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    Tom Jones
    Tom Jones
    Tom Jones
    Ebook1,139 pages20 hours

    Tom Jones

    By Henry Fielding

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    When Squire Allworthy returns from London to discover a sleeping baby of unknown parentage in his bed, Tom Jones makes its rollicking start toward a picaresque journey across eighteenth-century England. Its foundling hero, having grown to young manhood and developed a passion for the girl next door, finds himself banished from the squire's country estate by the contrivance of a romantic rival. Lusty, good-hearted Tom is thus compelled to seek his fortune far from home and, ultimately, in the company of soldiers, thieves, whores, and other vividly drawn characters. 
    One of the first and most influential novels, Tom Jones was an instant sensation upon its publication in 1749. Henry Fielding's masterpiece of wit, written in a mock-epic style that parallels Tom's adventures with episodes from classical mythology, offers an exuberant panorama of eighteenth-century life. Beloved for its bawdy humor and adroit social commentary, the novel has been adapted many times for stage and screen and ranks among English literature's greatest comedies.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDover Publications
    Release dateJan 13, 2021
    ISBN9780486848792
    Author

    Henry Fielding

    Henry Fielding (1707-1754) was an English novelist, dramatist, and prominent magistrate. He was born into noble lineage, yet was cut off from his allowance as a young man and subsequently began a career writing plays. He wrote over 25 dramatic works, primarily satires addressing political injustice. When Fielding's career as a playwright ended with new censorship laws, he turned to writing fiction. His work as a novelist is considered to have ushered in a new genre of literature. Among his best known masterpieces are The Life and Death of Jonathan Wild (1743) and The History of Tom Jones (1749).

