country as I find I am; yet, for
particular reasons, I shall be obliged to you if you will not mention
my name to any other person till I am gone from hence."- "Pauca
verba," answered the barber; "and I wish no other here knew you but
myself; for some people have tongues; but I promise you I can keep a
secret. My enemies will allow me that virtue."- "And yet that is not
the characteristic of your profession, Mr. Barber," answered Jones.
"Alas! sir," replied Benjamin, "Non si male nunc et olim sic erit. I
was not born nor bred a barber, I assure you. I have spent most of my
time among gentlemen, and though I say it, I understand something of
gentility. And if you had thought me as worthy of your confidence as
you have some other people, I should have shown you I could have kept
a secret better. I should not have degraded your name in a public
kitchen; for indeed, sir, some people have not used you well; for
besides making a public proclamation of what you told them of a
quarrel between yourself and Squire Allworthy, they added lies of
their own, things which I knew to to be lies."- "You surprize me
greatly," cries Jones. Upon my word, sir," answered Benjamin, "I
tell the truth, and I need not tell you my was the person. I am sure
it moved me to hear the story, and I hope it is all false; for I
have a great respect for you, I do assure you I have, and have had
ever since the good-nature you showed to Black George, which was
talked of all over the country, and I received than one letter about
it. Indeed, it made you beloved by everybody. You will pardon me,
therefore; for it was real concern at what I heard made me ask many
questions; for I have no impertinent curiosity about me: but love
good-nature and thence became amoris abundantia erga te."
*The reader will readily understand most of what the "most learned
of barbers" says.
Every profession of friendship easily gains credit with the
miserable; it is no wonder therefore, if Jones, who, besides his being
miserable, was extremely open-hearted, very readily believed all the
professions of Benjamin, and received him into his bosom. The scraps
of Latin, some of which Benjamin applied properly enough, though it
did not savour of profound literature, seemed yet to indicate
something superior to a common barber; and so indeed did his whole
behaviour. Jones therefore believed the truth of what he had said,
as to his original and education; and at length, after much
entreaty, he said, "Since you have heard, my friend, so much of my
affairs, and seem so desirous to know the truth, if you will have
patience to hear it, I will inform you of the whole."- "Patience!"
cries Benjamin, "that I will, if the chapter was never so long; and
I am very much obliged to you for the honour you do me."
Jones now began, and related the whole history, forgetting only a
circumstance or two, namely, everything which passed on that day in
which he had fought with Thwackum; and ended with his resolution to go
to sea, till the rebellion in the North had made him change his
purpose, and had brought him to the place where he then was.
Little Benjamin, who had been all attention, never once
interrupted the narrative; but when it was ended he could not help
observing, that there must be surely something more invented by his
enemies, and told Mr. Allworthy against him, or so good a man would
never have dismissed one he had loved so tenderly, in such a manner.
To which Jones answered, "He doubted not but such villanous arts had
been made use of to destroy him."
And surely it was scarce possible for any one to have avoided making
the same remark with the barber, who had not indeed heard from Jones
one single circumstance upon which he was condemned; for his actions
were not now placed in those injurious lights in which they had been
misrepresented to Allworthy; nor could he mention those many false
accusations which had been from time to time preferred against him
to Allworthy: for with none of these he was himself acquainted. He had
likewise, as we have observed, omitted many material facts in his
present relation. Upon the whole, indeed, everything now appeared in
such favourable colours to Jones, that malice itself would have
found it no easy matter to fix any blame upon him.
Not that Jones desired to conceal or to disguise the truth; nay,
he would have been more unwilling to have suffered any censure to fall
on Mr. Allworthy for punishing him, than on his own actions for
deserving it; but, in reality, so it happened, and so it always will
happen; for let a man be never so honest, the account of his own
conduct will, in spite of himself, be so very favourable, that his
vices will come purified through his lips, and, like foul liquors well
strained, will leave all their foulness behind. For though the facts
themselves may appear, yet so different will be the motives,
circumstances, and consequences, when a man tells his own story, and
when his enemy tells it, that we scarce can recognise the facts to
be one and the same.
Though the barber had drank down this story with greedy ears, he was
not yet satisfied. There was a circumstance behind which his
curiosity, cold as it was, most eagerly longed for. Jones had
mentioned the fact of his amour, and of his being the rival of Blifil,
but had cautiously concealed the name of the young lady. The barber,
therefore, after some hesitation, and many hums and hahs, at last
begged leave to crave the name of the lady, who appeared to be the
principal cause of all this mischief. Jones paused a moment, and
then said, "Since I have trusted you with so much, and since, I am
afraid, her name is become too publick already on this occasion, I
will not conceal it from you. Her name is Sophia Western."
