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ARTES
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KURA
ALGETT-
VERITAS
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UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
BUS URUN
ZAL MURIONS
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SCIENTIA
SI-QUERIS PENINSULAM-AMŒNAM
CIRCUMSPICE
OF THE
LURUUM
!
:
LICHMAL ~
THE LIFE
J
:
13
5
OF
HENRY FIELDING;
<<
WITH NOTICES
OF
4121
His Writings, his Times, and his Contemporaries.
BY FREDERICK LAWRENCE,
OF THE MIDDLE TEMPLE, BARRISTER-AT-LAW.
Mores hominum multorum vidit."
HORACE. De Arte Poetică.
LONDON:
ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE, & CO., 25, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1855.
A
PREFACE.
RATHER more than a century has elapsed since the death
of Henry Fielding. During this period, there have appeared
the following sketches of his life and character:-Arthur
Murphy prefixed to the collected edition of his works,
published in 1762, an Essay, in which the principal facts of
his life are noticed, without any attempt at chronological
arrangement. In 1807, an "Account of the Life and
Writings" of the novelist was published by William
Watson, which was afterwards prefixed to an edition of
his select works, published in Edinburgh, in 1812. A few
years later (in 1821), Sir Walter Scott contributed a "Life
of Fielding" (since printed amongst his miscellaneous prose
works) to Ballantyne's "Novelist's Library." In 1840, a
one-volume edition of Fielding's works was published, to
which Mr. Roscoe contributed a biography of some length.
To this it must be added that a memoir of the novelist
is contained in that valuable repertory of literary facts,
Nichols' "Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century ;”—not
to speak of various articles in reviews, encyclopædias, and
biographical dictionaries.
iv
PREFACE.
Although the principal incidents of our great novelist's
life have been narrated in the foregoing sketches, it is
conceived that there is room for a more complete bio-
graphy. Not only are there errors to correct, and omissions
to supply, but the example of recent biographers, parti-
cularly that of Mr. John Forster, in the "Life and Times of
Oliver Goldsmith," has justified the practice of attempting,
in the literary memoir, something more than the bare
relation of previously recorded facts. The biographer is
properly expected to present the author in relation to his
times and contemporaries, so that his works and character
may be estimated by the standard of his age. And this
has been endeavoured—as far as ability and opportunities
permitted—in the following pages.
The materials for such a biography have been sought
for, not only in the sources already indicated, but in the
newspapers and magazines of the period, in the works of
contemporary memoir-writers, and in Fielding's prefaces,
-particularly those prefixed to the now scarce edition of
his "Miscellanies," published in 1743, and the "Journal
of a Voyage to Lisbon." Some notices of the persons
amongst whom he lived-players, authors, and lawyers-
have been inserted in the text of the biography, or appended
to it in the shape of notes; and these, it is hoped, may
illustrate in some degree the spirit and character of the
times in which he lived, and for which he wrote.
It is not merely on account of his position as the first of
English novelists that attention is called, in these pages, to
the life of Henry Fielding. His career was more active
PREFACE.
T
and varied than that of most men. As a dramatist, jour-
nalist, novelist, barrister, and justice of the peace, he played
a prominent part in the business of the world, and left
behind him traces of his vigorous, though undisciplined
mind, "wheresoever he walked and was." It is also believed
that many instructive lessons may be drawn from his
chequered and wayward life; since, at every stage of it, it
will be seen how surely retributive sorrow and suffering
follow in the track of misspent hours, and how little good
principles and the best intentions avail, without the habit
and practice of “prudent, cautious self-control.”
The biographer must add that a few papers on Fielding's
life were contributed by him to "Sharpe's London Maga-
zine,” which are made use of in the present work.
All that now remains for him is to tender his acknow-
ledgments to his friends, Mr. J. Humffreys Parry, for
many suggestions during the passage of the work through
the press, and Mr. Thomas Watts, of the British Museum,
for some valuable bibliographical information which will be
found in an Appendix.
P
-

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.-Birth, Parentage, and Education. [1707-1727.]
CHAPTER II.-First Comedy: "Love in Several Masques.". "The Temple
Beau." [1728-1730.]
CHAPTER III." The Author's Farce."
Henley.-Authorship in 1730. [1730.]
CHAPTER IV.-Dramatic Career continued.
tician." "Tom Thumb." [1730.].
CHAPTER V.-"The Modern Husband.'
[1731-1733.]
31
·
"Hurlothrumbo." Orator
93
"The Coffee-house Poli-
"Mock Doctor.'
""
، The Miser."
CHAPTER VI.-Fielding at Bartholomew Fair.-Theatrical Disasters.-
"The Intriguing Chambermaid. "Don Quixote in England."-
"The Universal Gallant." [1733-1735.]
CHAPTER VII.-Courtship and Marriage.-Country Life. [1735-1736.]
CHAPTER VIII.-The Great Mogul's Company -"Pasquin" and "The
Historical Register for 1736." [1736-1737.]
•
CHAPTER IX.-The Licensing Act, and dispersion of the Great Mogul's
Company.-Fielding's admission as a Student of the Middle Temple.
[1737.]
CHAPTER X.-Student Life. "The Champion."-Cibber's "Apology."
[1737-1740.]
•
CHAPTER XI.-Literary Notices in "The Champion."-Boyse.—Lillo.—
Hogarth. [1740.]
CHAPTER XII.-Call to the Bar.-The Western Circuit in 1740.-Legal
Experiences. [1740-1741.]
PAGE
1
8
21
32
41
50
67
79
95
109
124
137
ㄴ
​سا
مستند
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viii
CHAPTER XIII.-Richardson's "Pamela.".
CHAPTER XIV.-Defence of the Duchess of Marlborough.-"Miss Lucy
in Town."-"The Wedding Day."-Garrick and Fielding. [1742
-1743.]
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XV.-Fielding's "Miscellanies."-Poems.-Essays.-"Journey
from this World to the Next."-"Jonathan Wild." [1743.]
PAGE
"Joseph Andrews." [1742.] 151
I'
An
CHAPTER XVI.-Death of Mrs. Fielding.-Preface to "David Simple,"
&c.-Rebellion of '45.-" The True Patriot." [1743-1745.] .
CHAPTER XVII, "The True Patriot."-End of the Rebellion.-Second
Marriage. [1746.]
·
•
•
APPENDIX.
.
CHAPTER XXIII. "The Covent Garden Journal."-Attacks of Hill and
Smollett. [1752.]
CHAPTER XXIV.-Justice Business.-Case of Elizabeth Canning. [1752
--1753.]
CHAPTER XVIII.-"The Jacobite Journal."-Personal Attacks on the
Editor.-Fielding appointed a Justice of the Peace. [1747-1748.] 221
CHAPTER XIX.-Fielding a Justice of the Peace.-Crime and Criminals
in the Eighteenth Century. [1748-1749.]
CHAPTER XX.-"Tom Jones." [1749.] .
CHAPTER XXI.-Justice Business.-Fielding's Private Life described by
Walpole.-Treatise on Robberies.-Denunciation of Gin. [1749—
і
1751.]
268
CHAPTER XXII.—“ Amelia.'
"Amelia." [1751.]
CHAPTER XXV.-Last efforts in the Public Service-Voyage to Lisbon.
[1753-1754.]
•
CHAPTER XXVI.-Voyage to Lisbon continued. Arrival there and Death.
[1754.]
CHAPTER XXVII.-Posthumous publications.-Comment on Lord Boling-
broke's Essays.-"The Fathers." [1754-1778.]
166
181
193
210
232
250€
290
302
315
329
341
359
374
1
1
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EDUCATION.
[1707-1727.]
"THE nobility of the Spensers," writes the historian of
the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, "has been
illustrated and enriched by the trophies of Marlborough,,
but I exhort them to consider the 'Faëry Queene' the
most precious jewel in their coronet. Our immortal Field-
ing was of the younger branch of the Earls of Denbigh,
who drew their origin from the Counts of Hapsburgh, the
lineal descendants of Eltrico, in the seventh century Duke
of Alsace. Far different have been the fortunes of the
English and German divisions of the family of Hapsburgh :
the former, the knights and sheriffs of Leicestershire, have
slowly risen to the dignity of a peerage; the latter, the
emperors of Germany and kings of Spain, have threatened
the liberties of the Old, and invaded the treasures of the
New World. The successors of Charles V. may disdain
their brethren in England; but the romance of 'Tom
Jones' that exquisite picture of humour and manners-
will outlive the palace of the Escurial and the imperial Eagle
of Austria." l
This gorgeous sketch of the antiquity of the Fielding
family is not the mere creation of a luxuriant fancy. A
manuscript genealogy is extant, which traces their descent
(1) Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works.
B
2
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1707-27.
from Geoffrey, Count of Hapsburgh, who, being deprived
of his possessions, and smarting under the oppression of
his son Rodolph, Emperor of Germany-like many other
chieftains in the days of knight-errantry-came to England,
to offer his services to Henry III., who was then engaged
in warfare with his revolted barons. Having settled in
this country, he assumed the surname of Feilding, or Fild-
ing, as a memorial of his family pretensions to the domi-
nion of Lauffenberg and Rinfilding. Count Geoffrey
brought his valour to a good market, for his patron, King
Henry, bestowed upon him divers rents and fees, of a con-
siderable amount in the whole, for his support and main-
tenance. The descendants of the illustrious exile took an
active part in most of the civil broils which have since
vexed the realm of England. His great-grandson, Sir
William Feilding, was a staunch adherent of the house of
Lancaster during the war of the Roses, and fell at Tewkes-
bury. Sir Everard Feilding-who was Sir William's eldest
son and successor-was sheriff of the counties of Warwick
and Leicester, and commanded the army of Edward IV. at
the battle of Stoke. At a later period, in the war between
Charles I. and his Parliament, the Feildings also greatly
signalised themselves. Sir William Feilding (who in 1620
had been created Baron and Viscount Feilding, and in 1622
Earl of Denbigh) fought stoutly for the royal prerogative,
and fell, mortally wounded, on the 3rd of April, 1643, in a
skirmish near Birmingham. His son Basil, who succeeded
to his title and honours, also took an active part in this
memorable struggle, but under a different banner. Civil
strife, which divided the truest and staunchest friends,
and pointed the swords of so many near and dear relatives
against each other, arrayed the father and son upon opposite.
sides on the same battle-field. At Edgehill, the Earl of
Denbigh fought under the royal standard, whilst his son
Basil held a command in the parliament horse, and was
stationed on the right wing of Essex's division, which broke
W
ET. 1–20.] BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EDUCATION.
3
the king's left, and achieved the victory on that bloody day.
Thus it chanced that the Feildings, whose English ancestor
had sought these shores as a volunteer in our intestine
broils, were, by a singular fatality, mixed up in the most
important of those unnatural contests, in which English
blood flowed on both sides.
1
.
George Fielding, the second son of the first Earl of
Denbigh, who was subsequently created Earl of Desmond,
was a devoted royalist, like his father. This nobleman
left behind him four sons, the youngest of whom was
Dr. John Fielding, Canon of Salisbury, and Chaplain to
William III., who married Bridget, daughter of Scipio
Cockain, Esq., and was blessed with a numerous progeny.
His youngest son, Edmund-the father of the novelist—
entered the army, served with distinction under the Duke
of Marlborough, and, about 1730, attained the rank of
Lieutenant-General. General Fielding's first wife was
the daughter of Sir Henry Gould, a judge of the King's
Bench.? This lady bore him six children, two of whom
were boys-the novelist, and his brother Edmund (who
entered the navy, and died young)—and four girls, named
respectively, Catherine, Ursula, Sarah (afterwards well-
known in the world of letters as the authoress of "David
Simple"), and Beatrice.
The county of Somerset has the honour of numbering
amongst its worthies the greatest of English novelists.
Henry Fielding was born at Sharpham Park, near Glaston-
bury, in that county, on the 22nd of April, 1707. His edu-
cation commenced at home, under the care of one Mr. Oliver,
-
(1) In tracing the genealogy of the Fieldings it is observable that the name was
originally spelt Feilding. The elder branch of the family have preserved up to
this day the same orthography. It is related of the novelist, that being once in
the company of the Earl of Denbigh, his lordship was pleased to observe that they
were both of the same family, and asked the reason why they spelt their names
differently. "I cannot tell, my lord," replied the wit, "unless it be that my
branch of the family were the first that knew how to spell."
(2) She was also the aunt of another Sir Henry Gould, a judge of the Court
of Common Pleas, mentioned hereafter.
4
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1707-27.
the family chaplain. There is a tradition that this gentle-
man was the original of Parson Trulliber, in "Joseph An-
drews;" and it is by no means improbable that the minute.
sketch of the parson's figure in that novel was intended for
the pedagogue. "He (Trulliber) was indeed one of the
largest men you should see, and could have acted the part
of Sir John Falstaff without stuffing. Add to this, that
the rotundity of his belly was considerably increased by the
shortness of his stature, his shadow ascending very near
as far in height when he lay on his back as when he stood
on his legs. His voice was loud and hoarse, and his accent
extremely broad. To complete the whole, he had a stateli-
ness in his gait when he walked, not unlike that of a goose,
only he stalked slower." If the Somersetshire pastor who
directed little Harry Fielding's first studies was a man after
this fashion, it may be readily imagined that his lessons
afforded more amusement than edification to his pupil.
As soon as the boy was considered well-grounded in his
“rudiments,” he was dispatched to Eton. Here he was a
general favourite. Lively, clever, and agreeable, never was
there a youth better qualified to seize the advantage (in the
eyes of ambitious parents the greatest that a public school
affords) of forming "splendid friendships." Among his
contemporaries were several Etonians, who united un-
common intellectual endowments to the substantial advan-
tage of high station and powerful connexions. There was
George Lyttleton, afterwards distinguished as a poet, orator,
and political leader, then a weak and sickly boy, with a
taste for rhyming and miscellaneous reading, and whose
"exercises” (it is said by Johnson,) "were recommended
as models to his schoolfellows." Lyttleton was about the
same age as Fielding; they were much together; and their
school friendship ripened into an attachment of life-long
duration. There was William Pitt-afterwards the re-
nowned "Cornet Pitt," the great Commoner, and world-
famous Earl of Chatham-also an invalid, and frequently
-
ÆT. 1-20.] BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EDUCATION.
5
10
confined to his "Dame's parlour" with attacks of here-
ditary gout, but nevertheless a hearty, headstrong lad, who
was long remembered at Eton for the severe flogging he
once underwent for "breaking bounds." There was also
Henry Fox, his illustrious and often successful rival, whose
classical lore (acquired at this period) in after life astonished
those who had known the idleness and dissipation of his
early manhood. Sir Charles Hanbury Williams (celebrated
as the wittiest of political squib-writers) and Mr. Win-
nington were likewise schoolfellows of the novelist, and
both retained for him through life a sincere regard. With
such associates the study of classical literature was to
Fielding a pleasant pastime; and before he had attained
his sixteenth year his proficiency in Greek and Latin was
considered to reflect credit on the school.
If Eton had reason to be proud of Fielding, Fielding
had no less cause to cherish an affectionate attachment
to her "antique towers." His school-days were crowded
with incidents, upon which, in his maturer years, he
often looked back with pleasure and satisfaction. When
Pitt was shaking the senate with the thunders of his
eloquence, and whilst Fox was exhibiting his gladiatorial
skill in debate, how often did the imagination of their
gifted schoolfellow revert to the time when they wandered
together arm-in-arm over the green playing-fields by the
margin of the Thames, unravelling the difficulties of their
daily task, and sharing unreservedly their boyish confi-
dences ! These pleasant reminiscences were not unaccom-
panied by a lively recollection of the severe discipline which
then prevailed in all our public schools.
"And thou, O
learning," says the novelist-in the splendid invocation
with which he commences the thirteenth book of Tom
Jones-" (for without thy assistance nothing pure, nothing
correct, can genius produce,) do thou guide my pen. Thee,
in thy favourite fields, where the limpid, gently-rolling
Thames washes thy Etonian banks, in early youth I have
:
6
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1707-27.
worshipped. To thee, at thy birchen altar, with true
Spartan devotion, I have sacrificed my blood." Lucky,
indeed, was the wight who in those days escaped personal
chastisement at the hands of his pedagogue. A belief in
the efficacy of corporeal punishment was then deeply rooted
in the mind of the schoolmaster; and a sanguinary revenge
was often taken for a false quantity or a bad exercise.¹
From Eton the future novelist was transferred to the
then famous University of Leyden, in order that he might
perfect himself in the study of the civil law before keeping
his terms for the Bar. About thirty years later, be it re-
membered, another distinguished Englishman and English
novelist-Oliver Goldsmith—was also a student at Leyden.
Let English travellers when they visit this fine, quaint old
city remember this.?
Whilst at Leyden, Fielding kept up his character as a
diligent student. As soon as he arrived there, he became
the pupil of the most learned civilian in the university,
whose lectures he attended for about two years. At the
expiration of that period supplies from home began to fail:
remittances grew "small by degrees and beautifully less,"
until at length they ceased altogether. The young student
had then no choice but to return to England. Accordingly,
home he returned, slenderly furnished indeed for the battle
of life, but doomed to commence the contest without delay.
Fresh from the dull, tranquil, and stately Dutch university,
he plunged into the ocean of London life, and was soon
carried away by the stream. Scarcely twenty years old,
with a vigorous constitution, as yet uninjured by dissipation,
(1) The inseparable alliance which was held to exist between scholarship and
the birch, it will be remembered, is celebrated in the "Dunciad :".
"Proceed, great days! till learning fly the shore,
Till birch shall blush with noble blood no more,
Till Thames see Eton's sons for ever play,
Till Westminster's whole year be holiday."
Gj
(2) John Evelyn, the author of "Sylva," was also for some time a student at
Leyden, o
C
ÆT. 1-20.] BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EDUCATION.
7
a remarkable capacity for labour and bodily endurance, a
fine wit, and lively disposition, he found himself his own
master, with the town and all its pleasures and distinctions
before him. Thus situated, the bent of his inclinations and
the force of circumstances hurried him into authorship, and
he naturally preferred the liveliest and most exciting branch
of an author's trade-that of writing for the stage.
Before he left Leyden, he had tried his hand at dramatic
composition, and had written a portion of a comedy called
“Don Quixote in England." As soon as he set foot in the
metropolis, a few attendances at the theatre of course stimu-
lated his dramatic taste. Besides, as may be readily imagined,
he could not support the character of a fine gentleman, or
indeed subsist at all, without the assistance of his wits. He
used to say, in after life, that at the commencement of his
career his choice lay between being a hackney-writer or a
hackney-coachman. His father had, indeed, agreed to make
him an allowance of £200 a year; but this allowance, the
son said, "anybody might pay who would." No one did
pay it, and the General never troubled himself about it.
The truth is, the veteran had contracted a second marriage
with a lady who bore the pretty maiden name of Eleanor
Blanchfield; and with a young family growing up around
him, and a taste for profuse hospitality, he was utterly
unable to contribute anything towards the maintenance of
the clever youth who had just commenced in London the
life of a man of wit and fashion. With every inclination,
he had not the power to support him, and this the son knew
full well. When, therefore, default was made in the pay-
ment of the promised allowance, it did not diminish his
filial tenderness, or cause him to indulge in useless repin-
ings. Thenceforth he knew that he must rely upon his
own exertions; and having resolved to make his way by
dramatic authorship, after a few months' residence in Lon-
don, his facile pen produced, with little effort, a comedy, to
which he gave the title of "Love in several Masques."
K
Co
[1728-30.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
FIRST COMEDY:
"
CHAPTER II.
LOVE IN SEVERAL MASQUES."
TEMPLE BEAU."
Ską
66
THE
J.
[1728-1730.]
WHEN Fielding made his appearance as a dramatist, the
comedy of artificial life had degenerated into a representa-
tion of the world's worst habits, thoughts, and sentiments.
In the course of the preceding half-century, Wycherley,
Congreve, Farquhar, and Vanbrugh, had exhausted all the
arts which could render profligacy seductive or amusing;
and their productions still kept possession of the stage, and
influenced the prevailing taste. The lively play of an
unbridled wit, a succession of disreputable intrigues, and
a contempt for every moral and social obligation, were
amongst the necessary ingredients of this species of enter-
tainment; and with these stimulants dramatic authors had
long deluged the town. At such a period, the young comic
dramatist could not expect to achieve very high things.
The ordinary incidents of fashionable profligacy, and the
popular phrases of gallantry, were well-nigh "used up.
Though, in order to secure the approbation of the higher
circles, the manager was constrained to set before them a
dainty dish of immorality, it was a dish without novelty
or piquancy. Persons of quality who attended the play
expected of course to see the marriage-tie turned into a
jest; but that jest, though it might have been considered
a good one at first, had become rather stale. The coarse
obscenity of the comedies of the Restoration was, indeed, no
longer tolerated in all its grossness; yet the tone of dramatic
morality was little, if at all, improved. The theatres were
still shunned by pure-minded women and prudent men,
در
ÆT. 20-22.1
9
FIRST COMEDY.
and the success of a comedy depended, in a great degree,
on the audacity with which it outraged the sanctity of
domestic ties and moral obligations.
Fielding's first effort had the disadvantage of succeeding
one of the best productions of this era. The "Provoked
Husband,” commenced by Vanbrugh and finished by Cibber
(one of the few comedies of that period which can be still
read or listened to by decent people), had been just pro-
duced with great success, having accomplished "a run" of
twenty-eight nights. This success is said to have been
principally owing to the acting of Mrs. Oldfield. In the
part of Lady Townley, this clever and charming actress
carried the town by storm. It is related by Macklin that
she appeared to rush upon the stage in the full conscious-
ness of beauty, youth, and talent; and when Wilks, the
actor who performed the part of Lord Townley, uttered in
the first scene the word "prodigious," the audience instinc-
tively seized on the opportunity of applying the expression
by shouts of approbation to the accomplished actress.
Although during her performance of Lady Townley, Mrs.
Oldfield contracted an indisposition, brought on by fatigue
and excitement, she consented to personate one of the
principal characters in young Fielding's comedy, and thus
ensured it a moderate success.¹
(1) Mrs. Oldfield was the daughter of an officer in the army, who leaving her
entirely unprovided for, she was brought up by an aunt, who kept the Mitre
Tavern, in St. James's Street. It was here that Farquhar, the dramatist, over-
heard her one day reading some passages behind the bar from "The Scornful
Lady" of Beaumont and Fletcher. He was struck with her graceful elocution,
and through his commendation, joined to that of Vanbrugh, she obtained an
engagement at Drury Lane, at 15s. a week. Ultimately she succeeded the
famous Mrs. Verbruggen as the leading comic actress of the theatre. Her wit
and cleverness procured her admission to every society. Notwithstanding some
stains upon her character, she was received at Court, and a bon-mot of hers,
addressed to the Princess of Wales, is much celebrated. The princess observed
to her one day that it was reported that she and General Churchill were
married: "So it is said, your royal highness," replied the actress, "but we
have not owned it yet." In his preface to the "Provoked Husband," Colley
Cibber writes of her thus :-" She was in stature just rising to that height when
the graceful can only begin to show itself; of a lively aspect, and a command
10
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1728-30.
"Love in several Masques was first acted in the
month of February, 1728,' when the author had not
attained his twenty-first year. This was certainly a very
early period of life for the production of even a pass-
able comedy:-a species of composition which would
seem to require on the part of the author considerable
knowledge of the world, and familiarity with its colloquial.
phraseology. Yet it is worthy of remark that Fielding's is
not the only instance in which the hardihood of youth has
been displayed by a precocious dalliance with the comic
muse. Congreve must have been but a beardless boy when
he wrote "The Old Bachelor;" for that comedy was first
acted in 1693, when he was twenty-one years of age; and,
in his defence against the attacks of Collier, he asserts that
"it was written, as several know, some years before it was
acted!" Wycherley, according to his own account, wrote
his comedy of "Love in a Wood" at nineteen, and "The
Plain Dealer" at twenty-five; although critical sagacity
has seen reason to doubt the perfect accuracy of the state-
ment.2 Farquhar's first comedy, also, was written and
acted before he was twenty years old, and his last ("The
Recruiting Officer") before he was thirty.
در
Fielding keenly felt the disadvantageous circumstances
under which he made his first bow to the public. The
production of a new comedy was in itself a bold adventure
in her mien that, like the principal figure in the finest paintings, first seizes and
longest delights the eye of the spectator. Her voice was sweet, strong, piercing,
and melodious; her pronunciation voluble, distinct, and musical; and her
emphasis always placed where the spirit of the sense demanded it."
(1) Until the 24th year of the reign of George II. the Julian or Old Style
prevailed in England, under which system the legal year commenced on the
25th of March. Fielding's first comedy is thus generally said to have been
produced in 1727.
(2) See Macaulay's "Essay on the Comic Dramatists of the Restoration."
After speaking of the disadvantages under which his first comedy was produced,
Fielding adds, in the preface: "These were difficulties which seemed rather to
require the superior force of a Wycherley, or Congreve, than of a raw and inex-
perienced pen; for I believe I may boast that none ever appeared so early on
the stage."
ވ
ÆT. 20-22.]
FIRST COMEDY.
11
for so young an author; but the experiment became still
more hazardous when it succeeded the last and ablest work
of a veteran dramatist. In his prologue, the following
graceful allusion is made to this circumstance :-
"As when a Raphael's masterpiece has been
By the astonished judge with rapture seen,
Should some young artist next his picture show,
He speaks his colours faint, his fancy low;
Though it some beauties has, it needs must fall,
Compared with that which has excelled in all.”
In style and sentiment the comedy of "Love in several
Masques" was obviously modelled on the productions of
Congreve. But Fielding lacked the judgment and bril-
liancy of that distinguished wit; whilst he possessed little
skill in the construction and development of his fable, to
compensate for any defects in the dialogue. His dramatis
personæ were for the most part without individuality, and
his scenes thrown off without art, order, or method. Still,
with all its defects, the first work of Henry Fielding is not
without characteristic excellences, and a brief specimen of
its nervous dialogue may not be unacceptable. The second
act opens with a dialogue between the gay widow, Lady
Matchless, and her bosom friend Vermilia; in which her
satirical ladyship thus describes the horde of suitors who
crowd her drawing-room :-
Vermilia. You have opportunities enough of revenge, and objects
enough to execute it upon; for, I think, you have as many slaves in
your assemblies as the French king in his galleys.
Lady Matchless. Why, really, I sometimes look on my drawing-
room as a little parliament of fools, to which every different body
sends its representatives. Beaux of all sorts. The courtly lord, who
addresses me with a formal, well-bred dissimulation. The airy Sir
Plume, who always walks in the minuet step, and converses in
recitativo.
Vermilia. And is a Narcissus in everything but beauty.
Lady Matchless. Then the robust warrior, who proceeds by way of
storm or siege. The lawyer, who attacks me, as he would a jury,
with a cringe, and a lie at the tip of his tongue. The cit, who would
12
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1728-30.
cheat me by way of bargain and sale. And your settling country
esquire, who would put my life into half his estate, provided I would
put his whole family's into all mine.
Vermilia. There is a more dangerous, tho' a more ridiculous fool
than any of these, and that is a fine gentleman, who becomes the
disguise of a lover worse than any you have named.
