History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

  Chapter ii.

  In which Mr Jones receives many friendly visits during hisconfinement; with some fine touches of the passion of love, scarcevisible to the naked eye.

  Tom Jones had many visitors during his confinement, though some,perhaps, were not very agreeable to him. Mr Allworthy saw him almostevery day; but though he pitied Tom's sufferings, and greatly approvedthe gallant behaviour which had occasioned them; yet he thought thiswas a favourable opportunity to bring him to a sober sense of hisindiscreet conduct; and that wholesome advice for that purpose couldnever be applied at a more proper season than at the present, when themind was softened by pain and sickness, and alarmed by danger; andwhen its attention was unembarrassed with those turbulent passionswhich engage us in the pursuit of pleasure.

  At all seasons, therefore, when the good man was alone with the youth,especially when the latter was totally at ease, he took occasion toremind him of his former miscarriages, but in the mildest andtenderest manner, and only in order to introduce the caution which heprescribed for his future behaviour; "on which alone," he assured him,"would depend his own felicity, and the kindness which he might yetpromise himself to receive at the hands of his father by adoption,unless he should hereafter forfeit his good opinion: for as to whathad past," he said, "it should be all forgiven and forgotten. Hetherefore advised him to make a good use of this accident, that so inthe end it might prove a visitation for his own good."

  Thwackum was likewise pretty assiduous in his visits; and he tooconsidered a sick-bed to be a convenient scene for lectures. Hisstile, however, was more severe than Mr Allworthy's: he told hispupil, "That he ought to look on his broken limb as a judgment fromheaven on his sins. That it would become him to be daily on his knees,pouring forth thanksgivings that he had broken his arm only, and nothis neck; which latter," he said, "was very probably reserved for somefuture occasion, and that, perhaps, not very remote. For his part," hesaid, "he had often wondered some judgment had not overtaken himbefore; but it might be perceived by this, that Divine punishments,though slow, are always sure." Hence likewise he advised him, "toforesee, with equal certainty, the greater evils which were yetbehind, and which were as sure as this of overtaking him in his stateof reprobacy. These are," said he, "to be averted only by such athorough and sincere repentance as is not to be expected or hoped forfrom one so abandoned in his youth, and whose mind, I am afraid, istotally corrupted. It is my duty, however, to exhort you to thisrepentance, though I too well know all exhortations will be vain andfruitless. But _liberavi animam meam._ I can accuse my own conscienceof no neglect; though it is at the same time with the utmost concern Isee you travelling on to certain misery in this world, and to ascertain damnation in the next."

  Square talked in a very different strain; he said, "Such accidents asa broken bone were below the consideration of a wise man. That it wasabundantly sufficient to reconcile the mind to any of thesemischances, to reflect that they are liable to befal the wisest ofmankind, and are undoubtedly for the good of the whole." He said, "Itwas a mere abuse of words to call those things evils, in which therewas no moral unfitness: that pain, which was the worst consequence ofsuch accidents, was the most contemptible thing in the world;" withmore of the like sentences, extracted out of the second book ofTully's Tusculan questions, and from the great Lord Shaftesbury. Inpronouncing these he was one day so eager, that he unfortunately bithis tongue; and in such a manner, that it not only put an end to hisdiscourse, but created much emotion in him, and caused him to mutteran oath or two: but what was worst of all, this accident gaveThwackum, who was present, and who held all such doctrine to beheathenish and atheistical, an opportunity to clap a judgment on hisback. Now this was done with so malicious a sneer, that it totallyunhinged (if I may so say) the temper of the philosopher, which thebite of his tongue had somewhat ruffled; and as he was disabled fromventing his wrath at his lips, he had possibly found a more violentmethod of revenging himself, had not the surgeon, who was then luckilyin the room, contrary to his own interest, interposed and preservedthe peace.

  Mr Blifil visited his friend Jones but seldom, and never alone. Thisworthy young man, however, professed much regard for him, and as greatconcern at his misfortune; but cautiously avoided any intimacy, lest,as he frequently hinted, it might contaminate the sobriety of his owncharacter: for which purpose he had constantly in his mouth thatproverb in which Solomon speaks against evil communication. Not thathe was so bitter as Thwackum; for he always expressed some hopes ofTom's reformation; "which," he said, "the unparalleled goodness shownby his uncle on this occasion, must certainly effect in one notabsolutely abandoned:" but concluded, "if Mr Jones ever offendshereafter, I shall not be able to say a syllable in his favour."