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    Reviews for Tom Jones

    4/5

    991 ratings31 reviews

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    • 5/5
      So, I give this five stars, but, you know, not every five star book should be read by every person. If you have great patience, and are willing to admit that your tastes have been formed by the nineteenth century novel and then by certain aspects of modern literature; if you're willing to test your (my) assumption that novels are best when they're realistic or modernist; if you don't mind a bit of slap and tickle... then you should read this. If you want to judge a book based on whether its characters are 'round;' if you think the best book doesn't really have a narrator at all, let alone one who keeps talking at you; and, most importantly, if you're the sort of reader/critic Fielding spends about two pages out of every hundred mercilessly slagging off, then you should probably avoid this like the plague. If you're not sure what kind of person you are, read 'Joseph Andrews.' It's much shorter, and nowhere near as good, but a good litmus test. If you're the second kind of person listed here, don't worry, I'm not judging you for being completely bound by your historical moment. Much. But you are missing out on one of the greatest stories in English lit.
    • 5/5
      Tom Jones isn't a bad guy, but boys just want to have fun. Nearly two and a half centuries after its publication, the adventures of the rambunctious and randy Tom Jones still makes for great reading. I'm not in the habit of using words like bawdy or rollicking, but if you look them up in the dictionary, you should see a picture of this book.
    • 5/5
      Tom Jones was one of the first forthrightly fictional novels in English, where the author didn't try to frame it as a true story, such as Moll Flanders or Robinson Crusoe. I think the best way to appreciate it is like a connoisseur of early cars such as the Model-T. It has its own beauty and grace, yet is largely impractical by modern standards. It allows one transport to another age. It is fragile and delicate, yet full of a spirit missing in the modern world. The best way to enjoy it is to pretend you are a reader from the mid-18th century, and new vistas of understanding will come forth. History books often talk about the nature of the period as family oriented, locally oriented, manorialism, class distinctions - in Tom Jones it comes to living light, every page is a gold mine to understand the world just on the cusp of the Revolutions of the 19th century (political and economic). As a work of art its significance is hard to overestimate - Dickens for example was clearly influenced. As a narrative the length is difficult but makes the climaxes that much sweeter. As a writer Fielding was a genius, and knew so, and said so, and was right., his novel has become immortal.
    • 4/5
      Having read Sterne's Tristram Shandy and Homer's Odyssey to name two thematically related however chronologically different literary creations I should have been ready for Fielding's foundling. However, it is taking a while to warm up to Fielding's style of storytelling. What we have is an omnipresent author/narrator whose story includes many fascinating characters, one of whom is that author/narrator himself. The reader is treated to a series of nineteen books each containing several chapters the first of which in each case is an essay by the author about the story itself or just about most anything the author feels is relevant or necessary for the reader's edification. But I digress, under the influence of Fielding, from the story itself which is billed as a history of Tom Jones who, as the name suggests, is a sort of every-man, a more common version of Odysseus or Don Quixote for the eighteenth century. The history is a fiction and as such is populated by fictional characters. The characters surrounding him, from his teachers, Thwackum and Square, to the Squires, Allworthy and Western, are clearly drawn with wit and wisdom; lest I forget the women for Tom has a strong and healthy interest in them whether they are low like Molly or high like Sophia Western -- women continue to perplex Tom and enliven the plot. And Tom has a good opinion of himself as the narrator notes, "Can any man have a higher notion of the rule of right and the eternal fitness of things?" (Book IV, Ch. 4). As I entered the concluding chapters of this lively novel I found myself looking for a word to sum up my experience. I think I have found that word -- cornucopia. The abundance of characters, stories, places, and all that goes with each of these can best be considered a cornucopia. These melded with Fielding's continual insertions through essays and commentaries begins to suggest to me why this novel is considered great - one of the first of its kind in modern literature. I also find myself comparing the hero of this story to other literary heroes whose name adorns the title of their stories. For example, David Copperfield, Adam Bede, Pendennis, and Jude the Obscure come to mind. All of these owe at least a part of their literary heritage to Fielding's Tom. Even though there is a significant change in the psychology of the characters from David to Jude, the foundation for them all and many others is the History of Tom Jones.
    • 3/5
      Way better than Clarissa, this is a satirical book about a rake that is funny and light hearted. It's faster and easier and gives you a good historical perspective
    • 5/5
      Who reads this and laughs not at all may be forgiven only as a simpleton, and does not comprehend.Who reads this and laughs but a little is too dour and prideful to be of much use, and only laughs when he cannot help it.Who reads this and laughs a score is the wretched false-wit, and only laughs when it suits his crowd.Who reads and laughs but once a chapter has a mirthful soul, if no great love for words.Who reads and laughs at every page shall be my boon companion, and a kiss for each grinning cheek.Who reads and laughs at twice and thrice a page shall be my worthy better, and may they forgive my endless queries.
    • 5/5
      It took me two tries to finish Tom Jones, but I am glad I did. When I first attempted it, I must not have been in the correct mood for it because I enjoyed it immensely in my second attempt. The novel follows Jones through his torment of not being able to have the woman he loves. The problem lies not with her but with eighteenth century British society. Her father will only consent for her to marry a man of fortune and consents to have her instead marry Blifil. The exact relationships between these characters are complicated, and I will not go into details about them so as not to spoil the novel for those who have not read it.Also of interest are the chapters that Fielding uses to preface each of the eighteen books that make up the novel. Some of these chapters are rather dry and all could be skipped without affecting the reader's enjoyment of the novel, as Fielding notes. However, I did find them to be worth reading both for Fielding's more serious notes about the writing process and literary criticism as well as his more humorous contributions. The greatest strength of this novel is Fielding's unique ability to describe the exact qualities of each character. Fielding truly knew people. Despite the fact that this novel was written over 250 years ago, Fielding's characters are motivated by the motivations and act in the same ways that people would act today.
    • 5/5
      Kenneth Danzinger did a wonderful narration of this classic satire. I had read this years ago and remembered the broad outlines but had forgotten much of the detail. I found myself grinning, chuckling and guffawing many times.
    • 4/5
      When reviewing a classic, I try to discuss not the books own merits (which can be easily found elsewhere) but rather its accessibility to the modern reader. Mid-18th century English is not so far removed from Shakespeare, and it definitely took effort to parse the long, flowery sentence structure. Once that is accomplished, the reader must also distinguish the bare meaning of the words being said with the overblown, superlative laden verbal mannerisms of the age.What remains is a charming story, and one that is remarkable on many levels. A modern reader may find its plot simple, its ending contrived, and its characters cliched, but just consider that all of these elements were revolutionary at the time. The best way to learn from history is to read between the lines of a novel such as this, to consider the shape of the story and what sort of society might have produced it.Well worth the effort and the time invested to read it.
    • 4/5
      I first picked up Tom Jones in college. I only got a few hundred pages in when I lost interest and put the book down. A few months ago, however, I found a cheap copy at a used-book store and decided to try my luck again. This time, my experience was markedly different: I was hooked within a few pages. Fielding writes in a very engaging manner; it feels like one is listening to a close friend relate a personal story rather than reading a 250-year-old book. The characters are robust: The über-benevolent Squire Allworthy, the absolutely knuckleheaded Squire Western, the heroic, noble Tom Jones--who has got to be one of the unluckiest men ever in fiction-dom--and the lovely Sophia, who must suffer under her father's irrational love. The plot is superlative: Throughout the course of the book, I found myself thinking about the characters (and actually being concerned for their welfare!) in between reading sessions. I had to know what happened to them, and how everything was going to work out happily in the end. (Indeed, with about 40 pages left, I was starting to get very worried.) The love, sex, betrayal, and plain-old human nature of the plot is such that if one updated the scenery, it might be a book written to describe present-day events. Fielding complements his fine character creations with a sharp wit that is apparent on almost every page. I laughed out loud quite a few times throughout the book, and I got the distinct feeling that the author was winking at me almost non-stop. I can imagine that Mr. Fielding would be a riot in a pub with a few drinks under his belt!In an era whose modus operandi is instant gratification, it can require extra discipline to make it through this lengthy work that at times uses some unfamiliar language. Nevertheless, reading Tom Jones is completely worth the effort, as you will enjoy a master storyteller at his best.
    • 2/5
      Its been a long time since I read this book, but I remember it being long and uninteresting. Tom had a lot of adventures throughout the book, but for some reason I never got into his character and found myself looking forward finishing the book so it would be over.
    • 5/5
      One of the first, and still one of best, novels in English literature
    • 5/5
      I thought this book was a rip-roaring read, full of action, romance, humour and suspense, all set in the English countryside of eighteenth century England and London. Cant see anyone who would like this book.
    • 5/5
      A great book. It's very similar to his earlier novel Joseph Andrews, with like characters, plot and themes but here writ much larger and full of the same energy.
    • 1/5
      Bored out of my mind! This is the 2nd time I have tried reading this novel. I give up!
    • 5/5
      A long, rollicking, bawdy, picaresque story, full of twists, turns and coincidence. The mid 18th century English prose is a challenge to follow.
    • 3/5
      This guy Jones claims to be completely in love with one woman, but then still sleazes his way through England, sleeping with nearly every female he encounters, but oh, that's okay, he's still in love with the original young lady (who, by the way, loves him back to distraction and doesn't seem to mind his extracurriculars much at all) and after all, he's really a nice young lad and Boys Will Be Boys. Gross.
    • 4/5
      This was another pleasure to read in that slow, reflective 18th century style that is filled with humour, character, incident and social observation. The plot is convoluted but easy to follow, and the main story of Tom’s sexual misadventures on the way to virtuous love is never really in question – the only issue is how many diversions he will have to go through before he gets where he should be. The characters are satires, mainly of the landed gentry and the titled, although it’s always clear where the lines of power and authority lie (so much clearer than in our contemporary times.) Much of the humour and enjoyment of the novel comes from Fielding’s ironic descriptions of his characters’ motivations and actions, and his observations on the society they live in – apparently hypocritical at all levels.Through the satire and his ongoing commentary, Fielding points to the inequality of women in society, while also pointing out that many of the women are more intelligent and well read than the men they are linked to. The strongest storyline aside from Tom’s is the conflict between the strong-minded Sophia and the idiot father she loves, but who wants to command her obedience. It ends only when their two interests finally come together in the union of two large estates.Fielding also shows the stark contrast between the wealthy and the common people, although with no suggestion that that inequality might be a problem. Poor people struggle with their lot, and sometimes don’t make it, just like the higher class people who run out of money. But there are both good and venal lower class people as well as upper class ones. In fact, one of the interesting features of the book is that many of the characters have complex morals. They may at times be venal, and at other times generous and loyal. In this way, they are less stereotypes than the characters in many other novels where most characters except for the leading ones are either good or bad, with little shading. One of the few exceptions is the good Squire Allworthy, whose kindness and generosity are exceeded only by his wisdom and honour. He’s a bit godly, and a contrast to the more realistic common characters. The other exception is his evil nephew, whose unscrupulous lies, greed and lack of honour are also unmixed.Tom’s early relatively carefree life and his kind nature set him up as a good person with a natural morality, but it seems that that’s not enough. Fielding makes a strong argument for morality in the last parts of the novel, and his favoured morality is Christian. (The Christian clerics, however, don’t come off well – in fact, of the representatives of Christian and “natural” morality, although both are extremes, it’s the natural philosopher who comes off best after his deathbed conversion to real Christianity.) And while it seems that Tom’s natural inclination to enjoy life, including his relationships with women, is at first carefree, it later gets him intro trouble and he has to renounce his free sexuality to enter a relationship with his true love. (Much like Fielding did, the introduction suggests.) Interestingly, however, while Tom is a willing participant in a range of sexual adventures, it seems to be the women who initiate the relationships and get Tom in trouble. So Tom is a sort of innocent, much in contrast to the reality of young men of privilege, I suspect. The story of his parentage, however, shows that women cannot enjoy the same carefree sexuality that he does.I’m glad to have read this after Mason & Dixon, because it shows how closely Thomas Pynchon copied an 18th century style in his writing, with the absurdity, authorial commentary and extraordinary characters. The formal style of Tom Jones is quite different from the informality of Mason & Dixon, but both have a complex plot, complex characters, and long discourses on side topics. But in spite of the rambling stories, it was always a pleasure to come back to both of these novels because their worlds are so rich and full of enjoyment.
    • 5/5
      an author who knew his subject thru and thru.
    • 4/5
      I read this right after I read W. Somerset Maugham's book, The World's Ten Greatest Novels. I wanted to be sure that I read all ten and I read those I had not already read. I found Tom Jones good reading, although as I remember I was somewhat dismayed by his cavalier approach to personal morality.
    • 4/5
      Wonderful, if maybe a bit long by 21st century standards. Humorous throughout with a underlying seriousness of purpose. Fielding's personality and wit shine through, epecially in the introductory chapters. One of my all time favorite novels. Will read it again.
    • 5/5
      This is my favorite novel, and I have read a lot of 'em. (What can I say, I'm old!)Tom Jones offers every pleasure a reader could want; rip-roaring humor, cliffhanging suspense, a brilliant philosophical treatise from the author every so often; a tender love story, a Bildungsroman, a meditation on growing old gracefully; a magnificent cast of 18th-century rogues, strumpets, scheming noblemen, gentle girls and pompous fools; ambition, lust, malice, humor, passion, beauty, betrayal--just read it!!Go on, read it right now!
    • 3/5
      This book has a solid place in the history of literature. I was entertained but not very engaged emotionally in the fate of the characters - and one should be when it is so long and epic a tale. It is a very clever plot with some nice surprises in the end - but also absurd with its many coincidences - it reads more like a farce or satire - and feels like a stage play (reminded me of some of the stories by Chaucer). Fielding comments and elaborates on the story and the characters all the time - and it gets a little annoying after a while - just tell the story!! What can one say about Tom Jones? A heart of gold - yet so easily tempted by women. Heroic and courageous - yet so unstable. I liked Mr. Allworthy - and also Sophia - her concluding remarks on Jones' character really says it all.
    • 5/5
      Fielding is a master of portraying the foibles of the human condition. His sense of the comic underpinnings of all serious endeavors is acute.
    • 4/5
      The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling has become known over the decades as simply Tom Jones and is a humorous novel by Henry Fielding. It was first published in 1749 and is considered to be one of the earliest of English novels. While the humor is often presented as a farce and at times seems downright silly, it nevertheless made for a fun and interesting read.The author presents his story with many asides to the reader and often telegraphs his intentions in advance with his descriptive chapter descriptions or the colourful names he gives his characters. So we are assured that Squire Allworthy is a very good man, while Mr. Thwackum is heavy handed and likes to dole out physical punishments. Personally I found Tom Jones rather an insipid character but he was the perfect canvas to help reflect the many vivid characters that he came into contact with. At over 900 pages, the book at times was rather tedious, but the author’s clever use of words, his satire of both the day’s social and political conventions, and the many turbulent yet comic events kept the pages turning. Often touted as a history of bastardism, fornication and adultery, Tom Jones is also a romance with two star-crossed lovers, the lusty Tom and the strong-willed Sophia battling the odds to obtain their happy ending.I listened to an audio version of this classic, as read by Bill Homewood, who did an excellent job of bringing this book to life, and, I am positive, raised my rating with his reading style. Reflective, philosophical yet lively and very entertaining I found [Tom Jones] to be an immersive reading experience that was well worth the time invested.
    • 5/5
      This is one of the best books I've ever read. The plot follows the ups and downs of Tom's fortunes as he travels the English countryside. While this in itself is entertaining and very well crafted, what sets this book apart is the wit, humor, and observations of the narrator. We get to meet a rich cast of characters, from all of the social strata of 18th century England. The protagonist, Tom Jones, is a generous, empathetic soul with a heat of gold. His main flaw is his...love of women. His naiveté gets him into trouble on occasion. Most of the characters in this book, whether they hurt or help Tom, do so from selfish motives. This book, with its intricate plot, is full of wit, humor, and humanity. My only real criticism, and it's a small one, is the heavy reliance on coincidence.
    • 4/5
      Poor Tom: an innocent abroad, surrounded by a world of hypocrisy but for his benevolent adoptive father and the perfect Sophia. Even they can be turned on him by circumstantial evidence, and soon he is logging miles on the highway of despair. There are adventures along the way as he remains ever ready to help a stranger out, and sometimes he even meets with kindness, but how will Tom ever be welcomed back home or win Sophia's hand?The initial reception of this novel was a bit shaky, as its publication was blamed for subsequent earthquakes in London. Its risqué and earthy content was considered scandalous, and the famed contemporary critic Samuel Johnson had nothing but contempt for it. Hundreds of years later it's considered a classic with bawdy bits to rival Chaucer's Miller Tale: fart jokes, adulterous liaisons, pratfall fisticuffs - and Fielding's narrative voice is present throughout to leap in with playful commentary. There's some foreshadowing of what would be tackled more seriously in other works like Richardson's "Clarissa", and more fun than Makepeace could conjure up in "Vanity Fair".It bears credentials as one of the earliest English novels, maybe even the first modern novel as we understand them today. Fielding was openly feeling his way through the process of establishing a model for this medium, even recording some of his thoughts during those narrative asides. He was also just plain having fun. For thematic elements there's the exposé of hypocrisy at all levels of society, but for me it was earthquake-inducing scenes like Molly's wielding of the thigh bone as the muse sings that really made the reading worthwhile.
    • 4/5
      The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling was written by Fielding in 1749 and is regarded as one of the first novels. As a blend of bildungsroman and picaresque novel it follows the life of Tom Jones from conception to a point towards the middle of his life. The book only features a small set of characters that often surface and resurface throughout the book as Jones grows up, leaves home and finally ... well, see for yourself, no spoilers here. The second most important character in the novel is Sophia Western, the love of Jones' life. She is a very well-educated upper-class girl whose beauty Fielding describes in great detail and probably hyperbole. As Jones is a foundling who has come into the well-reputed house of Mr Allworthy, the novel can also be read under aspects of class differences and whether ones birth or ones upbringing determines the class of someone.I found the novel not as hard to follow as other 18th century books once I got attuned to the language used. My edition also had a glossary and notes, the former of which I did not make any use of. The notes helped in understanding allusions to Fielding's contemporaries and putting events in perspective and context. Also, as my Latin is somewhat rusty, I found the translations from Latin into English quite helpful at times.The novel is divided into eighteen books, each of which is prefaced by the omniscient narrator. This preface sets the tone and establishes a moral framework to interpret what is to come in a light the narrator sees fit. At times the preface treats the novel itself on a meta level. For example, there is a preface about the use of prefaces that is actually quite entertaining. Both the structure and the comments the narrator makes throughout the story provide 18th-century moral guidance for the reader and at the same time can be regarded in an ironic way that entertains by contradicting auctorial comments and actual motives of the characters. This contradiction can also be seen in the way the narrator treats his story as a 'history', that is a narrative based on facts, and the narrated events that sometimes require a certain degree of suspension of disbelief on the part of the reader as events do not always seem as coincidental as they are portrayed.Tom Jones did not always make me want to continue reading to see what might happen to Jones next, but it also had parts where it actually did make me want to read the next chapter instantly. On the whole, 3.5 stars for a novel that I would probably have to read again (and yet again) to grasp the full depth it can provide.
    • 4/5
      This is a very early novel, published in 1749, and it's telling in several ways this was written when the form was young. There are eccentric spellings, erratic capitalizations, and dialogue isn't set off in the convention we're used to, but has various speakers lumped into one paragraph. There are archaic formulations such as "says he" rather than "he said" and such archaic words as nay, doth, hath, yon, thou, thee, etc. Swear words such as "damn" are presented as "d--n." I felt the various parts of the narration--description, dialogue, thoughts, action--are much better balanced in later novels. And the omniscient narrator here, sometimes breaking the fourth wall into first person, is very, very intrusive, with long digressions, some chapter-length, on such subjects as the novel's form or the nature of love. Some parts to my tastes were far too preachy, but having just read Robinson Crusoe before this, that religiosity is just another feature of the era. This did make for rather tedious going at times, especially before I got acclimated to the style, but for the most part the plot and comic aspects kept me chugging along.It helps that Tom himself is much more likable than I expected from what I had heard of the novel--or even the description on the back of the book. I'd heard this was a picaresque tale with a hero that could be called a rake. But although he's no monk, I wouldn't describe Tom that way. He's neither rapist nor callous seducer. In fact, he's usually the seduced rather than the seducer. And he is young, after all; no older than twenty-one at the end of the novel. He says of himself: Nor do I pretend to the Gift of Chastity... I have been guilty with Women, I own it; but I am not conscious that I have ever injured any--Nor would I, to procure Pleasure to myself, be knowingly the Cause of Misery to any human Being.When Tom seemingly gets Molly Seagrim pregnant, he's quite willing to stand by her and marry her, even though she's poor. He'd been raised as a gentleman, and even though being base-born and not the heir doesn't mean he can look to marry the lady-of-the-manor next door, he could have done materially better than that. It's not until he finds out she's being unfaithful that he breaks things off with her. He shows himself generous and compassionate throughout. Tom's greatest fault indeed seems a naivete that allows others to take advantage of him. I felt more mixed about the female characters and especially Tom's love Sophia Western. She's a bit too blushing and apt to swoon--on the other hand, she doesn't let herself be rolled over but takes action to change her fate. It's obvious Fielding does have respect for women and although like the men, they might be fools, often his female characters are more intelligent and better educated than their male counterparts. Note the maid Jenny Jones, who is more learned than the schoolmaster who taught her. To be honest, it's the secondary comic characters that have the most vividness like the Sancho Panza like Mr Partridge or the affected Aunt Western and uncouth Squire Western.This was a surprisingly enjoyable novel on the whole, even if I wasn't as enchanted by it as I was by its comic descendents by Austen and Thackeray. I immediately felt the kinship to books such as Sense and Sensibility and Vanity Fair in the sparkling wit, the ironic tone, and wickedly sharp satire, even if Fielding is more genial than Thackeray, and more bawdy than Austen.
    • 3/5
      A little dull in places I thought but I did enjoy the adventures he had and the purity of his love for Sophia.