Lady Matchless. O, ay; a man of sense acts a lover just as a
Dutchman would a harlequin. He stumbles at every straw we throw
in his way, which a fop would skip over with ease.¹
The manner of Congreve is closely imitated in Fielding's
first comedy, which abounds in "the reciprocation of
conceits, or clash of wit," rendered fashionable by that
brilliant writer. As for humour, the genial, hearty humour
which pervaded the later productions of his pen, few traces
of it are to be found in this early effort. There is, indeed,
rather an amusing portrait of an ignorant, arrogant country
squire Sir Positive Trap; one of the never-to-be-forgotten
Western tribe, who boasts of having "a nobler coat of
arms than the Grand Mogul," and who "hopes to see the
(1) The heartless and languid tone of the comedies of this period everywhere
reminds us of a profligate town-life from which all sentiment was banished. In
their conduct with respect to love-matters, the manners of the fine gentlemen
and ladies of the days of George I. and II. were cleverly contrasted with those
of the preceding epochs by Goldsmith, in his Life of Beau Nash :-"As Nestor
was a man of three ages, so Nash sometimes humorously called himself a beau
of three generations. He had seen flaxen bobs succeeded by majors, which in
their turn gave way to negligents, which were at last totally routed by bags and
ramilies. The manner in which gentlemen managed their amours in these
different ages of fashion was not more [less ?] different than their perriwigs. The
lover in the reign of King Charles was solemn, majestic, and formal. He visited
his mistress in state; languished for her favour, kneeled when he toasted his
goddess, walked with solemnity, performed the most trifling things with decorum,
and even took snuff with a flourish. The beau of the latter part of Queen
Anne's reign was disgusted with so much formality; he was pert, smart, and
lively; his billets-doux were written in quite a different style from that of his
antiquated predecessor; he was ever laughing at his own ridiculous situation;
till at last he persuaded the lady to become as ridiculous as himself. The beau
of the third age, in which Nash died, was still more extraordinary than either;
his whole secret in intrigue consisted in perfect indifference. The only way to
make love now, I have heard Nash say, was to take no manner of notice of the
lady;
which method was found the surest way to secure her affections."-Gold-
smith's Life of Beau Nash (Works, vol. iv., 1854).
(2) Johnson's Life of Congreve.
ÆT. 20-22.]
13
FIRST COMEDY.
time when a man may carry his daughters to market with
the same lawful authority as any other of his cattle."
The
+
union of pride and ignorance in this fellow is thus diver-
tingly exhibited :-
Lady Matchless. O fie, Sir Positive, you are too severe on his
lordship.
Sir Positive. He is a lord, then! and what of that? an old English
baronet is above a lord: a title of yesterday! an innovation! Who
were lords, I wonder, in the time of Sir Julius Caesar? and it is plain
he was a baronet, by his being called by his Christian name.
Vermilia. Christen'd name! I apprehend that Cæsar lived before
the time of Christianity.
Sir Positive. And what then, madam? he might be a baronet
without being a Christian, I hope. But I don't suppose our antiquity
will recommend us to you-for women love upstarts, by the right hand
of the Traps!¹
(C
It is worthy of remark that the young author, in the
prologue to his first comedy (with an amusing air of self-
satisfaction), takes credit to himself for the moral tendency
of his scenes. But in this respect they were not certainly
above the level of the age. In spite of his promise—
Nought shall offend the fair one's ears to-day,
Which she might blush to hear or blush to say,"-
his drama was by no means deficient in the indecencies
which were then considered to give a zest to humour. The
truth is, that Fielding could not afford to be dull; and
decorum was in that age considered synonymous with dul-
ness. Had his play been less piquant and more moral, he
might have wanted occupation for some years to come. As
it was, he acquired the marketable reputation of a wit, with-
out, in all probability, offending the delicacy of the "fair
who honoured his comedy with their countenance.
When published, "Love in several Masques" was dedi-
cated by the young author to his kinswoman and patroness,
Lady Mary Wortley Montague-"that brilliant star of
fashion, whose accurate judgment," says Fielding, "has
(1) Act iii., scene 7.
ones
B
14
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1728-30.
long been the glory of her sex, and the wonder of ours."
Lady Mary thought highly of her kinsman. At a subsequent
period, when the results of his chequered life had afforded
her a better opportunity of estimating his abilities, she thus
discourses of him and his writings:-"Since I was born,
no original has appeared except Congreve and Fielding, who
would, I believe, have approached nearer to his (Congreve's)
excellences, if not forced by necessity to publish without
correction, and throw many productions into the world, he
would have thrown into the fire, if meat could have been
got without money, or money without scribbling."1
Fielding had now fairly embraced the profession of
dramatic authorship. The reception of his first effort
inspired him with sanguine hopes of future fame and
emolument in this arena; whilst the society of the green-
room had a fascination for him, which even a less lively
and social spirit might have been unable to resist. In
the preface to "Love in several Masques," he acknow-
ledges the "civil and kind behaviour" of Wilks and
Cibber previous to the representation of that comedy,
from which it may be inferred that he had managed to
ingratiate himself at this early period with the magnates of
the playhouse. These celebrated actors were then at the
head of their profession. In the difficult character of the
stage-gentleman Wilks was considered unapproachable. He
was an extremely industrious and painstaking performer,
being always most perfect in his parts; so much so, indeed,
that Cibber (who cordially disliked him) doubted whether
'in forty years he five times even changed or misplaced an
article in any one of them.' Unfortunately (in spite of
66
212
(1) Letter of Lady Montague, written in 1754.
(2) Wilks's kindness to poor George Farquhar (the dramatist), and the pro-
tection he afforded his helpless family, are worthy of commemoration. After
his friend's death, Wilks found amongst his papers this pathetic note:-"Dear
Bob, I have not anything to leave thee to perpetuate my memory but two helpless
girls; look upon them sometimes, and think of him that was, to the last moment
of his life, thine, George Farquhar." In the spirit of genuine friendship, the
ÆT. 20-22.]
15
THE MASQUERADE.
many amiable and lovable qualities), his temper was not of
the best; and tradition states that when age and fretfulness
had impaired his constitution, a greater contrast could not
be imagined than between Wilks on and Wilks off the
stage. In the one case, from force of habit or the power
of genius, he was all gaiety and sprightliness; in the other,
he presented the picture of a feeble, tottering old man,
oppressed with infirmities, and scarcely able to hobble to a
hackney-coach.¹
¿
Of Colley Cibber it is sufficient here to state that he
was not merely a popular actor, but one of the most remark-
able men of his age. His professional cleverness was so
great that it can be described as only falling short of
genius; and as a dramatist, his admirable judgment made
up for his deficiencies in the art of composition, so that
few writers of comedy have achieved greater temporary
triumphs. With all his talents, however, it was his fate to
earn the hearty contempt of most of his contemporaries
whose good opinion was worth having, and in the fulness
of his fame his self-sufficiency and arrogance exposed him
to all the shafts of satire.
The same year in which Fielding presented to the
public his first comedy, he published a very indifferent
poem, called "The Masquerade; inscribed to C-t
H-d-g-r, by Lemuel Gulliver, Poet Laureate to the
King of Lilliput.": In this satire, the young author
actor held sacred his friend's bequest, educated "the helpless girls" at his own
cost, and procured a marriage-portion for each of them by benefit nights.
Wilks was not merely a stage-gentleman. His ancestors were persons of
"condition" in Worcestershire; and his grandfather raised and equipped a
troop of horse for Charles I. The family, like many others of that time,
appears to have been ruined by its loyalty: but young Wilks was liberally
educated, and was appointed at an early age to a government situation. He
gave up this for the stage; forming his style, it is said, upon that of Mountford,
as Booth is reported to have copied Betterton.
(1) Macklin's Memoirs. London, 1804.
(2) This poem was afterwards published with "The Grub Street Opera"
(1731), but is said to have been originally printed in 1728.
16
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1728-30.
coarsely ridiculed the most fashionable amusement of the
day, which had been brought into vogue by the notorious
Count Heidegger, Master of the Revels to the licentious
Court of George II., and Director of the Italian Opera.
This profligate adventurer amassed and squandered a large
fortune in England. He was a native of Switzerland;
and it is related of him that being once asked what
European was distinguished for the greatest ingenuity, he
unhesitatingly replied a Swiss :-" for that he was of
Switzerland, came to England without a farthing, and had
there found means to get £5000 a year, and spend it, which
no Englishman ever did or could do in Switzerland."1
Heidegger's personal ugliness was most remarkable; and
he had wit and good sense enough to make it a subject of
pleasantry. "He was the first," it is said, "to joke upon
his own ugliness; and he once laid a wager with the Earl
of Chesterfield that, within a certain given time, his lord-
ship would not be able to produce so hideous a face in all
London. After strict search a woman was found, whose
features were at first thought uglier than Heidegger's;
but upon clapping her headdress upon himself, he was
universally allowed to have won the wager."2 When on
another occasion an aristocratic tailor, named Jolly, -not
remarkable for his handsome features,-presented his bill
(no doubt a very long one) to a noble duke, he was met by
the passionate exclamation:-" Curse your ugly face, I'll
never pay you till you bring me an uglier fellow than
yourself!" The tailor bowed, retired, and wrote imme-
diately to Heidegger, telling him "that his grace wished
to see him on particular business the next morning." The
count attended in obedience to this summons, and found
Jolly there before him, who by this ingenious device
obtained his cash, and raised a hearty laugh at Heidegger's
expense, in which the count joined with the utmost gusto
and good humour.
(1) Dibdin's History of the Stage, vol. iv.'
(2) Ibid.
ÆT. 20—22.]
17
THE TEMPLE BEAU.
Though it was not the fashion at this period to foster
and encourage native talent, yet it so happened that in
1728 even the attractions of the foreign opera were thrown
into the shade by a genuine English production. This was
"The Beggar's Opera," perhaps the most popular theatrical
performance ever produced on the English stage, and which
was first acted, at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, in
the season of 1727-28. Its success not only put money
into the pockets of an author, and inspirited a despairing
manager," making Rich gay, and Gay rich," but
also attracted the town from every other place of amuse-
ment. During its run it completely absorbed the atten-
tion of the play-going public; ladies had the songs printed
on their fans; the actors in it obtained increased sala-
ries; and the original Polly Peachum (Miss Fenton) who
had been engaged by the manager at fifteen shillings
per week (which was afterwards raised to the munificent
sum of thirty shillings), suddenly became the toast of the
town, captivated the heart of a silly peer, and was ulti-
mately converted into the Duchess of Bolton.¹ At such
a time Fielding found it, in all probability, very difficult.
to obtain a hearing for a second comedy. He availed
himself, however, of the only chance open to him, and in
January, 1730, produced his play of "The Temple Beau,” at
Goodman's Fields; where a theatre had just been erected
by Odell, “which," says Dibdin, was attacked by the
citizens, and preached against by the clergy, under the
•
►
، .
с
(1) See the notes to the "Dunciad," &c. "The wives and daughters of those
who had turned up their eyes at the immoralities of the Italians, had the favourite
airs of The Beggar's Opera' printed on their fans. And that the accom-
plishments of Miss Polly Peachum and Miss Lucy Lockit might not remain
unknown to the little masters and misses in the nursery, this moral drama
was played to an audience in Lincoln's-Inn Theatre by children, and a smart
pair of fetters were fitted to the little legs of a mannikin Captain Macheath.
At this juvenile exhibition, the manager sent a book of the songs across
the stage by a flying Cupid to Frederick, Prince of Wales, who was seated
in the stage-box."- Wine and Walnuts, by Ephraim Hardcastle, vol. i. p. 53
(note).
•
܂
•
K
18
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1728-30.
idea that it would be productive of mischief so near to
the seat of commerce. ¹
The plot of this piece is one which has been more than
once made use of by English dramatists. A credulous
father in the country believes that his son is studying
law in the Temple, when that son is in fact only qualifying
himself to act with effect the part of a profligate fine
gentleman. At length the doting parent arrives in London,
and visits his son's chambers; where, after a time, he sees
sufficient to convince him that his hopeful boy is more of
a rake than a lawyer. Then ensues some ingenious plot-
ting; and the following scene, in which Pincet (the servant
of the Temple Beau), by the assumption of a legal cha-
racter and a pompous display of legal phraseology, manages
to frighten the old country gentleman, who has searched
his son's chambers and broken open his drawers (as he
is induced to believe by mistake), is somewhat amusing,
-though partaking more of the character of farce than
comedy.
Pincet. I believe, Sir Harry, I have not the honour of being
known to you. My name is Ratsbane-Counsellor Ratsbane, of the
Inner Temple. I have had, sir, according to the orders of your son,
a conference with Mr. Counsellor Starchum, who is for the plaintiff,
and have come to a conclusion thereon.
Sir Harry Wilding. Oh, have you? I am your humble servant,
dear sir; and if it lies in my power to oblige you in return-
Pincet. Oh, dear sir, no obligation: we only do our duty. Our
case will be this: first a warrant will be issued, on which we are
taken up; then we shall be indicted; after which we are convicted
(that no doubt we shall on such a strength of proof); immediate
sentence is awarded against us, and then execution regularly follows.
Sir Harry. Execution, sir! what execution?
Wilding (the Temple Beau).
ing, sir!
Oh, my unfortunate father! Hang-
Pincet. Ay, ay, hanging; hanging is the regular course of law,
and no way to be averted. But as to our conveyance to the place of
execution, that I believe we shall be favoured in. The sheriff is to
(1) History of the Stage, vol. iv.
ÆT. 20-22.]
19
THE TEMPLE BEAU.
render us there; but whether in a coach or a cart, I fancy a small
sum may turn that scale.
Sir Harry. Coach or cart! . . . . why, son-why, sir, is there no
way left?
Pincet. None. We shall be convicted of felony, and then hanging
follows of course.
Wilding. It is true-so says Cook against Littleton.
Sir Harry. But, sir-dear sir, I am as innocent-
Pincet. Sir, the law proceeds by evidence; my brother Starchum
indeed offered that upon a bond of £5000 he would make up the
affair: but I thought it much too extravagant a demand, and so I
told him flatly-we would be hanged.¹
Sir Harry. Then you told a damned lie!—for if twice that sum
will save us we will not,
Pincet. How, sir! are you willing to give that money?
Sir Harry. No, sir, I am not willing; but I am much less willing
to be hanged.
Wilding. But do you think, Mr. Counsellor, you could not prevail
for four thousand?
Pincet. That truly we cannot reply to till a conference be first
had.
Sir Harry. Ay, or four hundred.
Pincet. Four hundred! Why, it would cost more the other way,
if you were hanged anything decently. Look you, sir, Mr. Starchum
is at the Crown and Rolls just by: if you please we will go thither,
and I assure you to make the best bargain I can.
2
"The Temple Beau" had but a short run; for the
theatre in which it was acted soon closed. In point of wit
and cleverness it is by no means a contemptible produc-
tion; but its scenes furnish evidence of that fatal facility
which is generally so ruinous to the young author. "With
a careless and hasty pencil" (to use the expression of
one of his critics), Fielding satisfied himself with sketching.
(1) The ridiculous style of legal oratory which Fielding ridicules has survived
his time. It is still by no means an uncommon thing to hear a learned gentle-
man identifying himself with his client after the same fashion. We ourselves
have heard a counsel thus address a jury for a prisoner: "Gentlemen, at the
very moment the policeman says he saw us in the tap, I will prove that we
were locked up in the station-house, in a state of intoxication.”
(2) It is worthy of remark that the prologue to "The Temple Beau" was
written by James Ralph, who contributed some forgotten pieces to the stage,
and with whom Fielding was afterwards associated as a periodical essayist
in "The Champion." (See chapters x. and xi.)
{
c 2
20
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1728-30.
the bold outline of a plot or character, neglecting altogether
the minuter touches and polished graces which contribute
to form the perfect work of art. It was impossible, under
such circumstances, that he should achieve high success
in the drama; and thus, notwithstanding his undoubted
genius, a long career of failures, or at best, of imperfect
successes, lay before him.
T. 22.]
21
THE AUTHOR'S FARCE.
CHAPTER III.
26
"THE AUTHOR'S FARCE."- HURLOTHRUMBO."-ORATOR HEN-
LEY.-AUTHORSHIP IN 1730.
[1730.]
FIELDING's third dramatic production was a medley,
entitled "The Author's Farce, with a Puppet-Show called
the Pleasures of the Town." This piece was first performed
at the Haymarket Theatre, in March, 1730, and was some
years afterwards reproduced at Drury Lane, "revised and
greatly altered by the author." Fielding had now begun.
to feel that his strength lay in satire-in humorous deli-
neations of the follies and delusions of the age, and in
caustic denunciations of public abuses. "The Author's
Farce" was aimed at a numerous and formidable host of
fashionable follies:-at "Henley's gilt tub"-immortalised
in the "Dunciad;"-at the vulgar rage for foreign opera,
tumbling, and puppetshows, and the disgraceful popularity
of nonsensical dramas, "full of sound and fury-signifying
nothing." All these abominations are thus denounced by
Witmore, the philosopher of the farce:-
"'Sdeath in an age of learning and true politeness, where a man
might succeed by his merit, there would be some encouragement.
But now, when party and prejudice carry all before them; when
learning is decried, wit not understood; when the theatres are
puppetshows, and the comedians ballad-singers; when fools lead
the town, would a man think to thrive by his wit? If you must
write, write nonsense, write Hurlothrumboes, set up an oratory, and
preach nonsense, and you may meet with encouragement enough.
Be profane, be scurrilous, be immodest; if you would receive applause,
deserve to receive sentence at the Old Bailey; and if you would ride
in a coach, deserve to ride in a cart."
The extraordinary drama of "Harlothrumbo," above.
22
[1730.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
(
alluded to, was then (mirabile dictu!) the talk and admiration
of the town. A more curious or a more insane production
has seldom issued from human pen. Its author was one
Samuel Johnson, a dancing-master from Cheshire-a
strange compound of the madman and charlatan-who
himself performed one of the principal characters (Lord
Flame), dressed in a suit of black velvet, with a white
flowing perriwig; and speaking, it is said, sometimes in one
key, and sometimes in another; sometimes dancing, some-
times fiddling, and sometimes walking on stilts! The
piece, notwithstanding its absurdity, was played above
thirty nights to large and fashionable audiences, of whom a
very considerable proportion, it is reasonable to suppose,
were attracted to the representation for the sole purpose of
seeing the author make a fool of himself. The greater part
of the dialogue was quite unintelligible-pure rant and
fustian; but to those who were simple enough to say they
could not understand it, Johnson had the ready answer
that he had written it himself with a violin in his hand, and
that no person could hope properly to comprehend it who
did not make use of the same instrument to quicken his
apprehension.¹ An epilogue to this strange performance
was written by John Byrom, the inventor of a system of
short-hand, and author of sundry almost forgotten rhymes,
whose private journal has been recently published under the
auspices of the Chetham Society.2
(1) See Tom Jones, book iv. c. 1.
(2) The title of "Hurlothrumbo" may be quoted as a fair specimen of the
extravagance of the work :—
"Hurlothrumbo; or, the Super-Natural.
the Super-Natural. As it is acted at the New Theatre
in the Haymarket. Written by Mr. Samuel Johnson, from Cheshire :
"Ye sons of fire, read my 'HURLOTHRUMBO,'
Turn it betwixt your finger and your thumbo,
And being quite undone, be quite struck dumbo."
Amongst the dramatis persona appear the following personages of the mas-
culine gender-Soarethereal, Dologodelmo, Lomperhomock, &c.; and of the
feminine-Cademore, Sermentory, Seringo, Lusingo, Cuzzonida! Such was
Hurlothrumbo," the object of Fielding's satire; and it is a curious, as well as
ÆT. 22.]
23
ORATOR HENLEY.
Orator Henley-another object of Fielding's satire-was
a personage of more mark and note than the crack-brained
author of "Hurlothrumbo." With all his charlatanism,
he was a man of ability, and an effective declaimer. At an
early period of his career, he aroused the animosity of his
"cloth" by an inconvenient display of originality, and
alarmed the dignitaries of the Establishment by rhetorical
displays. Whilst officiating as a clergyman, his discourses.
were stigmatised as "theatrical and indecent" by the
“humdrum” divines (so he calls them) of the day; but
they attracted huge congregations, and were the admiration
of the multitude. Never was a preacher more sedulously
followed by the crowd, or more severely handled by theo-
logical critics. That Henley was a vain as well as a clever
man is very evident; and the consequence was that, intoxi-
cated with popular applause, he grew more and more disdain-
ful of clerical criticism, and more and more ambitious of
oratorical renown. Notoriety to such a man was as
(C the
breath of his nostrils ;" and London the only arena where
a humiliating fact, that the miserable rant and fustian of a half-witted quack
should have filled a theatre for more than a month, and obtained the applause
of English audiences. So great, indeed, was its popularity for a short time,
that a club was formed, called "The Hurlothrumbo Society;" of which a list of
members was printed, with a frontispiece, on which was engraved the monster
described in Horace's "Art of Poetry."
From the extravagances of Hurlothrumbo" may be culled the following
examples of terse and peculiar phraseology
"Pride is the serpent's egg, laid in the hearts of all, but hatched by none but
fools."
“Conscience is an intellectual caul that covers the heart, upon which all the
faculties sport in terror, like boys that dance on the ice.'
""
In "Byrom's Remains," above referred to, there is the following naïve account
of Johnson's success :-"As for Mr. Johnson, he is at present one of the chief
topics of talk in London: Dick's coffee-house resounds 'Hurlothrumbo!' from
one end to the other. He had a full house, and much good company on Saturday
night, the first time of acting, and report says all the boxes are taken for next
Monday. . . . We had seven or eight Garters, they say, in the pit; I saw Lord
Oxford and one or two more there, but was so intent upon the farce that I did
not observe many quality that were there. We agreed to laugh and clap before-
hand, and kept our word from beginning to end. . . . For my part, who think
all stage entertainments stuff and nonsense, I consider this as a joke upon 'em
all."-Byrom to Mrs. Byrom, April 2nd, 1729.
24
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
his peculiar talents could find scope. The Earl of Maccles-
field--a generous patron of men of genius and learning-
had given him a living in Suffolk of the value of £80 per
annum; but it did not suit Henley's tastes to retire into
the country; and having found a curate-of-all-work, who
performed the varied duties of "preaching, praying, chris-
tening, marrying, and burying," for the moderate stipend of
£20 (!), he obtained a dispensation for non-residence, and
continued to astonish the religious world of the metropolis,
instead of burying himself in a quiet country parsonage.
The style of his sermons, however, at length subjected him
to the censure of his diocesan; and ill-natured rumours
affecting his private character were at the same time busily
circulated.¹ It was now obvious that Henley was too
obnoxious to his order to be permitted to occupy any longer
his favourite position of a popular London preacher. The
Bishop of London accordingly required him to resign his
(1) Pope, in the "Dunciad," tells us-
"How Henley lay inspired beside a sink,
And to mere mortals seemed a priest in drink."-(Book ii.)
And the orator was subsequently too well known by the designation of "drunken
Henley," to permit us to doubt that the imputation is unfounded. Here is an
anecdote of him in subsequent years :-
"It must be nearly seventy years ago; yet, though then a boy, well do I
remember every tittle of the conversation that once, in particular, passed at old
Slaughter's [coffee-house, St. Martin's Lane], between my respected friend,
William Gostling [a clergyman and antiquarian], and drunken Henley, who
kept the mild man on the cold staircase, as we were going out together, in a
long confabulation, and in a loud hoarse whisper, about a quarrel with Master
Foote, who had written a satire upon his nonsensical rant at his chapel in the
neighbouring market. 'You will tell Mr. Bully, from me that 'Fye, fye!'
said Gostling, putting his hand gently before his mouth, stifling an oath in its
birth; fye, Mr. Henley! you are an old man, these quarrels bring disgrace
upon our holy calling.' Henley looked at the good man, less angry than com-
punctious, and shook his head; his eyes were red with drinking, and he stood
mute awhile, an awful personification of frail humanity. Can you spare me
the loan of ten shillings?' said the orator. Gostling took from his purse a
guinea, and put it in his hand. The wretched man looked in his reprover's face
with the drunkard's ghastly smile, that hides a broken heart. God bless you!'
said Henley; 'I'll call and pay you to-morrow.' Gostling saw him no more."
Wine and Walnuts, by Ephraim Hardcastle, vol. i. p. 132. 1823.
ET. 22.]
25
ORATOR HENLEY.
metropolitan lectureship, and to retire to his Suffolk living.
To these terms Henley haughtily refused to accede. "It
was beneath him," he said, ." to hold what it was the
complainant's power to take away;" and he at once re-
signed both the lectureship and rectory, and shook off the
shackles of ecclesiastical authority.
This was in 1725; and from that period, for many
years, his name was constantly before the public. After
leaving the Church of England, he fitted up at his own
expense, in Newport Market, a place which he called “The
Oratory." Here he gave full scope to his passion for
notoriety and display, and rendered himself an object of
curiosity and derision. His pulpit was hung with scarlet
velvet, embroidered with gold, and the walls of his chapel
were adorned with painted devices and inscriptions. On
Sundays he preached on theological subjects, but on Wed-
nesdays he held forth on miscellaneous topics. Subscribers
to the Oratory received a medal, on which was a rising star,
with the motto "AD SUMMA;" and below were the words,
"INVENIAM VIAM AUT FACIAM."1 Casual auditors were
admitted on the payment of a shilling—a practice which
subjected the orator to much ridicule and censure. When
pressed upon this subject, Henley defended himself by
quoting the following well-known anecdote:-" Where
then is the mighty difference," he said (addressing his
congregation in the Oratory), "of paying (for pay is the
word in every church and chapel in London) weekly or
quarterly? Neither can I suppose you to be ignorant of
the well-known and true story of my Lord Rochester's
going, with another nobleman, to the parish church of
sweet St. Giles's in the Fields, to hear Dr. Sharp, late
Archbishop of York. The two peers went incog.,—but, as
strangers, could not gain admittance into any of the lower
aisles. Upon which my Lord Rochester ran up stairs,
clapt a shilling into the blower's hand, and got into the
(1) Notes to the Dunciad, &c,
26
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
<
organ-loft; and looking down, and seeing his friend at
last seated, he called out to him,- My Lord,' says he,
'what do you pay for the pit? I have paid a shilling for
the upper-gallery.'"1
In his satirical "Puppet-Show," attached to the farce,
Fielding introduces the Goddess of Nonsense, attended by
"the Orator in a tub," who makes a ridiculous oration,
quite appropriate to his situation, on the history of a
fiddle; and who, with Signior Opera, Don Tragedio, and
Monsieur Pantomime, is a candidate for the goddess's
favour. Another character in the "Puppet-Show" is Count
Ugly, the familiar nickname of the notorious Heidegger, to
whom in the previous year Fielding addressed his satire
called "The Masquerade."
A melancholy although ludicrous picture is presented in
(1) See Retrospective Review, vol. xiv., part 2.
The caustic pen of Pope has transmitted to posterity a portrait of "Orator
Henley," in which some of his prominent peculiarities are thus humorously
described:-
"Imbrowned with native bronze, lo! Henley stands,
Tuning his voice, and balancing his hands.
How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue!
How sweet the periods, neither said nor sung!
Still break the benches, Henley! with thy strain,
While Sherlock, Hare, and Gibson preach in vain.
Ob, great restorer of the good old stage,
Preacher at once, and zany of thy age!"-Dunciad, book iii.
