TOM JONES
PART 19
Chapter xiv. — A most dreadful chapter indeed; and which few readers ought to venture upon in an evening, especially when alone.
Jones
swallowed a large mess of chicken, or rather cock, broth, with a very good
appetite, as indeed he would have done the cock it was made of, with a pound of
bacon into the bargain; and now, finding in himself no deficiency of either
health or spirit, he resolved to get up and seek his enemy.
But first
he sent for the serjeant, who was his first acquaintance among these military
gentlemen. Unluckily that worthy officer having, in a literal sense, taken his
fill of liquor, had been some time retired to his bolster, where he was snoring
so loud that it was not easy to convey a noise in at his ears capable of
drowning that which issued from his nostrils.
However,
as Jones persisted in his desire of seeing him, a vociferous drawer at length
found means to disturb his slumbers, and to acquaint him with the message. Of
which the serjeant was no sooner made sensible, than he arose from his bed, and
having his clothes already on, immediately attended. Jones did not think fit to
acquaint the serjeant with his design; though he might have done it with great
safety, for the halberdier was himself a man of honour, and had killed his man.
He would therefore have faithfully kept this secret, or indeed any other which
no reward was published for discovering. But as Jones knew not those virtues in
so short an acquaintance, his caution was perhaps prudent and commendable
enough.
He began
therefore by acquainting the serjeant, that as he was now entered into the
army, he was ashamed of being without what was perhaps the most necessary
implement of a soldier; namely, a sword; adding, that he should be infinitely
obliged to him, if he could procure one. “For which,” says he, “I will give you
any reasonable price; nor do I insist upon its being silver-hilted; only a good
blade, and such as may become a soldier’s thigh.”
The
serjeant, who well knew what had happened, and had heard that Jones was in a
very dangerous condition, immediately concluded, from such a message, at such a
time of night, and from a man in such a situation, that he was light-headed.
Now as he had his wit (to use that word in its common signification) always
ready, he bethought himself of making his advantage of this humour in the sick
man. “Sir,” says he, “I believe I can fit you. I have a most excellent piece of
stuff by me. It is not indeed silver-hilted, which, as you say, doth not become
a soldier; but the handle is decent enough, and the blade one of the best in
Europe. It is a blade that—a blade that—in short, I will fetch it you this
instant, and you shall see it and handle it. I am glad to see your honour so
well with all my heart.”
Being
instantly returned with the sword, he delivered it to Jones, who took it and
drew it; and then told the serjeant it would do very well, and bid him name his
price.
The
serjeant now began to harangue in praise of his goods. He said (nay he swore
very heartily), “that the blade was taken from a French officer, of very high
rank, at the battle of Dettingen. I took it myself,” says he, “from his side,
after I had knocked him o’ the head. The hilt was a golden one. That I sold to
one of our fine gentlemen; for there are some of them, an’t please your honour,
who value the hilt of a sword more than the blade.”
Here the
other stopped him, and begged him to name a price. The serjeant, who thought
Jones absolutely out of his senses, and very near his end, was afraid lest he
should injure his family by asking too little. However, after a moment’s
hesitation, he contented himself with naming twenty guineas, and swore he would
not sell it for less to his own brother.
“Twenty
guineas!” says Jones, in the utmost surprize: “sure you think I am mad, or that
I never saw a sword in my life. Twenty guineas, indeed! I did not imagine you
would endeavour to impose upon me. Here, take the sword—No, now I think on’t, I
will keep it myself, and show it your officer in the morning, acquainting him,
at the same time, what a price you asked me for it.”
The
serjeant, as we have said, had always his wit (in sensu praedicto) about
him, and now plainly saw that Jones was not in the condition he had apprehended
him to be; he now, therefore, counterfeited as great surprize as the other had
shown, and said, “I am certain, sir, I have not asked you so much out of the
way. Besides, you are to consider, it is the only sword I have, and I must run
the risque of my officer’s displeasure, by going without one myself. And truly,
putting all this together, I don’t think twenty shillings was so much out of
the way.”
“Twenty
shillings!” cries Jones; “why, you just now asked me twenty guineas.”—“How!”
cries the serjeant, “sure your honour must have mistaken me: or else I mistook
myself—and indeed I am but half awake. Twenty guineas, indeed! no wonder your
honour flew into such a passion. I say twenty guineas too. No, no, I mean
twenty shillings, I assure you. And when your honour comes to consider
everything, I hope you will not think that so extravagant a price. It is indeed
true, you may buy a weapon which looks as well for less money. But——”
Here Jones
interrupted him, saying, “I will be so far from making any words with you, that
I will give you a shilling more than your demand.” He then gave him a guinea,
bid him return to his bed, and wished him a good march; adding, he hoped to
overtake them before the division reached Worcester.
