History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

In the dialogue that gives the section its title, Jones and the barber share a bottle of wine, and the barber reveals himself to be Partridge, the schoolmaster once reputed to be Jones’s father, ruined by that false suspicion. Partridge pleads to accompany Jones as a servant, citing auspicious dreams of a joint-stool and a milk-white mare; Jones consents, though he refuses Partridge’s offer to assume command of their joint purse, which contains only nine guineas. Partridge’s deeper motive, disclosed in a subsequent chapter, is his hope of persuading Jones to return to Allworthy, thereby rehabilitating himself in the squire’s favor—an ambition he frames as a restoration more ardently wished for than Ulysses’s homecoming.

The travellers proceed to Gloucester, lodging at the Bell, kept by Mrs Whitefield, sister of the celebrated preacher but, in Fielding’s assurance, untainted by Methodism. Their peace is destroyed by a Somersetshire petty-fogger, who, having formerly visited Allworthy’s kitchen, recognizes Jones and relates a catalogue of alleged misdeeds: impregnating a servant-maid, breaking Thwackum’s arm, snapping a pistol at Blifil, and beating a drum through the house to prevent Allworthy from sleeping. Dowling, the attorney who had once brought news of Mrs Blifil’s death to Allworthy, listens with grinning approbation, and Mrs Whitefield, persuaded by the oaths with which the petty-fogger confirms his tale, conceives so ill an opinion of her guest that she treats him with marked severity. Jones, unable to account fairly for the change, resolves to depart that same evening, even against Partridge’s remonstrances, carrying with him only the knapsack, the borrowed barber’s company, and the ruinous effects of a reputation unjustly traduced.

Chapter ix. – Chapter xv.

Departing Gloucester at five o’clock on a mid-winter evening, illuminated by a rising full moon, Tom Jones and his companion Partridge set out for Worcester, their opening conversation spanning the beauty of the lunar landscape, Jones’s romantic longing for Sophia Western, physical discomfort from the cold, and the political divisions then roiling England. Jones opens by admiring the moon, citing Milton’s poetry and a Spectator tale of separated lovers who soothe their longing by gazing at the same moon at fixed hours, a gesture he calls evidence of a soul capable of deep feeling. Partridge complains bitterly of the frost, regrets abandoning the comfortable Gloucester inn they had just left, warns they will wander lost without a guide, and urges they turn back. Jones refuses, resolving to press forward, and offers Partridge a guinea to return if he wishes, but Partridge says he will stay. Their talk then turns to love: Jones laments that he will never see Sophia again, while Partridge shares that his own wife, now dead, had been an unkind partner who made his life miserable, and that he once believed the moon was the repository of departed spirits. Partridge claims he could help Jones win Sophia back if they turn back, but Jones cuts off the subject, declaring his chief aim is a glorious death fighting for King George. This statement throws Partridge into confusion: he had assumed Jones was a Jacobite heading to join the 1745 rebellion in favour of the Catholic Pretender, Charles Edward Stuart, based on a local gossip’s garbled report that Jones was knocked down for drinking the Pretender’s health. Jones declares the King George cause is the cause of liberty and true religion, and insists the conflict will end in battle, contrary to a popish priest’s claim to Partridge that the uprising would end bloodlessly. Partridge references popular Jacobite prophecies foretelling widespread carnage, including the claim that a living miller with three thumbs will hold the horses of three kings up to his knees in blood, to illustrate his superstitious, pro-Jacobite beliefs. Fielding’s narration reveals Partridge’s secret Jacobitism, but also his self-interested motives for staying with Jones: he has heard exaggerated rumours that the wealthy local squire Allworthy plans to make Jones his heir, so he intends to ingratiate himself with Jones to win future favour with Allworthy, even as the two men hold opposing political loyalties. Fielding uses this dynamic to illustrate how personal interest often overrides ideological commitment.

When the pair reach the bottom of a steep hill, Jones declares he will climb it for the better view, despite Partridge’s terror of the height and the cold. Partridge spots a glimmering light through nearby trees, begs Jones to seek shelter there instead, and Jones eventually agrees. They find a remote cottage, knock repeatedly, and an old woman in an upper window initially refuses to open the door, fearful of strangers at night. Partridge pleads their case, identifies Jones as a wealthy squire, and only when Jones promises a half-crown bribe does she agree to let them in. Inside, Partridge warms himself by the fire but immediately suspects the old woman is a witch, citing her isolated home, unusual appearance, and the cottage’s collection of odd, curated curiosities as evidence. The old woman warns them her master, the reclusive “Man of the Hill,” is due back soon: he avoids all social contact, walks only at night wearing strange animal-skin clothing, and is feared by locals who believe him to be a ghost or hobgoblin. Just as she finishes speaking, two armed ruffians are heard outside demanding the Man of the Hill’s money and threatening to kill him. Jones seizes an old broadsword hanging in the cottage, rushes outside, and fights off the two attackers, who flee yelling they are dead men. He helps the disoriented Man of the Hill to his feet, returns his bloodstained sword, and explains they only sought shelter from the cold. The Man of the Hill, initially deeply suspicious of all people, is moved by Jones’s honesty and the fact that he saved his life, and invites the pair inside. After Partridge insists on having the brandy the Man of the Hill had earlier offered, the old man agrees to share his life story.