  As to Squire Western, he was seldom out of the sick-room, unless whenhe was engaged either in the field or over his bottle. Nay, he wouldsometimes retire hither to take his beer, and it was not withoutdifficulty that he was prevented from forcing Jones to take his beertoo: for no quack ever held his nostrum to be a more general panaceathan he did this; which, he said, had more virtue in it than was inall the physic in an apothecary's shop. He was, however, by muchentreaty, prevailed on to forbear the application of this medicine;but from serenading his patient every hunting morning with the hornunder his window, it was impossible to withhold him; nor did he everlay aside that hallow, with which he entered into all companies, whenhe visited Jones, without any regard to the sick person's being atthat time either awake or asleep.

  This boisterous behaviour, as it meant no harm, so happily it effectednone, and was abundantly compensated to Jones, as soon as he was ableto sit up, by the company of Sophia, whom the squire then brought tovisit him; nor was it, indeed, long before Jones was able to attendher to the harpsichord, where she would kindly condescend, for hourstogether, to charm him with the most delicious music, unless when thesquire thought proper to interrupt her, by insisting on Old Sir Simon,or some other of his favourite pieces.

  Notwithstanding the nicest guard which Sophia endeavoured to set onher behaviour, she could not avoid letting some appearances now andthen slip forth: for love may again be likened to a disease in this,that when it is denied a vent in one part, it will certainly break outin another. What her lips, therefore, concealed, her eyes, herblushes, and many little involuntary actions, betrayed.

  One day, when Sophia was playing on the harpsichord, and Jones wasattending, the squire came into the room, crying, "There, Tom, I havehad a battle for thee below-stairs with thick parson Thwackum. He hathbeen a telling Allworthy, before my face, that the broken bone was ajudgment upon thee. D--n it, says I, how can that be? Did he not comeby it in defence of a young woman? A judgment indeed! Pox, if he neverdoth anything worse, he will go to heaven sooner than all the parsonsin the country. He hath more reason to glory in it than to be ashamedof it."--"Indeed, sir," says Jones, "I have no reason for either; butif it preserved Miss Western, I shall always think it the happiestaccident of my life."--"And to gu," said the squire, "to zet Allworthyagainst thee vor it! D--n un, if the parson had unt his petticuoatson, I should have lent un o flick; for I love thee dearly, my boy, andd--n me if there is anything in my power which I won't do for thee.Sha't take thy choice of all the horses in my stable to-morrowmorning, except only the Chevalier and Miss Slouch." Jones thankedhim, but declined accepting the offer. "Nay," added the squire, "sha'tha the sorrel mare that Sophy rode. She cost me fifty guineas, andcomes six years old this grass." "If she had cost me a thousand,"cries Jones passionately, "I would have given her to the dogs." "Pooh!pooh!" answered Western; "what! because she broke thy arm? Shouldstforget and forgive. I thought hadst been more a man than to bearmalice against a dumb creature."--Here Sophia interposed, and put anend to the conversation, by desiring her father's leave to play tohim; a request which he never refused.

  The countenance of Sophia had undergone more than one change duringthe foregoing speeches; and probably she imputed the passionateresentment which Jones had expressed against the
mare, to a differentmotive from that from which her father had derived it. Her spiritswere at this time in a visible flutter; and she played so intolerablyill, that had not Western soon fallen asleep, he must have remarkedit. Jones, however, who was sufficiently awake, and was not without anear any more than without eyes, made some observations; which beingjoined to all which the reader may remember to have passed formerly,gave him pretty strong assurances, when he came to reflect on thewhole, that all was not well in the tender bosom of Sophia; an opinionwhich many young gentlemen will, I doubt not, extremely wonder at hisnot having been well confirmed in long ago. To confess the truth, hehad rather too much diffidence in himself, and was not forward enoughin seeing the advances of a young lady; a misfortune which can becured only by that early town education, which is at present sogenerally in fashion.

  When these thoughts had fully taken possession of Jones, theyoccasioned a perturbation in his mind, which, in a constitution lesspure and firm than his, might have been, at such a season, attendedwith very dangerous consequences. He was truly sensible of the greatworth of Sophia. He extremely liked her person, no less admired heraccomplishments, and tenderly loved her goodness. In reality, as hehad never once entertained any thought of possessing her, nor had evergiven the least voluntary indulgence to his inclinations, he had amuch stronger passion for her than he himself was acquainted with. Hisheart now brought forth the full secret, at the same time that itassured him the adorable object returned his affection.