History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding
Chapter xv.
2164 words | Chapter 238
A brief history of Europe; and a curious discourse between Mr Jones
and the Man of the Hill.
“In Italy the landlords are very silent. In France they are more
talkative, but yet civil. In Germany and Holland they are generally
very impertinent. And as for their honesty, I believe it is pretty
equal in all those countries. The _laquais à louange_ are sure to lose
no opportunity of cheating you; and as for the postilions, I think
they are pretty much alike all the world over. These, sir, are the
observations on men which I made in my travels; for these were the
only men I ever conversed with. My design, when I went abroad, was to
divert myself by seeing the wondrous variety of prospects, beasts,
birds, fishes, insects, and vegetables, with which God has been
pleased to enrich the several parts of this globe; a variety which, as
it must give great pleasure to a contemplative beholder, so doth it
admirably display the power, and wisdom, and goodness of the Creator.
Indeed, to say the truth, there is but one work in his whole creation
that doth him any dishonour, and with that I have long since avoided
holding any conversation.”
“You will pardon me,” cries Jones; “but I have always imagined that
there is in this very work you mention as great variety as in all the
rest; for, besides the difference of inclination, customs and climates
have, I am told, introduced the utmost diversity into human nature.”
“Very little indeed,” answered the other: “those who travel in order
to acquaint themselves with the different manners of men might spare
themselves much pains by going to a carnival at Venice; for there they
will see at once all which they can discover in the several courts of
Europe. The same hypocrisy, the same fraud; in short, the same follies
and vices dressed in different habits. In Spain, these are equipped
with much gravity; and in Italy, with vast splendor. In France, a
knave is dressed like a fop; and in the northern countries, like a
sloven. But human nature is everywhere the same, everywhere the object
of detestation and scorn.
“As for my own part, I past through all these nations as you perhaps
may have done through a croud at a shew-jostling to get by them,
holding my nose with one hand, and defending my pockets with the
other, without speaking a word to any of them, while I was pressing on
to see what I wanted to see; which, however entertaining it might be
in itself, scarce made me amends for the trouble the company gave me.”
“Did not you find some of the nations among which you travelled less
troublesome to you than others?” said Jones. “O yes,” replied the old
man: “the Turks were much more tolerable to me than the Christians;
for they are men of profound taciturnity, and never disturb a stranger
with questions. Now and then indeed they bestow a short curse upon
him, or spit in his face as he walks the streets, but then they have
done with him; and a man may live an age in their country without
hearing a dozen words from them. But of all the people I ever saw,
heaven defend me from the French! With their damned prate and
civilities, and doing the honour of their nation to strangers (as they
are pleased to call it), but indeed setting forth their own vanity;
they are so troublesome, that I had infinitely rather pass my life
with the Hottentots than set my foot in Paris again. They are a nasty
people, but their nastiness is mostly without; whereas, in France, and
some other nations that I won't name, it is all within, and makes them
stink much more to my reason than that of Hottentots does to my nose.
“Thus, sir, I have ended the history of my life; for as to all that
series of years during which I have lived retired here, it affords no
variety to entertain you, and may be almost considered as one
day.[*] The retirement has been so compleat, that I could hardly have
enjoyed a more absolute solitude in the deserts of the Thebais than
here in the midst of this populous kingdom. As I have no estate, I am
plagued with no tenants or stewards: my annuity is paid me pretty
regularly, as indeed it ought to be; for it is much less than what I
might have expected in return for what I gave up. Visits I admit none;
and the old woman who keeps my house knows that her place entirely
depends upon her saving me all the trouble of buying the things that I
want, keeping off all sollicitation or business from me, and holding
her tongue whenever I am within hearing. As my walks are all by night,
I am pretty secure in this wild unfrequented place from meeting any
company. Some few persons I have met by chance, and sent them home
heartily frighted, as from the oddness of my dress and figure they
took me for a ghost or a hobgoblin. But what has happened to-night
shows that even here I cannot be safe from the villany of men; for
without your assistance I had not only been robbed, but very probably
murdered.”
[*] the rest of this paragraph is omitted in the third edition
Jones thanked the stranger for the trouble he had taken in relating
his story, and then expressed some wonder how he could possibly endure
a life of such solitude; “in which,” says he, “you may well complain
of the want of variety. Indeed I am astonished how you have filled up,
or rather killed, so much of your time.”