The
serjeant very civilly took his leave, fully satisfied with his merchandize, and
not a little pleased with his dexterous recovery from that false step into
which his opinion of the sick man’s light-headedness had betrayed him.
As soon as
the serjeant was departed, Jones rose from his bed, and dressed himself
entirely, putting on even his coat, which, as its colour was white, showed very
visibly the streams of blood which had flowed down it; and now, having grasped
his new-purchased sword in his hand, he was going to issue forth, when the
thought of what he was about to undertake laid suddenly hold of him, and he
began to reflect that in a few minutes he might possibly deprive a human being
of life, or might lose his own. “Very well,” said he, “and in what cause do I
venture my life? Why, in that of my honour. And who is this human being? A
rascal who hath injured and insulted me without provocation. But is not revenge
forbidden by Heaven? Yes, but it is enjoined by the world. Well, but shall I
obey the world in opposition to the express commands of Heaven? Shall I incur
the Divine displeasure rather than be called—ha—coward—scoundrel?—I’ll think no
more; I am resolved, and must fight him.”
The clock
had now struck twelve, and every one in the house were in their beds, except
the centinel who stood to guard Northerton, when Jones softly opening his door,
issued forth in pursuit of his enemy, of whose place of confinement he had
received a perfect description from the drawer. It is not easy to conceive a
much more tremendous figure than he now exhibited. He had on, as we have said,
a light-coloured coat, covered with streams of blood. His face, which missed
that very blood, as well as twenty ounces more drawn from him by the surgeon,
was pallid. Round his head was a quantity of bandage, not unlike a turban. In
the right hand he carried a sword, and in the left a candle. So that the bloody
Banquo was not worthy to be compared to him. In fact, I believe a more dreadful
apparition was never raised in a church-yard, nor in the imagination of any
good people met in a winter evening over a Christmas fire in Somersetshire.
When the
centinel first saw our heroe approach, his hair began gently to lift up his
grenadier cap; and in the same instant his knees fell to blows with each other.
Presently his whole body was seized with worse than an ague fit. He then fired
his piece, and fell flat on his face.
Whether
fear or courage was the occasion of his firing, or whether he took aim at the
object of his terror, I cannot say. If he did, however, he had the good fortune
to miss his man.
Jones
seeing the fellow fall, guessed the cause of his fright, at which he could not
forbear smiling, not in the least reflecting on the danger from which he had
just escaped. He then passed by the fellow, who still continued in the posture
in which he fell, and entered the room where Northerton, as he had heard, was
confined. Here, in a solitary situation, he found—an empty quart pot standing on
the table, on which some beer being spilt, it looked as if the room had lately
been inhabited; but at present it was entirely vacant.
Jones then
apprehended it might lead to some other apartment; but upon searching all round
it, he could perceive no other door than that at which he entered, and where
the centinel had been posted. He then proceeded to call Northerton several
times by his name; but no one answered; nor did this serve to any other purpose
than to confirm the centinel in his terrors, who was now convinced that the
volunteer was dead of his wounds, and that his ghost was come in search of the
murderer: he now lay in all the agonies of horror; and I wish, with all my
heart, some of those actors who are hereafter to represent a man frighted out of
his wits had seen him, that they might be taught to copy nature, instead of
performing several antic tricks and gestures, for the entertainment and
applause of the galleries.
Perceiving
the bird was flown, at least despairing to find him, and rightly apprehending
that the report of the firelock would alarm the whole house, our heroe now blew
out his candle, and gently stole back again to his chamber, and to his bed;
whither he would not have been able to have gotten undiscovered, had any other
person been on the same staircase, save only one gentleman who was confined to
his bed by the gout; for before he could reach the door to his chamber, the
hall where the centinel had been posted was half full of people, some in their
shirts, and others not half drest, all very earnestly enquiring of each other
what was the matter.
The
soldier was now found lying in the same place and posture in which we just now
left him. Several immediately applied themselves to raise him, and some
concluded him dead; but they presently saw their mistake, for he not only
struggled with those who laid their hands on him, but fell a roaring like a
bull. In reality, he imagined so many spirits or devils were handling him; for
his imagination being possessed with the horror of an apparition, converted
every object he saw or felt into nothing but ghosts and spectres.
At length
he was overpowered by numbers, and got upon his legs; when candles being
brought, and seeing two or three of his comrades present, he came a little to
himself; but when they asked him what was the matter? he answered, “I am a dead
man, that’s all, I am a dead man, I can’t recover it, I have seen him.” “What
hast thou seen, Jack?” says one of the soldiers. “Why, I have seen the young
volunteer that was killed yesterday.” He then imprecated the most heavy curses
on himself, if he had not seen the volunteer, all over blood, vomiting fire out
of his mouth and nostrils, pass by him into the chamber where Ensign Northerton
was, and then seizing the ensign by the throat, fly away with him in a clap of
thunder.