    Book preview

    Tom Jones - Henry Fielding

    9780486831749.jpg

    Tom Jones

    Henry Fielding

    Dover Publications, Inc.

    Mineola, New York

    DOVER THRIFT EDITIONS

    General Editor: Susan L. Rattiner

    Editor of This Volume: Michael Croland

    Copyright

    Copyright © 2019 by Dover Publications, Inc.

    All rights reserved.

    Bibliographical Note

    This Dover edition, first published in 2019, reprints a standard edition of Tom Jones. The book was originally published by Andrew Millar, London, in 1749, under the title The History of Tom Jones, A Foundling. This edition uses the text of the third edition, which corrected some grammar and phrasing inaccuracies and which was published by Andrew Millar in 1750. A new introductory note has been specially prepared for this volume.

    International Standard Book Number

    ISBN-13: 978-0-486-83174-9

    ISBN-10: 0-486-83174-4

    Manufactured in the United States by LSC Communications

    83174401 2019

    www.doverpublications.com

    Note

    HENRY FIELDING was born on April 22, 1707, in Sharpham Park, England. He came from a well-to-do family. His father was a reputable general, and his maternal grandfather was a judge.

    Fielding attended Eton College, where he studied the classics and furthered his love of literature. After taking four years off, he continued his studies at the University of Leiden in Holland for a year and a half.

    Fielding became a playwright, writing more than two dozen plays. Many were satirical and witty, including The Author’s Farce and Rape upon Rape, both written in 1730. He later became a barrister.

    In 1741, An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews was published anonymously, although widely attributed to Fielding. It parodied Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded, a popular novel by Samuel Richardson from a year earlier. In 1742, Fielding published another anonymous novel, Joseph Andrews. The preface called the book a comic Epic-Poem in Prose, which was an innovative approach to a novel. In 1743, he published three volumes of Miscellanies, most notably a satire titled The Life of Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great.

