benevolence.
And thou, O Learning! (for without thy assistance nothing pure,
nothing correct, can genius produce) do thou guide my pen. Thee in thy
favourite fields, where the limpid, gently-rolling Thames washes thy
Etonian banks, in early youth I have worshipped. To thee, at thy
birchen altar, with true Spartan devotion, I have sacrificed my blood.
Come then, and from thy vast, luxuriant stores, in long antiquity
piled up, pour forth the rich profusion. Open thy Maeonian and thy
Mantuan coffers, with whatever else includes thy philosophic, thy
poetic, and thy historical treasures, whether with Greek or Roman
characters thou hast chosen to inscribe the ponderous chests: give
me a while that key to all thy treasures, which to thy Warburton
thou hast entrusted.
Lastly, come Experience, long conversant with the wise, the good,
the learned, and the polite. Nor with them only, but with every kind
of character, from the minister at his levee, to the bailiff in his
spunging-house; from the dutchess at her drum, to the landlady
behind her bar. From thee only can the manners of mankind be known; to
which the recluse pedant, however great his parts or extensive his
learning may be, hath ever been a stranger.
Come all these, and more, if possible; for arduous is the task I
have undertaken; and, without all your assistance, will, I find, be
too heavy for me to support. But if you all smile on my labours, I
hope still to bring them to a happy conclusion.
Chapter 2
What befel Mr. Jones on his arrival in London
The learned Dr. Misaubin used to say, that the proper direction to
him was To Dr. Misaubin, in the World; intimating that there were
few people in it to whom his great reputation was not known. And,
perhaps, upon a very nice examination into the matter, we shall find
that this circumstance bears no inconsiderable part among the many
blessings of grandeur.
The great happiness of being known to posterity, with the hopes of
which we so delighted ourselves in the preceding chapter, is the
portion of few. To have the several elements which compose our
names, as Sydenham expresses it, repeated a thousand years hence, is a
gift beyond the power of title and wealth; and is scarce to be
purchased, unless by the sword and the pen. But to avoid the
scandalous imputation, while we yet live, of being one whom nobody
knows (a scandal, by the bye, as old as the days of Homer*), will
always be the envied portion of those, who have a legal title either
to honour or estate.
*See Odyssey II.
From that figure, therefore, which the Irish peer, who brought
Sophia to town, hath already made in this history, the reader will
conclude, doubtless, it must have been an easy matter to have
discovered his house in London without knowing the particular street
or square which he inhabited, since he must have been one whom
everybody knows. To say the truth, so it would have been to any of
those tradesmen who are accustomed to attend the regions of the great;
for the doors of the great are generally no less easy to find than
it is difficult to get entrance into them. But Jones, as well at
Partridge, was an entire stranger in London; and as he happened to
arrive first in a quarter of the town, the inhabitants of which have
very little intercourse with the householders of Hanover or
Grosvenor-square (for he entered through Gray's-inn-lane), so he
rambled about some time, before he could even find his way to those
happy mansions where fortune segregates from the vulgar those
magnanimous heroes, the descendants of antient Britons, Saxons, or
Danes, whose ancestors, being born in better days, by sundry kinds
of merit, have entailed riches and honour on their posterity.
Jones, being at length arrived at those terrestrial Elysian
fields, would now soon have discovered his lordship's mansion; but the
peer unluckily quitted his former house when he went for Ireland;
and as he was just entered into a new one, the fame of his equipage
had not yet sufficiently blazed in the neighbourhood; so that, after a
successless inquiry till the clock had struck eleven, Jones at last
yielded to the advice of Partridge, and retreated to the Bull and Gate
in Holborn, that being the inn where he had first alighted, and
where he retired to enjoy that kind of repose which usually attends
persons in his circumstances.
Early in the morning he again set forth in pursuit of Sophia; and
many a weary step he took to no better purpose than before. At last,
whether it was that Fortune relented, or whether it was no longer in
her power to disappoint him, he came into the very street which was
honoured by his lordship's residence; and, being directed to the
house, he gave one gentle rap at the door.
