Chapter xi.

A short chapter; but which contains sufficient matter to affect the

good-natured reader.

It was Mr Allworthy's custom never to punish any one, not even to turn

away a servant, in a passion. He resolved therefore to delay passing

sentence on Jones till the afternoon.

The poor young man attended at dinner, as usual; but his heart was too

much loaded to suffer him to eat. His grief too was a good deal

aggravated by the unkind looks of Mr Allworthy; whence he concluded

that Western had discovered the whole affair between him and Sophia;

but as to Mr Blifil's story, he had not the least apprehension; for of

much the greater part he was entirely innocent; and for the residue,

as he had forgiven and forgotten it himself, so he suspected no

remembrance on the other side. When dinner was over, and the servants

departed, Mr Allworthy began to harangue. He set forth, in a long

speech, the many iniquities of which Jones had been guilty,

particularly those which this day had brought to light; and concluded

by telling him, “That unless he could clear himself of the charge, he

was resolved to banish him his sight for ever.”

Many disadvantages attended poor Jones in making his defence; nay,

indeed, he hardly knew his accusation; for as Mr Allworthy, in

recounting the drunkenness, &c., while he lay ill, out of modesty sunk

everything that related particularly to himself, which indeed

principally constituted the crime; Jones could not deny the charge.

His heart was, besides, almost broken already; and his spirits were so

sunk, that he could say nothing for himself; but acknowledged the

whole, and, like a criminal in despair, threw himself upon mercy;

concluding, “That though he must own himself guilty of many follies

and inadvertencies, he hoped he had done nothing to deserve what would

be to him the greatest punishment in the world.”

Allworthy answered, “That he had forgiven him too often already, in

compassion to his youth, and in hopes of his amendment: that he now

found he was an abandoned reprobate, and such as it would be criminal

in any one to support and encourage. Nay,” said Mr Allworthy to him,

“your audacious attempt to steal away the young lady, calls upon me to

justify my own character in punishing you. The world who have already

censured the regard I have shown for you may think, with some colour

at least of justice, that I connive at so base and barbarous an

action--an action of which you must have known my abhorrence: and

which, had you had any concern for my ease and honour, as well as for

my friendship, you would never have thought of undertaking. Fie upon

it, young man! indeed there is scarce any punishment equal to your

crimes, and I can scarce think myself justifiable in what I am now

going to bestow on you. However, as I have educated you like a child

of my own, I will not turn you naked into the world. When you open

this paper, therefore, you will find something which may enable you,

with industry, to get an honest livelihood; but if you employ it to

worse purposes, I shall not think myself obliged to supply you

farther, being resolved, from this day forward, to converse no more

with you on any account. I cannot avoid saying, there is no part of

your conduct which I resent more than your ill-treatment of that good

young man (meaning Blifil) who hath behaved with so much tenderness

and honour towards you.”

These last words were a dose almost too bitter to be swallowed. A

flood of tears now gushed from the eyes of Jones, and every faculty of

speech and motion seemed to have deserted him. It was some time before

he was able to obey Allworthy's peremptory commands of departing;

which he at length did, having first kissed his hands with a passion

difficult to be affected, and as difficult to be described.

The reader must be very weak, if, when he considers the light in which

Jones then appeared to Mr Allworthy, he should blame the rigour of his

sentence. And yet all the neighbourhood, either from this weakness, or

from some worse motive, condemned this justice and severity as the

highest cruelty. Nay, the very persons who had before censured the

good man for the kindness and tenderness shown to a bastard (his own,

according to the general opinion), now cried out as loudly against

turning his own child out of doors. The women especially were

unanimous in taking the part of Jones, and raised more stories on the

occasion than I have room, in this chapter, to set down.

One thing must not be omitted, that, in their censures on this

occasion, none ever mentioned the sum contained in the paper which

Allworthy gave Jones, which was no less than five hundred pounds; but

all agreed that he was sent away penniless, and some said naked, from

the house of his inhuman father.