    Fielding put writing on the back burner for several years to focus on his law career. In 1745 and 1746, respectively, he wrote a pamphlet and edited a weekly publication; both took the side of the government against the Jacobite Rebellion. A trusted supporter of the government, he was appointed justice of the peace for Westminster and Middlesex in 1748. In this powerful position, Fielding improved the police force and drastically reduced crime rates in London.

    Fielding published his masterpiece and most popular novel, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling, in 1749. It told a captivating story and presented a vivid picture of contemporary life in England, with both its details and its zesty spirit. Fielding helped establish the workings of the modern novel, and Tom Jones is widely considered one of the best early novels in the English language.

    Two years later, Fielding published his last novel, the somber Amelia. His health deteriorated as he battled gout, asthma, and edema. In 1754, he traveled to Portugal and wrote about his experiences in The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon. He died in Lisbon on October 8, 1754.

    Fielding is best remembered for Tom Jones. The English writer Samuel Taylor Coleridge called it one of the three most perfect plots ever planned. The Scottish novelist Sir Walter Scott called Fielding the father of the English novel.

    To the Honourable

    GEORGE LYTTLETON, Esq;

    One of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury

    SIR,

    NOT WITHSTANDING YOUR CONSTANT REFUSAL when I have asked leave to prefix your name to this dedication, I must still insist on my right to desire your protection of this work.

    To you, Sir, it is owing that this history was ever begun. It was by your desire that I first thought of such a composition. So many years have since passed, that you may have, perhaps, forgotten this circumstance: but your desires are to me in the nature of commands; and the impression of them is never to be erased from my memory.

    Again, Sir, without your assistance this history had never been completed. Be not startled at the assertion. I do not intend to draw on you the suspicion of being a romance writer. I mean no more than that I partly owe to you my existence during great part of the time which I have employed in composing it: another matter which it may be necessary to remind you of; since there are certain actions of which you are apt to be extremely forgetful; but of these I hope I shall always have a better memory than yourself.

    Lastly, It is owing to you that the history appears what it now is. If there be in this work, as some have been pleased to say, a stronger picture of a truly benevolent mind than is to be found in any other, who that knows you, and a particular acquaintance of yours, will doubt whence that benevolence hath been copied? The world will not, I believe, make me the compliment of thinking I took it from myself. I care not: this they shall own, that the two persons from whom I have taken it, that is to say, two of the best and worthiest men in the world, are strongly and zealously my friends. I might be contented with this, and yet my vanity will add a third to the number; and him one of the greatest and noblest, not only in his rank, but in every public and private virtue. But here, whilst my gratitude for the princely benefactions of the Duke of Bedford bursts from my heart, you must forgive my reminding you that it was you who first recommended me to the notice of my benefactor.

    And what are your objections to the allowance of the honour which I have solicited? Why, you have commended the book so warmly, that you should be ashamed of reading your name before the dedication. Indeed, sir, if the book itself doth not make you ashamed of your commendations, nothing that I can here write will, or ought. I am not to give up my right to your protection and patronage, because you have commended my book: for though I acknowledge so many obligations to you, I do not add this to the number; in which friendship, I am convinced, hath so little share: since that can neither biass your judgment, nor pervert your integrity. An enemy may at any time obtain your commend­ation by only deserving it; and the utmost which the faults of your friends can hope for, is your silence; or, perhaps, if too severely accused, your gentle palliation.

    In short, sir, I suspect, that your dislike of public praise is your true objection to granting my request. I have observed that you have, in common with my two other friends, an unwillingness to hear the least mention of your own virtues; that, as a great poet says of one of you (he might justly have said it of all three), you

    Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.

    If men of this disposition are as careful to shun applause, as others are to escape censure, how just must be your apprehension of your character falling into my hands; since what would not a man have reason to dread, if attacked by an author who had received from him injuries equal to my obligations to you!

    And will not this dread of censure increase in proportion to the matter which a man is conscious of having afforded for it? If his whole life, for instance, should have been one continued subject of satire, he may well tremble when an incensed satirist takes him in hand. Now, sir, if we apply this to your modest aversion to panegyric, how reasonable will your fears of me appear!

    Yet surely you might have gratified my ambition, from this single confidence, that I shall always prefer the indulgence of your inclinations to the satisfaction of my own. A very strong instance of which I shall give you in this address, in which I am determined to follow the example of all other dedicators, and will consider not what my patron really deserves to have written, but what he will be

    best pleased to read.

    Without further preface then, I here present you with the labours of some years of my life. What merit these labours have is already known to yourself. If, from your favourable judgment, I have conceived some esteem for them, it cannot be imputed to vanity; since I should have agreed as implicitly to your opinion, had it been given in favour of any other man’s production. Negatively, at least, I may be allowed to say, that had I been sensible of any great demerit in the work, you are the last person to whose protection I would have ventured to recommend it.

    From the name of my patron, indeed, I  hope my reader will be convinced, at his very entrance on this work, that he will find in the whole course of it nothing prejudicial to the cause of religion and virtue, nothing inconsistent with the strictest rules of decency, nor which can offend even the chastest eye in the perusal. On the contrary, I declare, that to recommend goodness and innocence hath been my sincere endeavour in this history. This honest purpose you

    have been pleased to think I have attained: and to say the truth, it is likeliest to be attained in books of this kind; for an example is a kind of picture, in which virtue becomes, as it were, an object of sight, and strikes us with an idea of that loveliness, which Plato asserts there is in her naked charms.

    Besides displaying that beauty of virtue which may attract the admiration of mankind, I have attempted to engage a stronger motive to human action in her favour, by convincing them that their true interest directs them to a pursuit of her. For this purpose I have shown that no acquisitions of guilt can compensate the loss of that solid inward comfort of mind, which is the sure companion of innocence and virtue; nor can in the least balance the evil of that horror and anxiety which, in their room, guilt introduces into our bosoms. And again, that as these acquisitions are in themselves generally worthless, so are the means to attain them not only base and infamous, but at best incertain, and always full of danger. Lastly, I have endeavoured strongly to inculcate that virtue and innocence can scarce ever be injured but by indiscretions; and that it is this alone which often betrays them into the snares that deceit and villainy spread for them. A moral which I have the more industriously laboured, as the teaching it is, of all others, the likeliest to be attended with success; since, I believe, it is much easier to make good men wise, than to make bad men good.

    For these purposes I have employed all the wit and humour of which I am master in the following history; wherein I have endeavoured to laugh mankind out of their favourite follies and vices. How far I have succeeded in this good attempt, I shall submit to the candid reader, with only two requests: First, that he will not expect to find perfection in this work; and Secondly, that he will excuse some parts of it, if they fall short of that little merit which I hope may appear in others.

    I will detain you, sir, no longer. Indeed I have run into a preface, while I professed to write a dedication. But how can it be otherwise? I dare not praise you; and the only means I know of to avoid it, when you are in my thoughts, are either to be entirely silent, or to turn my thoughts to some other subject.

    Pardon, therefore, what I have said in this epistle, not only without your consent, but absolutely against it; and give me at least leave, in this public manner, to declare that I am, with the highest respect and gratitude,—

    SIR,

    Your most obliged,

    Obedient, humble servant,

    HENRY FEILDING

    Contents

    Book I - Containing as much of the Birth of the Foundling as necessary or proper to acquaint the Reader with in the Beginning of this History

    Book II - Containing Scenes of Matrimonial Felicity in different Degrees of Life and various other Transactions during the first two Years after the Marriage between Captain Blifil and Miss Bridget Allworth

    Book III - Containing the most Memorable Transactions which passed in the Family of Mr. Allworthy, from the Time when Tommy Jones arrived at the age of Fourteen till He sttained the Age of Nineteen. In this Book the Reader may pick up some Hints concerning the Education of Children

    Book IV - Containing the Time of a Year

    Book V - Containing a Portion of Time Longer Than Half a Year

    Book VI - Containing about Three Weeks

    Book VII - Containing Three Days

    Book VIII - Containing about Two Days

    Book IX - Containing About Twelve Hours

    Book X - In which the History goes Forward about Twelve Hours

    Book XI - Containing about Three Days

    Book XII - Containing the Same Individual Time with the Former

    Book XIII - Containing the Space of Twelve Days

    Book XIV - Containing Two Days

    Book XV - In which the History Advances about Two Days

    Book XVI - Containing the Space of Five Days

    Book XVII - Containing Three Days

    Book XVIII - Containing about Six Days

    Book I - Containing as much of the Birth of the Foundling as necessary or proper to acquaint the Reader with in the Beginning of this History

    I    The introduction to the work, or bill of fare to the feast.

