History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding
Chapter iii.
1530 words | Chapter 311
A further explanation of the foregoing design.
Though the reader may have long since concluded Lady Bellaston to be a
member (and no inconsiderable one) of the great world; she was in
reality a very considerable member of the little world; by which
appellation was distinguished a very worthy and honourable society
which not long since flourished in this kingdom.
Among other good principles upon which this society was founded, there
was one very remarkable; for, as it was a rule of an honourable club
of heroes, who assembled at the close of the late war, that all the
members should every day fight once at least; so 'twas in this, that
every member should, within the twenty-four hours, tell at least one
merry fib, which was to be propagated by all the brethren and
sisterhood.
Many idle stories were told about this society, which from a certain
quality may be, perhaps not unjustly, supposed to have come from the
society themselves. As, that the devil was the president; and that he
sat in person in an elbow-chair at the upper end of the table; but,
upon very strict enquiry, I find there is not the least truth in any
of those tales, and that the assembly consisted in reality of a set of
very good sort of people, and the fibs which they propagated were of a
harmless kind, and tended only to produce mirth and good humour.
Edwards was likewise a member of this comical society. To him
therefore Lady Bellaston applied as a proper instrument for her
purpose, and furnished him with a fib, which he was to vent whenever
the lady gave him her cue; and this was not to be till the evening,
when all the company but Lord Fellamar and himself were gone, and
while they were engaged in a rubber at whist.
To this time then, which was between seven and eight in the evening,
we will convey our reader; when Lady Bellaston, Lord Fellamar, Miss
Western, and Tom, being engaged at whist, and in the last game of
their rubbers, Tom received his cue from Lady Bellaston, which was, “I
protest, Tom, you are grown intolerable lately; you used to tell us
all the news of the town, and now you know no more of the world than
if you lived out of it.”
Mr Edwards then began as follows: “The fault is not mine, madam: it
lies in the dulness of the age, that doth nothing worth talking
of.----O la! though now I think on't there hath a terrible accident
befallen poor Colonel Wilcox.----Poor Ned.----You know him, my lord,
everybody knows him; faith! I am very much concerned for him.”
“What is it, pray?” says Lady Bellaston.
“Why, he hath killed a man this morning in a duel, that's all.”
His lordship, who was not in the secret, asked gravely, whom he had
killed? To which Edwards answered, “A young fellow we none of us know;
a Somersetshire lad just came to town, one Jones his name is; a near
relation of one Mr Allworthy, of whom your lordship I believe hath
heard. I saw the lad lie dead in a coffee-house.--Upon my soul, he is
one of the finest corpses I ever saw in my life!”
Sophia, who had just began to deal as Tom had mentioned that a man was
killed, stopt her hand, and listened with attention (for all stories
of that kind affected her), but no sooner had he arrived at the latter
part of the story than she began to deal again; and having dealt three
cards to one, and seven to another, and ten to a third, at last dropt
the rest from her hand, and fell back in her chair.
The company behaved as usually on these occasions. The usual
disturbance ensued, the usual assistance was summoned, and Sophia at
last, as it is usual, returned again to life, and was soon after, at
her earnest desire, led to her own apartment; where, at my lord's
request, Lady Bellaston acquainted her with the truth, attempted to
carry it off as a jest of her own, and comforted her with repeated
assurances, that neither his lordship nor Tom, though she had taught
him the story, were in the true secret of the affair.
There was no farther evidence necessary to convince Lord Fellamar how
justly the case had been represented to him by Lady Bellaston; and
now, at her return into the room, a scheme was laid between these two
noble persons, which, though it appeared in no very heinous light to
his lordship (as he faithfully promised, and faithfully resolved too,
to make the lady all the subsequent amends in his power by marriage),
yet many of our readers, we doubt not, will see with just detestation.
The next evening at seven was appointed for the fatal purpose, when
Lady Bellaston undertook that Sophia should be alone, and his lordship
should be introduced to her. The whole family were to be regulated for
the purpose, most of the servants despatched out of the house; and for
Mrs Honour, who, to prevent suspicion, was to be left with her
mistress till his lordship's arrival, Lady Bellaston herself was to
engage her in an apartment as distant as possible from the scene of
the intended mischief, and out of the hearing of Sophia.
Matters being thus agreed on, his lordship took his leave, and her
ladyship retired to rest, highly pleased with a project, of which she
had no reason to doubt the success, and which promised so effectually
to remove Sophia from being any further obstruction to her amour with
Jones, by a means of which she should never appear to be guilty, even
if the fact appeared to the world; but this she made no doubt of
preventing by huddling up a marriage, to which she thought the
ravished Sophia would easily be brought to consent, and at which all
the rest of her family would rejoice.
But affairs were not in so quiet a situation in the bosom of the other
conspirator; his mind was tost in all the distracting anxiety so nobly
described by Shakespear--
“Between the acting of a dreadful thing,
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream;
The genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
The nature of an insurrection.”----
Though the violence of his passion had made him eagerly embrace the
first hint of this design, especially as it came from a relation of
the lady, yet when that friend to reflection, a pillow, had placed the
action itself in all its natural black colours before his eyes, with
all the consequences which must, and those which might probably attend
it, his resolution began to abate, or rather indeed to go over to the
other side; and after a long conflict, which lasted a whole night,
between honour and appetite, the former at length prevailed, and he
determined to wait on Lady Bellaston, and to relinquish the design.
Lady Bellaston was in bed, though very late in the morning, and Sophia
sitting by her bed-side, when the servant acquainted her that Lord
Fellamar was below in the parlour; upon which her ladyship desired him
to stay, and that she would see him presently; but the servant was no
sooner departed than poor Sophia began to intreat her cousin not to
encourage the visits of that odious lord (so she called him, though a
little unjustly) upon her account. “I see his design,” said she; “for
he made downright love to me yesterday morning; but as I am resolved
never to admit it, I beg your ladyship not to leave us alone together
any more, and to order the servants that, if he enquires for me, I may
be always denied to him.”
“La! child,” says Lady Bellaston, “you country girls have nothing but
sweethearts in your head; you fancy every man who is civil to you is
making love. He is one of the most gallant young fellows about town,
and I am convinced means no more than a little gallantry. Make love to
you indeed! I wish with all my heart he would, and you must be an
arrant mad woman to refuse him.”
“But as I shall certainly be that mad woman,” cries Sophia, “I hope
his visits shall not be intruded upon me.”
“O child!” said Lady Bellaston, “you need not be so fearful; if you
resolve to run away with that Jones, I know no person who can hinder
you.”
“Upon my honour, madam,” cries Sophia, “your ladyship injures me. I
will never run away with any man; nor will I ever marry contrary to my
father's inclinations.”
“Well, Miss Western,” said the lady, “if you are not in a humour to
see company this morning, you may retire to your own apartment; for I
am not frightened at his lordship, and must send for him up into my
dressing-room.”
Sophia thanked her ladyship, and withdrew; and presently afterwards
Fellamar was admitted upstairs.
Reading Tips
Use arrow keys to navigate
Press 'N' for next chapter
Press 'P' for previous chapter