(2) In "The Craftsman," No. 141 (March 15, 1728-29), appears a discourse
of Henley's upon Fishes, which is not altogether deficient in humour. "I went
last night," says a correspondent of Mr. Caleb D'Anvers, "to hear the cele-
brated Mr. Henley, at his new Oratory in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, and think
myself obliged to acknowledge the agreeable entertainment which he gave us.
His discourse was on Fishes; and he proved very learnedly and metaphysically
that everything was fish, and that the world was nothing but a great fishpond,
where mankind laid baits to ensnare and catch one another. He observed very
acutely that politicians were crab-fish, who go backwards and forwards; or a
sort of eels, that wriggle and twist, and slip through our fingers, do what we
will; or pikes, who tyrannize in the waters, and devour almost every other fish
that comes in their way, especially trouts and gudgeons; though it is remark-
able, said he, that plaice is their most favourite food." The conversation of
the fishermen in "Pericles" might have suggested this idea: "Master, I
marvel how the fishes live in the sea. 1st Fish. Why, as men do a-land: the
great ones eat up the little ones," &c.
AT. 22.]
27
AUTHORSHIP IN 1730.
"The Author's Farce" of the condition of the lowest
class of literary craftsmen in Fielding's early days. Miser-
able indeed the trade of authorship, when taken up, as it
often was, by ignorant pretenders. A bookseller's drudge
was alternately the object of scorn and sympathy. He
was chained to the desk like a merchant's clerk, and paid
and treated worse than a ticket-porter. In Fielding's
farce a wealthy bookseller is introduced, surrounded by
his drudges, Dash, Quibble, Blot-page, and Scarecrow,
and a characteristic scene ensues, in which the secrets of
hack authorship are thus ruthlessly exposed:-
Bookweight. Fye upon it, gentlemen! what not at your pens? Do
you consider, Mr. Quibble, that it is a fortnight since your Letter to
a Friend in the Country was published? Is it not high time for an
answer to come out? At this rate, before your answer is printed,
your letter will be forgot. I love to keep a controversy up
warm. I have had authors who have writ a pamphlet in the
morning, answered it in the afternoon, and answered that again at
night.
Quibble. Sir, I will be as expeditious as possible; but it is harder
to write on this side the question, because it's the wrong side.
Book. Not a jot. So far on the contrary that I have known some
authors choose it as the properest to show their genius. But let me
see what you have produced," With all deference to what that
very learned and most ingenious person, in his Letter to a Friend in
the Country, hath advanced-" Very well, sir; for besides that it
may sell more of the Letters, all controversial writers should begin
with complimenting their adversaries, as prize-fighters kiss before
they engage. Let it be finished with all speed. Well, Mr. Dash,
have you done that murder yet?
Dash. Yes, sir, the murder is done; I am only about a few moral
reflections to place before it.
Scarecrow. Sir, I have brought you a libel against the ministry.
Book. Sir, I shall not take anything against them; for I have
two in the press already. (Aside.)
Scare. Then, sir, I have an apology in defence of them.
Book. That I shall not meddle with neither; they don't sell so well.
Scare. I have a translation of Virgil's Æneid with notes on it, if
we can agree about the price.
Book. Why, what price would you have?
28
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
Scare. You shall read it first, otherwise how will you know the
value?
Book. No, no, sir. I never deal that way: a poem is a poem, and
a pamphlet a pamphlet with me. Give me a good handsome large
volume, with a full promising title-page at the head of it, printed on
a good paper and letter, the whole well bound and gilt, and I'll
warrant its selling. You have the common error of authors, who
think people buy books to read. No, no, books are only bought to
furnish libraries, as pictures and glasses, and beds and chairs are for
other rooms. Look-ye, sir, I don't like your title-page; however, to
oblige a young beginner, I don't care if I do print it at my own
expense.
Scare. But pray, sir, at whose expense shall I eat?
Book. At whose? why at mine, sir, at mine. I am as great a
friend to learning as the Dutch are to trade: no one can want bread
with me who will earn it; therefore, sir, if you please to take your
seat at my table, here will be everything necessary provided for you:
good milk-porridge, very often twice a day, which is good wholesome
food, and proper for students: a translator, too, is what I want at
present; my last being in Newgate for shoplifting. The rogue had
a trick of translating out of the shops as well as the languages.
Scare. But I am afraid I am not qualified for a translator, for I
understand no language but my own.
Book. What, and translate Virgil!
Scare. Alas! I translated him out of Dryden.
Book. Lay by your hat, sir, lay by your hat, and take your seat
immediately. Not qualified! thou art as well versed in thy trade as
if thou hadst laboured in my garret these ten years. Let me tell
you, friend, you will have more occasion for invention than learning
here. You will be obliged to translate books out of all lan-
guages, especially French, that were never printed in any language
whatever.1
(1) In a conversation between Pope and Lintot, the bookseller, during a journey
to Oxford (recorded by the former in a letter to the Earl of Burlington, dated
August, 1714), a characteristic picture is given of the sharp dealing which
prevailed in the early part of the 18th century between a bookseller and his
drudges. Speaking of translators Lintot remarked that-"These are the saddest
pack of rogues in the world; in a hungry fit they'll swear they understand all
the languages in the universe. I have known [he continued] one of them take
down a Greek book upon my counter, and cry, 'Ah, this is Hebrew, and must
read it from the latter end.' By G-, I can never be sure in these fellows, for I
neither understand Greek, Latin, Italian, or French myself. But this is my
way; I agree with them for ten shillings per sheet, with a proviso that I will have
their doings corrected by whom I please; so by one or the other they are led
at last to the true sense of an author; my judgment giving the negative to all
!
▸
1
ÆT. 22.]
AUTHORSHIP IN 1730.
29
At the time when this was written, young Harry Fielding
had little reason to sneer at the poverty of his humbler
brethren of the quill. It is doubtful whether the book-
seller's hack, provided with porridge twice a day, was not
better off than our playhouse bard, and occupying, on the
whole, a more satisfactory position. Two years of a life
about town had initiated Fielding into all the mysteries of
Bohemianism. To him were now well known the many
expedients by which expensive pleasures and sumptuous
living were occasionally obtained by the penniless wit, at
the cost of character and self-respect. Familiar to him
the taverns where the nightly revel was loudest and most
unrestrained; and familiar also the squalid haunts, where
in the daytime reckless and dishonoured poverty hid its
aching head. The life on which he had entered permitted
no indulgence in calm and tranquil pleasures,-no sustained
and vigorous exertion: all was riot, intoxication, confusion,
glare, and gloom. The theatre to which he turned for his
bread, was in truth no bad emblem of his daily life at this
period. When the candles were lighted up for the per-
formance, when the company assembled, and the orchestra
played some lively air, how gay and seductive the scene!
But when in the silent morning the daylight peeped in
on the forsaken benches, the tawdry gilding, and faded
properties," what sight more melancholy could the uni-
verse present?
66
Had Fielding been ever so steadily disposed, the asso-
ciates whom he picked up at the playhouse doors were men
whose precepts and example were sufficient to drive every
prudent notion out of his head. Among the idlers in the
green-room he met with members of the literary tribe who
had been long habituated to a life of careless indulgence,
my translators." A little further on, the poet gives the bookseller's revelations
on the mode of converting critics; how "a lean man that looked like a
very good scholar," having abused his client's translation of Homer, was
judiciously asked by him to take a piece of beef and a slice of pudding, with
which invitation complying, he speedily altered his opinion.
30
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
tr
indolence, and dependence. To such men it was unim-
portant whether the wants of the hour were supplied by
their own exertions, or by alms extorted from men and
women more prudent than themselves. Instead of esteem-
ing it "a glorious privilege" to be independent of others,
they were constantly scheming how and where they could
beg or borrow a guinea, or obtain fine clothes without
paying for them. So long as they could live sumptuously
upon their friends, and eat without stint the bread of
dependence, they did not trouble themselves about the
future, or condescend to the slightest mental labour.
Gay, witty, amusing, and (sometimes) well-dressed, they
were popular in the circles which had for Harry Fielding
such immense attractions :—not only behind the scenes of
the theatre, but in fashionable taverns and other haunts
of dissipation-amongst gay Templars, fast young mer-
chants, and youths of fortune and estate, who considered
that wit gave a zest to champagne.
With one man to whom this description most literally
applies, namely, Richard Savage, the young dramatic
author must have been frequently brought into contact.
Savage was at this period a constant attendant at the
theatres, and a great favourite with the performers. Two
of Fielding's earliest theatrical friends were his stanchest
benefactors. Wilks, of whom favourable mention has
been already made, and who, says Johnson, "whatever
were his abilities and skill as an actor, deserves at least to
be remembered for his virtues," successfully exerted him-
self in procuring occasional supplies of money for the
dissipated poet from his unnatural parent. Mrs. Oldfield
did more than this: out of her professional income she
allowed Savage £50 a year, which was regularly paid him
until her death in 1730. Such an act of generosity might
have aroused the suspicions of a censorious world, were it
not for Savage's solemn and often repeated declaration,
that he had never seen his benefactress alone, "or in any
gleder
►
ÆT. 22.]
31
AUTHORSHIP IN 1730.
other place than behind the scenes.
291 How he was able
year after year to receive this money without being
weighed down by a sense of degradation, it is, however,
difficult to conceive. While his benefactress toiled upon
the boards, he reconciled it to his conscience to lounge
about in lace, grumbling at the inequalities of fortune,
indulging in low dissipation, and only escaping the gallows
by a miracle of good luck. Content, at any time, to be
treated in a tavern by a stranger,-lodging as well as
dining by accident, and often without either lodging or
dinner,-producing from his pocket, whenever he could
find a sufficiently credulous victim, proposals for publishing
new poems or collecting old ones, and soliciting a subscrip-
tion in advance,-pursued by creditors,-shunned by pru-
dent friends, who knew how hopeless it was to attempt to
assist him, such was the man who enlivened the green-
room with his wit when Fielding's town life commenced,
and whose dangerous acquaintanceship must have been
early forced on the lively and volatile youth.
As the story of Fielding's life is gradually unfolded, it
will be made apparent how powerfully and unfortunately
his character and position were influenced by these early
associations. A taste for a wild, roving, unsettled life is
easily acquired, and not easily shaken off; the hot blood of
youthful genius is at all times impatient of control, but
especially so after a season of uncontrolled license, and the
unrestrained indulgence of every impulse and inclination.
(1) Johnson's Lives of the Poets.
J
32
[1730.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER IV.
DRAMATIC CAREER CONTINUED.
P
66
THE COFFEE-HOUSE
POLITICIAN."-" TOM THUMB."
[1730.]
None
"THE Coffee-House Politician; or, the Justice caught
in his own Trap," appears to have been Fielding's next
dramatic work. In this piece he first exhibited in very
marked degree his skill in character-painting.
of his previous plays contain any strongly individualised
portraits; but "The Coffee-House Politician” 1
may be
described as one of those lucky sketches which a master's
hand could have alone produced. The idea of a poli-
tical enthusiast, who is so occupied with the affairs of
foreign states as to lose sight altogether of his own
domestic interests, is an extremely happy one, and well
adapted for stage purposes.2 But besides the politician,
this comedy contains a capital portrait of a London
justice of the peace (Mr. Justice Squeezum)—one of those
strange compounds of ignorance and knavery by whom
the laws were administered at metropolitan justice-rooms
in the early part of the 18th century. In this coarse but
(1) The piece was also acted and published under the title of "Rape upon
Rape."
(2) Other satirists besides Fielding have held up such politicians to ridicule.
Thus Churchill:
"The cit—a common councilman by place,
Ten thousand mighty nothings in his face,
By situation, as by nature, great,
With wise precaution parcels out the State.
Fearfully wise he shakes his empty head,
And deals out empires as he deals out thread :
His useless scales are in a corner flung,
And Europe's balance hangs upon his tongue."
ÆT. 23.]
33
DRAMATIC CAREER.
amusing caricature are embodied all the peculiarities
which popular rumour ascribed to this happily extinct
variety of the judicial character-unbounded rapacity, des-
picable meanness, and the grossest incapacity. As Fielding
lived to be himself a justice of peace, an opportunity will
hereafter arrive for discussing the duties and social position
of these functionaries: at present it is enough to say
that in this instance his satire was not ill-directed.
When magistrates were paid by fees, and trafficked in
committals and convictions, it is not improbable that the
worst of them adopted something like the sentiments
avowed by Squeezum in this comedy: "Come, come, child,
you had better take the oath, though you are not altogether
so sure. Justice should be rigorous. It is better for the
public that ten innocent people should suffer, than that
one guilty should escape; and it becomes every good
person to sacrifice their conscience to the benefit of the
public." Nor was it so uncommon a thing for such
justices to act according to the principle openly enunciated
by his worship:-" Well, sir, if you cannot pay for your
transgressions like the rich, you must suffer for them like
the poor."
Justice Squeezum was most efficiently represented by
a comedian who had long acquired celebrity in such
characters Hyppesly, the original Peachum in "The
Beggar's Opera." In the delineation of amorous dotage,
covetousness, and cunning, this actor is said to have been
unrivalled; the part of the knavish justice was therefore
peculiarly adapted to his powers; and if anything could
have insured the success of a comedy it would have been
such an actor in such a part. But low as was then the
(1) There is a tradition that it was during the performance of this comedy
the talents of Macklin (whose name is printed among the dramatis persone as
Maclean) were first made known to a London audience. A very subordinate
part had been assigned him, which in the hands of any other performer would
have passed unnoticed. The character in question was that of Porer-one of
the political cronies of the coffee-house politician; and all that he had to do
D
34
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
standard of theatrical morality, it may be surmised that
the "Coffee-house Politician" was too gross, and too inde-
licate for the audiences even of that tolerant age; and
though indulgently received at first, such scandalous
indecency could not long maintain possession of the stage.
One can scarcely imagine it possible for women to have
listened patiently to the dialogue of this comedy, of which
the worst part was uttered by persons of their own sex.
However loose the morals of the fashionable world, how-
ever degraded the character of town-bred ladies, it seems
strange that not much more than a century since that
should have been listened to in public, without manifestation
of displeasure, which no well-bred English woman would
now read in private.
There are, however, some scenes in this comedy which
are written in Fielding's happiest manner. The conferences
between Politick (the coffee-house politician) and his friend
Dabble, upon the subject of foreign affairs, are extremely
diverting, particularly when the geographical ignorance
imputed to both these worthies is taken into consideration,
ex. gr. :—
M
Dabble. I would fain ask one question, Mr. Politick; pray, how
large do you take Tuscany to be?
Politick. How large do you take Tuscany to be-let me see-
Tuscany, ay; how large do I take it to be-hum-Faithful!—bring
some more tobacco. How large do I take it to be-why, truly, I
take it to be as large as the kingdom of France—or something larger.
Dabble. As large as the kingdom of France-you might as well
compare this tobacco-pipe to a cannon. Why, Tuscany, sir, is only
a town; a garrison to be admitted into Tuscany, that is, into the
town of Tuscany.
Many other examples of pointed satire might be selected
from this play; as the following terse sentence, which
is put into the mouth of the drunkard Sotmore :-
"We
punish drunkenness, as well as other sins, only in the
was to appear once upon the stage, and announce the arrival of some important
In this trifling part he managed, however, to make a strong impression
on the town, and was much applauded.
news.
ÆT. 23.]
35
DRAMATIC CAREER.
lower sort. Drink, like the game, was intended for gen-
tlemen." And Mr. Worthy, the moralist of the comedy,
musing on his friend Politick's eccentricities, is made to
observe :—" The greatest part of mankind labour under
one delusion or other; and Don Quixote differed from the
rest, not in madness, but in the species of it. The covetous,
the prodigal, the superstitious, the libertine, and the coffee-
house politician are all Quixotes in their several ways."
Si sic omnia-if Fielding had written always thus, his
plays would not now lie neglected on the library shelf.
In the course of this year (1730) it was Fielding's good
fortune to achieve success in a department of theatrical
composition which has been diligently cultivated amongst
us-that of the burlesque. For this kind of writing he
had unquestionably great natural aptitude, and he had
fallen on a lucky period for the exercise of his ability.
The tragedies of this era were characterised by their stiff
formality and insufferable bombast, as the comedies were
distinguished for indelicacy and unblushing immorality.
In tragic acting, also, as well as tragic writing, everything
had become as far removed as possible from nature and
natural utterance. So accustomed were the audiences of
those days to hear the sonorous lines of Lee and Rowe
mouthed by actors like Quin and Booth, that when, about
the year 1725, Macklin came up to London, after perform-
ing in several strolling country companies, and solicited an
engagement from Mr. Rich (the manager of the Lincoln's-
Inn Theatre), he informs us that his manner of speaking
was so familiar, "and so little in the hoity-toity tone of
the tragedy of that day, that the manager told him he had
better go to grass for another year or two." This hoity-
toity tragedy-tone was admirably imitated and ridiculed by
Fielding in "The Tragedy of Tragedies; or, the Life and
1
66
D
(1) Macklin's Memoirs. Going to grass" was the theatrical term for the
period of provincial probation, which was once considered a necessary prepara-
tion for the London stage.
h
D 2
36
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
Death of Tom Thumb the Great," which (with the
exception of the comedy of the "Miser") is the only one
of his dramatic efforts that has found favour in the eyes of
posterity.¹
Fielding's burlesque, however, it is right to say, was not
the only well-aimed blow inflicted by the wits on the
inflated tragedy writing of the day. One of the most
popular and most effective productions of this kind was the
mock tragedy of "Chrononhotonthologos" (published in
1734), which certainly contains some most inimitable strokes
of humour. For proof of this, it is enough to refer to the
well-known lines:-
"Go call a coach, and let a coach be called,
And let the man that calls it be the caller,
And in his calling let him nothing call
But coach! coach! coach! Oh, for a coach, ye gods!"
And, as Mr. Dibdin remarks, "the idea of the warrior's
piling himself upon dead bodies till he reached the gods,
who invited him for his heroism to remain with them,
which offer he rejected, because he was summoned to earth
by the eyes of his mistress, is a very happy one." The
author of this once-famous burlesque-Carey, a musician
by profession, and the writer of several farces—was not
exempt from the misfortunes which then so often attended
the wit's career. "The author before me," says Dibdin,
"finishes an account of his history with these words: 'He
led a life free from reproach, and hanged himself October
4th, 1743!'"12
To return to "Tom Thumb," it may be observed that it
was originally only one act, and proved so successful that
it was afterwards enlarged to three, in which state it was
performed and published in 1731. Amongst the writers
(6
(1) Tom Thumb," or rather the modern version of it by Kane O'Hara, still
keeps possession of the stage. Within the recollection of the playgoers of this
generation, the character of Lord Grizzle has been personated by those two
masters of broad farce-Liston and Reeve.
(2) Dibdin's History of the Stage. vol. v.
ÆT. 23.]
DRAMATIC CAREER.
37
who came in for their full share of ridicule were Dryden,
Lee, Rowe, Thomson, and Young, whose sonorous lines and
poetical extravagances were humorously parodied and ridi-
culed. The savage speech of the king in "Tom Thumb"
is hardly an extravagant burlesque on the utterances of the
stage-tyrants of those days:
4
"Let nothing but a face of joy appear ;
The man that frowns this day shall lose his head,
That he may have no face to frown withal."
In the following regal notion of festivity, the tragedy-
tone of the time is also happily caught:-
King. Petition me no petition, sir, to-day;
Let other hours be set apart for business.
To-day it is our pleasure to be drunk,
And this our queen shall be as drunk as we."
Thomson's famous lines in "Sophonisba " did not escape:
"O Sophonisba, Sophonisba, O!"
which is ludicrously parodied-
“O Huncamunca, Huncamunca, O !”
According to Johnson, some town-wag perpetrated, a still
better parody of this feeble line:-
"O Jemmy Thomson, Jemmy Thomson, O!”
In the "annotations of Scriblerus Secundus," affixed by
Fielding to the published copies of his burlesque, are quoted
most of the passages which it was intended to ridicule or
parody. Many of these were from the plays which belong
to the corrupt theatrical period ushered in by the Restora-
tion; when in tragedy, extravagance, and in comedy, licen-
tiousness, became the vogue. Dryden's Conquest of
Granada" (first acted in 1672) furnished many bombastic
lines, only slightly altered in "Tom Thumb." Thus, in the
burlesque, the king addresses the Ghost in this fashion :-
(C
"Ye stars, 'tis well; were thy last hour to come
This moment had been it; yet by thy shroud
I'll pull thee backward, squeeze thee to a bladder,
Till thou dost groan thy nothingness away."
T
a
38
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
The passage in Dryden's play, as quoted by Scriblerus
Secundus, is as follows:-
"I'll pull thee backwards by thy shroud to light,
Or else I'll squeeze thee, like a bladder, there,
And make thee groan thyself away to air."
And, again, this elegant image is put into the mouth of
Tom Thumb:-
"With those last words he vomited his soul;"
an idea which is taken from a line in Dryden's "Cleo-
menes" (1692) ::
"And in a purple vomit poured his soul."
Amongst the other tragedies satirized in "Tom Thumb"
may be mentioned, as occupying the chief place, Young's
"Busiris," Nat Lee's and Thomson's "Sophonisba," and
Bank's "Earl of Essex." The annotations of Scriblerus
Secundus, it may be added, form in themselves an admir-
able satire on pedantic commentaries and commentators.¹
(1) "Tom Thumb," was first acted in 1730, and followed the "Coffee-house
Politician," probably after a short interval: the latter comedy being alluded to
in Scriblerus's notes (see note to "Tom Thumb," Act iii., scene 10).
In the first volume of the "Gentleman's Magazine," Fielding's "Tragedy of
Tragedies" is thus mentioned in a long poem on the versifiers of the age :—
"'Tis not enough to gain a wild applause,
When crowded theatres espouse your cause.
But aim to soar in Shakspere's lofty strain;
Or nature draw in Jonson's merry vein.
To F -g names unknown-to him have come
The fame of Hickathrift and brave Tom Thumb,
The brave Tom Thumb does all his thoughts engage:
See with what noble port, what tragic rage,
The Lilliputian hero treads the stage!"
The mention of Hickathrift in these lines reminds us that "an ingenious
living critic (Mr. Thackeray)" has claimed the old story-book of that name for
Fielding (Forster's "Life of Goldsmith," 2nd edition, vol. i. p. 371). The
story is, however, a very old one, and must have been in print before Fielding's
time. In an article on Nursery Literature, in the "Quarterly Review" (1819), the
following account is given of this marvellous personage, and the origin of the
old tale, which, with "Tom Thumb" and "Jack the Giant-killer," amused our
marvel-loving ancestors :-" Mr. Thomas Hickathrift, afterwards Sir Thomas
Hickathrift, knight, is praised by Mr. Thomas Hearne as a famous champion.
The honest antiquary has identified this well known knight with the far less
T. 23.1
DRAMATIC CAREER.
39
By this time Fielding had acquired something like an
established reputation as a wit and dramatic author. Such
a reputation proved to him a most unfortunate possession.
It bound him to London, and to the frivolities and dissipa-
tions of a town life; it enlarged his acquaintance with the
worthless and profligate, and prevented him from following
the true bent of his genius. His hours were mostly passed
in the green-room or the tavern; and when he put pen to
paper, his only object was to find the means of gratifying
the demands of the moment's prodigality. Under such
circumstances, he threw off many light, sketchy perform-
ances, that are little worth the pains of criticism, and
which he scarcely took the trouble to correct after the
framework had been once committed to paper. The author's
devotion to pleasure did not, indeed, leave him much time
to cultivate the graces of composition. Some of his smaller
pieces were the result of only two or three mornings' work,
and he often held the pen before he had well slept off the
fumes of the last night's champagne.
.
"When he had contracted," says Murphy, "to bring on
a play or a farce, it is well known by many of his friends
now living, that he would go home rather late from a
tavern, and would the next morning deliver a scene to the
players, written upon the papers in which he had wrapped
the tobacco in which he so much delighted." The celebrity
at which he aimed was that of the man of pleasure rather
1
celebrated Sir Frederick de Tylney, Baron of Tylney, in Norfolk, the ancestor
of the Tylney family, who was killed at Acon, in Syria, in the reign of Richard
Coeur-de-Lion; Hycophric or Hycothrift, as the mister-wight observes, being
probably a corruption of Frederick. . . . From the most remote antiquity,
the fables and achievements of Hickifric have been obstinately credited by
the inhabitants of the township of Tylney. Hickifric is venerated by them
as the assertor of the rights and liberties of their ancestors. The monstrous
giant who guarded the marsh was, in truth, no other than the tyrannical lord
of the manor, who attempted to keep his copyholders out of the common field
called Tylney Smeeth; but who was driven away with his retainers by the
prowess of Tom, armed only with his axletree and cartwheel. Spelman has
told the story in good Latin."
(1) Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1730.
40
than of the author. Writing was a drudgery to which
he only resorted when impelled by necessity. He lived a
careless prodigal of Heaven's best gifts — health, genius,
cheerfulness. His fine animal spirits enabled him to
endure without repining the ills of poverty, as the penalty
which he was content to pay for hours of riot and extra-
vagance. Duns might knock at his door-if they could
find it; his personal liberty might be threatened; he
might be driven to the humiliation of begging or bor-
rowing a guinea; his gay apparel might be parted with to
furnish a meal;—but still nothing could repress his buoyant
good-humour, or induce him to regard his worldly position
in a desponding spirit. Never was poet or playwright
prouder of his debts, his garret, and careless expenditure.
He was content to look on "suffering as a badge of all his
tribe," and to make a jest of penury. As a proof of this, it
is only necessary to turn to a poetical epistle which he
addressed to the prime-minister, Sir Robert Walpole, this
year (1730), and from which a few lines are extracted.
"The family that dines the latest
Is in our street esteemed the greatest;
But latest hours must surely fall
'Fore him who never dines at all.
Your taste as architect, you know,
Hath been admired by friend and foe;
But can your earthly domes compare
With all my castles-in the air?
We're often taught it doth behove us
To think those greater who 're above us;
Another instance of my glory,
Who live above you twice two storey;
And from my garret can look down
On the whole street of Arlington.
Greatness by poets still is painted
With many followers acquainted;
This too doth in my favour speak;
Your levée is but once a week;
From mine I can but exclude one day-
My door is quiet of a Sunday!"
M
ET. 24-25.]
41
THE MODERN HUSBAND.
SC
CHAPTER V.
64
THE MODERN HUSBAND."-" MOCK DOCTOR."- THE MISER."
[1731-1733.]
FIELDING'S contributions to the literature of the stage,
during the year 1731, are precisely such as might have
been expected from him under the circumstances detailed
in the former chapter. Whilst they occasionally exhibit
considerable tact and cleverness, they bear in every scene
the most obvious marks of recklessness, haste, and indiffer-
ence. No man possibly was more sensible of their defects
than himself, and he often laughed at the public which
applauded his nonsense. Amongst them are three after-
pieces, viz. "The Lottery," "The Letter-Writers; or, a
New Way to keep a Wife at Home," and "The Grub Street
Opera." The latter was originally entitled "The Welsh
Opera," from the scene being laid in the principality. It is
properly styled by Dibdin "a strange jumble," without any
intelligible plot or incidents. One regular five-act comedy,
of more ambitious pretensions, entitled "The Modern Hus-
band," was also written by him in the same year, and acted at
Drury Lane, without any considerable success, in February,
1732. That such a play could have been tolerated,
indeed, by any decent audience seems at this time of day
impossible. No doubt the morals of the upper classes
were bad enough in the reign of George II.; no doubt the
marriage-tie, like many other social obligations, was often
lightly regarded by persons of quality in that unscrupulous
age; no doubt there were then many town-bred ladies who
gambled away their husband's money at quadrille, and
perhaps also some female gamesters who were not afraid
—
--
42
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1733.
or ashamed to cheat: but that such a state of morals as
Fielding has depicted in "The Modern Husband" was
common in any class or circle is an incredible and
monstrous supposition. In probing the lowest depths of
profligacy, it is possible that a couple like Mr. and Mrs.