    AN AUTHOR OUGHT to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary treat, but rather as one who keeps a public ordinary, at which all persons are welcome for their money. In the former case, it is well known that the entertainer provides what fare he pleases; and though this should be very indifferent, and utterly disagreeable to the taste of his company, they must not find any fault; nay, on the contrary, good-breeding forces them outwardly to approve and to commend whatever is set before them. Now the contrary of this happens to the master of an ordinary. Men who pay for what they eat will insist on gratifying their palates, however nice and whimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeable to their taste, will challenge a right to censure, to abuse, and to d—n their dinner without control.

    To prevent, therefore, giving offence to their customers by any such disappointment, it hath been usual with the honest and well-meaning host to provide a bill of fare which all persons may peruse at their first entrance into the house; and having thence acquainted themselves with the entertainment which they may expect, may either stay and regale with what is provided for them, or may depart to some other ordinary better accommodated to their taste.

    As we do not disdain to borrow wit or wisdom from any man who is capable of lending us either, we have condescended to take a hint from these honest victuallers, and shall prefix not only a general bill of fare to our whole entertainment, but shall likewise give the reader particular bills to every course which is to be served up in this and the ensuing volumes.

    The provision, then, which we have here made is no other than Human Nature. Nor do I fear that my sensible reader, though most luxurious in his taste, will start, cavil, or be offended, because I have named but one article. The tortoise—as the alderman of Bristol, well learned in eating, knows by much experience—besides the delicious calipash and calipee, contains many different kinds of food; nor can the learned reader be ignorant, that in Human Nature, though here collected under one general name, is such prodigious variety, that a cook will have sooner gone through all the several species of animal and vegetable food in the world, than an author will be able to exhaust so extensive a

    subject.

    An objection may perhaps be apprehended from the more delicate, that this dish is too common and vulgar; for what else is the subject of all the romances, novels, plays, and poems, with which the stalls abound? Many exquisite viands might be rejected by the epicure, if it was a sufficient cause for his contemning of them as common and vulgar, that something was to be found in the most paltry alleys under the same name. In reality, true nature is as difficult to be met with in authors as the Bayonne ham, or Bologna sausage, is to be found in the shops.

    But the whole, to continue the same metaphor, consists in the cookery of the author; for, as Mr. Pope tells us—

    ‘True wit is nature to advantage drest;

    What oft was thought, but ne’er so well exprest.’

    The same animal which hath the honour to have some part of his flesh eaten at the table of a duke, may perhaps be degraded in another part, and some of his limbs gibbeted as it were, in the vilest stall in town. Where, then, lies the difference between the food of the nobleman and the porter, if both are at dinner on the same ox or calf, but in the seasoning, the dressing, the garnishing, and the setting forth? Hence the one provokes and incites the most languid appetite, and the other turns and palls that which is the sharpest and keenest.

    In like manner, the excellence of the mental entertainment consists less in the subject than in the author’s skill in well dressing it up. How pleased, therefore, will the reader be to find that we have, in the following work, adhered closely to one of the highest principles of the best cook which the present age, or perhaps that of Heliogabalus, hath produced. This great man, as is well known to all lovers of polite eating, begins at first by setting plain things before his hungry guests, rising afterwards by degrees as their stomachs may be supposed to decrease, to the very quintessence of sauce and spices. In like manner, we shall represent Human Nature at first to the keen appetite of our reader in that more plain and simple manner in which it is found in the country, and shall hereafter hash and ragout it with all the high French and Italian seasoning of affectation and vice which courts and cities afford. By these means, we doubt not but our reader may be rendered desirous to read on for ever, as the great person just above-mentioned is supposed to have made some persons eat.

    Having premised thus much, we will now detain those who like our bill of fare no longer from their diet, and shall proceed directly to serve up the first course of our history for their entertainment.

    II    A short description of Squire Allworthy, and a fuller account of Miss Bridget Allworthy, his sister.

    IN THAT PART of the western division of this kingdom which is commonly called Somersetshire, there lately lived, and perhaps lives still, a gentleman whose name was Allworthy, and who might well be called the favourite of both Nature and Fortune; for both of these seem to have contended which should bless and enrich him most. In this contention Nature may seem to some to have come off victorious, as she bestowed on him many gifts, while Fortune had only one gift in her power; but in pouring forth this, she was so very profuse, that others perhaps may think this single endowment to have been more than equivalent to all the various blessings which he enjoyed from Nature. From the former of these he derived an agreeable person, a sound constitution, a solid understanding, and a benevolent heart; by the latter, he was decreed to the inheritance of one of the largest estates in the county.

    This gentleman had in his youth married a very worthy and ­beautiful woman, of whom he had been extremely fond: by her he had three children, all of whom died in their infancy. He had likewise had the misfortune of burying this beloved wife herself, about five years before the time in which this history chooses to set out. This loss, however

    great, he bore like a man of sense and constancy, though it must be confessed he would often talk a little whimsically on this head; for he sometimes said he looked on himself as still married, and ­considered his wife as only gone a little before him, a journey which he should most certainly, sooner or later, take after her; and that he had not the least doubt of meeting her again in a place where he should never part with her more—sentiments for which his sense was arraigned by one part of his neighbours, his religion by a second, and his ­sincerity by a third.

    He now lived, for the most part, retired in the country, with one sister, for whom he had a very tender affection. This lady was now somewhat past the age of thirty, an era at which, in the opinion of the malicious, the title of old maid may with no impropriety be assumed. She was of that species of women whom you commend rather for good qualities than beauty, and who are generally called, by their own sex, very good sort of women—as good a sort of woman, madam, as you would wish to know. Indeed, she was so far from regretting want of beauty, that she never mentioned that perfection, if it can be called one, without contempt; and would often thank God she was not as handsome as Miss Such-a-one, whom perhaps beauty had led into errors, which she might have otherwise avoided. Miss Bridget Allworthy (for that was the name of this lady) very rightly conceived the charms of person in a woman to be no better than snares for herself, as well as for others; and yet so discreet was she in her conduct, that her prudence was as much on the guard as if she had all the snares to apprehend which were ever laid for her whole sex. Indeed, I have observed, though it may seem unaccountable to the reader, that this guard of prudence, like the Trained Bands, is always readiest to go on duty where there is the least danger. It often basely and cowardly deserts those paragons for whom the men are all wishing, sighing, dying, and spreading every net in their power; and constantly attends at the heels of that higher order of women for whom the other sex have a more distant and awful respect, and whom (from despair, I suppose, of success) they never venture to attack.

    Reader, I think proper, before we proceed any farther together, to acquaint thee that I intend to digress, through this whole history, as often as I see occasion, of which I am myself a better judge than any pitiful critic whatever; and here I must desire all those critics to mind their own business, and not to intermeddle with affairs or works which no ways concern them; for till they produce the authority by which they are constituted judges, I shall not plead to their jurisdiction.

    III    An odd accident which befell Mr. Allworthy at his return home. The decent behaviour of Mrs. Deborah Wilkins, with some proper animadversions on bastards.

    I HAVE TOLD MY reader, in the preceding chapter, that Mr. Allworthy inherited a large fortune; that he had a good heart, and no family. Hence, doubtless, it will be concluded by many that he lived like an honest man, owed no one a shilling, took nothing but what was his own, kept a good house, entertained his neighbours with a hearty welcome at his table, and was charitable to the poor, i.e., to those who had rather beg than work, by giving them the offals from it; that he died immensely rich and built an hospital.

    And true it is that he did many of these things; but had he done nothing more I should have left him to have recorded his own merit on some fair freestone over the door of that hospital. Matters of a much more extraordinary kind are to be the subject of this history, or I should grossly mis-spend my time in writing so voluminous a work; and you, my sagacious friend, might with equal profit and pleasure travel through some pages which certain droll authors have been facetiously pleased to call The History of England.