"Proh deum atque hominum fidem! Squire Western hath a daughter grown
a woman!"- "Ay, and such a woman," cries Jones, "that the world
cannot match. No eye ever saw anything so beautiful; but that is her
least excellence. Such sense! such goodness! Oh, I could praise her
for ever, and yet should omit half her virtues!"- "Mr. Western a
daughter grown up!" cries the barber: "I remember the father a boy;
well, Tempus edax rerum."*
*Time, the devourer of all things.
The wine being now at an end, the barber pressed very eagerly to
be his bottle; but Jones absolutely refused, saying, "He had already
drank more than he ought: and that he now chose to retire to his room,
where he wished he could procure himself a book."- "A book!" cries
Benjamin; "what book would you have? Latin or English? I have some
curious books in both languages; such as Erasmi Colloquia, Ovid de
Tristibus, Gradus ad Parnassum; and in English I have several of the
best books, though some of them are a little torn; but I have a great
part of Stowe's Chronicle; the sixth volume of Pope's Homer; the third
volume of the Spectator; the second volume of Echard's Roman
History; the Craftsman; Robinson Crusoe; Thomas a Kempis; and two
volumes of Tom Brown's Works."
"Those last," cries Jones, "are books I never saw, so if you
please lend me one of those volumes." The barber assured him he
would be highly entertained, for he looked upon the author to have
been one of the greatest wits that ever the nation produced. He then
stepped to his house, which was hard by, and immediately returned;
after which, the barber having received very strict injunctions of
secrecy from Jones, and having sworn inviolably to maintain it, they
separated; the barber went home, and Jones retired to his chamber.
Chapter 6
In which more of the talents of Mr. Benjamin will appear, as well as
who this extraordinary person was
In the morning Jones grew a little uneasy at the desertion of his
surgeon, as he apprehended some inconvenience, or even danger, might
attend the not dressing wound; he enquired therefore of the drawer,
what other surgeons were to be met with in that neighbourhood. The
drawer told him, there was one not far off; but he had known him often
refuse to be concerned after another had been sent for before him;
"but, sir," says he, "if you will take my advice, there is not a man
in the kingdom can do your business better than the barber who was
with you last night. We look upon him to be one of the ablest men at a
cut in all this neighbourhood. For though he hath not been here
above three months, he hath done several great cures."
The drawer was presently dispatched for Little Benjamin, who being
acquainted in what capacity he was wanted, prepared himself
accordingly, and attended; but with so different an air and aspect
from that which he wore when his basin was under his arm, that he
could scarce be known to be the same person.
"So, tonsor," says Jones, "I find you have more trades than one; how
came you not to inform me of this last night?"- "A surgeon," answered
Benjamin, with great gravity, "is a profession, not a trade. The
reason why I did not acquaint you last night that I professed this
art, was, that I then concluded you was under the hands of another
gentleman, and I never love to interfere with my brethren in their
business. Ars omnibus communis. But now, sir, if you please, I will
inspect your head, and when I see into your skull, I will give my
opinion of your case."
Jones had no great faith in this new professor; however, he suffered
him to open the bandage and to look at his wound; which as soon as
he had done, Benjamin began to groan and shake his head violently.
Upon which Jones, in a peevish manner, bid him not play the fool,
but tell him in what condition he found him. "Shall I answer you as
a surgeon, or a friend?" said Benjamin. "As a friend, and
seriously," said Jones. "Why then, upon my soul," cries Benjamin,
"it would require a great deal of art to keep you from being well
after a very few dressings; and it you will suffer me to apply some
salve of mine, I will answer for the success." Jones gave his consent,
and the plaister was applied accordingly.
"There, sir," cries Benjamin: "now I will, if you please, resume
my former self; but a man is obliged to keep up some dignity in his
countenance whilst he is performing these operations, or the world
will not submit to be handled by him. You can't imagine, sir, of how
much consequence a grave aspect is to a grave character. A barber
may make you laugh, but a surgeon ought rather to make you cry."
"Mr. Barber, or Mr. Surgeon, or Mr. Barber-surgeon," said Jones.
"O dear sir!" answered Benjamin, interrupting him, "Infandum,
regina, jubes renovare dolorem.* You recall to my mind that cruel
