relation of Mr. Allworthy, I thought proper to set you right in a
matter that might draw some censures upon him, which I promise you I
would rather lose my life than give occasion to."
"I protest, sir," cried Dowling, "you talk very much like a man of
honour; but instead of giving me any trouble, I protest it would
give me great pleasure to know how you came to be thought a relation
of Mr. Allworthy's, if you are not. Your horses won't be ready this
half-hour, and as you have sufficient opportunity, I wish you would
tell me how all that happened; for I protest it seems very
surprizing that you should pass for a relation of a gentleman, without
being so."
Jones, who in the compliance of his disposition (though not in his
prudence) a little resembled his lovely Sophia, was easily prevailed
on to satisfy Mr. Dowling's curiosity, by relating the history of
his birth and education, which he did, like Othello,
---Even from his boyish years,
To th' very moment he was bad to tell:
the which to hear, Dowling, like Desdemona, did seriously incline;
He swore 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wonderous pitiful.
Mr. Dowling was indeed very greatly affected with this relation; for
he had not divested himself of humanity by being an attorney.
Indeed, nothing is more unjust than to carry our prejudices against
a profession into private life, and to borrow our idea of a man from
our opinion of his calling. Habit, it is true, lessens the horror of
those actions which the profession makes necessary, and consequently
habitual; but in all other instances, Nature works in men of all
professions alike; nay, perhaps, even more strongly with those who
give her, as it were, a holiday, when they are following their
ordinary business. A butcher, I make no doubt, would feel
compunction at the slaughter of a fine horse; and though a surgeon can
feel no pain in cutting off a limb, I have known him compassionate a
man in a fit of the gout. The common hangman, who hath stretched the
necks of hundreds, is known to have trembled at his first operation on
a head: and the very professors of human blood shedding, who, in their
trade of war, butcher thousands, not only of their
fellow-professors, but often of women and children, without remorse;
even these, I say, in times of peace, when drums and trumpets are laid
aside, often lay aside all their ferocity, and become very gentle
members of civil society. In the same manner an attorney may feel
all the miseries and distresses of his fellow-creatures, provided he
happens not to be concerned against them.
Jones, as the reader knows, was yet unacquainted with the very black
colours in which he had been represented to Mr. Allworthy; and as to
other matters, he did not shew them in the most disadvantageous light;
for though he was unwilling to cast any blame on his former friend and
patron; yet he was not very desirous of heaping too much upon himself.
Dowling therefore observed, and not without reason, that very ill
offices must have been done him by somebody: "For certainly," cries
he, "the squire would never have disinherited you only for a few
faults, which any young gentleman might have committed. Indeed, I
cannot properly say disinherited: for to be sure by law you cannot
claim as heir. That's certain; that nobody need go to counsel for. Yet
when a gentleman had in a manner adopted you thus as his own son,
you might reasonably have expected some very considerable part, if not
the whole; nay, if you had expected the whole, I should not have
blamed you: for certainly all men are for getting as much as they can,
and they are not to be blamed on that account."
"Indeed you wrong me," said Jones; "I should have been contented
with very little: I never had any view upon Mr. Allworthy's fortune;
nay, I believe I may truly say, I never once considered what he
could or might give me. This I solemnly declare, if he had done a
prejudice to his nephew in my favour, I would have undone it again.
I had rather enjoy my own mind than the fortune of another man. What
is the poor pride arising from a magnificent house, a numerous
equipage, a splendid table, and from all the other advantages or
appearances of fortune, compared to the warm, solid content, the
swelling satisfaction, the thrilling transports, and the exulting
triumphs, which a good mind enjoys, in the contemplation of a
generous, virtuous, noble, benevolent action? I envy not Blifil in the
prospect of his wealth; nor shall I envy him in the possession of
it. I would not think myself a rascal half an hour, to exchange
situations. I believe, indeed, Mr. Blifil suspected me of the views
you mention; and I suppose these suspicions, as they arose from the
baseness of his own heart, so they occasioned his baseness to me. But,
I thank Heaven, I know, I feel- I feel my innocence, my friend; and I
would not part with that feeling for the world. For as long as I
know I have never done, nor even designed, an injury to any being
whatever,
Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
Arbor aestiva recreatur aura,
Quod latus mundi nebulae, malusque
Jupiter urget.
Pone sub curru nimium propinqui
Solis in terra dominibus negata;
Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
Dulce loquentem."
*Place me where never summer breeze
Unbinds the glebe, or warms the trees:
Where ever-lowering clouds appear,
And angry Jove reforms th' inclement year.
Place me beneath the burning ray,
Where rolls the rapid car of day;
Love and the nympth shall charm my toils,
The nympth who sweetly speaks, and sweetly smiles.
MR. FRANCIS
He then filled a bumper of wine, and drunk off to the health of
his dear Lalage; and, filling Dowling's glass likewise up to the brim,
insisted on his pledging him. "Why, then, here's Miss Lalage's
health with all my heart," cries Dowling. "I have heard her toasted
often, I protest, though I never saw her; but they say she's extremely
handsome."
Though the Latin was not the only part of this speech which
Dowling did not perfectly understand; yet there was somewhat in it
that made a very strong impression upon him. And though he endeavoured
by winking, nodding, sneering, and grinning, to hide the impression
from Jones (for we are as often ashamed of thinking right as of
thinking wrong), it is certain he secretly approved as much of his
sentiments as he understood, and really felt a very strong impulse
of compassion for him. But we may possibly take some other opportunity
of commenting upon this, especially if we should happen to meet Mr.