Modern in this comedy (a husband trading on his wife's
dishonour), might have been found; but to represent
such persons as the ordinary products of the social system
then in vogue was a libel on the age, and exceeded the
limits of the comedian's license. Bad men and women
there have always been in all classes, but amongst no
class of Englishmen and English women can it be be-
lieved that the tone of morality was ever half so bad as
that which Fielding ascribes to polite society in the year
1731.
"The Modern Husband" was regarded by Fielding and
his theatrical friends as the most ambitious effort of his
hitherto "unskilled muse." In the prologue (spoken by
Wilks),' he is represented as "repenting the frolic flights
of youth," flying "to nature and truth," and aspiring to
fame "in defence of virtue!" A modern reader will think
that it would have been better for his fame if such scenes
had never been written; although he evidently entertained
the notion that he had rendered thereby a service to society,
as well as added to his literary reputation.
Before this comedy was represented or published, Field-
ing seems to have been especially anxious to avail himself
of the judgment of his clever kinswoman, Lady Mary
Wortley Montague. For this purpose he addressed two
letters to that lady, which are preserved amongst her
miscellaneous correspondence. Although too laboriously
polite to be considered favourable specimens of his epis-
tolary style, they possess some value from the light which
they throw on his early intimacy with Lady Mary:
(1) The character of Mr. Bellamant, in this comedy, was the last new part
played by Wilks, who died in September, 1732.
ÆT. 24-25.]
43
THE MODERN HUSBAND.
(C
MADAM,
"I have presumed to send your ladyship a copy of the play which
you did me the honour of reading three acts of last spring, and hope
it may meet as light a censure from your ladyship's judgment as
then;
for which your goodness permits me (what I esteem the great-
est, and indeed the only happiness of my life), to offer my unworthy
performances to your perusal, it will be entirely from your sentence
that they will be regarded or disesteemed by me. I shall do myself
the honour of calling at your ladyship's door to-morrow at eleven,
which, if it be an improper hour, I beg to know from your servant
what other time will be more convenient. I am, with the greatest
respect and gratitude, madam,
"Your ladyship's most obedient,
"Most devoted, humble servant,
" HENRY FIELDING."
"To the Right Honourable
"the Lady Mary Wortley Montague."
C
"I hope your ladyship will honour the scenes which I presume to
lay before you with your perusal. As they are written on a model I
never yet attempted, I am exceedingly anxious lest they should
find less mercy from you than my lighter productions. It will be a
slight compensation to The Modern Husband' that your ladyship's
censure of him will defend him from the possibility of any other
reproof, since your least approbation will always give me pleasure,
infinitely superior to the loudest applauses of a theatre. For what-
ever has passed your judgment may, I think, without any imputation
of immodesty, refer want of success to want of judgment in an audi-
ence. I shall do myself the honour of waiting on your ladyship at
Twickenham, next Monday, to receive my sentence; and am, madam,
"Your ladyship's most obedient servant,
"London, September 4, 1731."
“HENRY FIELDING."¹
When published, the comedy of "The Modern Hus-
band" was dedicated by its author to Sir Robert Walpole.
Fielding seems, for some time, to have laboured under the
impression that this all-powerful minister might be induced
by importunity to take an interest in the fortunes of a
struggling man of letters, who was in want of a patron,
and who had wit, youth, a handsome person, and good
family to recommend him. Hence the poetical epistle
of the former year, and hence also another similar copy
(1) Letters and Works of Lady Mary Wortley Montague. Edited by Lord
Wharncliffe. Vol. i., p. lv. Lady Mary was Fielding's second cousin.
44
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1731-1733.
""
of verses, in which the poet compared his own levée of
creditors to the minister's levée of courtiers. But of these
strong hints no notice was taken, and Fielding cooled his
heels in the minister's antechamber in vain. Having,
however, now produced a literary performance of some
pretensions, for a five-act comedy was then thought
something of,he seized the opportunity of laying it at
Sir Robert's feet, and of addressing in pompous prose the
august dispenser of patronage :-"Nations and the Muses,'
he wrote, "have generally enjoyed the same protectors.
When the little artifices of your enemies, which
you have surmounted, shall be forgotten,-when envy shall
cease to misrepresent your actions, and ignorance to mis-
apprehend them,-the Muses shall remember their pro-
tector, the wise statesman and the generous patron, the
steady friend and the true patriot; but above all, that
humanity and sweetness of temper, which shine through
all your actions, shall render the name of Sir Robert
Walpole dear to his no longer ungrateful country." It
cannot be denied that these terms of praise were judiciously
chosen but literature was not in Walpole's way, and
Fielding's elaborate prose eulogium was not more successful
than his poetical panegyric.
In the summer of 1732, Fielding attempted to satisfy the
public craving for novelty by the production of a new
burlesque, and a three-act comedy levelled at the Jesuits,
which were both acted at Drury Lane on the same evening.
The burlesque was entitled "The Covent Garden Tragedy,"
and was intended as a satire on "The Distressed Mother'
of Ambrose Phillips. Phillips's tragedy (which is a
very stiff and formal version of Racine's stiff and formal
play of" Andromaque"), on its first production in 1712,
had been laboriously puffed and praised by the lite-
rary celebrities of the day. "Before the appearance of
the play," says Johnson, "a whole Spectator'-none
indeed of the best-was devoted to its praise; while it
،
•
M
ÆT. 24-25.]
COVENT GARDEN TRAGEDY.
45
A
yet continued to be acted, another Spectator' was
written, to tell what impression it made upon Sir Roger;
and on the first night a select audience was called
together to applaud it." Its success was further en-
hanced by an excellent prologue, ascribed to Eustace
Budgel, but believed to be from the pen of Addison. Nor
was this success merely transient. "The Distressed
Mother" was regarded by managers as a stock-piece, and
its dull and decorous scenes were frequently inflicted upon
somnolent audiences. Mr. Dibdin, in his "History of the
Stage," observes with reference to this tragedy, that "the
perpetual see-saw of interest being divided between four
.characters, who relieve one another like sentinels, or
buckets in a well, is intolerably tedious. I once," he adds,
"saw it acted by four performers, each of whom had a
different lisp."
'
A glance at Fielding's burlesque will enable the reader
to see how cleverly he has parodied this "see-saw of
interest," which Dibdin describes. For the stately classical
interlocutors of the tragedy, he substituted the lowest
frequenters of the lowest haunts of London—bullies,
thieves, and street-walkers. The humour of the burlesque,
which is very considerable, is consequently deformed by
unusual coarseness and indecency. It is enough to say
that the dramatis personæ have sentiments and expressions
put into their mouths which are quite compatible with
their characters and position.
"The Debauchee; or, the Jesuit Caught," was a skilful
(1) Covent Garden is reported by Macklin to have been a scene of much
dissipation at this period (from the year 1730 to 1735), being surrounded with
taverns, night-houses, &c. Here and in Clare Market congregated most of the
theatrical wits. "The ordinaries of that day," he adds, "were from 6d. to 1s.
per head; at the latter there were two courses, and a great deal of what the
world calls good company in the mixed way. There were private rooms for the
higher order of wits and noblemen, where much drinking was occasionally
used. The butchers of Clare Market, then very numerous, were stanch friends
to the players; and on every dread of a riot or disturbance in the house, the
early appearance of these formidable critics made an awful impression."
46
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1731-1733.
.......
attack on that powerful order, at this time (1732) the object
of public detestation throughout Protestant Europe. The
shocking and melancholy story of Father Girard and
Catherine Cadière was now the talk of the town. Girard
was a Jesuit, and the confessor of the unhappy lady, whose
dishonour he had accomplished by artfully taking advan-
tage of his priestly office and character. Detected and
exposed, he was tried for the offence, and condemned to be
burnt alive; but the Jesuits interfered in his behalf, and
he was enabled to make his escape. Whilst this tale was
fresh in the public recollection, no one could paint a Jesuit.
black enough to satisfy the popular taste; and Fielding
accordingly tried his hand, and produced a finished portrait.
of clerical perfidy and hypocrisy. His Jesuit (Martin)
was, however, undistinguished by any marked individuality.
One scoundrel who assumes the cloak of religion for the
better gratification of his unhallowed passions is pretty
much like another: Jesuit or Puritan-Martin, Tartuffe,
or Cantwell-the features are about the same; and con-
sequently Fielding's Popish monster is only the old stage-
hypocrite after all. When compared with dramas of the
same description, this comedy is, however, entitled to favour-
able consideration. Its language and incidents, it is true,
are too gross and indelicate to be tolerated in these days:¹
but this is a fault which it shares not only with most con-
temporary comedies, but also with many more recent plays
of the class to which it belongs.
In the autumn of this year, Fielding resorted to a
practice which was not so common amongst the dramatists
of that age as of ours. Instead of relying on his own powers
""
(1) Both "The Covent Garden Tragedy" and "The Debauchee" were freely
censured at the time for their flagrant indecency. In the "Grub Street
Journal" of July, 1732, copious extracts are given from the burlesque, and it is
stated that both plays "have met with the universal detestation of the town.'
If this were so, it is strange that they should have been tolerated on the stage
so long as they were. The truth is, Fielding too faithfully consulted the taste
of the age.
ÆT. 24-25.]
THE MISER.
47
of invention, he borrowed a few scenes from the theatre of
the French. With the comedies of Molière he had been
familiar from his earliest youth, and of the genius of that
great dramatist he was a profound admirer. With a thorough
appreciation of his author, what could he do better than
adapt his matchless humour to the English stage? Accord-
ingly, under the title of "The Mock Doctor; or, the
Dumb Lady Cured," he produced at Drury Lane a very
farcical and amusing version of "Le Médecin malgré lui.”¹
The genial hearty humour of this little piece comes upon
us quite as a relief after the vapid and indecent trash which
the thoughtless dramatist had, during the previous twelve-
month, inflicted on the town. Large audiences were charmed
with and applauded it; and its merits were rewarded by
a more permanent popularity than was conceded to most of
Fielding's dramatic efforts.
In the preface to the "Mock Doctor"-(Fielding pub-
lished this trifle with a dedication to Dr. John Misaubin²)
—the dramatist takes occasion to state that the success of
his experiment would stimulate him to further exertion in
the same field. "One pleasure I enjoy," he says,
" from
the success of this piece is a prospect of transplanting
successfully some others of Molière of great value." This
promise he redeemed at the close of the year by his
>>
(1) “Le Médecin malgré lui” had been previously adapted to the English
stage by Lacy (1672), in a comedy called "The Dumb Lady; and by Mrs.
Centlivre, in "Love's Contrivances" (1703).
(2) In the fifth book of "Tom Jones" a characteristic anecdote is narrated of
this gentleman: "Nay, sometimes," says the novelist, "by gaining time, the
disease applies to the French military politics, and corrupts nature over to his
side, and then all the powers of physic must arrive too late. Agreeable to these
observations was, I remember, the complaint of the great Doctor Misaubin,
who used very pathetically to lament the late applications which were made to
his skill; saying, 'Bygar, me believe my pation take me for de undertaker:
for dey never send for me till de physicion have kill dem.'" And in the thir-
teenth book of the novel, chap. ii., reference is again made to this professor
of the healing art: "The learned Dr. Misaubin used to say that the proper
direction to him was, ' To Dr. Misaubin, in the World; intimating that there
were few people in it to whom his great reputation was not known."
48
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1731-1733.
adaptation to the English stage of Molière's "l'Avare,”
itself a copy from an antique original. Upon this piece
(which was first acted on the 17th February, 1733) mainly
rests his permanent fame as a dramatist. Its literary merits
are great, and some writers, with an extravagance of eulogy
in which we do not concur, have not hesitated to prefer it to
the original. Notwithstanding the extreme length of the
dialogue, and the absence of all indelicate allusions (then
unhappily considered necessary to ensure the success of a
comedy), it was received with marked approbation, and has
always since retained a place among the stock-pieces of the
theatre. Perhaps a portion of this enduring popularity may
be ascribed to the scope which it affords for the display of
the powers of a finished actor. Lovegold, the miser, hast
been always considered what is termed in the language of
the stage, a first-rate "character part." In the eighteenth
century Shuter and Macklin were its most famous repre-
sentatives; and even so late as the past year (1854) it has
found favour in the eyes of one of the most distinguished
dramatic artists of our day. Whatever its attractions on
the stage, the reader, however, cannot fail to admire the
genuine humour and nervous dialogue of this famous
version of Molière's famous comedy. It affords an
emphatic proof of Fielding's good taste and just sense of
propriety, when his better genius had fair play.
"The Mock Doctor," and "The Miser," exhibit a
marked improvement in Fielding's dramatic style. Had he
ceased to write altogether after the production of the latter
comedy, his name would be always remembered in connec-
tion with the literature of the stage. He was as yet, be it
observed, not six-and-twenty, and the life of dissipation
into which he had plunged left him little time or inclina-
tion for study, reflection, or mental improvement. Happy
Mich
(1) "The Miser was selected by Mr. Phelps, the manager of Sadlers Wells
Theatre, for his benefit in the spring of 1854. The performance, however, we
believe was never repeated
ÆT. 24-25.]
49
THE MISER.
indeed would it have been for him had it been otherwise!
But in the midst of his wild career he had indited
scenes which posterity has thought worthy of preservation.
Though to gratify the taste of a licentious age he had
supplied the stage with abundance of immoral dialogue, he
had at length produced a dramatic work which the most.
rigid moralist would exempt from the verdict of general
censure to which his early literary efforts are liable. True
it is that "The Miser" was only a translation,-or at best
an adaptation to the English stage of a foreign work,—but
is not a good copy of a good picture preferable to an
indifferent original?
""
،
"The Miser was selected by Miss Raftor (afterwards
Mrs. Clive¹) for her benefit, on the 6th of April, 1733.²
The afterpiece on this occasion was a farce called “De-
borah; or, a Wife for You All," which the playbills
announced to be "written by the author of The Miser.""
This piece-hurriedly thrown off by Fielding for a parti-
cular purpose, and designed to display the special talent
of the actress-was performed but once, and was never
printed. Among the characters were Justice Mittimus
(probably only a reproduction of Justice Squeezum),
Lawyer Trouble, and Deborah the heroine, personated by
Miss Raftor.
(1) See next chapter, and note to page 54.
(2) For this date, as well as others, and for much valuable and minute infor-
mation respecting Fielding's dramatic career, the biographer is indebted to the
voluminous and careful "Account of the English Stage, from the Restoration
in 1660 to 1830,” in ten volumes, published at Bath in 1832.
22
50
[1733-34.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
66
CHAPTER VI.
FIELDING AT BARTHOLOMEW FAIR.-THEATRICAL DISASTERS.
CHAMBERMAID.'
CHAMBERMAID."-" DON QUIXOTE IN
THE INTRIGUING
ENGLAND."-" THE UNIVERSAL GALLANT.”
[1733-1735.]
CLOSELY Connected as he was with the stage at this
period, it is not surprising—although at the first blush the
announcement may appear rather startling-to find Field-
ing catering for the amusement of the holiday folks at
Bartholomew Fair. In 1733 he had a booth there with
Hyppesley, the comedian, at which the performances were
"Love and Jealousy; or, the Downfall of Alexander the
Great," and "A Cure for Covetousness." In the latter
piece Mrs. Pritchard appeared, and took part in a duet which
became immensely popular. At this time of day it seems.
somewhat derogatory to a dramatist to have written or
designed entertainments for such a place: but Bartlemy
Fair in Fielding's time was the Londoner's great holiday,
and attracted visitors of fashion and quality, as well as
the undistinguished multitude. Besides Fielding, Cibber
and Hyppesley, Griffin, Mills, and other eminent actors,
had their booths there; and exhibited to gaping crowds a
happy medley of high tragedy and low comedy:-"Tamer-
lane intermixed with the Miser," and "Jane Shore
with the comical humours of Sir Anthony Noodle and
his man, Weazle."2 During the time the fair lasted-
(1) This dialogue or duet is printed in the poet's corner of "The Gentleman's
Magazine" for September, 1733, as sung at “Fielding's booth at Bartholomew
Fair." It begins with the following lines:
"Sweet, if you love me, smiling turn,
Smiling turn, smiling turn," &c.
(2) Some Account of the History of the English Stage, &c.
ÆT. 25-26.]
51
THEATRICAL DISSENSIONS.
then recently reduced from fifteen to three days¹—the
theatres were closed, and the actors emigrated to this
grand arena of miscellaneous amusements, which Sir Hans
Sloane once visited to copy specimens of natural history;
and where, in former years, Ben Jonson had set up a booth,
and, at the same time, found materials for humorous
caricature.
The theatrical season of 1733-34 was a disastrous one
in English dramatic annals, and a period of much per-
plexity to Fielding. The fortunes of authors and managers
were clouded by a conjuncture of untoward circumstances.
New theatres were opened, whilst audiences fell off both in
number and quality; the best actors were either lost to the
stage altogether, or scattered through various parts of the
town; whilst, above all, the attractions of the Italian Opera
overpowered and cast into the shade the exertions of native
talent. The preference shown by the great to foreign
artists was not indeed a new grievance. The Opera and
masquerade had monopolised for some years the patronage
of the Court; and two eminent vocalists from the chosen
land of song-Cuzzoni and Faustina-divided the admiration
of the town; and, under the patronage of rival ladies of
quality, gave occasion to riots, duels, and libels: silly fops
drew their bright steel in the cause of one or other of these
popular favourites; and hungry poets, with wit not quite
2
(1) Cunningham's "Hand-Book of London," &c. Fielding alludes to this
alteration in the "Author's Farce," where the Poet says, "My lord mayor has
shortened the time of Bartholomew Fair in Smithfield, and so they are resolved
to keep it all the year round at the other end of the town.' After a long and
illustrious existence Bartholomew Fair expired this year (1855), unhonoured and
unregretted.
>>
(2) "Dr. Arbuthnot, although a stanch supporter of his friend Handel, could
not forego the pleasure of a slap, en passant, at certain insolent Italians, who
kept the fashionables in such ridiculous warfare. He was the reputed author,
at least, of a pamphlet entitled, 'The Devil to pay at St. James's; or, a full and
true Account of a most horrid and bloody Battle between Madame Faustina and
Madame Cuzzoni. Also, of a hot Skirmish between Signor Boschi and Signor
Palmerini. Moreover, how Senesino has taken Snuff, is going to leave the
Opera, and sing Psalms at Henley's Oratory.'"-Fine and Walnuts, vol. i.
(note).
F
"
E 2
52
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1733-35.
/
so bright, abused them both without stint. It was by the
multiplication of theatres, however, that the interests of the
national drama were most seriously affected at this period.
The waning fortunes of time-honoured Drury suffered
especially from the erection of a new theatre in Covent
Garden, which was about this time opened under the
auspices of manager Rich, by whom "The Beggar's Opera"
was brought out; and the secession of some of the best
actors in the company, who, at the instigation of Theophilus
Cibber, deserted the patentees, and opened the Haymarket
Theatre. On the boards of Drury most of Fielding's plays
during the past two years had been produced: he had
Above
become identified with the place and the actors.
all, he regarded the case of the patentees-Highmore (who
from an amateur actor had become a manager, and who
had sunk a large fortune in the speculation) and Mrs.
Wilks (the widow of the celebrated actor)-as a peculiarly
hard one. To him, therefore, this playhouse revolution,
and the factions amongst the actors, were in the highest
degree embarrassing. Like a stanch seaman, however, he
would not desert the ship, even when the waves threat-
ened to engulf her. He exerted himself, therefore, to
retrieve the fortunes of old Drury; and was seconded in
his efforts by an artist of incomparable talent in her pecu-
liar walk-the renowned Kitty Clive, who had first won
(1) In November, 1733, Highmore, having applied without success to the
Lord Chamberlain to protect his patent, attempted to put the law in force
against the seceding actors. He accordingly caused Harper, the comedian (who
is said to have been an extremely quiet and timid man), to be arrested as a
rogue and vagabond, and committed to Bridewell. On November 20th, the
case was argued in the King's Bench; and on the part of Harper it was con-
tended "that though he was a player, yet he did not wander about from place
to place like a vagabond; nor was there any appearance of his being chargeable
to any parish, for that he was not only a freeholder in Surrey, but a house-
keeper in Westminster, and farther, that he was an honest man and paid his
debts." Per contra it was argued "that he came under the Act of 12 Anne, and
that he did wander from place to place, for that he had formerly acted at Drury
Lane, and likewise at Bartholomew and Southwark fairs." The result was,
Harper was discharged on his own recognizance.-(London Magazine, quoted
in "Some Account of the English Stage.")
ÆT. 25-26.]
MRS. CLIVE.
53
the admiration of the town under her maiden name of
Raftor. With this lady in the principal character, he pro-
duced at Drury Lane a two-act comedy, called "The In-
triguing Chambermaid" (adapted from "Le Dissipateur,"
a French piece by Regnard), which may be numbered
amongst the best and liveliest of his minor dramatic essays.
If not written purposely for the great comic actress who
personated the heroine, this piece was admirably calculated
to develop her peculiar excellences. We have the authority
of Churchill for placing Mrs. Clive first amongst the repre-
sentatives of the witty and designing Abigails, who usually
play so prominent a part in our comedies and farces :-
"First, giggling, plotting chambermaids arrive,
Hoydens and romps, led on by Genʼral Clive.
In spite of outward blemishes she shone;
For humour famed, and humour all her own.
Easy, as if at home, the stage she trod,
Nor sought the critic's praise, nor feared his rod.
Original in spirit and in ease,
She pleased by hiding all attempts to please." 1
To the merits of this great actress Fielding also bore a
warm testimony in the dedicatory epistle to her, which
he prefixed to the published copies of this play. "It is
your misfortune," he said, "to bring the greatest genius
for acting on the stage at a time when the factions and
divisions among the players have conspired with the folly,
injustice, and barbarity of the town to finish the ruin of
the stage, and sacrifice our own native entertainments to a
wanton, affected fondness for foreign music; and when our
nobility seem eagerly to rival each other in distinguishing
themselves in favour of Italian theatres, and in neglect of
our own. However, the few who have yet so much Eng-
lish taste and good-nature left, as sometimes to visit that
stage where you exert your great abilities, never fail to
receive you with the approbation you deserve; nay, you
(1) The Rosciad.
54
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1733-35.
extort, by the force of your merit, the applause of those
who are languishing for the return of Cuzzoni.”
66
Nor does the dramatist fail to dwell with complacency
on the private worth and blameless life of the subject of
his panegyric. He distinguishes—and it is well that he
could do so-the actress from the woman; the performer,
professionally compelled to give utterance to licentious.
language and ideas, from the excellent wife, daughter,
sister, and friend. "But as great a favourite," he adds,
'as you at present are with the audience, you would be
much more so were they acquainted with your private cha-
racter; could they see you laying out great part of the profits
which arise from entertaining them so well, in the support
of an aged father; did they see you, who can charm them
on the stage with personating the foolish and vicious cha-
racters of your sex, acting in real life the part of the best
wife, the best daughter, the best sister, and the best
friend."1
Simultaneously with the production of "The Intriguing
Chambermaid," Fielding's "Author's Farce" was revived
at Drury Lane with alterations and allusions adapted to
the period. In a previous chapter, this piece has been
noticed at some length: it is therefore sufficient here to
state that in the form in which it has come down to us, it
contains many hits on the "setting up of new playhouses," 2
(1) Mrs. Clive was the daughter of Mr. William Raftor, an Irish gentleman,
who sacrificed a considerable estate by his attachment to the cause of James II.,
whose fortunes he followed, even after the decisive battle of the Boyne, and
obtained a captain's commission in the French service. He was ultimately
pardoned, and returned to England. His daughter, Kitty, made her first appear-
ance on the stage under the auspices of Cibber, and in the course of a few
seasons became immensely popular. She married Mr. Clive, a brother of Mr.
Baron Clive, the eminent judge. From this gentleman she separated; but
it is but right to say that calumny never assailed her character. In the latter
years of her life she was the neighbour of Horace Walpole, at Strawberry
Hill, who often entertained himself and his correspondents with the wit and
gossip of Kitty Clive.
(2) The multiplication of theatres was considered so great a grievance that,
about two years subsequently, the subject occupied the attention of the legis-
ÆT. 25-26.]
THE AUTHOR'S FARCE.
55
and other matters which have an obvious reference to the
state of dramatic affairs in 1733-34.
An excellent pro-
logue was written for the farce on the occasion of its
revival, and delivered by Mrs. Clive. As a picture of
manners, the following lines, in which the past and then
present state of the drama were contrasted, are well worthy
of quotation :-
"Here the beau-monde in crowds repaired each day,
And went well pleased and entertained away.
While Oldfield here hath charmed the list'ning age,
And Wilks adorn'd, and Booth hath fill'd the stage.
lature. In the "Commons' Debates," for the session of 1734-35, a motion by Sir
John Barnard on this matter, and the discussion thereon, are thus recorded:-
"March 5. Sir J. Barnard moved for bringing in a bill for restraining the
number of houses for playing of interludes, and for the better regulating com-
mon players of interludes. In support of his motion, he represented the
mischief done to the city of London by the playhouses, in corrupting the
youth, encouraging vice and debauchery, and being prejudicial to trade and
industry; and how much those evils would be increased, if another playhouse
should be built in the very heart of the city. Sir John Barnard was seconded
by Mr. Sandys, and supported by Mr. Pulteney, Sir R. Walpole, Sir J. Jekyll,
ir T. Sanderson, and several other members. Mr. James Erskine, in parti-
cular, reckoned up the number of playhouses then in London, viz.: the Opera
House, the French Playhouse in the Haymarket, and the theatres in Covent
Garden, Drury Lane, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, and Goodman's Fields; and added,
'That it was no less surprising than shameful to see so great a change for the
worse in the temper and inclinations of the British nation, who were now so
extravagantly addicted to lewd and idle diversions, that the number of play-
houses in London was double to that of Paris: That we now exceeded in levity
even the French themselves, from whom we learned these and many other
ridiculous customs, as much unsuitable to the mien and manners of an English-
man or a Scot, as they were agreeable to the air and levity of a Monsieur: That
it was astonishing to all Europe that Italian cunuchs and singers should have
set salaries, equal to those of the Lords of the Treasury and Judges of England.'
After this, it was ordered, nem. con、: That a Bill be brought in pursuant to
Sir J. Barnard's motion, which was done accordingly: But it was afterwards
dropt, on account of a clause offered to be inserted in the said bill for enlarging
the power of the Lord Chamberlain, with respect to the licensing of plays.'
The once celebrated Tony Aston-a strolling comedian, who had been bred an
attorney-was, on his own petition, permitted to deliver a speech in the House
of Commons against this measure, which two years afterwards, it will be seen,
was substantially passed into law.
* There was at this time a project on foot for erecting a playhouse in St.
Martin's-le-Grand.