    Mr. Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in London on some very particular business, though I know not what it was; but judge of its importance by its having detained him so long from home, whence he had not been absent a month at a time during the space of many years. He came to his house very late in the evening, and after a short supper with his sister, retired much fatigued to his chamber. Here, having spent some minutes on his knees—a custom which he never broke through on any account—he was preparing to step into bed, when, upon opening the clothes, to his great surprise he beheld an infant, wrapt up in some coarse linen, in a sweet and profound sleep, between his sheets. He stood some time lost in astonishment at this sight; but, as good-nature had always the ascendant in his mind, he soon began to be touched with sentiments of compassion for the little wretch before him. He then rang his bell, and ordered an elderly woman-servant to rise immediately, and come to him; and in the mean time was so eager in contemplating the beauty of innocence, appearing in those lively colours with which infancy and sleep always display it, that his thoughts were too much engaged to reflect that he was in his shirt when the matron came in. She had, indeed, given her master sufficient time to dress himself; for out of respect to him, and regard to decency, she had spent many minutes in adjusting her hair at the looking-glass, notwithstanding all the hurry in which she had been summoned, and though her master, for aught she knew, lay expiring in an apoplexy.

    It will not be wondered at that a creature who had so strict a regard to decency in her own person should be shocked at the least deviation from it in another. She therefore no sooner opened the door, and saw her master standing by the bedside in his shirt, with a candle in his hand, than she started back in a most terrible fright, and might perhaps have swooned away, had he not now recollected his being undressed, and put an end to her terrors by desiring her to stay ­without the door till he had thrown some clothes over his back, and was become incapable of shocking the pure eyes of Mrs. Deborah Wilkins, who, though in the fifty-second year of her age, vowed she had never beheld a man without his coat. Sneerers and profane wits may perhaps laugh at her first fright; yet my graver reader, when he considers the time of night, the summons from her bed, and the situation in which she found her master, will highly justify and applaud her conduct, unless the prudence which must be supposed to attend maidens at that period of life at which Mrs. Deborah had arrived, should a little lessen his ­admiration.

    When Mrs. Deborah returned into the room, and was acquainted by her master with the finding the little infant, her consternation was rather greater than his had been; nor could she refrain from crying out, with great horror of accent as well as look, ‘My good sir! what’s to be done?’ Mr. Allworthy answered, she must take care of the child that evening, and in the morning he would give orders to provide it a nurse. ‘Yes, sir,’ says she; ‘and I hope your worship will send out your warrant to take up the hussy its mother, for she must be one of the neighbourhood; and I should be glad to see her committed to Bridewell, and whipt at the cart’s tail. Indeed, such wicked sluts cannot be too severely punished. I’ll warrant ’tis not her first, by her impudence in laying it to your worship.’—‘In laying it to me, Deborah!’ answered Allworthy: ‘I can’t think she hath any such design. I suppose she hath only taken this method to provide for her child; and truly I am glad she hath not done worse.’—‘I don’t know what is worse,’ cries Deborah, ‘than for such wicked strumpets to lay their sins at honest men’s doors; and though your worship knows your own innocence, yet the world is censorious; and it hath been many an honest man’s hap to pass for the father of children he never begot; and if your worship should provide for the child, it may make the people the apter to believe; besides, why should your worship provide for what the parish is obliged to maintain? For my own part, if it was an honest man’s child, indeed—but for my own part, it goes against me to touch these misbegotten wretches, whom I don’t look upon as my fellow-creatures. Faugh! how it stinks! It doth not smell like a Christian. If I might be so bold to give my advice, I would have it put in a basket, and sent out and laid at the churchwarden’s door. It is a good night, only a little rainy and windy; and if it was well wrapt up, and put in a warm basket, it is two to one but it lives till it is found in the morning. But if it should not, we have discharged our duty in taking proper care of it; and it is, perhaps, ­better for such creatures to die in a state of innocence, than to grow up and imitate their mothers; for nothing better can be expected of them.’

    There were some strokes in this speech which, perhaps, would have offended Mr. Allworthy had he strictly attended to it; but he had now got one of his fingers into the infant’s hand, which, by its gentle pressure, seeming to implore his assistance, had certainly outpleaded the eloquence of Mrs. Deborah, had it been ten times greater than it was. He now gave Mrs. Deborah positive orders to take the child to her own bed, and to call up a maid-servant to provide it pap, and other things, against it waked. He likewise ordered that proper clothes should be procured for it early in the morning, and that it should be brought to himself as soon as he was stirring.

    Such was the discernment of Mrs. Wilkins, and such the respect she bore her master, under whom she enjoyed a most excellent place, that her scruples gave way to his peremptory commands; and she took the child under her arms, without any apparent disgust at the illegality of its birth; and declaring it was a sweet little infant, walked off with it to her own chamber.

    Allworthy here betook himself to those pleasing slumbers which a heart that hungers after goodness is apt to enjoy when thoroughly satisfied. As these are possibly sweeter than what are occasioned by any other hearty meal, I should take more pains to display them to the reader, if I knew any air to recommend him to for the procuring such an appetite.

    IV    The reader’s neck brought into danger by a description; his escape; and the great condescension of Miss Bridget Allworthy.

    THE GOTHIC STYLE of building could produce nothing nobler than Mr. Allworthy’s house. There was an air of grandeur in it that struck you with awe, and rivalled the beauties of the best Grecian architecture; and it was as commodious within as venerable without.

    It stood on the south-east side of a hill, but nearer the bottom than the top of it, so as to be sheltered from the north-east by a grove of old oaks which rose above it in a gradual ascent of near half a mile, and yet high enough to enjoy a most charming prospect of the valley beneath.

    In the midst of the grove was a fine lawn, sloping down towards the house, near the summit of which rose a plentiful spring, gushing out of a rock covered with firs, and forming a constant cascade of about thirty feet, not carried down a regular flight of steps, but tumbling in a natural fall over the broken and mossy stones, till it came to the bottom of the rock; then running off in a pebbly channel, that with many lesser falls winded along, until it fell into a lake at the foot of the hill, about a quarter of a mile below the house on the south side, and which was seen from every room in the front. Out of this lake, which filled the centre of a beautiful plain, embellished with groups of beeches and elms, and fed with sheep, issued a river, that for several miles was seen to meander through an amazing variety of meadows and woods, till it emptied itself into the sea, with a large arm of which, and an island beyond it, the prospect was closed.

    On the right of this valley opened another of less extent, adorned with several villages, and terminated by one of the towers of an

    old ruined abbey, grown over with ivy, and part of the front, which remained still entire.

    The left-hand scene presented the view of a very fine park, composed of very unequal ground, and agreeably varied with all the diversity that hills, lawns, wood, and water, laid out with admirable taste, but owing less to art than to Nature, could give. Beyond this the country gradually rose into a ridge of wild mountains, the tops of which were above the clouds.

    It was now the middle of May, and the morning was remarkably serene, when Mr. Allworthy walked forth on the terrace, where the dawn opened every minute that lovely prospect we have before described to his eye; and now having sent forth streams of light, which ascended the blue firmament before him, as harbingers preceding his pomp, in the full blaze of his majesty rose the sun, than which one object alone in this lower creation could be more glorious, and that Mr. Allworthy himself presented—a human being replete with benevolence, meditating in what manner he might render himself most acceptable to his Creator, by doing most good to his creatures.

    Reader, take care. I have unadvisedly led thee to the top of as high a hill as Mr. Allworthy’s, and how to get thee down without breaking thy neck I do not well know. However, let us e’en venture to slide down together; for Miss Bridget rings her bell, and Mr. Allworthy is summoned to breakfast, where I must attend, and, if you please, shall be glad of your company.

    The usual compliments having passed between Mr. Allworthy and Miss Bridget, and the tea being poured out, he summoned Mrs. Wilkins, and told his sister he had a present for her, for which she thanked him—imagining, I suppose, it had been a gown, or some ornament for her person. Indeed, he very often made her such presents; and she, in complaisance to him, spent much time in adorning herself. I say in complaisance to him, because she always expressed the greatest contempt for dress, and for those ladies who made it their study.

    But if such was her expectation, how was she disappointed when Mrs. Wilkins, according to the order she had received from her master, produced the little infant? Great surprises, as hath been observed, are apt to be silent; and so was Miss Bridget, till her brother began, and told her the whole story, which, as the reader knows it already, we shall not repeat.

    Miss Bridget had always expressed so great a regard for what the ladies are pleased to call virtue, and had herself maintained such a severity of character, that it was expected, especially by Wilkins, that she would have vented much bitterness on this occasion, and would have voted for sending the child, as a kind of noxious animal, immediately out of the house; but, on the contrary, she rather took the good-natured side of the question, intimated some compassion for the helpless little creature, and commended her brother’s charity in what he had done.

    Perhaps the reader may account for this behaviour from her con­descension to Mr. Allworthy, when we have informed him that the good man had ended his narrative with owning a resolution to take care of the child, and to breed him up as his own; for, to acknowledge the truth, she was always ready to oblige her brother, and very seldom, if ever, contradicted his sentiments. She would, indeed, sometimes make a few observations, as that men were headstrong, and must have their own way, and would wish she had been blest with an independent fortune; but these were always vented in a low voice, and at the most amounted only to what is called muttering.