This
relation met with a gracious reception from the audience. All the women present
believed it firmly, and prayed Heaven to defend them from murder. Amongst the
men too, many had faith in the story; but others turned it into derision and
ridicule; and a serjeant who was present answered very coolly, “Young man, you
will hear more of this, for going to sleep and dreaming on your post.”
The
soldier replied, “You may punish me if you please; but I was as broad awake as
I am now; and the devil carry me away, as he hath the ensign, if I did not see
the dead man, as I tell you, with eyes as big and as fiery as two large
flambeaux.”
The
commander of the forces, and the commander of the house, were now both arrived;
for the former being awake at the time, and hearing the centinel fire his
piece, thought it his duty to rise immediately, though he had no great
apprehensions of any mischief; whereas the apprehensions of the latter were
much greater, lest her spoons and tankards should be upon the march, without
having received any such orders from her.
Our poor
centinel, to whom the sight of this officer was not much more welcome than the
apparition, as he thought it, which he had seen before, again related the
dreadful story, and with many additions of blood and fire; but he had the
misfortune to gain no credit with either of the last-mentioned persons: for the
officer, though a very religious man, was free from all terrors of this kind;
besides, having so lately left Jones in the condition we have seen, he had no
suspicion of his being dead. As for the landlady, though not over religious,
she had no kind of aversion to the doctrine of spirits; but there was a
circumstance in the tale which she well knew to be false, as we shall inform
the reader presently.
But
whether Northerton was carried away in thunder or fire, or in whatever other
manner he was gone, it was now certain that his body was no longer in custody.
Upon this occasion the lieutenant formed a conclusion not very different from
what the serjeant is just mentioned to have made before, and immediately
ordered the centinel to be taken prisoner. So that, by a strange reverse of
fortune (though not very uncommon in a military life), the guard became the
guarded.
Chapter xv. — The conclusion of the foregoing adventure.
Besides
the suspicion of sleep, the lieutenant harboured another and worse doubt
against the poor centinel, and this was, that of treachery; for as he believed
not one syllable of the apparition, so he imagined the whole to be an invention
formed only to impose upon him, and that the fellow had in reality been bribed
by Northerton to let him escape. And this he imagined the rather, as the fright
appeared to him the more unnatural in one who had the character of as brave and
bold a man as any in the regiment, having been in several actions, having
received several wounds, and, in a word, having behaved himself always like a
good and valiant soldier.
That the
reader, therefore, may not conceive the least ill opinion of such a person, we
shall not delay a moment in rescuing his character from the imputation of this
guilt.
Mr
Northerton then, as we have before observed, was fully satisfied with the glory
which he had obtained from this action. He had perhaps seen, or heard, or
guessed, that envy is apt to attend fame. Not that I would here insinuate that
he was heathenishly inclined to believe in or to worship the goddess Nemesis;
for, in fact, I am convinced he never heard of her name. He was, besides, of an
active disposition, and had a great antipathy to those close quarters in the
castle of Gloucester, for which a justice of peace might possibly give him a
billet. Nor was he moreover free from some uneasy meditations on a certain
wooden edifice, which I forbear to name, in conformity to the opinion of
mankind, who, I think, rather ought to honour than to be ashamed of this
building, as it is, or at least might be made, of more benefit to society than
almost any other public erection. In a word, to hint at no more reasons for his
conduct, Mr Northerton was desirous of departing that evening, and nothing
remained for him but to contrive the quomodo, which appeared to be a matter of
some difficulty.
Now this
young gentleman, though somewhat crooked in his morals, was perfectly straight
in his person, which was extremely strong and well made. His face too was
accounted handsome by the generality of women, for it was broad and ruddy, with
tolerably good teeth. Such charms did not fail making an impression on my
landlady, who had no little relish for this kind of beauty. She had, indeed, a
real compassion for the young man; and hearing from the surgeon that affairs
were like to go ill with the volunteer, she suspected they might hereafter wear
no benign aspect with the ensign. Having obtained, therefore, leave to make him
a visit, and finding him in a very melancholy mood, which she considerably
heightened by telling him there were scarce any hopes of the volunteer’s life,
she proceeded to throw forth some hints, which the other readily and eagerly
taking up, they soon came to a right understanding; and it was at length agreed
that the ensign should, at a certain signal, ascend the chimney, which
communicating very soon with that of the kitchen, he might there again let
himself down; for which she would give him an opportunity by keeping the coast
clear.