*
56
[1733-35.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
But now, alas! how alter'd is the case!
I view with tears this poor deserted place;
None to our boxes now in pity stray,
But poets free o' the house, and beaux who never pay.
No longer now we see our crowded door
Send the late comer back again at four.
At seven now into our empty pit
Drops from his counter some old prudent cit,
Contented with twelve pennyworth of wit.
This must have been a peculiarly unpropitious period to
Fielding, who had hitherto drawn his means of subsistence
principally, if not entirely, from the playhouse treasury.
When that source failed him, he had nothing on which
to rely. Provision for a rainy day he never made. In
prosperous times he could not keep a guinea in his
pocket, and the day of adversity always found him penni-
less. True it is, that his wit had obtained for him wealthy
and influential patrons, who were both able and willing to
assist him. "The severity of the public," says Mr. Mur-
phy, "and the malice of his enemies, met with a noble
alleviation from the patronage of the Duke of Richmond,
John, Duke of Argyle, the late Duke of Roxburgh, and
many persons of distinguished rank and character, amongst
whom may be numbered the present Lord Lyttleton."¹
George Lyttleton, we have seen, was an Eton-boy with
Fielding, and he remained through life and after life his
stanchest friend. To the Duke of Richmond the young
dramatist had dedicated the comedy of "The Miser."
John, Duke of Argyle, was a noted friend and admirer of
the principal actors and actresses of the period, and the
constant frequenter of that amusing circle of playhouse
wits where Fielding shone-a star of the first magnitude.
From these powerful friends the necessitous author no
doubt occasionally received pecuniary assistance. But that
assistance came in too questionable a shape to be altogether
satisfactory to the recipient. Besides, if there were nothing
(1) Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
ET. 25-26.]
57
THEATRICAL DISASTERS.
humiliating in receiving the alms of the great, such means
of support are at best most uncertain. A man of genius
or talent, however witty and agreeable, is often "cut" by
his wealthy acquaintances, if he is eternally begging or
borrowing guineas.
A strange alternation, therefore, of light and shade did
these early years of Fielding's life present. To-day, familiar
with the sordid haunts of poverty; to-morrow, gay in velvet,
ruffles, and embroidery. Now, dining at the tables of the
great, and quaffing champagne in ducal banquet-halls;
and now seeking out the cheapest ordinary; or, if dinner
were impossible, solacing himself with a pipe of tobacco.
This is no imaginary picture. Fielding's youthful portrait
has been sketched by a contemporary limner, and will bear
out this description line for line. An anonymous satire¹
(published about this time) thus records his sudden trans-
formations from the grub to the butterfly condition:-
"F- -g, who yesterday appeared so rough,
Clad in coarse frieze, and plaistered down with snuff,
See how his instant gaudy trappings shine!
What playhouse bard was ever seen so fine?
But this not from his humour flows, you'll say,
But mere necessity-for last night lay
In pawn the velvet which he wears to-day."
6
Although the exertions of the dramatist were at this
time rewarded with little enough of solid pudding, he
received his full share of praise. "By an unknown hand,"
a copy of verses was sent to him, "occasioned by the
revival of The Author's Farce,'" replete with every
term and topic of eulogy. The bard (whoever he was)
from whom this production emanated, addressed him
in language of warm and judicious friendship. After
dwelling on Fielding's claims to the gratitude of the age
for his manly assault on its faults and follies, it was
broadly intimated that such merit was deserving of the
(1) Seasonable Reproof: a Satire in the manner of Horace. 1735.
58
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1733-35.
substantial reward which a minister of the crown is able to
bestow:
"Proceed, even thus proceed, bless'd youth, to charm,
Divert our hearts and civil rage disarm,
Till fortune, once not blind to merit, smile
On thy desert, and recompense thy toil;
Or Walpole, studious still of Britain's fame,
Protect thy labours and prescribe the theme.
On which, in ease and affluence, thou may'st raise
More noble trophies to thy country's praise."
"" 1
As the stage now offered few attractions in the way of
remuneration, and as poets cannot live on panegyric, it is
not surprising to find that about this time little was done
by Fielding in the way of original composition. He had
found by experience, as the bookseller asserts in "The
Author's Farce," that "a play, like a bill, is of no value.
till it is accepted." As he had at all times laboured for
present profit, he had no disposition to pass his time in the
manufacture of wares for which there was no market. Still
he was not wholly idle. He had by him some crude
scenes of a comedy which he had written at Leyden, and
of which mention has already been made. It was a wild
extravaganza-called "Don Quixote in England"—a bold
attempt to introduce the immortal knight of La Mancha
on the English stage, under new scenes and circumstances.
The idea was rather a boyish and impracticable one; and
when Fielding began to have a little experience in theatrical
affairs, and had taken counsel with older heads than his
(1) This year was produced at Drury Lane a play by Charles Johnson, called
"Cœlia; or, the Perjured Lover," to which Fielding contributed an epilogue,-
the same Johnson who is described in the notes to the "Dunciad" as being
famous "for writing a play every year, and being at Button's every day." He
was a member of the Middle Temple, but deserted the law for the stage, and
finally married a buxom widow with a good fortune, on which he set up a
tavern in Bow Street. That he was fatter than bard beseems, and no stranger
to creature-comforts, may be surmised by the portrait given of him in the notes
to "The Dunciad:"-" He had probably thriven better in his vocation, had he
been a small matter leaner; he may be justly called a martyr to obesity, and
be said to have fallen a victim to the rotundity of his parts."
*
M
ÆT. 25-26.]
DON QUIXOTE IN ENGLAND.
59
own, he laid the play on the shelf, and thought no more of
it for some years. Its existence, however, was known to
most of his theatrical friends, and in the distressed state of
Drury Lane (as he could not perhaps be prevailed on to
write a new play), he was solicited to produce these first
fruits of his dramatic frenzy. To these solicitations he
yielded; and probably not without secret satisfaction. The
first and favourite idea of an author, like the first love of
man or woman, has always an enduring influence on the
mind. It is in many cases a passion which more or less
colours the after-life, and gives a direction to the genius.
It was undoubtedly thus with Fielding. To represent
Don Quixote mistaking road-side public-houses for castles,
in England instead of Spain, an English country squire
with his dogs for a giant at the head of his armies, and a
pert rural Abigail for a distressed princess, perhaps ex-
ceeded the bounds of extravagance permitted even to the
burlesque; whilst the humour was of too subtle and grave
a character to be popular with ordinary theatrical audiences.
But however wild and incongruous the notion, it was
identified with Fielding's earliest intellectual aspirations.
He had fastened from his boyhood with eager delight on
the immortal creations of Cervantes. They were the load-
stars of his fancy: the fairy forms which had led captive
his youthful imagination. It is, therefore, reasonable to
suppose that the rude comedy written at Leyden, in the
first transports of youthful ardour, was a favourite with its
author, for the idea had taken deep root in his mind.
When called on to produce a play, without much, if any,
expectation of profit, he set to work to revise it con amore;
and he added some new scenes, in which the Don is repre-
sented as a candidate at an English election.
Although, as may be gathered from Fielding's preface,
the comedy in its altered form was several times rehearsed
at Drury Lane, and a day fixed for its representation, it
was never produced on those boards. The intervention of
60
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1733-35.
the actors' benefits, and other circumstances, would have
altogether prevented its appearance during the theatrical
season, had not the author removed it to the New Theatre
in the Haymarket, which, after having been closed for some
years, had been lately opened by a company of comedians,
who had revolted from the patent theatres. Here it was
performed early in 1734, and, as might have been expected,
met with little success.
However absurd in design, or unfitted for the stage, this
comedy will nevertheless be found in the closet both read-
able and entertaining. If Don Quixote and his trusty
squire are not very felicitously introduced by Fielding on
English ground, yet their respective characters, as developed
in the romance, are admirably preserved. The first scene
introduces us to Sancho vainly endeavouring to stave off
the demands of Guzzle, the English innkeeper, and answer-
ing his threats with a string of proverbs worthy of the
Sancho of Cervantes :-
Guzzle. Tell me not of Spain, sir; I am an Englishman, where no
one is above the law, and if your master does not pay me, I shall
lay his Spaniardship fast in a place which he will find it as difficult
to get out of, as your countrymen have found it to get into Gibraltar.
Sancho. That's neither here nor there, as the old saying is; many
are shut into one place and out of another. Men bar houses to keep
rogues out, and jails to keep them in. He that's hanged for stealing
a horse to-day has no reason to buy oats for him to-morrow.
Fielding's Don Quixote is the identical Don Quixote of .
the romance; the very soul of honour; a monomaniac, it
is true, but a man of rare wit and wisdom. Even the
greedy Sancho would consent to fast in order to listen to
his discourses. Whilst his acts are those of a madman,
his language is that of a philosopher. He mistakes a flock
of sheep for an army, but he denounces in no measured
terms the social anomalies and vices which most revolt a
chivalrous nature. He wages war, in a spirit of true knight-
errantry, not only against giants and monsters, but against
ET. 25-26.]
DON QUIXOTE IN ENGLAND.
61
hypocrisy, servility, cunning, and corruption. In fact, a
happy mixture of sense and extravagance distinguishes the
hero of the comedy as well as of the romance. Take the
following passage, in which the coarse characters and amuse-
ments of the country squires of the eighteenth century are
felicitously satirised.
Don Quixote. There is now arrived in this castle one of the most
accursed giants that ever infested the earth. He marches at the
head of his army, that howl like Turks in an engagement.
Sancho. Oh, lud! oh, lud! this is the country squire at the head
of his pack of dogs.
Quixote. What dost thou mutter, varlet ?
Sancho. Why, sir, this giant that your worship talks of is a country
gentleman who is going a courting, and his army is neither more nor
less than his kennel of fox-hounds.
Quixote. Oh, the prodigious force of enchantment! Sirrah, I tell
thee this is the giant Toglogmoglog, lord of the island Gogmogog,
whose belly hath been the tomb of above a thousand strong men.
Sancho. Of above a thousand hogsheads of strong beer, I believe.
Quixote. This must be the enchanter Merlin. I know him by his
dogs. But, thou idiot! dost thou imagine that women are to be
hunted like hares, that a man would carry his hounds with him to
visit his mistress?
Sancho. Sir, your true English squire and his hounds are as insepa-
rable as the Spaniard and his Toledo. He eats with his hounds,
drinks with his hounds, and lies with his hounds; your true arrant
English squire is but the first dog-boy in his house.
Quixote. 'Tis pity then that fortune should contradict the order of
nature. It was a wise institution of Plato to educate children
according to their minds, not to their births; these squires should
sow that corn which they ride over. Sancho, when I see a gentle-
man on his own coach-box, I regret the loss which some one has
had of a coachman; the man who toils all day after a partridge
or a pheasant might serve his country by toiling after a plough ;
and when I see a low, mean, tricking lord, I lament the loss of an
excellent attorney.
In his dedication of this comedy to Philip, Earl of Ches-
terfield, the author dwells with much complacency on the
wholesome tendency of the "election scenes" which he had
engrafted upon it. "The most ridiculous exhibitions of
luxury or avarice" (so writes the young dramatic censor)
62
[1733-35.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
(C may have little effect on the sensualist or the miser; but
I fancy a lively representation of the calamities brought on
a country by general corruption might have a very sensible
and useful effect on the spectators." Fielding's object was
laudable enough, and his exposure of electoral corruption
is characterised by wit and vigour; but he must have been
a Quixote indeed who could have conceived it possible that
any amount of satire and sarcasm would have induced Sir
Robert Walpole to have abandoned the system of wide-
spread corruption by which he carried on the government of
England at this period. Politics apart, however, the scenes.
in which Don Quixote is brought into contact with the
corrupt rulers of the borough, which he is solicited to
stand for as a candidate, exhibit a dramatic skill and humour
which few of our comic writers have excelled.
At the beginning of the year 1735, Fielding brought out
another farce at Drury Lane, which, like its predecessor,
"The Intriguing Chambermaid," was evidently written to
display the peculiar comic talents of Mrs. Clive. It was
entitled “An old Man taught Wisdom; or, the Virgin
Unmasked." In this trifle an unsophisticated young lady,
after receiving various suitors selected by her father, dis-
appoints them all by marrying a footman. This was by
no means an unprecedented occurrence in real life at that
period. Many ladies of quality displayed their admiration
of the cane and the top-knot, by leading (or being led by)
John or Thomas to the hymeneal altar.' Such ladies
(1) In a paper on ballad-singing in "The Grub Street Journal" of February,
1735, the frequent fraternisation of the kitchen and parlour, celebrated in the
common street ballads of the time, is thus described: "One tells, How a foot-
man died for love of a young lady, and how she was haunted by his ghost and
died for grief. Another, How the coachman ran away with his young mistress,
took to hedging and ditching, and she to knitting and spinning, and lived
vastly happy, and in great plenty. And a third, How the young squire, mas-
ter's eldest son, fell in love with the chambermaid, married her at the Fleet,
was turned out of doors, kept an inn, got money as fast as hops, till the old
gentleman died suddenly without a will, and then his son got all, kept a coach,
and made his wife a great lady, who bore him twins for twelve years together,
who all lived to be justices of the peace."
ÆT. 25-26.]
THE VIRGIN UNMASKED.
63
were probably attracted by the charms described by Miss
Lucy in Fielding's farce, where we have the following
capital picture of the model "flunkey" of 1735:-—
"A footman! he looks a thousand times more like a gentleman
than either Squire Foxchase or Squire Tankard, and talks more like
one,—ay, and smells more like one, too. His head is so prettily drest,
done all down upon the top with sugar, like a frosted cake, with
three little curls on each side, that you may see his ears as plain!
and then his hair is done up behind just like a fine lady's, with a
little hat, and a pair of charming white stockings, as neat and as
fine as any white-legged fowl; and he always carries a great swing-
ing stick in his hand, as big as himself, that he would knock any dog
down with who was to offer to bite me. A footman, indeed! why
Miss Jenny likes him as well as I do; and she says all the fine
young gentlemen that the ladies in London are so fond of, are just
such persons as he is."
Astonishing were the airs assumed by the aristocratic
footmen of those days. They not only imitated with
great success the manners and behaviour of their masters,
but to a disgusting and ridiculous extent mimicked their
very vices. Whilst my lord was gambling in the drawing-
room, his party coloured retainers were playing cards or
dice on the staircase, or in the servants'-hall. The
fashionable slang of the town was familiar to these
gentry, and they drawled it forth in their common dis-
course. Their dress was assimilated closely to that of
their employers; and, strangely enough, the footmen of
the present day are habited in the costume which belonged
to that golden age of flunkeyism. Their privileges also
were great. According to the absurd custom of the time,
large vails, or presents in money, were distributed by
guests to the lackeys of their entertainers, and these, in the
course of time, were claimed as a right. They enjoyed,
likewise, to the great annoyance of managers, free access
to the theatre, where they filled the upper-gallery, from
which they excluded all other visitors. Their behaviour in
this exalted position was not characterised by forbearance
or modesty, and both actors and authors dreaded their
•
64
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1733-35.
opposition.¹ So intolerable did their presence at length
become, that, in 1737, Fleetwood, the manager of Drury
Lane, deprived them of their privilege. This led to a
serious riot. The footmen of London assembled in vast
numbers; broke open the doors of the theatre; fought
their way into the house, and prevented the reading of a
proclamation by the magistrate, Colonel de Veil. Several
of the ringleaders were, upon this occasion, taken and
committed to Newgate; many more were wounded; whilst
the spectators (amongst whom were the Prince and
Princess of Wales) were much terrified.
A few weeks after the production of "The Virgin
Unmasked" the prolific dramatist announced another origi-
nal comedy. It was entitled "The Universal Gallant,"
and was placed on the stage with some care, for the
principal characters were assigned to Quin, Cibber, and
other eminent actors. Nevertheless it proved a most
undoubted failure, and not undeservedly so; although it
must be confessed that worse and more immoral comedies
had been, only a few years before, honoured with public
approbation. The poor author is quite pathetic in the
advertisement which he prefixed to the published copies of
this play. "I have heard," he writes, "that there are
some young gentlemen of this town who make a jest of
damning plays; but did they seriously consider the cruelty
they are guilty of by this practice, I believe it would
prevent them." And in the prologue, written after the
2
(1) The offensive conduct of the London footmen at the theatres is thus
noticed in "The Weekly Register" of March 25, 1732:-"The theatre should be
esteemed the centre of politeness and good manners; yet numbers of them
every evening are lolling over the boxes, while they keep places for their
masters, with their hats on; play over their airs, take snuff, laugh aloud, adjust
their cocks'-combs, or hold dialogues with their brethren from one side of the
house to the other.'
""
(2) It is said in a periodical paper of the day, called "The Prompter,"
quoted in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for 1735, that the audience sat quietly
till the third act was almost over, expecting the play to mend; but finding it
grow worse and worse, they lost all patience.
ÆT. 25-26.]
65
THE UNIVERSAL GALLANT.
first night's performance, spoken by Quin, the barbarity
of a harsh judgment is thus deprecated:
“ Can then another's anguish give you joy?
Or is it such a triumph to destroy?
We, like the fabled frogs, consider thus:-
This may be sport to you, but it is death to us.”
1
The audiences of these days, it must be remembered,
were very differently constituted from those of our own
time. When a new play was produced, the pit was almost
entirely filled with critics, who congregated there, and gave
the signal for applause or condemnation. The boxes were
altogether reserved for the quality-for persons of rank,
note, and fashion. The beaux all attended in full-dress, and
came to see and to be seen, rather than to attend to the play.
The ladies conducted themselves in the manner described
by Fielding in one of his farces, where a country-bred
lady innocently inquires what they do "at your what-d’ye-
call-'ems your plays?" Why, if they can," she is
answered, "they take a stage-box, where they let the foot-
man sit the first two acts, to show his livery, then they
come in to show themselves, spread their fans upon the
spikes, make curtsies to their acquaintance, and then talk
and laugh as loud as they are able." The "vulgar and
indifferent" being excluded from the pit and boxes, found
refuge in the lower-gallery, where they occasionally amused
themselves with cat-calls and other discordant noises :-
((
""Tis not the poet's wit affords the jest,
But who can cat-call, hiss, or whistle best."
Such were the audiences which then condemned or
applauded plays. A critical pit, filled with gay Templars
and prosperous merchants, who had little sympathy for an
indigent author; a bevy of frivolous belles and gallants in
the boxes, all ogling, criticising, or scandalising each other;
(1) "Miss Lucy in Town," sequel to "The Virgin Unmasked."
(2) Macklin's Memoirs, p. 73. 1804.
F
66
LIFE OF FIELIDNG.
[1733-35.
and an upper-gallery crammed with liveried coxcombs,
imitating the listless indifference of their masters. In
those days, it will be borne in mind, London merchants
really lived in London, generally in residences attached to
their counting-houses, and, indeed, their credit depended
on their living there. Macklin said that he remembered
the first emigration of merchants from the city, but they
did not venture farther than Hatton Garden; whilst the
lawyers all resided in the neighbourhood of the inns of
court, and were the principal playgoers of the period.
From the circumstances above detailed, it may be ga-
thered that a theatrical audience towards the middle of
the eighteenth century was rather a difficult body to please.
Fatal jealousies, also, too often prevailed amongst actors
and authors; and Fielding bitterly complained that he,
who in his whole life had never done an injury to a
living person, should have been assailed from motives of
private malice. He urged upon the public that a fair
hearing had not been accorded to his comedy; and endea-
voured to obtain a reversal of the judgment so cruelly
passed upon it. But in this he did not succeed; nor will
any one who takes the trouble to read "The Universal
Gallant" be much surprised at his failure.
1
(1) See Fielding's "Advertisement" to The Universal Gallant. "Authors,'
he says,
"whose works have been rejected at the theatres are of all persons,
they say, the most inveterate; but of all persons I am the last they should
attack, as I have often endeavoured to procure the success of others, but never
assisted at the condemnation of any one."
ÆT. 27-28.]
67
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
CHAPTER VII.
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.-COUNTRY LIFE.
[1735-1736.]
THE preceding pages have chronicled the literary achieve-
ments of Fielding during his seven years' apprenticeship to
the precarious trade of dramatic authorship-from 1728 to
1735. But we have now arrived at a new and most
important era in his life. For a time, therefore, we must
bid farewell to theatrical triumphs, contentions, and dis-
asters; and quit the feverish excitement of the town to
breathe a fresher and more wholesome atmosphere.
In the year 1735, Fielding formed a matrimonial alliance
which was in all its circumstances a pure love-match.¹ That
his heart had been always peculiarly susceptible of the
tender passion some of the earlier passages of his life fully
prove. On his return from Leyden he conceived a desperate
attachment for his cousin, Miss Sarah Andrews. That
young lady's friends had, however, so little confidence.
in her wild kinsman, that they took the precaution of
removing her out of his reach; not, it is said, until he had
attempted an abduction or elopement. The unfortunate
issue of this first passion seems to have severely preyed
upon his youthful spirits. Amongst his miscellaneous
poems, there appears an imitation, or "modernization'
(as he calls it) of the sixth Satire of Juvenal, which, he
(1) There is considerable difficulty in fixing the date of Fielding's first
marriage. The dedication of "The Universal Gallant" to the Duke of Marl-
borough is dated “Buckingham Street, Feb. 12" [1735]; and up to this time
he had been supplying the stage with "an annual crop" of farces, comedies,
and burlesques. After the publication of "The Universal Gallant," he pro-
duced nothing for rather more than a twelvemonth, when "Pasquin" was
brought out at the Haymarket. It was in this interval, it may be assumed,
that his marriage and brief residence in the country took place.
F 2
68
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1735-36.
1
tells us, was originally "sketched out before he was
twenty," and "was all the revenge taken by an injured
lover." Thus is Fielding found, like many other disap-
pointed Lotharios, avenging himself for the fancied cruelty
of a mistress by wholesale and indiscriminate abuse of the
sex:—a proceeding as illogical as it is unfair. His cousin
was afterwards married to a plain country gentleman, and
in that alliance found, perhaps, more solid happiness than
she would have experienced in an early and improvident
marriage with her gifted kinsman. Her image, however, was
never effaced from his recollection; and there is a charm-
ing picture (so tradition tells) of her luxuriant beauty in the
portrait of Sophia Western, in "Tom Jones." 2
It may be that this first disappointment contributed in
a great degree to confirm Fielding in those habits of dissi-
pation which are attributed to his early manhood. It is
well for him and for the world, however, that he never
degenerated into the hardened sceptic, the confirmed roué,
-the habitual scoffer at every tie, human and divine.
Happily his better nature survived the contamination of
the loose principles and profligate habits of a town life.
After six or seven years of reckless living, his heart re-
mained susceptible of genuine emotions; and in spite of
the bad examples by which he was surrounded, he was able
to estimate at its proper value the priceless privilege of a
virtuous attachment to a graceful and pure-minded woman.
The lady with whom Fielding-now in the twenty-
seventh year of his age-entered the bonds of matrimony
was one of three sisters named Cradock,3 who were amongst
the most celebrated belles of the town of Salisbury,-then
1
ww
(1) Preface to Fielding's Miscellanies. 1743.
(2) Book iv. c. 2.
(3) The maiden name of Fielding's first wife, given in "Collins's Peerage,"
vol. iii., and in subsequent works of that class, is Brawicke. This confusion of
names may probably arise from the circumstance of her illegitimacy, alluded.
to by Richardson in his Correspondence: "In his 'Tom Jones,' his hero is made
a natural child, because his own first wife was such." In some places the name
is given as Braddock.
ÆT. 27-28.]
69
COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
better known as New Sarum. With these young ladies
he had been for some time on terms of intimacy. Amongst
his miscellaneous poems (published in 1743, but not in-
cluded in any collection of his works) are several trifling
compositions addressed to them on different occasions.
These productions are of little value as poetical exercises,
for Fielding did not possess in any high degree the talent
for versification; but they were well adapted for the
purpose and place for which they were written—the young
lady's album or scrap-book; and they throw some light
on his personal history. The language was smooth and
elegant, showing a ready and practised pen; and the ideas
such as might fairly pass muster in those palmy days of
pastoral revery,—when every lover was a Damon or a
Strephon, and his beloved a Delia or a Celia. The pre-
valence of such a conventional jargon almost necessarily
excluded the expression of genuine passion. One ought
not, therefore, to expect to find much of that ingredient
in the amatory lines which Fielding, as Strephon, ad-
dressed to Miss Cradock, on whom he conferred the
name of Celia-the prettiest of pastoral designations.¹
The courtship of Strephon and Celia doubtless soon became
a common topic of conversation in the polite circles of
Salisbury; and if the poetical effusions of the former
displayed little passion or strong emotion, they certainly
were remarkable for an amount of wit and fancy but rarely
met with in such compositions.
Strephon's ingenuity was exercised in giving a poetical
colouring to several prosaic incidents in his mistress's daily
life. Celia, for instance, one night appears to have
(1) Her Christian name was Charlotte. Amongst Fielding's miscellaneous
poems is the following "Rebus" addressed to Celia :-
J
((
HER CHRISTIAN NAME.
(6 A very good fish, very good way of selling
A very bad thing, with a little bad spelling,
Make the name by the parson and godfather given
When a Christian was made of an angel in Heaven.”
70
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1735-36.
apprehended that the house would be broken open, and
engaged an aged watchman to keep guard over the place
with an unloaded gun. Thereupon of course Strephon
called Cupid to account.¹ Poor swain! he had dreamt
that he saw his Celia with a pale cheek and a heaving
bosom, disturbed by a distant cry of "Thieves!" Address-
ing her, he says:—
.
"Not so you look when at the ball
Envy'd you shine, outshining all;
Not so at church when priest perplex'd
Beholds you and forgets his text."
Having addressed himself to Venus in this emergency, the
goddess sends for Cupid, and soundly rates him for leaving
Celia unprotected, save by this Sancho-who is armed
with a gun, indeed, but without powder or shot-when a
band of loves had been committed to his care for the
purpose of vigilantly guarding her. The following is
Cupid's defence:
"Poor Cupid now began to whine,
'Mamma, it was no fault of mine.
I in a dimple lay perdue-
That little guard-room chose by you.
A hundred loves (all arm'd) did grace
The beauties of her neck and face;
Thence by a sigh, I dispossest,
Was blown to Harry Fielding's breast!
Where I was forced all night to stay
Because I could not find my way.
But did mamma know there what work
I've made-how acted like a Turk;
What pain, what torments he endures,
Which no physician ever cures,
She would forgive.'"
P
Upon another occasion the charms of the Cradocks were
celebrated by Strephon in an ingenious mythological alle-
gory, in which Venus is represented to have formed the
(1) "Cupid called to Account." See Fielding's Miscellanies, vol. i. 8vo.
1743.
ET. 27-28.]
71
COUNTRY LIFE.
resolution of appointing vice-regents upon earth, to be
chosen for their personal loveliness. Thereupon all mun-
dane ladies send in their pretensions. And what took
place at Sarum?—
Sarum, thy candidates be named,
Sarum, for beauties ever famed,
Whose nymphs excel all beauty's flowers,
As thy high steeple does all towers."
A court is held, and proclamation is made by Cupid, the
crier :-
"When lo, in bright celestial state,
Jove came, and thundered at the gate.
'And can you, daughter, doubt to whom
(He cried) belongs the happy doom,
While Cradocks yet make blessed the earth,
Cradocks, whom long before their birth,
I, by your own petition moved,
Decreed to be by all beloved?