“I am not at all surprized,” answered the other, “that to one whose
affections and thoughts are fixed on the world my hours should appear
to have wanted employment in this place: but there is one single act,
for which the whole life of man is infinitely too short: what time can
suffice for the contemplation and worship of that glorious, immortal,
and eternal Being, among the works of whose stupendous creation not
only this globe, but even those numberless luminaries which we may
here behold spangling all the sky, though they should many of them be
suns lighting different systems of worlds, may possibly appear but as
a few atoms opposed to the whole earth which we inhabit? Can a man who
by divine meditations is admitted as it were into the conversation of
this ineffable, incomprehensible Majesty, think days, or years, or
ages, too long for the continuance of so ravishing an honour? Shall
the trifling amusements, the palling pleasures, the silly business of
the world, roll away our hours too swiftly from us; and shall the pace
of time seem sluggish to a mind exercised in studies so high, so
important, and so glorious? As no time is sufficient, so no place is
improper, for this great concern. On what object can we cast our eyes
which may not inspire us with ideas of his power, of his wisdom, and
of his goodness? It is not necessary that the rising sun should dart
his fiery glories over the eastern horizon; nor that the boisterous
winds should rush from their caverns, and shake the lofty forest; nor
that the opening clouds should pour their deluges on the plains: it is
not necessary, I say, that any of these should proclaim his majesty:
there is not an insect, not a vegetable, of so low an order in the
creation as not to be honoured with bearing marks of the attributes of
its great Creator; marks not only of his power, but of his wisdom and
goodness. Man alone, the king of this globe, the last and greatest
work of the Supreme Being, below the sun; man alone hath basely
dishonoured his own nature; and by dishonesty, cruelty, ingratitude,
and treachery, hath called his Maker's goodness in question, by
puzzling us to account how a benevolent being should form so foolish
and so vile an animal. Yet this is the being from whose conversation
you think, I suppose, that I have been unfortunately restrained, and
without whose blessed society, life, in your opinion, must be tedious
and insipid.”
“In the former part of what you said,” replied Jones, “I most heartily
and readily concur; but I believe, as well as hope, that the
abhorrence which you express for mankind in the conclusion, is much
too general. Indeed, you here fall into an error, which in my little
experience I have observed to be a very common one, by taking the
character of mankind from the worst and basest among them; whereas,
indeed, as an excellent writer observes, nothing should be esteemed as
characteristical of a species, but what is to be found among the best
and most perfect individuals of that species. This error, I believe,
is generally committed by those who from want of proper caution in the
choice of their friends and acquaintance, have suffered injuries from
bad and worthless men; two or three instances of which are very
unjustly charged on all human nature.”
“I think I had experience enough of it,” answered the other: “my first
mistress and my first friend betrayed me in the basest manner, and in
matters which threatened to be of the worst of consequences--even to
bring me to a shameful death.”
“But you will pardon me,” cries Jones, “if I desire you to reflect who
that mistress and who that friend were. What better, my good sir,
could be expected in love derived from the stews, or in friendship
first produced and nourished at the gaming-table? To take the
characters of women from the former instance, or of men from the
latter, would be as unjust as to assert that air is a nauseous and
unwholesome element, because we find it so in a jakes. I have lived
but a short time in the world, and yet have known men worthy of the
highest friendship, and women of the highest love.”
“Alas! young man,” answered the stranger, “you have lived, you
confess, but a very short time in the world: I was somewhat older than
you when I was of the same opinion.”
“You might have remained so still,” replies Jones, “if you had not
been unfortunate, I will venture to say incautious, in the placing
your affections. If there was, indeed, much more wickedness in the
world than there is, it would not prove such general assertions
against human nature, since much of this arrives by mere accident, and
many a man who commits evil is not totally bad and corrupt in his
heart. In truth, none seem to have any title to assert human nature to
be necessarily and universally evil, but those whose own minds afford
them one instance of this natural depravity; which is not, I am
convinced, your case.”
“And such,” said the stranger, “will be always the most backward to
assert any such thing. Knaves will no more endeavour to persuade us of
the baseness of mankind, than a highwayman will inform you that there
are thieves on the road. This would, indeed, be a method to put you on
your guard, and to defeat their own purposes. For which reason, though
knaves, as I remember, are very apt to abuse particular persons, yet
they never cast any reflection on human nature in general.” The old
gentleman spoke this so warmly, that as Jones despaired of making a
convert, and was unwilling to offend, he returned no answer.
The day now began to send forth its first streams of light, when Jones
made an apology to the stranger for having staid so long, and perhaps
detained him from his rest. The stranger answered, “He never wanted
rest less than at present; for that day and night were indifferent
seasons to him; and that he commonly made use of the former for the
time of his repose and of the latter for his walks and lucubrations.
However,” said he, “it is now a most lovely morning, and if you can
bear any longer to be without your own rest or food, I will gladly
entertain you with the sight of some very fine prospects which I
believe you have not yet seen.”
Jones very readily embraced this offer, and they immediately set
forward together from the cottage. As for Partridge, he had fallen
into a profound repose just as the stranger had finished his story;
for his curiosity was satisfied, and the subsequent discourse was not
forcible enough in its operation to conjure down the charms of sleep.
Jones therefore left him to enjoy his nap; and as the reader may
perhaps be at this season glad of the same favour, we will here put an
end to the eighth book of our history.
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