Dowling any more in the course of our history. At present we are
obliged to take our leave of that gentleman a little abruptly, in
imitation of Mr. Jones; who was no sooner informed, by Partridge, that
his horses were ready, than he deposited his reckoning, wished his
companion a good night, mounted, and set forward towards Coventry,
though the night was dark, and it just then began to rain very hard.
Chapter 11
The disasters which befel Jones on his departure for Coventry;
with the sage remarks of Partridge
No road can be plainer than that from the place where they now
were to Coventry; and though neither Jones, nor Partridge, nor the
guide, had ever travelled it before, it would have been almost
impossible to have missed their way, had it not been for the two
reasons mentioned in the conclusion of the last chapter.
These two circumstances, however, happening both unfortunately to
intervene, our travellers deviated into a much less frequented
track; and after riding full six miles, instead of arriving at the
stately spires of Coventry, they found themselves still in a very
dirty lane, where they saw no symptoms of approaching the suburbs of a
large city.
Jones now declared that they must certainly have lost their way; but
this the guide insisted upon was impossible; a word which, in common
conversation, is often used to signify not only improbable, but
often what is really very likely, and, sometimes, what hath
certainly happened; and hyperbolical violence like that which is so
frequently offered to the words infinite and eternal; by the former of
which it is usual to express a distance of half a yard, and by the
latter, a duration of five minutes. And thus it is as usual to
assert the impossibility of losing what is already actually lost. This
was, in fact, the case at present; for, notwithstanding all the
confident assertions of the lad to the contrary, it is certain they
were no more in the right road to Coventry, than the fraudulent,
griping, cruel, canting miser is in the right road to heaven.
It is not, perhaps, easy for a reader, who hath never been in
those circumstances, to imagine the horror with which darkness,
rain, and wind, fill persons who have lost their way in the night; and
who, consequently, have not the pleasant prospect of warm fires, dry
cloaths, and other refreshments, to support their minds in
struggling with the inclemencies of the weather. A very imperfect idea
of this horror will, however, serve sufficiently to account for the
conceits which now filled the head of Partridge, and which we shall
presently be obliged to open.
Jones grew more and more positive that they were out of their
road; and the boy himself at last acknowledged he believed they were
not in the right road to Coventry; though he affirmed, at the same
time, it was impossible they should have mist the way. But Partridge
was of a different opinion. He said, "When they first set out he
imagined some mischief or other would happen.- Did you not observe,
sir," said he to Jones, "that old woman who stood at the door just
as you was taking horse? I wish you had given her a small matter, with
all my heart; for she said then you might repent it; and at that
very instant it began to rain, and the wind hath continued rising ever
since. Whatever some people may think, I am very certain it is in
the power of witches to raise the wind whenever they please. I have
seen it happen very often in my time: and if ever I saw a witch in all
my life, that old woman was certainly one. I thought so to myself at
that very time; and if I had had any halfpence in my pocket, I would
have given her some; for to be sure it is always good to be charitable
to those sort of people, for fear what may happen; and many a person
hath lost his cattle by saving a halfpenny."
Jones, though he was horridly vexed at the delay which this
mistake was likely to occasion in his journey, could not help
smiling at the superstition of his friend, whom an accident now
greatly confirmed in his opinion. This was a tumble from his horse; by
which, however, he received no other injury than what the dirt
conferred on his cloaths.
Partridge had no sooner recovered his legs, than he appealed to
his fall, as conclusive evidence of all he had asserted; but Jones
finding he was unhurt, answered with a smile: "This witch of yours,
Partridge, is a most ungrateful jade, and doth not, I find,
distinguish her friends from others in her resentment. If the old lady
had been angry with me for neglecting her, I don't see why she
should tumble you from your horse, after all the respect you have
expressed for her."
"It is ill jesting," cries Partridge, "with people who have power to
do these things; for they are often very malicious. I remember a
farrier, who provoked one of them, by asking her when the time she had
bargained with the devil for would be out; and within three months
from that very day one of his best cows was drowned. Nor was she
satisfied with that; for a little time afterwards he lost a barrel
of best-drink: for the old witch pulled out the spigot, and let it run
all over the cellar, the very first evening he had tapped it, to
make merry with some of his neighbours. In short, nothing ever thrived
with him afterwards; for she worried the poor man so, that he took
to drinking; and in a year or two his stock was seized, and he and his
family are now come to the parish."
The guide, and perhaps his horse too, were both so attentive to this
discourse, that, either through want of care, or by the malice of
the witch, they were now both sprawling in the dirt.
Partridge entirely imputed this fall, as he had done his own, to the
same cause. He told Mr. Jones, "It would certainly be his turn next!
and earnestly entreated him to return back, and find out the old
woman, and pacify her. We shall very soon," added he, "reach the
inn; for though we have seemed to go forward, I am very certain we are
in the identical place in which we were an hour ago; and I dare swear,
if it was daylight, we might now see the inn we set out from."
Instead of returning any answer to this sage advice, Jones was
entirely attentive to what had happened to the boy, who received no
other than what had before befallen Partridge, and which his cloaths
very easily bore, as they had been for many years inured to the
like. He soon regained his side-saddle, and by the hearty curses and
blows which he bestowed on his horse, quickly satisfied Mr. Jones that
no harm was done.
Chapter 12
Relates that Mr. Jones continued his journey, contrary to the advice
of Partridge, with what happened on that occasion
They now discovered a light at some distance, to the great
pleasure of Jones, and to the no small terror of Partridge, who firmly
believed himself to be bewitched, and that this light was a
Jack-with-a-lantern, or somewhat more mischievous.
But how were these fears increased, when, as they approached
nearer to this light (or lights as they now appeared), they heard a
confused sound of human voices; of singing, laughing, and hallowing,