Cradocks to whom-celestial dower!-
I gave all beauties in my power ;
To form whose lovely minds and faces
I stripped half heaven of its graces.
Oh, let them bear an equal sway,
So shall mankind well-pleased obey.'”
Many circumstances had often combined to disgust
Strephon with a town life, and to that disgust cha-
racteristic expression is given in the following copy of
verses addressed to Celia ::
g
"I hate the town and all its ways,
Ridottos, operas, and plays;
The ball, the ring, the mall, the court,
Wherever the beau monde resort;
All coffee-houses and their praters,
All courts of justice and debaters;
All taverns and the sots within 'em ;
All bubbles and the rogues that skin 'em ;
All nobles of whatever station,
And all the parsons in the nation;
72
[1735-36.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
I
All quacks and doctors read in physick,
Who kill or cure a man that is sick;
All authors who were ever heard on,
From Bavius up to Tommy Gordon.¹
I hate all scholars, beaux, and squires;
Pimps, puppies, parasites, and liars;
All courtiers with their looks so smooth;
And players from Boheme to Booth.
I hate the world crammed altogether,
From beggars up the Lord knows whither!
Ask you then, Celia, if there be
The thing I love? My charmer, thee;
Thee more than light, than life adore,
Thou dearest, sweetest creature, more
Than wildest rapture can express,
Than I can tell, or thou canst guess."
There is some real feeling in these lines, and they faith-
fully expressed the sentiments of the hour. The mirth of
the tavern had ceased to charm; the cup of pleasure-in
mockery so called-had been drained, and the dregs alone
remained. From worthless companions, hollow gaieties,
and disappointed hopes, how pleasant was it to turn to the
image of the Salisbury beauty!-how great a privilege to
exchange for the love of a pure-minded girl all the empty
frivolities and sickening dissipations which had been once
regarded as the charms of life!
Miss Cradock was not a portionless beauty. She had a
fortune, at her own disposal, of £1500; by no means an
insignificant sum in Fielding's eyes. Nor was this his only
dependence. A small estate, situated at East Stour, in
Dorsetshire, had come into his possession after his mother's
death; and offered him and his young bride an asylum in
(1) A periodical essayist, who was taken into the pay of Sir R. Walpole. He
is best known as the translator of Sallust and Tacitus.
(2) Anthony Boheme was an actor of some reputation both in tragedy and
comedy; but having been bred a sailor, he could never, it is said, cure himself
of the nautical gait which he acquired in early life. He died in the prime of
life, in 1731. ("Some Account of the English Stage," &c., vol. iii.)
ÆT. 27-28.]
73
COUNTRY LIFE.
the country.¹ Peace, happiness, and competence, were now
within his grasp.
In the first transports of connubial
happiness, and yielding to the earnest solicitations of his
young wife, who was naturally anxious to detach him from
the scene of his former irregularities,-he resolved to make
a permanent exchange of a London for a country life. His
small estate afforded him a comfortable retreat, where he
could, if so minded, lead the life of a country gentleman;
surrounded by his books, and relieving his literary labours.
by rural recreations. His constitution had suffered severely
from early dissipation; and retirement, with regular and
tranquil habits, was necessary to the health both of mind
and body. Such were the calm suggestions of his own
reason and of his best counsellors. Sincerely penitent for
past follies, and with a keen recollection of the privations
and disappointments he had endured, what a blissful
future could he have profited by the experience of the
past, and properly availed himself of surrounding advan-
tages-was now presented to him! With a lovely and
-
(1) Mr. Murphy, and the other biographers of Fielding, state that "about
this time" the death of his mother put him in possession of the estate at East
Stour (or Stower). Fielding's mother, however, died in 1718, and was buried at
East Stour, where General Fielding was then living, having left Sharpham
Park a few years after the novelist's birth. Probably the £200 per annum
derived from the property at East Stour was the £200 which the general agreed
to pay his son when he came of age, and forgot to do it. On Fielding's marriage,
the house at East Stour was given up to him; but it does not appear that he
occupied it long. In Hutchins's "History and Antiquities of Dorset" (second
edition), vol. iii., p. 211, there is a picture of the house at East Stour, and a
remarkable tree growing there. The latter is called a "Locust-tree (Robinia
Pseud. Acacia of Linnæus), the body of which, it is said, is eight feet high, and ten
feet six inches in circumference. The height of the tree is fifty-three feet. In
the middle of the body grows an alder-tree twenty-four feet high, which at the
bottom is twenty-four inches in circumference.
The farmhouse, which is
of stone, was some time the residence of Henry Fielding. The present kitchen
remains (1813) as in his time, when it was a parlour, and large prints of the
twelve Caesars on horseback adorn it."-Hutchins's Dorset, vol. iii. The tree
is described in the "Gentleman's Magazine," vol. lxxi. Both the tree and the
house (it has been courteously communicated to the biographer by Mr. Buckland,
the town-clerk of Shaftesbury) have now disappeared. The tree was very much
decayed before it was taken down, but the house, though out of repair, might
have been restored. It has however been replaced by a modern farmhouse.
74
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1735-36.
amiable wife, a moderate competence, and abundant leisure,
who would not have esteemed him a fortunate man?
Fortunate he was, and happy he would have been beyond the
lot of most men, had he been able to put in practice a tithe
of the worldly wisdom with which the later productions of
his pen abound. Could he have acted out some of his own
common-sense notions of life, all had now been well; but,
as it was, with the characteristic infirmity of genius, he
escaped from one set of errors only to plunge into follies
no less egregious, ruinous, and ridiculous.
Soon after his marriage, Fielding settled in Dorsetshire,
and commenced a new course of life. The experiment was
attended with some difficulties, and unluckily he stumbled
at the very outset. Though neither qualified by nature or
education for a hermit, a life of comparative privacy and
seclusion was that best adapted to his limited means and
intellectual tastes. Instead of this, he preposterously
resolved to become a Squire of the first magnitude. His
ambition was to be talked about. He determined to show
the rude Squirearchy of Dorset how superior to their
order was the London-bred gentleman. Family pride
also whispered to him the expediency of keeping up an
appearance corresponding to the dignity of the dis-
tinguished race from whence he sprang. Accordingly,
Squire Fielding soon began to create a sensation in the
county. His mansion was the scene of profuse hospitality
and riotous enjoyment. His horses and hounds were
numbered amongst the glories of the neighbourhood.
His equipage outvied in splendour and elegance the car-
riages of his richer neighbours, and the yellow liveries of
his serving-men were long held in remembrance. The
selection of such a colour was characteristic of Fielding's
thoughtless extravagance. Yellow plush, however splendid,
proved by no means an economical article of attire for
a careless lackey. Directly the glories of a suit were
dimmed or soiled, it was thrown aside; for the rustic
ÆT. 27-28.]
75
COUNTRY LIFE.
flunkeys considered it their duty to keep up the Squire's
character by the lustre of their personal appearance. Such
was Fielding's household! It may be asked how it was
that Mrs. Fielding-the Salisbury beauty-did not, with a
woman's quick sense of propriety, interfere to check this
ridiculous extravagance. Alas! it is to be feared that,
from vanity or weakness, she abetted him in his follies, or,
at the most, confined herself to a timid remonstrance,
without venturing on a firm expostulation. Poor girl! her
fortune was soon dissipated to the winds; run away with
by horses and hounds; lavished on yellow plush inexpress-
ibles for idle flunkeys; banqueted on by foolish squires, or
consumed by other senseless extravagances. Not being a
strong-minded woman-that is pretty clear-but rather, it
would seem, a fond and foolish one, she was dazzled by this
brief dream of pride and pleasure; and though the future
might have worn to her eye a lowering aspect, she was too
much gratified by her husband's popularity, and too proud
of his wit and agreeable qualities, to check him in his mad
1
career.
The day of reckoning came. In a very short time? Fielding
found that all was spent and gone--all swallowed up in the
abyss of ruin! It seemed like a dream, a wild, incoherent
vision. The roar of mirth, the deafening cheer, the splendid
liveries, prancing horses, staring rustics, full-mouthed dogs,
faded before him like some "insubstantial pageant." He
had been generous, hospitable, profuse; and what was his
reward? Those who had sat at meat with him now ridi-
culed his extravagance. Even the gaping boors of the
neighbourhood cracked their heavy jokes at his expense.
The prudent gentlemen and ladies who had not scrupled to
sit at his jovial board, and partake of his cheer, now shook
their heads, and gravely condemned his prodigality. Those
of his more ambitious neighbours whom he had recently
(1) See Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding. By A. Murphy.
(2) Murphy says "in less than three years." See note 1, p. 67.
1
76
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1735-36.
outshone in splendour, rejoiced in his downfall, without
attempting to conceal their satisfaction. In the midst of
all these untoward circumstances, he had to escape from
his creditors as best he might, and to seek for happiness
and a livelihood in some other sphere.
How bitterly Fielding cursed his folly, and how peni-
tently he bewailed his imprudence, can be well imagined.
His sorrow-now, alas! unavailing-was not unmixed with
feelings of resentment. The jealousy with which he had
been regarded in the height of his ostentatious career, and
the treatment he experienced in his reverses, long rankled
in his breast. He could not easily forget the sneers and
slights of those whom in his heart he so much despised;
and from this time forth, therefore, the Squirearchy of
England had to expect little mercy at his hands.
That this experiment of his in rustic living could
have been attended with any other result must, however,
have seemed to him, when he returned to his sober senses,
unlikely, if not impossible. With his tastes and disposi-
tion, he could not conform to the quiet, monotonous
routine of a homely country life; and he had not the means
of prolonging for an indefinite period the riotous enjoyments
and ridiculous splendour which he considered necessary to
a distinguished rural position. Amongst the home-bred
country gentlemen of Dorset he was what is popularly
called " a fish out of water." Their amusements, their
gossip, their prejudices, their politics, their vices and their
virtues, were not his. Above all, he was sorely mortified to
find that his attempts at splendour and gentility did not
produce upon their minds the effect he intended. The
coach and yellow liveries, which had been designed to
astonish, only called forth feelings of ill-disguised envy and
dissatisfaction, or gave birth to sarcastic remarks ;—varia-
tions perhaps on the homely proverb, that "a fool and his
money are soon parted." The homage which he expected
to be paid to his superior gentility was obstinately withheld;
ÆT. 27-28.]
COUNTRY LIFE.
77
and he was in fact contemned by those whom he had
expected to overwhelm by his importance.
The impression which his rural misadventure made on
Fielding's mind was not effaced by the lapse of years.
Some of the principal circumstances attending it are evi-
dently referred to in his latest novel,-"Amelia." The
follies into which Booth represents himself as falling, when
deprived of the sage counsel of Dr. Harrison, are of the
same character as those imputed to the novelist. Not
content with enlarging his farm, it will be remembered,
the hero of the novel is guilty of the crime of setting up
his coach; whereupon the neighbours with whom he had
hitherto lived on terms of equality began to envy, hate,
and declare war against him and his wife. "The neigh-
bouring little squires, too," continues Booth, or rather
Fielding, were uneasy to see a poor renter become their
equal in a matter in which they placed so much dignity;
and not doubting but it arose in me from the same osten-
tation, they began to hate me likewise, and to turn my
equipage into ridicule; asserting that my horses, which
were as well matched as any in the kingdom, were of
different colours and sizes; with much more of that kind
of wit, the only basis of which is lying."
(C
That there is a touch of personal feeling in this quiet
satire cannot be doubted; and it is equally clear that the
rapturous description given by Booth, of the happiness
which he derived from his wife's society in the country, may
be identified with the novelist's own history; for, in spite
of its glaring follies and indiscretions, this period of Field-
ing's life presented some features on which he could look
back with pleasure and satisfaction. All the endearments
of wedded life which he afterwards depicted in "Amelia"
were his; blest with a wife whom he dearly loved,—whose
amiability was so great that she endured without a murmur
all the misfortunes of which his folly was the cause, and
whose beauty was everywhere the subject of admiration.
-
78
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1735-36.
If he were unable-from want of prudence or over vivacity
of disposition-to make a proper use of the gifts of for-
tune, he could nevertheless rate them at their true value.
He could afterwards speak like a philosopher of the cheap
happiness which in the hurry of youthful excitement he
had carelessly flung away,-"the pleasure which the
morning air gives to one in perfect health; the flow of
spirits which springs up from exercise; the delight which
parents feel from the prattle and innocent follies of their
children; the joy with which the tender smile of a wife
inspires a husband; or lastly, the cheerful solid comfort
which a fond couple enjoy in each other's conversation."
These unfailing sources of happiness were fully tasted by
Fielding during his retirement from the bustle and anxieties
of a town life, nay, further, they were fully appreciated by
him at the time; but unfortunately they were not sufficient
to satisfy the cravings of a nature like his: his disposition
required excitement; and hence it was that he fell into the
mistake of courting the temporary applause and wonder-
ment of the Dorsetshire squires by extravagant hospitality
and anomalous splendour.
(1) Amelia, book iii. c. 12.
ÆT. 29-30.]
79
RETURN TO LONDON.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GREAT MOGUL'S COMPANY.-" PASQUIN" AND THE HIS-
TORICAL REGISTER FOR 1736."
66
[1736-1737.]
FIELDING now began life again, and he began it under
many disadvantages. He had squandered away his wife's
fortune, and had nothing left in return but mortification.
and embarrassment. Having ventured upon what Johnson
calls "the great experiment of life," he had incurred
responsibilities to the serious nature of which he was sen-
sitively alive, and which permitted no further trifling with
the business of existence. He had not merely a single life
to protect and care for, but a beloved wife and child¹ now
depended upon him for support. With many past follies
to expiate, many misspent moments to redeem, he em-
barked once more on the ocean of life-" a daring pilot,"
and hitherto an imprudent and unskilful one.
On the other hand, it must be admitted that these
"disadvantages," if surveyed from another point of view,
might wear a contrary aspect. He had bought experience
which, however dearly purchased, might prove to him, if
duly husbanded, well worth the price he had paid. The
hostages he had given to Fortune, if they failed to pro-
pitiate that fickle goddess, furnished him at any rate with
a strong stimulus to exertion. Family ties are oftener
aids than impediments to prosperity, and manhood rarely
achieves its best without them for let it be remembered
(as Lord Bacon has it), that "wife and children are a kind
of humanity."
It was in the spring of 1736 that he reappeared in
(1) This child—a daughter-was named Eleanor Harriet,
-
80
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-87.
London, attracted thither by the intention of qualifying
himself for the practice of a profession. General Fielding
had from the first intended his lively son for the Bar, and
it was as a preliminary to his legal studies that the youth
was sent to Leyden. On his return to England, however,
his early theatrical success combined with other circum-
stances to turn his thoughts into another channel. Amidst
the gaieties and dissipations of a town life, a scheme of
continuous study was out of the question. The law pos-
sessed no attraction in his eyes, and as long as he could
provide for the passing hour, he thought little and cared
less about the future. But his circumstances were now
altered, and the advice of friends, as well as his own good
sense, pointed out the necessity of securing some more
permanent source of income than he was likely to derive
from authorship.
Just at this moment, however, the necessitous dramatist
saw, or thought he saw, a favourable opportunity for a
novel theatrical venture. Great confusion-amounting
almost to anarchy-had for some time prevailed in the
playhouse world. The theatrical state was out of tune.
Broils and distractions tried the patience and emptied the
pockets of managers, without benefiting actors. At such a
period it was no difficult thing for an adventurer, without
any other capital than his brains, to collect together a
company of mediocre performers, and find a theatre for
them to act in; but that such experiments should prove
successful seemed improbable. It was a subject of com-
plaint amongst sensible persons in the theatrical profes-
sion that there were already too many theatres, and the
only way (it was suggested) to make the drama flourish,
was to shut up half of them. Fielding, however, who had
carefully studied the temper of the times, thought that he
perceived a road to dramatic fame and profit, which had
been neglected by other schemers; and the result showed
that he was not mistaken. In the year 1734 a company of
ÆT. 29-30.] THE GREAT MOGUL'S COMPANY.
81
actors, under no managerial authority, had performed his
comedy of "Don Quixote in England" at the little theatre
in the Haymarket. The election scenes in that comedy
had been particularly applauded, and their success probably
furnished a hint for the construction of a satirical drama
of a more ambitious character. The able and powerful
minister who at this time governed Great Britain was now
at the height of his unpopularity; and rumour imputed to
him the systematic practice of the grossest corruption. On
the election of the parliament then sitting he had expended,
it was affirmed, £60,000 out of his own private fortune;'
and, in the House, the constant and sudden conversion
of some of his most vehement antagonists was, to say the
least of it, most remarkable. Whilst Sir Robert Walpole
thus carried to perfection the arts of government, he
enjoyed the privilege of being the best abused man in the
nation; and pamphleteers innumerable earned their daily
bread by reviling him. At such a juncture, why could not
the stage as well as the press be made use of to give expres-
sion to popular sentiment? The ready wit of Fielding
seized the idea and carried it out almost at the same
moment. He had great talent for satire, and, on personal
grounds, no particular reason to spare the prime-minister,
whose patronage he had in vain solicited. Impoverished
by imprudence-galled by real and fancied slights-his
passions as well as his interest inclined him to bitterness.
A satirical drama was, therefore, soon produced by his prac-
tised pen; the actors who performed his "Don Quixote"
were easily induced to enter into an engagement with him;
and the Haymarket Theatre, being without a tenant, was
without difficulty obtained by the moneyless adventurer.
Thus it was, and under these circumstances, that Fielding
entered on a new career in the double capacity of author
and manager. To attract the curiosity of the public, he
bestowed on his theatrical troupe the whimsical designation
(1) History of Party, vol. ii. By G. Wingrove Cooke.
G
82
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-37.
.
:
of "The Great Mogul's Company of Comedians," and they
were described in the playbills as having dropped from
the clouds. His opening piece was entitled "Pasquin: a
dramatic Satire on the Times; being the Rehearsal of two
Plays; viz. a Comedy called The Election,' and a Tra-
gedy called 'The Life and Death of Common Sense." A
wide scope was here afforded for satirical allusions, and the
scheme was at first successful beyond the author's most
sanguine expectations. "Pasquin" had a run of more than
fifty nights, and proved a source of profit as well as fame.
This success was not ill-deserved, although the piece itself
has been freely abused. It has been called "a bold and
unwarrantable satire." Bold it was; but as for its being
unwarrantable, it is enough to say that its satire was prin-
cipally directed at the electoral corruption of the age, and
at the abuses which prevailed in the learned professions.
Surely it was no crime to hold up to public derision and
contempt the placemen and corruptionists who derided the
idea of public virtue, and denied the existence of political
honesty.
"1
The plot of "Pasquin" is similar to that of the "Re-
hearsal" and the "Critic." It embraces the mock-
rehearsal of two plays, in one of which are presented the
ordinary incidents of a country election, and in the other
the most flagrant offences committed by the learned pro-
fession against common sense :-
"Good sense, which only is the gift of Heaven,
And tho' no science, fairly worth the seven.
The election scenes (which form the best part of the enter-
tainment) are full of broad humour, of which a specimen
may not be unacceptable. Two Court candidates-my Lord
Place and Colonel Promise-are introduced upon their
canvass in a snug borough, and the system of "bribery
direct" is thus illustrated:-
(1) Dibdin's History of the Stage, vol. iv.
ZET. 29-30.]
PASQUIN.
83
Trapwit (the author). You, Mister, that act my lord, bribe a little
more openly, if you please, or the audience will lose that joke, and it
is one of the strongest in my whole play.
Lord Place. Sir, I cannot possibly do it better at the table.
Trapwit. Then get all up, and come forward to the front of the
stage. Now, you gentlemen that act the mayor and aldermen, range
yourselves in a line; and you, my lord and the colonel, come to one
end, and bribe away with right and left.
Fustian (the tragic author). Is this wit, Mr. Trapwit?
Trapwit. Yes, sir, it is wit; and such wit as will run all over the
kingdom.
Fustian. But, methinks Colonel Promise, as you call him, is but
ill-named; for he is a man of very few words.
Trapwit. You'll be of another opinion before the play is over; at
present his hands are too full of business; and you may remember,
sir, I before told you this is none of your plays wherein much is said
and nothing done. Gentlemen, are you all bribed?
Omnes. Yes, sir.
Trapwit. Then, my lord and the colonel, you must go off, and make
room for the other candidates to come and bribe too.
[Exeunt LORD PLACE and COLONEL PROMISE.
Besides its general satire, "Pasquin" contained many
strokes of personal raillery. The Laureate, Cibber (whose
politics rather than his poetry had won him the bays), was
assailed in it after the following manner. In the course of
his canvass, one of the court candidates (who is peculiarly
liberal in promises) thus disposes of the Laureate's wreath:—
Lord Place. Gentlemen, be assured I will take care of you all; you
shall all be provided for as fast as possible. The Customs and Excise
afford a great number of places.
1st Voter. Could not your lordship provide for me at Court?
Lord Place. Nothing easier. What sort of a place would you
like?
1st Voter. Is there not a sort of employment, sir, called-beef-
eating? If your lordship please to make me a beef-eater, I would
have a place fitted for my capacity.
Lord Place. Sir, I will be sure to remember you.
2nd Voter. My lord, I should like a place at Court, too. I don't care
what it is, provided I wear fine clothes, and have something to do in
the cellar. I own I should like the cellar, for I am a devilish lover of
sack.
Lord Place. Sack, say you? Odso! you shall be Poet-Laureate.
Ꮹ
G 2
84
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-37-
2nd Voter. Poet! no, my lord; I am no poet; I can't make verses.
Lord Place. No matter for that, you will be able to make odes.
2nd Voter. Odes, my lord! what are those?
Lord Place. Faith, sir, I can't tell what they are, but I know you
may be qualified for the place without being a poet.
(C
This was a home-thrust for Colley Cibber; and it was not
the last he received from Fielding, whom he afterwards
described in his "Apology," as a broken wit."1 The
dramatist's worldly circumstances were doubtless at this
time anything but satisfactory; and poverty is never a
recommendation to the world's favour. "The Pasquin'
of Fielding," says his friend, Mr. Murphy, "came from the
pen of an author in indigence, . . . . and, therefore, though
its success was considerable, it never shone forth with a
lustre equal to its merits."2 Such wonderful aids to popu-
larity are wealth and worldly position, and so potent in all
ages the sway of Snobbism! The manager of the Great
Mogul's Company had no capital but his wit; but that wit,
whatever Colley Cibber might think of it, was undimmed by
poverty and adverse circumstances. Whilst he keenly felt
the discomforts attending a life of pecuniary embarrassment,
he could jest away his troubles, and treat the misfortunes.
of his tribe with all his former lightheartedness. The open-
ing passage of "Pasquin" presents a pitiful picture of the
abject poverty of a dramatic author, which might probably
have been drawn from personal experience.
1st Player. When does the rehearsal begin?
2nd Player. I suppose we shall hardly rehearse the comedy this
morning, for the author was arrested as he was going home from
King's Coffee-house; and as I heard it was for upwards of four
pounds, he will hardly find bail.
What a large debt does the world owe to the poverty of
authors-more, far more, than to their wealthy leisure!
As a matter of policy, it would seem that we ought not
to pension and pamper the intellectual great. The most
(1) See post, p. 120.
(2) Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
ŒT. 29–30.]
85
PASQUIN.
priceless treasures have been wrung from their necessities.
From our own literary annals, countless instances might
be produced of the stimulating influence of the spur of
poverty. But there is an anecdote in M. Viardot's life of
Fielding's great model,—the author of "Don Quixote,"
which may not be altogether out of place here. It is
related that when the chaplain of the Archbishop of Toledo,
who had been entrusted with the censorship of the second
part of that immortal novel, was asked during the life-
time of the author, by some gentlemen in the French
embassy, what works of imagination were then popular in
Spain, he immediately referred to the adventures of the
wondrous "Don." The Frenchmen had read the first part
of that romance, and they expressed themselves so warmly
respecting its merits, that the chaplain offered to introduce
them to the author,-an offer which they eagerly accepted.
"They questioned me," he said, "very minutely, respecting
his age, his profession, his rank, his fortune. I was obliged
to reply that he was an old soldier-a poor gentleman."
"What!" exclaimed one with surprise, " has not Spain then
made such a man rich? Is he not supported at the public
cost?" But another added, with great address: "If it be
necessity which has compelled him to write, God grant that
he may never be rich,-since, by continuing poor, he may
enrich by his works the whole world!" However selfish
or ungenerous in one sense, there is profound sagacity and
truth in the Frenchman's observation. By the poverty of
Fielding (as will hereafter appear), no less than by the
poverty of Cervantes, the world has been a priceless gainer.
A curious instance this, how every evil has its counter-
balancing advantage; and how true it is that Adversity,
though,
1
"Like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head."
To return to Fielding: The success of "Pasquin
(1) Notice sur la Vie et les Ouvrages de Cervantes, par L. Viardot.
99
was a
86
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-37.
temporary gleam of prosperity, and inspirited him to proceed
with vigour in his novel undertaking. Accordingly, in the
spring of 1737, the "Great Mogul" once more gathered
together his motley crew at the Haymarket, and announced
another satirical drama, called "The Historical Register for
1736." This proved a much bolder, and to the then ruling
powers of the State, a more objectionable performance even
than "Pasquin ;" and its representation led to important
consequences, as regarded the interests and independence
of the stage. Sir Robert Walpole himself was introduced
in the piece, under the name of Quidam; silencing some
noisy patriots with a bribe, and then dancing off with them;
-a proceeding thus explained by Medley (the author):
"Sir, every one of these patriots has a hole in his pocket,
as Mr. Quidam, the fiddler, there knows; so that he in-
tends to make them dance till all the money is fallen
through, which he will pick up again, and so not lose one
halfpenny by his generosity." The most famous scene of
the play, however, is that laid in the auction-room of Mr.
Cock, the great auctioneer of the day. It cannot be denied
that this scene contained an unprecedented amount of per-
sonal and political satire; and satire well calculated both
to offend and alarm a wary minister of State. As to the
tendency of the following bold and unsparing invective
(1) This portion of the piece was afterwards stolen by Theophilus Cibber, in
a very impudent manner, and performed, with slight additions, under the title
of "The Auction."-Dibdin's History of the Stage.
Theophilus Cibber is introduced in the "Register" under the name of Pistol, and
in that character makes allusion to the great contest which was then agitating
the theatrical and fashionable world, between Mrs. Cibber and Mrs. Clive, as to
whom properly belonged the part of Polly Peachum, in "The Beggar's Opera":-
((
Say then, O town, is it your royal will
That my great consort represent the part
Of Polly Peachum, in the Beggar's Opera?
Pist. Thanks to the town, that hiss speaks their consent."
(Mob hiss.)
Mrs. Cibber, who was then in the full bloom of beauty, had been cast at
Drury Lane for Polly, and Mrs. Clive for Lucy, who performed the latter part
with a bad grace, and continued to claim the more favourite character. This
dispute gave rise to several dramatic satires. ("Some Account of the English
Stage," vol. iii. p. 507.)
ÆT. 29-30.]