    However, what she withheld from the infant she bestowed with the utmost profuseness on the poor unknown mother, whom she called an impudent slut, a wanton hussy, an audacious harlot, a wicked jade, a vile strumpet, with every other appellation with which the tongue of virtue never fails to lash those who bring a disgrace on the sex.

    A consultation was now entered into how to proceed in order to discover the mother. A scrutiny was first made into the characters of the female servants of the house, who were all acquitted by Mrs. Wilkins, and with apparent merit; for she had collected them herself, and perhaps it would be difficult to find such another set of scarecrows.

    The next step was to examine among the inhabitants of the parish; and this was referred to Mrs. Wilkins, who was to inquire with all imaginable diligence, and to make her report in the afternoon.

    Matters being thus settled, Mr. Allworthy withdrew to his study, as was his custom, and left the child to his sister, who, at his desire, had undertaken the care of it.

    V    Containing a few common matters, with a very uncommon observation upon them.

    WHEN HER MASTER WAS departed Mrs. Deborah stood silent, expecting her cue from Miss Bridget; for as to what had passed before her master, the prudent housekeeper by no means relied upon it, as she had often known the sentiments of the lady in her brother’s absence to differ greatly from those which she had expressed in his presence. Miss Bridget did not, however, suffer her to continue long in this doubtful situation; for having looked some time earnestly at the child, as it lay asleep in the lap of Mrs. Deborah, the good lady could not forbear giving it a hearty kiss, at the same time declaring herself wonderfully pleased with its beauty and innocence. Mrs. Deborah no sooner observed this than she fell to squeezing and kissing, with as great raptures as sometimes inspire the sage dame of forty-and-five towards a youthful and vigorous bridegroom, crying out, in a shrill voice, ‘O, the dear little creature! The dear, sweet, pretty creature! Well, I vow it is as fine a boy as ever was seen!’

    These exclamations continued till they were interrupted by the lady, who now proceeded to execute the commission given her by her brother, and gave orders for providing all necessaries for the child, appointing a very good room in the house for his nursery. Her orders were indeed so liberal, that, had it been a child of her own, she could not have exceeded them; but, lest the virtuous reader may condemn her for showing too great regard to a base-born infant, to which all charity is condemned by law as irreligious, we think proper to observe that she concluded the whole with saying, ‘Since it was her brother’s whim to adopt the little brat, she supposed little master must be treated with great tenderness. For her part, she could not help thinking it was an encouragement to vice; but that she knew too much of the obstinacy of mankind to oppose any of their ridiculous humours.’

    With reflections of this nature she usually, as has been hinted, accompanied every act of compliance with her brother’s inclinations; and surely nothing could more contribute to heighten the merit of this compliance than a declaration that she knew, at the same time, the folly and unreasonableness of those inclinations to which she ­submitted. Tacit obedience implies no force upon the will, and consequently may be easily, and without any pains, preserved; but when a wife, a child, a relation, or a friend, performs what we desire with grumbling and reluctance, with expressions of dislike and ­dissatisfaction, the manifest difficulty which they undergo must greatly enhance the obligation.

    As this is one of those deep observations which very few readers can be supposed capable of making themselves, I have thought proper to lend them my assistance; but this is a favour rarely to be expected in the course of my work. Indeed, I shall seldom or never so indulge him, unless in such instances as this, where nothing but the inspiration with which we writers are gifted can possibly enable any one to make the discovery.

    VI    Mrs. Deborah is introduced into the parish with a simile. A short account of Jenny Jones, with the difficulties and discouragements which may attend young women in the pursuit of learning.

    MRS. DEBORAH HAVING DISPOSED of the child according to the will of her master, now prepared to visit those habitations which were supposed to conceal its mother.

    Not otherwise than when a kite, tremendous bird, is beheld by the feathered generation soaring aloft, and hovering over their heads, the amorous dove, and every innocent little bird, spread wide the alarm, and fly trembling to their hiding-places. He proudly beats the air, conscious of his dignity, and meditates intended mischief.

    So when the approach of Mrs. Deborah was proclaimed through the street, all the inhabitants ran trembling into their houses, each matron dreading lest the visit should fall to her lot. She with stately steps proudly advances over the field: aloft she bears her towering head, filled with conceit of her own preeminence, and schemes to effect her intended discovery.

    The sagacious reader will not from this simile imagine these poor people had any apprehension of the design with which Mrs. Wilkins was now coming towards them; but as the great beauty of the simile may possibly sleep these hundred years, till some future commentator shall take this work in hand, I think proper to lend the reader a little assistance in this place.

    It is my intention, therefore, to signify, that, as it is the nature of a kite to devour little birds, so is it the nature of such persons as Mrs. Wilkins to insult and tyrannise over little people. This being indeed the means which they use to recompense to themselves their extreme servility and condescension to their superiors; for nothing can be more reasonable, than that slaves and flatterers should exact the same taxes on all below them which they themselves pay to all above them.

    Whenever Mrs. Deborah had occasion to exert any extraordinary condescension to Mrs. Bridget, and by that means had a little soured her natural disposition, it was usual with her to walk forth among these ­people in order to refine her temper, by venting, and, as it were, purging off all ill humours; on which account she was by no means a welcome visitant: to say the truth, she was universally dreaded and hated by them all.

    On her arrival in this place, she went immediately to the habitation of an elderly matron; to whom, as this matron had the good fortune to resemble herself in the comeliness of her person, as well as in her age, she had generally been more favourable than to any of the rest. To this woman she imparted what had happened, and the design upon which she was come thither that morning. These two began presently to scrutinise the characters of the several young girls who lived in any of those houses, and at last fixed their strongest suspicion on one Jenny Jones, who, they both agreed, was the likeliest person to have committed this fact.

    This Jenny Jones was no very comely girl, either in her face or person; but nature had somewhat compensated the want of beauty with what is generally more esteemed by those ladies whose judgment is arrived at years of perfect maturity, for she had given her a very uncommon share of understanding. This gift Jenny had a good deal improved by erudition. She had lived several years a servant with a schoolmaster, who, discovering a great quickness of parts in the girl, and an extraordinary desire of learning—for every leisure hour she was always found reading in the books of the scholars—had the good nature, or folly—just as the reader pleases to call it—to instruct her so far, that she obtained a competent skill in the Latin language, and was, perhaps, as good a scholar as most of the young men of quality of the age. This advantage, however, like most others of an extraordinary kind, was attended with some small inconveniences; for as it is not to be wondered at, that a young woman so well accomplished should have little relish for the society of those whom fortune had made her equals, but whom education had rendered so much her inferiors, so is it ­matter of no greater astonishment that this superiority in Jenny, together with that behaviour which is its certain consequence, should produce among the rest some little envy and ill-will towards her; and these had, perhaps, secretly burnt in the bosoms of her neighbours ever since her return from her service.

    Their envy did not, however, display itself openly, till poor Jenny, to the surprise of everybody, and to the vexation of all the young women in these parts, had publicly shone forth on a Sunday in a new silk gown, with a laced cap, and other proper appendages to these.

    The flame, which had before lain in embryo, now burst forth. Jenny had, by her learning, increased her own pride, which none of her ­neighbours were kind enough to feed with the honour she seemed to demand; and now, instead of respect and adoration, she gained nothing but hatred and abuse by her finery. The whole parish declared she could not come honestly by such things; and parents, instead of wishing their daughters the same, felicitated themselves that their children had them not.

    Hence, perhaps, it was that the good woman first mentioned the name of this poor girl to Mrs. Wilkins; but there was another circumstance that confirmed the latter in her suspicion; for Jenny had lately been often at Mr. Allworthy’s house. She had officiated as nurse to Miss Bridget, in a violent fit of illness, and had sat up many nights with that lady; besides which, she had been seen there the very day before Mr. Allworthy’s return by Mrs. Wilkins herself, though that sagacious person had not at first conceived any suspicion of her on that account; for, as she herself said, ‘She had always esteemed Jenny as a very sober girl (though indeed she knew very little of her), and had rather suspected some of those wanton trollops, who gave themselves airs, because, forsooth, they thought themselves handsome.’

    Jenny was now summoned to appear in person before Mrs. Deborah, which she immediately did. When Mrs. Deborah, putting on the gravity of a judge, with somewhat more than his austerity, began an oration with the words, ‘You audacious strumpet!’ in which she proceeded rather to pass sentence on the prisoner than to accuse her.