But lest
our readers, of a different complexion, should take this occasion of too
hastily condemning all compassion as a folly, and pernicious to society, we
think proper to mention another particular which might possibly have some
little share in this action. The ensign happened to be at this time possessed
of the sum of fifty pounds, which did indeed belong to the whole company; for
the captain having quarrelled with his lieutenant, had entrusted the payment of
his company to the ensign. This money, however, he thought proper to deposit in
my landlady’s hand, possibly by way of bail or security that he would hereafter
appear and answer to the charge against him; but whatever were the conditions,
certain it is, that she had the money and the ensign his liberty.
The reader
may perhaps expect, from the compassionate temper of this good woman, that when
she saw the poor centinel taken prisoner for a fact of which she knew him
innocent, she should immediately have interposed in his behalf; but whether it
was that she had already exhausted all her compassion in the above-mentioned
instance, or that the features of this fellow, though not very different from
those of the ensign, could not raise it, I will not determine; but, far from
being an advocate for the present prisoner, she urged his guilt to his officer,
declaring, with uplifted eyes and hands, that she would not have had any
concern in the escape of a murderer for all the world.
Everything
was now once more quiet, and most of the company returned again to their beds;
but the landlady, either from the natural activity of her disposition, or from
her fear for her plate, having no propensity to sleep, prevailed with the
officers, as they were to march within little more than an hour, to spend that
time with her over a bowl of punch.
Jones had
lain awake all this while, and had heard great part of the hurry and bustle
that had passed, of which he had now some curiosity to know the particulars. He
therefore applied to his bell, which he rung at least twenty times without any
effect: for my landlady was in such high mirth with her company, that no
clapper could be heard there but her own; and the drawer and chambermaid, who
were sitting together in the kitchen (for neither durst he sit up nor she lie
in bed alone), the more they heard the bell ring the more they were frightened,
and as it were nailed down in their places.
At last,
at a lucky interval of chat, the sound reached the ears of our good landlady,
who presently sent forth her summons, which both her servants instantly obeyed.
“Joe,” says the mistress, “don’t you hear the gentleman’s bell ring? Why don’t
you go up?”—“It is not my business,” answered the drawer, “to wait upon the
chambers—it is Betty Chambermaid’s.”—“If you come to that,” answered the maid, “it
is not my business to wait upon gentlemen. I have done it indeed sometimes; but
the devil fetch me if ever I do again, since you make your preambles about it.”
The bell still ringing violently, their mistress fell into a passion, and
swore, if the drawer did not go up immediately, she would turn him away that
very morning. “If you do, madam,” says he, “I can’t help it. I won’t do another
servant’s business.” She then applied herself to the maid, and endeavoured to
prevail by gentle means; but all in vain: Betty was as inflexible as Joe. Both
insisted it was not their business, and they would not do it.
The
lieutenant then fell a laughing, and said, “Come, I will put an end to this
contention;” and then turning to the servants, commended them for their resolution
in not giving up the point; but added, he was sure, if one would consent to go
the other would. To which proposal they both agreed in an instant, and
accordingly went up very lovingly and close together. When they were gone, the
lieutenant appeased the wrath of the landlady, by satisfying her why they were
both so unwilling to go alone.
They
returned soon after, and acquainted their mistress, that the sick gentleman was
so far from being dead, that he spoke as heartily as if he was well; and that
he gave his service to the captain, and should be very glad of the favour of
seeing him before he marched.
The good
lieutenant immediately complied with his desires, and sitting down by his
bed-side, acquainted him with the scene which had happened below, concluding
with his intentions to make an example of the centinel.
Upon this
Jones related to him the whole truth, and earnestly begged him not to punish
the poor soldier, “who, I am confident,” says he, “is as innocent of the
ensign’s escape, as he is of forging any lie, or of endeavouring to impose on
you.”
The
lieutenant hesitated a few moments, and then answered: “Why, as you have
cleared the fellow of one part of the charge, so it will be impossible to prove
the other, because he was not the only centinel. But I have a good mind to
punish the rascal for being a coward. Yet who knows what effect the terror of
such an apprehension may have? and, to say the truth, he hath always behaved
well against an enemy. Come, it is a good thing to see any sign of religion in
these fellows; so I promise you he shall be set at liberty when we march. But
hark, the general beats. My dear boy, give me another buss. Don’t discompose
nor hurry yourself; but remember the Christian doctrine of patience, and I
warrant you will soon be able to do yourself justice, and to take an honourable
revenge on the fellow who hath injured you.” The lieutenant then departed, and
Jones endeavoured to compose himself to rest.
To be continued