87
HISTORICAL REGISTER.
there can be little doubt. Mr. Auctioneer Hen, selling off
some curiosities collected by Peter Humdrum, Esq., thus
introduces them to the notice of the audience :-
Hen. Gentlemen and ladies, this is Lot 1. A most curious remnant
of Political Honesty. Who puts it up, gentlemen? It will make
you a very good cloak. You see it's both sides alike, so you may turn
it as often as you will. Come, five pounds for this curious remnant :
I assure you, several great men have made their birth-day suits out
of the same piece. It will wear for ever, and never be the worse for
wearing. Five pounds is bid; nobody more than five pounds for this
curious piece of Political Honesty? five pounds, no more (knocks)—
Lord Bothsides. Lot 2. A most delicate piece of Patriotism, gentle-
men, who bids? Ten pounds for this piece of Patriotism?
1st Courtier. I would not wear it for a thousand pounds.
Hen. Sir, I assure you, several gentlemen at Court have worn the
same; it's quite a different thing within to what it is without.
1st Courtier. Sir, it is prohibited goods; I sha'n't run the risk of
being brought into Westminster Hall for wearing it.
Hen. You take it for the Old Patriotism, whereas it is indeed like
that in nothing but the cut; but, alas! sir, there is great difference in
the stuff.
Hen. Lot 7. A very clear Conscience, which has been worn by a
judge and a bishop.
Mr. Screen. Is it as clean as if it was new?
Hen. Yes, no dirt will stick to it; and pray observe how capacious
it is; it has one particular quality-put as much as you will into it,
it is never full.
Whatever may be thought of Fielding's taste in bringing
a real personage on the stage, as in this instance of Mr.
Cock, the auctioneer, or of the wit (if wit it can be called)
which attempted to raise a smile by playing upon his name,
the town was greatly diverted, and the manager was
rewarded with laughter if not with applause. The actor,
or rather actress, to whom the part was assigned, was that
strangest member of a strange family,-the sport of fortune,
and scandal to her sex,-Mrs. Charlotte Charke.¹ This
woman--the daughter of Colley and sister of Theophilus
(1) This woman also performed the character of Lord Place in "Pasquin,"
after the first few nights of its run.
88
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-37.
Cibber-passed through every vicissitude of fortune, and
succeeded in rendering herself more unpleasantly notorious
than any of her relations. From her childhood she affected
the amusements, manners, and habits of the opposite sex;
and for some years, to render herself as unwomanly as
possible, she assumed the masculine attire. Her husband,
Mr. Richard Charke (a member of Fielding's Great Mogul's
Company), was a celebrated performer on the violin. He
was a man of dissolute habits; and after a life of much
misery and many vicissitudes, he died in the island of
Jamaica; leaving his eccentric wife free to contract a second
marriage, of which privilege she availed herself by secretly
espousing "a very worthy gentleman," whose name she
studiously concealed, and who died soon after their union.
In her youth Mrs. Charke prided herself on her skill in
the use of the currycomb. She could groom a horse as
well as the best stableboy at Newmarket, and a more
daring rider never bestrode a quadruped. To complete her
list of feminine accomplishments, she was an excellent shot,
and from a child passionately fond of fire-arms. Her career
in life was as diversified as her character was eccentric. She
was "everything by turns, and nothing long." First an
actress, in which profession she generally selected male
characters; then the keeper of an oil-shop in Long Acre,
where she was the dupe of sharpers, and a general object
of curiosity; then again an actress in the lowest theatrical
parts; then a nobleman's valet, and after that a maker and
seller of sausages. Next a waiter at a tavern in Maryle-
bone, and then the manager of a strolling company of
players; after that the keeper of a public-house in Drury
Lane, and, failing in this employment, actress again in a
company assembled at the Haymarket by her brother
Theophilus (in imitation it would seem of Fielding); then
for a time the assistant of an eminent exhibitor of puppets:
for nearly nine years after that leading a miserable and
vagabond life as a strolling player; then reappearing in
ET. 29-30.]
89
HISTORICAL REGISTER.
London, and publishing an account of her strange adven-
tures; after which she opened a public-house in Islington,
and died there in 1760. Such was the career of the
Laureate's youngest child, who is said to have possessed
much of the cleverness of her family, combined with more.
than a due proportion of their eccentricity. With her
father she was all her lifetime on unfriendly terms.
At
an early period of her chequered existence she appears to
have grievously offended him, and he never forgave her.
In her bitterest distresses-in the hour of her most abject
poverty, he refused to assist her: a circumstance the more
remarkable as Cibber was esteemed by his contemporaries
a good-natured man.
The Laureate did not escape the raillery of Fielding in
his "Historical Register." He is introduced under the
name of Ground-Ivy, and his impertinent alterations of
Shakspere are deservedly held up to the indignant con-
tempt of the public. The following may be numbered
amongst the happiest passages of Fielding's dramatic satire.
Enter GROUND-IVY.
Ground-Ivy. What are you doing here?
Apollo. I am casting the parts in the tragedy of King John.¹
Ground-Ivy. Then you are casting the parts in a tragedy that
wont do.
Apollo. How, sir! Was it not written by Shakspere? And was
not Shakspere one of the greatest geniuses that ever lived?
Ground-Ivy. No, sir; Shakspere was a pretty fellow, and said
some things which only want a little of my licking to do well enough;
King John, as now writ, will not do. But a word in your ear-I will
make him do.
Apollo. How?
Ground-Ivy. By alteration, sir: it was a maxim of mine, when I
was at the head of theatrical affairs, that no play, tho' ever so good,
would do without alteration. For instance, in the play before us,
the bastard Faulconbridge is a most effeminate character, for which
(1) A ridiculous version of "King John," by Cibber, under the title of "Papal
Tyranny," was at this time rehearsed at Drury Lane, but withdrawn in deference
to the critics. The idea was a favourite one with Cibber, for he returned to the stage
in 1745, when seventy-three years old, to play the part of Pandulph, the pope's
nuncio, in a play bearing the same title. ("Baker's Biographia Dramatica.")
90
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-37.
reason I would cut him out, and put all his sentiments in the mouth
of Constance, who is so much properer to speak them. Let me tell
you, Mr. Apollo, propriety of character, dignity of diction, and
emphasis of sentiment, are the things I chiefly consider on these
occasions.
Prompter. I am only afraid as Shakspere is so popular an author,
and you, asking your pardon, so unpopular—
Ground-Ivy. D-, I'll write to the town, and desire them to be
civil, and that in so modest a manner that an army of Cossacks shall
be melted. I'll tell them that no actors are equal to me, and no
authors ever were superior: and how do you think I can insinuate
that in a modest manner?
.
Prompter. Nay, faith, I can't tell.
Ground-Ivy. Why, I'll tell them that the former only tread on my
heels, and that the greatest among the latter have been damned as
well as myself; and after that, what do you think of your popularity?
I can tell you, Mr. Prompter, I have seen things carried in the house
against the voice of the people before to-day.
Apollo. Let them hiss, let them hiss, and grumble as much as they
please, as long as we get their money.
Medley. There, sir, is the sentiment of a great man, and worthy
to come from the great Apollo himself.
Sourwit. He's worthy his sire, indeed. To think of this gentleman
for altering Shakspere!
Medley. Sir, I will maintain this gentleman as proper as any man
in the kingdom for the business.
Sourwit. Indeed!
Medley. Ay, sir; for as Shakspere is already good enough for
people of taste, he must be altered to the palates of those who have
none; and if you will grant that, who can be properer to alter him
for the worse?
Of the justice and propriety of this satire there can be
no doubt, and it also shows that Fielding, in point of dra-
matic taste, was much in advance of his age. Alterations
and perversions of Shakspere were at this time uniformly
substituted in representation for his genuine productions.
To make matters worse, the clumsiest of workmen had
been employed in this objectionable occupation.
"Even
Nahum Tate," as observed by Mr. Campbell, "after his
wholesale murder of King David, laid his hangman hands.
on Coriolanus.”1
The same inferior versifier produced
(1) The Ingratitude of a Commonwealth; or, the Fall of Coriolanus. 1681.
ÆT. 29-30.]
HISTORICAL REGISTER.
91
an improved version of " King Lear," from which the Fool.
was altogether banished, and a love-plot introduced between
Edgar and Cordelia. So vitiated was the taste of the play-
going public, even in the middle of the eighteenth century,
that when an attempt was made to play "King Lear" as
Shakspere wrote it, the audience, we are told by Dr.
Johnson, decided in favour of Tate! Cibber's alterations,
in like manner, obtained a firm hold on the stage, and
one of them (that of "Richard III.") still retains a place
amongst the stock-pieces of the theatre. The preference
shown by the multitude for the brass of Tate and Cibber
to the gold of Shakspere was no unfit subject for Field-
ing's indignant satire. The mischief perpetrated by these
unscrupulous adapters was of so extensive and permanent
a character, that generation after generation felt its in-
fluence; and it is doubtful even yet whether the world
appreciates the full force of the truth, that to submit the
work of a great artist to the touch of an inferior hand is
the worst of profanity.¹
"The Historical Register" was published with a dedica-
tion "to the Public," written in the same tone as the piece
itself. Ministerial scribes had denounced the satire for its
seditious tendency, but by these attacks Fielding was
nothing daunted. He boldly claimed the protection of the
public, on the ground of the necessity he had for so potent
a patron, "to defend him from the iniquitous surmises of a
certain anonymous dialogous author," who in "The Gazet-
teer" (a celebrated ministerial print) had represented his
play "as aiming, in conjunction with The Miller of
Mansfield,' the overthrow of the m
-y." Fielding,
2
MAR
(1) Had Fielding lived in the middle of the nineteenth, instead of that of the
eighteenth century, he would have been gratified by Mr. Macready's restoration
to the stage of the text, of Shakspere deserving of all commendation and
gratitude.
Mt he
Meesee
(2) This farce was first acted in 1736, and published in 1737. It is founded
on the old ballad of "The King and the Miller of Mansfield," and contains a
great deal of pointed satire upon courtiers and the corruptions of a court, which
REA
bout by & dowoffs.
من
R
92
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-37.
(
thus attacked, makes the following retort on his an-
tagonists: The eagerness which these gentlemen ex-
press at applying all manner of evil character to their
patrons, brings to my mind a story I have somewhere
read:-As two gentlemen were walking the street together,
the one said to the other, upon spying the figure of an ass
hung out, Bob, Bob, look yonder! some impudent rascal
has hung out your picture on a sign-post!' The grave
companion, who had the misfortune to be exceedingly
short-sighted, fell into a violent rage, and calling to the
master of the house, threatened to prosecute him for
exposing his features in that public manner.
The poor
landlord, as you may well conceive, was extremely asto-
nished, and denied the fact; upon which the witty spark
who had just mentioned the resemblance, appealed to the
(6
were considered to have reference to the politics of the period, and greatly
contributed to its popularity. Its author was Dodsley, the well-known book-
seller,-first a footman, and indebted for an introduction to literature to the
kindness and protection of Pope.
The Gazetteers are thus mentioned in "The Dunciad" (book i.) :-
"And see thy very Gazetteers give o'er,
E'en Ralph repents, and Henley writes no more.'
And in the notes (by Warburton) the following account is given of the minis-
terial press, and the money lavished upon it:-"The Daily Gazetteer was a
title given very properly to certain papers, each of which lasted but a day.
Into this, as a common sink, was received all the trash which had been before
dispersed in several journals, and circulated at the expense of the nation. The
authors were the same obscure men; though sometimes relieved by occasional
essays from statesmen, courtiers, bishops, deans, and doctors. The meaner sort
were rewarded with money; others with places or benefices from a hundred to a
thousand a year. It appears from the report of the secret committee for enquir-
ing into the conduct of R[obert] Earl of O[rford] :- That no less than fifty
thousand and seventy-seven pounds were paid to authors and printers of news-
papers, such as Free Britons, Daily Courants, Corn-Cutter's Journals, Gazet-
teers, and other political papers, between February 10, 1731, and February 10,
1741' which shows the benevolence of one minister to have expended, for the
current dulness of ten years in Britain, double the sum which gained Louis XIV.
so much honour in annual pensions to learned men all over Europe." Such a
distribution of public money amongst the dullest writers for the press was calcu-
lated to excite the indignation of Fielding, and men of his class, relying upon
their talents for support. Arnall, an attorney, who wrote for "The Free
Briton," and is mentioned in "The Dunciad," boasted that he had received for
Free Britons, in four years, £10,997 6s. 8d. out of the Treasury.
ÆT. 29-30.]
93
HISTORICAL REGISTER.
mob now assembled together, who soon smoked the jest,
and agreed with him that the sign was the exact picture
of the gentleman. At last a good-natured man, taking
compassion on the poor figure, whom he saw the jest of the
multitude, whispered in his ear: 'Sir, I see your eyes are
bad, and that your friend is a rascal and imposes on you:
the sign hung out is the sign of an ass; nor will your
picture be here, unless you draw it yourself.'"'1
By this time," Pasquin" and "The Register" had
become objects of attention in high places. They had
been brought to the notice of the cabinet. Ministerial
lackeys condemned their scurrility, and prophesied dangers
innumerable from the appearance of a constant succession
of dramatic libels. The prime-minister himself felt that
it would be inexpedient to allow the stage to become the
vehicle of anti-ministerial abuse. Still, there were some
difficulties in the way of direct interference. The Lord
Chamberlain, it is true, had the power of forbidding the
representation of any pieces offensive to public morals or
obnoxious to public policy; and this power had been often
exercised. Nay, further, it is evident that at one period it
was considered necessary to obtain a license, previously to
the representation of a play. But this jurisdiction of the
2
(1) There can be little doubt that "Pasquin" and "The Register" furnished
Sheridan with many hints for "The Critic." The idea of the wise Lord Bur-
leigh's shaking his head seems to be taken from the silence of the patriots in
"The Register," which is thus accounted for by Medley :-"Sir, what they
think now cannot well be spoke, but you may conjecture a great deal from their
shaking their heads; they will speak by-and-bye-as soon as they are a little,
heated with wine."-(Act iii., sc. 1.)
(2) It is well known that, stimulated by the great success of "The Beggar's
Opera," a second part, or sequel, called "Polly," was written by Gay, and
rehearsed at Covent Garden. On the eve of its representation, there came an
order from the Lord Chamberlain to prohibit its performance; not, as it would
appear, on account of any strokes of satire it contained-for the piece is dull
and spiritless enough-but by reason of the offence which some reflections on
the Court in "The Beggar's Opera" had given in high places. The cause of Gay
was upon this occasion taken up so warmly by the Duke and Duchess of Queens-
berry that they were forbidden the Court. The Duchess wrote a very spirited
letter on the occasion (Scott's "Swift," vol. vii. p. 325). Nearly fifty years
94
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1736-37.
Chamberlain had never been declared or defined by posi-
tive law: if it existed, it was only by custom and prece-
dent, and great laxity had prevailed with regard to its
exercise. Plays were performed, and theatres opened
without any license, and the advocates of a free stage
stoutly maintained that by law no license was required.
Under these circumstances, the ministry resolved to meet
the difficulty, and prevent any future attacks of a similar
description by a legislative enactment. A convenient
pretext was all that was required; and just at the right
moment the wished-for opportunity presented itself. By
a curious and somewhat suspicious coincidence an event.
occurred which seemed fully to demonstrate the neces-
sity of legislative interference.¹ This incident, however,
and the circumstances connected with the introduction of
the bill to regulate dramatic performances, will be treated
of in another chapter.
afterwards, Colman performed this piece, with some alterations and amendments,
at the Haymarket (1777); and Gay's stanch patroness-then known as the Old
Duchess of Queensberry-attended. Under the Stuart régime it is also notorious
that Nat Lee's "Lucius Junius Brutus" was prohibited after the third night's
acting, by Lord Chamberlain Arlington, as an anti-monarchical play. Many
other instances of a like interference, but of less importance, are upon record.
(1) Mr. Dibdin says, that "it was in the opening of the theatres in the Hay-
market and Goodman's Fields, in defiance of all law, that was considered by
the minister as the offence, rather than any strictures on his personal conduct.”
("History of the Stage," vol. iv. p. 412). But all contemporary writers agree
that Fielding's satire was particularly obnoxious to Sir R. Walpole, and one
object of the Licensing Act was certainly to muzzle so bold a dramatic satirist.
The multiplication of unlicensed theatres in London had previously occupied
the attention of the legislature. (See note 2, pp. 54, 55.)
T. 30.]
95
THE LICENSING ACT.
CHAPTER IX.
THE LICENSING ACT, AND DISPERSION OF THE GREAT MOGUL'S
COMPANY.-FIELDING'S ADMISSION AS A STUDENT OF THE
MIDDLE TEMPLE.
[1737.]
WHILST the bitter witticisms of "Pasquin" and "The
Register" were fresh in the recollection of the public, and
whilst the Tadpoles and Tapers of the day were shaking
their heads at the audacity and immorality of the stage,
and gravely condemning the indecency of making a prime-
minister dance a jig upon the stage, another dramatic libel
of a most portentous character fell into the hands of a
theatrical manager-Mr. Giffard, then director of the
theatre in Lincoln's-Inn Fields,-which that prudent per-
son resolved to turn to a better account than public repre-
sentation. The piece in question bore the title of "The
Golden Rump," and was full, if we are to believe all that
we are told about it, of the most alarming and treasonable
matter. For this account of it, let it be remembered,
however, we are solely indebted to the report of the persons
in authority to whom Giffard submitted it. It was never
either acted or printed, nor was the name of the author,
or the person from whom the manager received it, disclosed.¹
That the latter might be no loser by his patriotism, the
(1) In the notes to his "Memoirs of the Reign of George II.,” Horace
Walpole asserts that "The Golden Rump" was written by Fielding, and also
that he had in his possession an imperfect copy of the piece, as he found it
amongst his father's papers after his death. But this is too loose a statement
to be accepted. The existence of any such piece was openly questioned at the
time.
One or two papers of the same title appear in the opposition prints of the
time, viz.: "The Vision of the Golden Rump," in "The Englishman's Journal,'
March 19, 1737; and "On the Original and Rites of the Golden Rump," in
'Common Sense," Sept. 17, 1737.
96
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737.
Treasury paid him very liberally for the manuscript, which
was at once laid before the cabinet; and it was speedily
resolved that so audacious a libel, coupled with Fielding's
recent satires, rendered it imperative on the government to
place some direct and positive restrictions on the stage.
So far all was well; but there were not wanting incre-
dulous persons who regarded the whole affair as a minis-
terial scheme, and Giffard as a dupe or a convenient tool.
It was observed that the manager had reaped a much
larger profit from the suppression of the piece than he
could have hoped to have gained from its representation.
Then again, no account was given of the source from
which it was obtained; and it was shrewdly surmised that
it was just possible a clever ministerial spy might have
sent the play to Giffard, with a hint as to the course he
ought to take and that the manager had either fallen
unsuspectingly into the snare, or, with a keen eye to his
own interest, had seized the opportunity of currying favour
with persons in power, and earning a little Treasury gold.
Certain it is that "The Golden Rump" was presented to
the cabinet at the very nick of time—just before the close
of the parliamentary session, and whilst Fielding's caustic
satire was in the height of its popularity.
Having once resolved to place a curb on the stage, the
ministry acted with unusual promptitude. On Friday, the
20th May, a motion was made in the House of Commons
to bring in a bill "to explain and amend so much of an
act made in the twelfth year of the reign of Queen Anne,
entitled, An Act for reducing the laws relating to Rogues,
Vagabonds, sturdy Beggars and Vagrants, into one Act of
Parliament; and for the more effectual punishing such
Rogues, Vagabonds, sturdy Beggars and Vagrants, and
sending them whither they ought to be sent, as relates to
Common Players of Interludes." The principal feature in
the measure (which is certainly not disclosed in the above
mass of verbiage), was that which provided that every
ÆT. 30.]
97
THE LICENSING ACT.
dramatic piece, previous to its representation, should
receive the license of the Lord Chamberlain. The House
ordered the bill to be at once prepared and brought in,
and it was accordingly read for the first time on Tuesday,
the 24th. Though great opposition was offered to it at
every stage, "it passed through both Houses with such
dispatch that it was ready for the royal assent on Wednes-
day, the 8th of June following;" and on the 21st it
received that assent from his Majesty, on his putting an
end to the parliamentary session.
Both in the Lords and Commons the debates on this
measure were characterised by unusual animation. The
most remarkable speech in opposition to it was delivered
in the Upper House by Philip Earl of Chesterfield,-a
nobleman who, whatever were his faults and shortcomings.
as a man, may be properly described as a jealous and
enlightened friend of freedom, and one of the first and
most intrepid of parliamentary orators. This speech of
Lord Chesterfield's against the Licensing Bill is one of the
few specimens of the parliamentary eloquence of the period
that has come down to us in a perfect form; and though
perhaps rather too elaborate and pedantic to suit the taste
of the present age, it is so striking an oratorical effort that
a few extracts from it may not improperly be presented
to the reader. Having deprecated the remarkable haste
2
(1) Debates of the House of Lords, vol. v.
(2) In the fourth book of "The Dunciad" this speech, and the occasion of
it, are thus noticed :-
"There sunk Thalia, nerveless, cold, and dead,
Had not her sister Satire held her head;
Nor could'st thou, Chesterfield! a tear refuse,
Thou weptst, and with thee wept each gentle muse.
12.
Cibber states that Lord Chesterfield opposed the bill of 1737 "in an excellent
speech, with a lively spirit and uncommon eloquence." And Lord Hervey, in
his curious memoirs of the period, gives the following account of the debate in
both Houses upon it. "In the House of Commons little opposition was made
to this bill by anybody of note but Mr. Pulteney, nor in the House of Lords but
by Lord Chesterfield, who made one of the most lively and ingenious speeches
H
98
[1737.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
with which the bill had been hurried through parliament,
and having emphatically denied the necessity for its intro-
duction at all, his lordship thus noticed the (alleged)
objectionable license which had been taken by Fielding
and others, and the means which existed for the prevention
and punishment of such abuses :-
"I do not, my lords, pretend to be a lawyer; I do not
pretend to know perfectly the power and extent of our
laws; but I have conversed with those that do, and by
them I have been told that our laws are sufficient for
punishing any person that shall dare to represent upon the
stage what may appear, either by the words or the repre-
sentation, to be blasphemous, seditious, or immoral. I
must own, indeed, I have observed of late a remarkable
licentiousness in the stage. There have but very lately
been two plays acted, which one would have thought should
have given the greatest offence, and yet both were suffered
to be represented without disturbance, without censure.
In one,¹ the author thought fit to represent the three
great professions-religion, physic, and law—as inconsistent
with common sense; in the other, a most tragical story
was brought upon the stage-a catastrophe too recent, too
melancholy, and of too solemn a nature to be heard of
anywhere but from the pulpit. How these pieces came to
pass unpunished I do not know; if I am rightly informed,
it was not for want of laws, but for want of prosecution,
without which no law can be made effectual. But if there
was any neglect in this case, I am convinced it was not
2
against it I ever heard in parliament, full of wit, of the genteelest satire, and in
the most polished, classical style that the Petronius of any time ever wrote; it
was extremely studied, seemingly easy, well delivered, and universally admired.
On such occasions nobody spoke better than Lord Chesterfield; but as he never
could, or at least never did, speak but prepared, and from dissertations he had
written down in his closet and got by heart, he never made any figure in a reply,
nor was his manner of speaking like debating, but declaiming."-Memoirs of
the Reign of George II. By John Lord Hervey. London, 1848.
(1) Pasquin.
(2) Charles I. a Tragedy.
A
ÆT. 30.]
THE LICENSING ACT.
99
with a design to prepare the minds of the people, and to
make them think a new law necessary."
The tragedy of "King Charles I.," alluded to by Ches-
terfield, was from the pen of Mr. Havard,¹ the comedian,-
an excellent man, but an indifferent actor and author. It
was produced at the theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, in
1737, and met with considerable success. In the censure
passed by the orator on this play and on "Pasquin," there
is undoubtedly a tone of grave irony. Fielding's attack
upon the learned professions could not by any candid con-
struction be held to exceed the bounds of legitimate satire;
and even if it had done so, Chesterfield was not the, man
to rebuke the impropriety. As regards the first and most
important of those professional bodies the clergy of the
Church of England-the opinions entertained and expressed
by his lordship are well known; and with respect to the
decapitated monarch, Charles I., it will be found that he
has spoken of him quite as irreverently as of the clergy
themselves.?
(1) The following curious professional epitaph on this gentleman (who died
in 1778) was written by Garrick :
66 6 AN HONEST MAN'S THE NOBLEST WORK OF GOD.'
"Havard, from sorrow rest beneath this stone;
An honest man-beloved as soon as known;
Howe'er defective in the mimic art,
In real life he justly played his part!
The noblest character he acted well,
And Heaven applauded when the curtain fell."
(2) See Lord Chesterfield's remarks on the clergy of his time, in Lord
Mahon's recent edition of his works. The character of Charles I. is thus
portrayed by his lordship, when speaking of Archbishop Laud :-"He (Laud)
met with a prince who seemed to be made for him. Weak, warm, and super-
stitious, he was convinced of his own divine right, as well as of his arch-
bishop's, and they joined to establish absolute hierarchy in the Church, and
despotic power in the State (two most gross impositions, which, to the shame
and disgrace of human understandings, had been reared, believed, and sub-
mitted to, as divine institutions, for twelve or thirteen centuries), but were such
arrant bunglers in the prosecution of their design that they both lost their
heads for it. The punishment, perhaps, was too rigorous, but the example was
certainly of great, use to succeeding kings and priests."-Lord Chesterfield's
Works. Edited by Lord Mahon.
Worm
H 2
100
[1737.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
"Every unnecessary restraint upon licentiousness,"
Chesterfield went on to say,-"is a fetter upon the legs, a
shackle on the hands of liberty. One of the greatest
blessings we enjoy, one of the greatest blessings, my lords,
a people can enjoy, is liberty;—but every good in this life
has its alloy of evil-licentiousness is the alloy of liberty;
it is an ebullition-an excrescence,—it is a speck upon the
eye of the political body, which I can never touch but with
a gentle-with a trembling hand, lest I destroy the body,
lest I injure the eye on which it is apt to appear."
"There is such a connexion," he observed again, "between
licentiousness and liberty, that it is not easy to correct
the one without dangerously wounding the other. It is
extremely hard to distinguish the true limit between them.
Like a changeable silk, we can easily see there are two
different colours, but we cannot easily discover where the
one ends, or where the other begins."
.
As to the ridicule of public men and measures, the fault
might be (the orator remarked) in the men and measures.
themselves; if the latter deserved ridicule, what was to
prevent an audience from seizing on some casual expression
in order to point the shaft of satire at the object of their
scorn? "The great Pompey," he said, "after the many
victories he had obtained, and the great conquests he had
made, had certainly a good title to the esteem of the people
of Rome yet that great man, by some error in his conduct,
became an object of general dislike; and, therefore, in the
representation of an old play, when Diphilus, the actor,
came to repeat these words, Nostra miseria tu es Magnus,
the audience immediately applied them to Pompey, who at
that time was as well known by the name Magnus as by
the name Pompey, and were so highly pleased with the
satire, that, as Cicero says, they made the actor repeat the
words a hundred times over. An account of this was
immediately sent to Pompey, who, instead of resenting it
as an injury, was so wise as to take it for a just reproof.
•
ZT. 30]
101
THE LICENSING ACT.
He examined his conduct, he altered his measures, he
regained by degrees the esteem of the people, and then he
neither feared the wit, nor felt the satire of the stage.