The porter, who, from the modesty of the knock, had conceived no
high idea of the person approaching, conceived but little better
from the appearance of Mr. Jones, who was drest in a suit of
fustian, and had by his side the weapon formerly purchased of the
serjeant; of which, though the blade might be composed of
well-tempered steel, the handle was composed only of brass, and that
none of the brightest. When Jones, therefore, enquired after the young
lady who had come to town with his lordship, this fellow answered
surlily, "That there were no ladies there." Jones then desired to
see the master of the house; but was informed that his lordship
would see nobody that morning. And upon growing more pressing the
porter said, "he had positive orders to let no person in; but if you
think proper," said he, "to leave your name, I will acquaint his
lordship; and if you call another time you shall know when he will see
you."
Jones now declared, "that he had very particular business with the
young lady, and could not depart without seeing her." Upon which the
porter, with no very agreeable voice or aspect, affirmed, "that
there was no young lady in that house, and consequently none could
he see;" adding, "sure you are the strangest man I ever met with,
for you will not take an answer."
I have often thought that, by the particular description of
Cerberus, the porter of hell, in the 6th AEneid, Virgil might possibly
intend to satirize the porters of the great men in his time; the
picture, at least, resembles those who have the honour to attend at
the doors of our great men. The porter in his lodge answers exactly to
Cerberus in his den, and, like him, must be appeased by a sop before
access can be gained to his master. Perhaps Jones might have seen
him in that light, and have recollected the passage where the Sibyl,
in order to procure an entrance for Eneas, presents the keeper of
the Stygian avenue with such a sop. Jones, in like manner, now began
to offer a bribe to the human Cerberus, which a footman overhearing,
instantly advanced, and declared, "if Mr. Jones would give him the sum
proposed, he would conduct him to the lady." Jones instantly agreed,
and was forthwith conducted to the lodging of Mrs. Fitzpatrick, by the
very fellow who had attended the ladies thither the day before.
Nothing more aggravates ill success than the near approach to
good. The gamester, who loses his party at piquet by a single point,
laments his bad luck ten times as much as he who never came within a
prospect of the game. So in a lottery, the proprietors of the next
numbers to that which wins the great prize, are apt to account
themselves much more unfortunate than their fellow-suffers. In
short, these kind of hairbreadth missings of happiness look like the
insults of Fortune, who may be considered as thus playing tricks
with us, and wantonly diverting herself at our expense.
Jones, who more than once already had experienced this frolicsome
disposition of the heathen goddess, was now again doomed to be
tantalized in the like manner; for he arrived at the door of Mrs.
Fitzpatrick about ten minutes after the departure of Sophia. He now
addressed himself to the waiting-woman belonging to Mrs.
Fitzpatrick, who told him the disagreeable news that the lady was
gone, but could not tell him whither; and the same answer he
afterwards received from Mrs. Fitzpatrick herself. For as that lady
made no doubt but that Mr. Jones was a person detached from her
uncle Western, in pursuit of his daughter, so she was too generous
to betray her.
Though Jones had never seen Mrs. Fitzpatrick, yet he had heard
that a cousin of Sophia was married to a gentleman of that name. This,
however, in the present tumult of his mind, never once recurred to his
memory; but when the footman, who had conducted him from his
lordship's, acquainted him with the great intimacy between the ladies,
and with their calling each other cousin, he then recollected the
story of the marriage which he had formerly heard; and as he was
presently convinced that this was the same woman, he became more
surprized at the answer which he had received, and very earnestly
desired leave to wait on the lady herself; but she positively
refused him that honour.
Jones, who, though he had never seen a court, was better bred than
most who frequent it, was incapable of any rude or abrupt behaviour to
a lady. When he had received, therefore, a peremptory denial, he
retired for the present, saying to the waiting-woman, "That if this
was an improper hour to wait on her lady, he would return in the
afternoon; and that he then hoped to have the honour of seeing her."