    Though Mrs. Deborah was fully satisfied of the guilt of Jenny, from the reasons above shown, it is possible Mr. Allworthy might have required some stronger evidence to have convicted her; but she saved her accusers any such trouble by freely confessing the whole fact with which she was charged.

    This confession, though delivered rather in terms of contrition, as it appeared, did not at all mollify Mrs. Deborah, who now pronounced a second judgment against her in more opprobrious language than before; nor had it any better success with the bystanders, who were now grown very numerous. Many of them cried out, ‘They thought what madam’s silk gown would end in;’ others spoke sarcastically of her learning. Not a single female was present but found some means of expressing her abhorrence of poor Jenny, who bore all very patiently, except the malice of one woman, who reflected upon her person, and tossing up her nose, said, ‘The man must have a good stomach who would give silk gowns for such sort of trumpery!’ Jenny replied to this with a bitterness which might have surprised a judicious person, who had observed the tranquillity with which she bore all the affronts to her chastity; but her patience was perhaps tired out, for this is a virtue which is very apt to be fatigued by exercise.

    Mrs. Deborah having succeeded beyond her hopes in her inquiry, returned with much triumph, and, at the appointed hour, made a faithful report to Mr. Allworthy, who was much surprised at the relation; for he had heard of the extraordinary parts and improvements of this girl, whom he intended to have given in marriage, together with a small living, to a neighbouring curate. His concern, therefore, on this occasion, was at least equal to the satisfaction which appeared in Mrs. Deborah, and to many readers may seem much more reasonable.

    Miss Bridget blessed herself, and said, ‘For her part, she should never hereafter entertain a good opinion of any woman.’ For Jenny before this had the happiness of being much in her good graces also.

    The prudent housekeeper was again dispatched to bring the unhappy culprit before Mr. Allworthy, in order, not as it was hoped by some, and expected by all, to be sent to the House of Correction, but to receive wholesome admonition and reproof; which those who relish that kind of instructive writing may peruse in the next chapter.

    VII    Containing such grave matter, that the reader cannot laugh once through the whole chapter, unless peradventure he should laugh at the author.

    WHEN JENNY APPEARED, MR. ALLWORTHY took her into his study, and spoke to her as follows: ‘You know, child, it is in my power as a magistrate to punish you very rigorously for what you have done; and you will, perhaps, be the more apt to fear I should execute that power, because you have in a manner laid your sins at my door.

    ‘But, perhaps, this is one reason which hath determined me to act in a milder manner with you; for, as no private resentment should ever influence a magistrate, I will be so far from considering your having deposited the infant in my house as an aggravation of your offence, that I will suppose, in your favour, this to have proceeded from a natural affection to your child, since you might have some hopes to see it thus better provided for than was in the power of yourself, or its wicked father, to provide for it. I should indeed have been highly offended with you had you exposed the little wretch in the manner of some inhuman mothers, who seem no less to have abandoned their humanity, than to have parted with their chastity. It is the other part of your offence, therefore, upon which I intend to admonish you, I mean the violation of your chastity;—a crime very heinous in

    itself, and very dreadful in its consequences.

    ‘The heinous nature of this offence must be sufficiently apparent to every Christian, inasmuch as it is committed in defiance of the laws of our religion, and of the express commands of Him who founded that religion.

    ‘And here its consequences may well be argued to be dreadful; for what can be more so, than to incur the Divine displeasure by the breach of the Divine commands; and that in an instance against which the highest vengeance is specifically denounced?

    ‘But these things, though too little, I am afraid, regarded, are so plain, that mankind, however they may want to be reminded, can never need information on this head. A hint, therefore, to awaken your sense of this matter, shall suffice; for I would inspire you with repentance, and not drive you to desperation.

    ‘There are other consequences, not indeed so dreadful or replete with horror as this; and yet such, as, if attentively considered, must, one would think, deter all of your sex at least from the commission of this crime.

    ‘For by it you are rendered infamous, and driven, like lepers of old, out of society; at least, from the society of all but wicked and reprobate persons; for no others will associate with you.

    ‘If you have fortunes, you are hereby rendered incapable of enjoying them; if you have none, you are disabled from acquiring any, nay almost of procuring your sustenance; for no persons of character will receive you into their houses. Thus you are often driven by necessity itself into a state of shame and misery, which unavoidably ends in the destruction of both body and soul.

    ‘Can any pleasure compensate these evils? Can any temptation have sophistry and delusion strong enough to persuade you to so simple a bargain? Or can any carnal appetite so overpower your reason, or so totally lay it asleep, as to prevent your flying with affright and terror from a crime which carries such punishment always with it?

    ‘How base and mean must that woman be, how void of that dignity of

    mind, and decent pride, without which we are not worthy the name of human creatures, who can bear to level herself with the lowest animal, and to sacrifice all that is great and noble in her, all her heavenly part, to an appetite which she hath in common with the vilest branch of the creation! For no woman, sure, will plead the passion of love for an excuse. This would be to own herself the mere tool and bubble of the man. Love, however barbarously we may corrupt and pervert its meaning, as it is a laudable, is a rational passion, and can never

    be violent but when reciprocal; for though the Scripture bids us love our enemies, it means not with that fervent love which we naturally bear towards our friends; much less that we should sacrifice to them our lives, and what ought to be dearer to us, our innocence. Now in what light, but that of an enemy, can a reasonable woman regard the man who solicits her to entail on herself all the misery I have described to you, and who would purchase to himself a short, trivial, contemptible pleasure, so greatly at her expense! For, by the laws of custom, the whole shame, with all its dreadful consequences, falls entirely upon her. Can love, which always seeks the good of its object, attempt to betray a woman into a bargain where she is so greatly to be the loser? If such corrupter, therefore, should have the impudence to pretend a real affection for her, ought not the woman to regard him not only as an enemy, but as the worst of all enemies, a false, designing, treacherous, pretended friend, who intends not only to debauch her body, but her understanding at the same time?’

    Here Jenny expressing great concern, Allworthy paused a moment, and then proceeded: ‘I have talked thus to you, child, not to insult you for what is past and irrevocable, but to caution and strengthen you for the future. Nor should I have taken this trouble, but from some opinion of your good sense, notwithstanding the dreadful slip you have made; and from some hopes of your hearty repentance, which are founded on the openness and sincerity of your confession. If these do not deceive me, I will take care to convey you from this scene of your shame, where you shall, by being unknown, avoid the punishment which, as I have said, is allotted to your crime in this world; and I hope, by repentance, you will avoid the much heavier sentence denounced against it in the other. Be a good girl the rest of your days, and want shall be no motive to your going astray; and, believe me, there is more pleasure, even in this world, in an innocent and virtuous life than in one debauched and vicious.

    ‘As to your child, let no thoughts concerning it molest you; I will provide for it in a better manner than you can ever hope. And now nothing remains but that you inform me who was the wicked man that seduced you; for my anger against him will be much greater than you have experienced on this occasion.’

    Jenny now lifted her eyes from the ground, and with a modest look and decent voice thus began:—

    ‘To know you, sir, and not love your goodness, would be an argument of total want of sense or goodness in any one. In me it would amount to the highest ingratitude, not to feel, in the most sensible manner, the great degree of goodness you have been pleased to exert on this occasion. As to my concern for what is past, I know you will spare my blushes the repetition. My future conduct will much better declare my sentiments than any professions I can now make. I beg leave to assure you, sir, that I take your advice much kinder than your generous offer with which you concluded it; for, as you are pleased to say, sir, it is an instance of your opinion of my understanding’—Here her tears flowing apace, she stopped a few moments, and then proceeded thus:—‘Indeed, sir, your kindness overcomes me; but I will endeavour to deserve this good opinion; for if I have the understanding you are so kindly pleased to allow me, such advice cannot be thrown away upon me. I thank you, sir, heartily, for your intended kindness to my poor helpless child: he is innocent, and I hope will live to be grateful for all the favours you shall show him. But now, sir, I must on my knees entreat you not to persist in asking me to declare the father of my infant. I promise you faithfully you shall one day know; but I am under the most solemn ties and engagements of honour, as well as the most religious vows and protestations, to conceal his name at this time. And I know you too well, to think you would desire I should sacrifice either my honour or my religion.’

    Mr. Allworthy, whom the least mention of those sacred words was sufficient to stagger, hesitated a moment before he replied, and then told her she had done wrong to enter into such engagements to a ­villain; but since she had, he could not insist on her breaking them. He said it was not from a motive of vain curiosity he had inquired, but in order to punish the fellow; at least, that he might not ignorantly confer favours on the undeserving.

    As to these points Jenny satisfied him by the most

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