bookseller's shop, as if he had one of their glass-cases under his coat. Come and see this odd figure!"* And at a later period in St. James's Park: Short, rather plump than emaciated, notwithstanding his complaints; about five feet five inches; fair wig, lightish cloth coat, all black besides; one hand generally in his bosom, the other a cane in it, which he leans upon under the skirts of his coat usually of a light-brown complexion, teeth not yet failing him, smoothish face and ruddy cheeked; at some times looking to be almost sixty-five, at other times much younger, a regular even pace, stealing away ground rather than seeming to rid it; a gray eye too often overclouded by mistiness from the head; by chance lively-very lively it will be if he have hopes of seeing a lady whom he loves and honors; his eye always on the ladies; if they have very large hoops he looks down and supercilious, and as if he would be thought wise, but perhaps the sillier for that." Yes, we see the sentimental little prig bef fore us to the life, with his head turned by all the compliments paid to him by the ladies, and thinking that every woman whom he meets is conscious that she looks upon the author of Clarissa Harlowe' and ' 'Sir Charles Grandison." * Correspondence of Richardson, vol. ii, p. 206. CHAPTER VIII. FIELDING.-'TOM JONES,' A FAVORITE OF THE LADIES.-' JOSEPH We now turn to a very different school of thought WE and a very different style of novels. We leave the sick-room for the open common. A lady once asked me why she might not read 'Tom Jones.' It seemed hard, she thought, that so famous a work which was praised by everybody—that is, by every man who had read it-should remain a sealed book to her; and she inquired whether I could not give her an idea of its merits and an inkling of the story without sinning against decorum. The question was a delicate one, and I cannot pretend that I answered it satisfactorily. The truth is, that it would be impossible to give an analysis of the novel, or even describe the plot except in the most meagre terms, without offending against the respect due to female delicacy now. And such a description as could be given salvo pudore would be worthless. It would be like producing a bony skeleton as the representative of the human form. What idea would a listener have of the mirth and fun and fulness of life in 'Tom Jones,' if he were merely told that it is the story of a young man, a foundling, brought up as a dependent in a gentleman's family, who falls in love with Sophia, the daughter of Squire Western, and with whom Miss Western falls in love, running after him from place to place, accompanied only by her maid; who is exposed to the mean hatred of a wretch called Blifil, the nephew of an excellent gentleman named Allworthy, who befriends Tom until his patience is exhausted by the tales he hears of his unworthy conduct; and who, after many vicissitudes of fortune and many diverting but wicked scrapes, is discovered at last to be the natural son of Mr. Allworthy's maiden sister; and Blifil's villany being now exposed and discomfited, is made Mr. Allworthy's heir, and marries the fair Sophia? And yet this is the main plot of the story, or at all events it was all I could tell my inquirer. But her grandmother, no doubt, had read Tom Jones,' and was as modest and virtuous a lady as herself.* * Mrs. Delany says in one of her letters (1749): "Unluckily for 'Gaudentio,'" a book attributed to Bishop Berkeley, “I had just been reading 'Clarissa,' and it must have been an extraordinary book that would have been relished after that! 'Tom Jones' in his married state, is a poor thing, and not written by Fielding." Lady Bradshaigh, writing to Richardson in 1749, says: As to 'Tom Jones,' I am fatigued with the 66 name, having lately fallen into the company of several young ladies who had each a Tom Jones' in some part of the world, for so they called their favorites; and ladies, you know, are ever talking of their favorites. Last post I received a letter from a lady who laments the loss of her Tom Jones;' and from another who was happy in the company of her 'Tom Jones."" And again: "The girls are certainly fond of Tom Jones,' as I told you before; and they do not scruple declaring it in the presence of your incog nita." We cannot but regret that the coarseness of the age, and his own natural instincts, led Fielding to choose for the hero of his novel a young libertine, whose adventures are only fit for the ale-house or a worse place; while he has lavished upon it a skill of construction and artistic development of plot such as have never been surpassed. In these respects it well deserves the title of a prose epic. Coleridge says: "Upon my word, I think the Edipus Tyrannus,' 'The Alchymist,' and 'Tom Jones,' the three most perfect plots ever planned." * But the coarseness and licentiousness in which it abounds admit of no * Table Talk,' p. 332. defence, however much some writers may say the contrary. "If lowsie is Lucy as some volke miscall it, Then Lucy is lowsie whatever befall it." It is all very well for Charles Lamb to say that the hearty laugh of Tom Jones' "clears the air;" and no doubt it is refreshing as contrasted with the sentimentality of Richardson, whose style was Fielding's special aversion; but we must remember that it is the horse-laugh of a youth full of animal spirits and rioting in the exuberance of health, who sells himself to Lady Bellaston as her paramour, while all the time he is described as being desperately in love with Sophia Western. I know no writer more likely than Thackeray to have given unqualified praise to 'Tom Jones,' and certainly none more fitted to appreciate the character; for the robust nature of his intellect made him by no means squeamish, and no man was more disposed to look kindly upon the frailties of others, whether heroes of fiction or persons in real life. But what does he say about Fielding's hero? I am glad to quote the passage, for it shows Thackeray's sound sense and right feeling: "I can't say that I think Mr. Jones a virtuous |