The civility with which he uttered this, added to the great comeliness
of his person, made an impression on the waiting-woman, and she
could not help answering; "Perhaps, sir, you may;" and, indeed, she
afterwards said everything to her mistress, which she thought most
likely to prevail on her to admit a visit from the handsome young
gentleman; for so she called him.
Jones very shrewdly suspected that Sophia herself was now with her
cousin, and was denied to him; which he imputed to her resentment of
what had happened at Upton. Having, therefore, dispatched Partridge to
procure him lodgings, he remained all day in the street, watching
the door where he thought his angel lay concealed; but no person did
he see issue forth, except a servant of the house, and in the
evening he returned to pay his visit to Mrs. Fitzpatrick, which that
good lady at last condescended to admit.
There is a certain air of natural gentility, which it is neither
in the power of dress to give, nor to conceal. Mr. Jones, as hath been
before hinted, was possessed of this in a very eminent degree. He met,
therefore, with a reception from the lady, somewhat different from
what his apparel seemed to demand; and after he had paid her his
proper respects, was desired to sit down.
The reader will not, I believe, be desirous of knowing all the
particulars of this conversation, which ended very little to the
satisfaction of poor Jones. For though Mrs. Fitzpatrick soon
discovered the lover (as all women have the eyes of hawks in those
matters), yet she still thought it was such a lover, as a generous
friend of the lady should not betray her to. In short, she suspected
this was the very Mr. Blifil, from whom Sophia had flown; and all
the answers which she artfully drew from Jones, concerning Mr.
Allworthy's family, confirmed her in this opinion. She therefore
strictly denied any knowledge concerning the place whither Sophia
was gone; nor could Jones obtain more than a permission to wait on her
again the next evening.
When Jones was departed, Mrs. Fitzpatrick communicated her suspicion
concerning Mr. Blifil to her maid; who answered, "Sure, madam, he is
too pretty a man, in my opinion, for any woman in the world to run
away from. I had rather fancy it is Mr. Jones."- "Mr. Jones!" said
the lady, "what Jones?" For Sophia had not given the least hint of any
such person in all their conversation; but Mrs. Honour had been much
more communicative, and had acquainted her sister Abigail with the
whole history of Jones, which this now again related to her mistress.
Mrs. Fitzpatrick no sooner received this information, than she
immediately agreed with the opinion of her maid; and, what is very
unaccountable, saw charms in the gallant, happy lover, which she had
overlooked in the slighted squire. "Betty," says she, "you are
certainly in the right: he is a very pretty fellow, and I don't wonder
that my cousin's maid should tell you so many women are fond of him. I
am sorry now I did not inform him where my cousin was; and yet, if
he be so terrible a rake as you tell me, it is a pity she should
ever see him any more; for what but her ruin can happen from
marrying a rake and a beggar against her father's consent? I
protest, if he be such a man as the wench described him to you, it
is but an office of charity to keep her from him; and I am sure it
would be unpardonable in me to do otherwise, who have tasted so
bitterly of the misfortunes attending such marriages."
Here she was interrupted by the arrival of a visitor, which was no
other than his lordship; and as nothing passed at this visit either
new or extraordinary, or any ways material to this history, we shall
here put an end to this chapter.
Chapter 3
A project of Mrs. Fitzpatrick, and her visit to Lady Bellaston
When Mrs. Fitzpatrick retired to rest, her thoughts were entirely
taken up by her cousin Sophia and Mr. Jones. She was, indeed, a little
offended with the former, for the disingenuity which she now
discovered. In which meditation she had not long exercised her
imagination, before the following conceit suggested itself; that could
she possibly become the means of preserving Sophia from this man,
and of restoring her to her father, she should, in all human
probability, by so great a service to the family, reconcile to herself
both her uncle and her aunt Western.
As this was one of her most favourite wishes, so the hope of success