"In the case I have mentioned, my lords," continued
Chesterfield, "it was not the poet who wrote, for it was an
old play; nor the players that acted, for they only repeated
the words of the play: it was the people who pointed the
satire; and the case will always be the same. When a man
has the misfortune to incur the hatred or contempt of the
people, when public measures are despised, the audience
will apply what never was, what could not be, designed as a
satire on the present times. Nay, even though the people
should not apply, those who are conscious of guilt, those
who are conscious of the wickedness or weakness of their
conduct, will take to themselves what the author never
designed. A public thief is as apt to take the satire, as he
is apt to take the money, which was never designed for him.
We have an instance of this, in the case of a famous
comedian of the last age; a comedian who was not only a
good poet but an honest man, and a quiet and good subject.
The famous Molière, when he wrote his "Tartuffe," which
is certainly an excellent and a good moral comedy, did not
design to satirize any great man of that age; yet a great
man in France at that time took it to himself, and fancied
the author had taken him as a model for one of the prin-
cipal, and one of the worst characters in that comedy: by
good luck he was not the licenser, otherwise the kingdom
of France had never had the pleasure, the happiness I may
say, of seeing that play acted; but when the players first
proposed to act it at Paris, he had interest enough to get
it forbid. Molière, who knew himself innocent of what
was laid to his charge, complained to his patron, the Prince
of Conti, that, as his play was designed only to expose
hypocrisy, and a false pretence to religion, 'twas very hard
it should be forbid being acted; when, at the same time,
they were suffered to expose religion itself every night
102
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737.
publicly on the Italian stage: to which the prince wittily
answered, 'Tis true, Molière, harlequin ridicules heaven
and exposes religion; but you have done much worse, you
have ridiculed the first minister of religion.'
·
رور
The history of the English stage itself-the orator con-
tended-furnished an example of the inconvenience and im-
propriety of the licensing system. "In King Charles the
Second's days, the playhouse was under a license. What
was the consequence?—The playhouse retailed nothing but
the politics, the vices, and the follies of the Court. Not to
expose them—no, but to recommend them; though it must
be granted their politics were often as bad as their vices,
and much more pernicious than their other follies. 'Tis
true, the Court had at that time a great deal of wit; it was
then, indeed, full of men of true wit and great humour;
but it was the more dangerous; for the courtiers did then,
as thorough-paced courtiers always do, they sacrificed their
honour, by making their wit and their humour subservient
to the Court alone; and what made it still more dangerous,
no man could appear on the stage against them. We know
that Dryden, the Poet-Laureate of that reign, always repre-
sents the Cavaliers as honest, brave, merry fellows, and fine
gentlemen. Indeed, his fine gentleman, as he generally
draws him, is an atheistical, lewd, abandoned fellow, which
was at that time, it seems, the fashionable character at
Court. On the other hand, he always represents the
Dissenters as hypocritical, dissembling rogues, or stupid,
senseless boobies."
With characteristic acuteness, Chesterfield stigmatised
the measure, not merely as an encroachment on liberty,
but also as an attack on property. "Wit, my lords," he
said, "is a sort of property. It is the property of those
that have it, and too often the only property they have to
depend on. It is, indeed, but a precarious dependence.
Thank God! we, my lords, have a dependence of another
kind; we have a much less precarious support, and there-
ÆT. 30.]
103
THE LICENSING ACT.
fore cannot feel the inconveniences of the bill now before
us; but it is our duty to encourage and protect wit, who-
soever's property it may be.
I must own I cannot
easily agree to the laying of a tax upon wit; but by this
bill it is to be heavily taxed-it is to be excised; for if this
bill passes, it cannot be retailed in a proper way without a
permit; and the Lord Chamberlain is to have the honour
of being chief gauger, supervisor, commissioner, judge,
and jury."1
Let the reader picture to himself the courtly Chesterfield
delivering himself of this racy piece of satire, in the stately
and formal House of Peers-in those halcyon days of velvet
inexpressibles and embroidered waistcoats. There is no
visible emotion-certainly not the faintest appearance of a
smile on his imperturbable face; only, perhaps, a slight
and scornful curl of the thin, aristocratic lip. When he
says, with a raised voice,—accompanied, it may be, with a
gentle wave of the hand,-"Thank God! we, my lords,
have a dependence of a different kind"-some matter-of-
fact peer breaks out into an approving "Hear! hear!".
pulls down his ruffles, and endeavours to look stupidly
important. The witty orator receives, with the slightest
and most courtly of bows, the well-meant but indiscreet
applause; and gazing scornfully through his half-closed
eyes at the unintellectual faces around him, adds, in
the blandest tone imaginable:-" we have a much less
precarious support, and therefore cannot feel the incon-
veniences of the bill before us." Who in that assembly
would have placed himself on an equality with a poor devil
of an author writing for his daily bread? if the head of the
house of Denbigh were present, wouldn't he have thought
it an insult to be told that he had a clever struggling kins-
man who was in reality a greater man than his lordship?
Did any noble peer perceive the satire which lurked in the
eloquent discourse of the orator, whom Johnson, in one
(1) History and Proceedings of the House of Lords, vol. v.
101
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737.
sense unfairly, described as "a wit amongst lords, and a
lord amongst wits"? If none of them did perceive it,-
and if Chesterfield, sitting down amidst opposition cheers,
received congratulations for having upheld the dignity of
his order, how richly he must have enjoyed the joke; and
though perhaps, even in private, he never indulged in broad,
hearty laughter, the chuckle with which he contemplated
his triumphant irony of the over night, as he sipped his
chocolate in the morning, must have been the nearest
approach to unbounded hilarity which his profound good
breeding could admit of!!
Ģ
About a year and a half after this, in one of his "Cham-
pions," Fielding humorously alluded to Lord Chesterfield's
legislative dictum-that wit was a kind of property. His
legal studies had by that time familiarised him with the
Norman French black-letter jargon in which the law was
then wont to veil its terrible mysteries; and it need not
surprise us to find him making a sportive use of that pie-
bald tongue. The following specimen of Law-French
from his hand, is not unworthy of a place by the side of
the celebrated report of the case of "Stradling v. Styles,"
attributed to Mr. Justice Fortescue, and published by Pope.
The opinion of Mr. Counsellor Vinegar is sought on the
following question
66
If a man says of an author that he is dull, or hath no
wit (seeing that wit is his property, according to a noble
lord, who hath more of that property than any man), will
not an action lie for the said author?'
(1) To the periodical paper called "Common Sense," Chesterfield also con-
tributed a paper on the Licensing Act, which concludes with the following
characteristic sentence: "Secondly, since wit and modesty, morality and
religion, ought chiefly to be regarded in these entertainments, that everything
destructive to either may be sure to be expunged; and since the fair sex have
lately shown so laudable a zeal for wit, that they may have a share of the
administration of it, I propose that the Lord Chamberlain's power, given by
this act, be transferred to a Committee of the Maids of Honour and Bishops,
who shall act in joint commission in this important affair; since the first are
the best judges of wit and modesty, and the latter of religion and morality, in
this kingdom."—-Lord Chesterfield's Works. Edited by Lord Mahon,
ÆT 30.1
105
EURYDICE.
(C
ANSWER.
Moy semble quod si ascun dit de J. S. etcant un Pocte quod
est dull Action bien bolt gyser et le Resolution de le Case 1 R. A.
55. S. 16. Bien agree que ces ubi action fuit port per un Apprentice
del Wey et Filt declare quod Deft aboit dit de luy quod est Dunce, and
will get nothing by the law. Et le Opinion del Court fuit quod
Action bien gist, car Home Poet este heabie et nemy tam pregnant
come ascun auters sont et encore un bon Lawyer. es quia il avoit
dit que
il ne boet get ascun chose per le Vey Action gist. Sic icy car
si poet soit Heabie on Dull non bolt gett ascun chose en le World.
WIL: VINEGAR.”
Besides "The Register" and "Pasquin," two or three
dramatic trifles belong to this period of Fielding's life. At
the beginning of 1737, a farce or interlude of his was pro-
duced at Drury Lane,-and most unequivocally condemned.
It was entitled "Eurydice; or, the Devil Henpecked;"-
the old mythological story serving as a peg for the drama-
tist, on which to hang an abundance of rather common-
place satire. With a license not very felicitous, Pluto
was converted into Satan, and the infernal regions were
peopled with modern beaux, wits, and lawyers. Whether
it was that the audience disliked the profanity of the idea,
or were disgusted with the want of plot and incident-a
common fault in Fielding's lighter pieces-is not recorded:
certain it is that the farce was a ludicrous failure, though
Macklin, then rising into eminence as an actor, played a
prominent part in it. The condemnation of "Eurydice"
seems to have occasioned its author much annoyance.
His over-sensitive disposition could not conceal the wound
which it would have been wiser to have left undisclosed;
and he betrayed his vexation by the ostentatious affecta-
tion of a disregard of censure which was neither genuine
nor natural. The farce was afterwards printed at the end
of "The Historical Register," not "as it was acted," but
"as it was damned at Drury Lane." He also brought out
at the Haymarket a piece called "Eurydice Hissed; or, a
106
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737.
Word to the Wise," in which, without venturing to arraign
the judgment of the public, he endeavoured to show that
the condemned farce had been hastily and inconsiderately
composed-
"The trifling offspring of an idle hour:
an excuse which, it cannot be doubted, possessed the merit
of truth, although there was more vanity than policy in
urging it with such vehemence on the attention of the
public. One other trifle was produced by Fielding at the
Haymarket, during the existence of "The Great Mogul's
Company," an extravaganza called "Tumble-down Dick;
or, Phaeton in the Suds," designed as a satire on the panto-
mimes and spectacles then in vogue; ¹—and thus ends the
history of the enterprise. At the close of the season of
1737, the company disbanded; "and the manager, not
having attended to the voice of economy in his prosperity,
was left no richer nor more independent than when he
engaged in the project."2
1
The truth is, Fielding was one of those sanguine men
who are constantly liable to over-elation by any sudden
gleam of prosperity. The success of "Pasquin" induced
him to believe that he had discovered the fabled stone
which could turn all things into gold; and he exulted in
the idea of being the great censor and satirist of his age.
Perhaps it was fortunate for him that reverses taught him
wisdom, together with a juster appreciation of his own
powers.
It may be said that, but for the alteration of the law,
his dramatic project might have been attended with a
long career of prosperity. That he himself honestly en-
tertained this notion is evident from the following obser-
vations which occur in the preface to his "Historical.
**
(1) It appears to have been specially aimed at Rich's harlequinade in an un-
successful piece called "The Fall of Phaeton," acted at Drury Lane, in March,
1736. The trifle is prefaced by a satirical dedication to "Mr. John Lun, vulgarly
called Esquire." Lun was the name under which Rich performed harlequin.
(2) Baker's Biographia Dramatica.
T. 30.
107
THE GREAT MOGUL'S COMPANY.
Register," published in May or June, 1737: "The very
great indulgence," he says, addressing the public, “ you
have shown my performances at the little theatre these
two last years, have encouraged me to the proposal of a
subscription for carrying on that theatre, for beautifying
and enlarging it, and procuring a better company of
actors. If you think proper to subscribe to these proposals,
I assure you no labour shall be spared on my side, to enter-
tain you in a cheaper and better manner than seems to be
the intention of any other. If nature hath given me any
talents in ridiculing vice and imposture, I shall not be
indolent, nor afraid of exerting them, while the liberty of
the press and stage subsists, that is to say, while we have
any liberty left among us." This passage shows that
Fielding had looked to his Great Mogul's Company as a
permanent source of emolument; and that he relied upon
his satirical talents to provide constant amusement for the
public. But there can be little doubt that he was here
much misled by vanity or an over-sanguine temperament.
If he had succeeded in obtaining better actors, and if the
utmost and freest scope had been allowed to his powers of
ridicule, it is not likely that his company could have
weathered out another season. In his dramatic satire, there
was no great variety. His attacks upon public men were
pointed and felicitous; but they derived their great success
from the novelty of the idea; and if oftentimes repeated,
would have soon palled on the public ear. That Fielding,
therefore, could have continued, year after year, to have
amused the town with satirical representations is highly
improbable, and it was perhaps lucky for him that an act
of parliament put an end to his project whilst his laurels
were still green.
His temporary success, however, produced imitators.
Theophilus Cibber, some years afterwards, made several
attempts to bring out a series of similar performances at
the Haymarket; but the law proved always too strong
108
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737.
:
for him, and the theatre was generally closed after the
first or second night. Macklin (the actor) was also amongst
Fielding's followers. He was the author of a piece called
"Covent Garden Theatre; or, Peter Pasquin turned Draw-
cansir;" in which, like his prototype, he endeavoured to
ridicule plays and players-managers and poets; but the
effort was attended with small success. It is probable, too,
that Foote derived the first hint of his celebrated perform-
ances at the Haymarket from Fielding's experiment. The
unrivalled mimicry of the English Aristophanes overcame
even the law itself; for although in his first attempt to
defy the provisions of the Licensing Act, in 1747, he met
with some opposition, the patronage of powerful friends
enabled him to surmount all obstacles; and he was per-
mitted, without molestation, for many years to amuse a
scandal-loving public, on the same boards where the exhi-
bition of Fielding's satirical talents had provoked legislative
interference with the freedom of the stage.
The Great Mogul's Company being disbanded, and the
theatrical speculation at an end, Fielding resolved to relin-
quish all further dalliance with the comic muse, and to
devote himself to the law. This resolution was speedily
put into practice; for it was characteristic of his earnest
and sanguine disposition that he never allowed much time
to intervene between the design and its execution. Accord-
ingly, in Michaelmas Term, 1737, he entered himself a
student of the Middle Temple; and his admission is thus
recorded in the books of that Honourable Society:-
[574 G.]
1° Novris 1737.
Henricus Fielding de East Stour, in Com. Dorset, Ar: filius et hæres
apparens Brig: Gentis: Edmundi Fielding, admissus est in Societat :
Medij Templi Lond. specialiter, et obligatum una cum, &c.
Et dat. pro fine
•
£4 0 0
ZET. 30-33.]
109
STUDENT LIFE.
CHAPTER X.
CC
STUDENT LIFE. "THE CHAMPION.”— -CIBBER'S APOLOGY."
[1737-1740.]
WHEN Fielding donned the student's gown, and took
his place in the magnificent dining-hall of the Middle
Temple, he was upwards of thirty years old. Were age,
however, to be reckoned by experience in the world's ways,
rather than by lapse of time, he was quite a patriarch
amongst the candidates for legal distinction who were
"keeping terms" (as the phrase is) at the same time.
Doubtless, the contrast which his position afforded to that
of others occasioned him some sad reflections. In know-
ledge of the world, most of his fellow-students were mere
boys to him; but they were entering upon the pursuit of
an arduous profession with advantages which were not his.
In most cases they had youth, health, leisure, friends, and
fortune to aid them in the struggle in which they were
about to engage; whilst he had reached the noon of life,
with family ties and hourly anxieties to distract his atten-
tion, and with a constitution impaired by early irregularities.
Still, with all these disadvantages and drawbacks he was
not the man to despair. Upheld by an irrepressible gaiety
of disposition and unbounded self-confidence, neither present
necessities nor forebodings of future calamity could depress
or discourage him.
-
The distinction between a student of law and a law
student has been known at all times. Of those who enter
their names on the books of an inn of court, the majority,
perhaps, are only ambitious of the latter designation. To
eat the required number of dinners, observe all necessary
•
110
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737-10.
forms, and be called to the Bar ;-all this may be done
without any extensive acquaintance with the mysteries of
legal science; and this is all that the mere law student,-
who may at the same time be a man of fashion, fortune, or
pleasure,―will probably aim at. Fielding, however, aimed
at something more. He was a student of law;—and a
most diligent and earnest one, as soon as he entered the
pale of the profession. His industry was most exemplary.
All the time he could spare, he devoted to drawing plead-
ings, copying precedents, and noting up cases. Now and
then, perhaps, his old habits returned upon him. He
had occasional fits of dissipation; but these were fol-
lowed by severer fits of study. Sometimes a friend would
lure him to the theatre and afterwards to the tavern, where
he was the delight of assembled convivialists, and the gayest
amongst the gay. But it is recorded that on his return
home from these scenes, late at night or early in the
morning, he would savagely apply himself to study; reading
and making extracts from abstruse authors for hours before
he sought his pillow.'
His worldly circumstances would not, however, permit
him at this time to devote all his attention to the law.
While the juridical fruit was ripening, he was unable to
give up the whole period of probation to professional
studies. It was not in his power to sacrifice altogether the
present for the future; and to "Lady Common Law" he
was constrained to yield a divided allegiance-though she
doubtless occupied the first place in his thoughts. To
provide subsistence for the passing hour, his law studies
were accordingly diversified by literary occupation; and he
became, like many others similarly situated, a contributor
to periodicals. For this kind of writing he displayed great
aptitude and ability, and it is not surprising that he was
soon recognised as one of the most successful of periodical
essayists.
(1) See Murphy's Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
ÆT. 30-33.]
111
THE CHAMPION.
Towards the close of the year 1739, he became connected
with, and partly proprietor of, "The Champion," a collection
of essays on the model of "The Spectator" and "The
Tatler," published three times a week, viz., on Tuesday,
Thursday, and Saturday. His essays in this production
are identified by an advertisement prefixed to a reprint in
two volumes, published in 1741, which contains the "Cham-
pions" issued from November 15, 1739, to June 19, 1740;
being the period during which Fielding presided over the
publication.¹ His contributions were distinguished by the
letters C. and L., and in the early numbers were very
numerous. The following detail of the plan of the publi-
cation is from the pen of Dr. Drake :2—
"The assumed name under which 'The Champion'
issues his lucubrations is Captain Hercules Vinegar; and
in the introductory number is given a detail of the whole
family of Vinegars, to whom different departments in the
paper are assigned. To Mr. Nehemiah Vinegar, for in-
stance, the Captain's father, history and politics are allotted;
to Mr. Counsellor Vinegar, Nehemiah's brother, all sub-
jects of law and judicature; to Dr. John Vinegar, the
Counsellor's son, medicine and natural philosophy; to Nol
Vinegar, the Captain's brother, classical literature; to Tom
Vinegar, his eldest son, modern poetry; to Jack Vinegar,
his youngest son, the superintendence of fashionable man-
ners; and to Mrs. Joan Vinegar, his wife, domestic news. 273
The Vinegar family, which Fielding's fertile brain had
called into existence, soon became popular with the town.
(1) Another edition of "The Champion" was published in 1743, and another
with Fielding's name, in 1766.
(2) Abridged from the first number. See Drake's Essays on Periodical
Papers, vol. i. 1809.
(3) Mrs. Joan Vinegar's portrait has much of Fielding's later manner :-
"This good woman is one of those notable housewives whom the careless part
of the world distinguish by the name of a scold. This musical talent of hers,
when we were first married, did not so well agree with me. I have often
thought myself in the cave of Eolus, or perhaps wished myself there, on account
of this wind music; but it is now become so habitual to me, that I am little
112
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737-40.
All topics of interest were discussed by them in a lively vein
-literature, religion, politics, and sometimes even law. As
a Temple student, the essayist possessed the advantage of
minutely observing the peculiarities of the craft amongst
whom he had enrolled himself. He saw many examples of
pompous ignorance and unlettered idleness, displayed side
by side with shining instances of industry and capacity. It
was not to be wondered at, therefore, if some satirical views
of the legal profession should be included in the early
lucubrations of the Vinegars; and accordingly, in the
"Champion" of December 25, 1739, appears a mock-serious
proposal for banishing learning from the professions, in
which the following observations are made by Captain
Hercules Vinegar :-
"As to the law, I know it may be objected that Cicero
hath affirmed a complete knowledge of all arts and sciences
to be necessary to the formation of a perfect orator: and
my Lord Coke, in his comments on Lyttleton, insinuates
that an accurate education is the proper introduction
to the study of the law. But these will have but little
weight if we consider the difference between the Roman
and English law; in the latter of which oratory is by
the most thought utterly useless; and, secondly, that my
lord Coke himself is (I am told) at present generally
esteemed (especially by all those good judges who have
never read a syllable of him) to be a very stupid, dull
fellow, who would have made a very indifferent figure in
Westminster Hall in this age. I am assured by my son,
Tom Vinegar, who hath been a student in Lincoln's-Inn
these five years, that a very competent knowledge of the
law is to be met with in Jacob's Dictionary, and the other
legal works of that learned author. Nay, he very confi-
dently asserts that nothing is more hurtful to a perfect
more alarmed at it than a garrison at the tattoo or reveillé; indeed I have, I
thank God, for these thirty years last past, seldom laid myself down, or rose up,
without it; all the capitulations I have made are, that she would keep the gar-
rison hours, and not disturb my repose by such her performances."
ZET. 30-33.]
THE CHAMPION.
113
knowledge of the law than reading it; for (says he) it is
common in our books to meet with controverted opinions,
which mightily confound and distract the mind of the
student, who will be much more likely to be in the right, if
he adheres to his own judgment, assisted with those books
above-mentioned. He confirms this with the example of
some old plodders, who have lost themselves in the wood,
without ever finding the road to business; and ludicrously
says, the best advice to a student is not to outlaw himself.”
In the management and composition of "The Champion'
Fielding was assisted by James Ralph, a political writer
and intriguer of some reputation in his day, and the author
of a "History of England" and other works, long since
forgotten. This personage was originally a schoolmaster in
Philadelphia; but becoming tired of the monotony of a
colonial life, he left America, and repaired to London,
about the beginning of the reign of George II. On his
arrival in the metropolis he became a writer-of-all-work,
and in this capacity acquired a large experience of the
miseries and misfortunes which were at that period almost
inseparable from the profession of authorship. The suffer-
ings of the literary tribe, of which he was for many years.
an eye-witness, made a deep impression on his mind; and
he ultimately embodied his observations in an excellent.
pamphlet on the subject. Having, in a poem called
2
""
(1) This banter was probably not unacceptable to that large class of gentle-
men of the inns of court, described by Captain Vinegar in a previous Cham-
pion, “who, having had too high parts to confine themselves to the dull, crabbed
study of the law, have spent so much of their youthful days in dress, amour, and
other diversions, that they get a very uncomfortable subsistence at the Bar; and
from their want of other employment are generally to be seen in the coffee-
houses about Temple-bar and the theatres."
(2) The Case of Authors. By James Ralph. 1758. That Ralph experienced
in his own person most of the calamities of authorship, is evident from the fol-
lowing extracts from his correspondence with Dr. Birch and others, in Nichols'
"Literary Anecdotes of the Eighteenth Century," communicated by the Rev.
S. Ayscough" May 20, 1739. Requests Dr. Birch to correct The Universal
Spectator.' May 30. Requests further lights for the Debates in Parliament on
which he was engaged. Nov. 12. Requests the loan of two or three guineas.
Feb. 14, 1740. 'I am to have a benefit on Tuesday, Feb. 24; and if it suits you
I
114
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737-40.
"Sawney," made some disrespectful remarks on the then
powerful literary triumvirate-Pope, Swift, and Gay-
Ralph obtained a niche in "The Dunciad," and is liberally
abused in one of the notes. He was the author of a poem
yclept "Night," to which Pope alludes in these lines:-
(C
66
Silence, ye wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia howls,
And makes Night hideous-answer him, ye owls!”
In a note to this couplet Ralph is described as
a low
writer"-wholly illiterate, knowing no language, "not even
the French." But this is quite untrue; he was well
acquainted both with Latin and French, and was also no
mean Italian scholar. Fielding's first acquaintance with
the American schoolmaster commenced at the theatre;²
for the latter, to his other literary avocations, had occasion-
ally joined that of a dramatic writer. To "The Champion"
Ralph contributed, from its commencement, several political
essays; and he also superintended a summary of foreign
and domestic news, appended to most of the numbers, and
called an "Index to the Times." As a politician it is suf-
ficient to say that he was "the honest Mr. Ralph" of Bubb
Dodington's Diary, who in spite of his honesty was, ac-
cording to his patron's avowal, "ready to be hired to any
cause.'"'4
1
The winter of 1739-40 was remarkable both for its dura-
tion and severity. On Christmas-day the inclement weather
set in; the Thames at London Bridge became completely
frozen over; and tremendous snowstorms darkened the
air. This extreme cold was general all over Europe. In
to do me any service, it will most seasonably oblige.' (Without date). 'As poor
as a poet. I am now really at my last resource till my play is finished; and
unless you can relieve me, both that and I shall die together.'"-Nichols'
Literary Anecdotes, vol. ix. (additions to vol. v).
(1) Baker's Biographia Dramatica.
(2) Ralph was the author of an excellent prologue to Fielding's comedy of
"The Temple Beau." See p. 19.
(3) Generally distinguished by the signature "Lilburne."
(4) See Preface to "Diary of the late George Bubb Dodington." By H. Pen-
ruddocke Wyndham. 1809.
ZET. 30-33.]
115
WINTER OF 1739-40.
Holland provisions of all kinds were frozen; and in Poland
and Lithuania wolves and bears ravaged the country, carry-
ing away men, women, and children. In London the rigour
of the season was severely felt. Water and coals were sold
at an incredibly high price; and the former necessary was
even dearer than the latter. That at such a period men's
hearts should fail them for fear is not astonishing. In
January, 1740, the chronicler of daily events in "The
Champion" remarks" "Tis observable the following
words in last Sunday's evening-service (January 27) were
uttered with a devotion suitable to the season :-
"He giveth snow like wool and scattereth the hoarfrost
like ashes.
"He casteth forth his ice like morsels: who is able to
abide his frost? ' " 1
Whilst this severe weather continued, the sufferings of
the poor were terrible to contemplate. Private charity,
however, was exerted, in the most conspicuous manner, to
mitigate and relieve the general distress. In one place
"The Champion" remarks that "it had become fashion-
able to be charitable;" in another number, the editor, with
grave irony, commemorates an instance of episcopal bene-
ficence:"Tis said that charity, in the shape of frost and
snow, has even touched the heart of a bishop, who has
lately doled about his pittance of alms to supply several of
his poor neighbours with coals—a piece of news which no
doubt his lordship, after the example of his brethren, did
not intend should reach the public ear; those venerable
personages generally keeping so strictly to the letter of
the Gospel that their good deeds are utterly unknown."2
(1) Psalm cxlvii. 16, 17.
(2) A hard winter, with all the inconvenience and suffering it produces, has
always its circumstances of mitigation in the amusements it gives rise to, and
the singular natural phenomena which it often exhibits. A curious instance of
this is afforded in the following description of a winter gin-palace, in 1740, in
"The Champion: "-"Of all the various phenomena which this fertile winter
has produced-such as the various incrustations of ice that from tide to tide
have furrowed the river, entire houses in a manner glazed over with sleet, and
I 2
116
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737-40.
During the whole of the month of January, 1740, the
tyrant Frost maintained with little relaxation his rigorous
sway. On the 10th it is stated that "the damage already
done upon the river, since the first setting in of the frost,
was computed at £100,000,"-a large sum indeed in those
days; and, later in the month, "The Champion" contains
the following paragraph:-"On January 24th, about one
o'clock, the frost, which for a while before seemed to relent,
resumed its vigour, not like a sovereign but a tyrant,
making the proudest tremble, and lording it over the
elements." The winter appears, in fact, to have been one
of the hardest ever experienced on these shores. That it
caused great distress and a fearful depression in trade and
general prosperity cannot be doubted; and that Fielding's
periodical should have prospered at such a season is a
signal proof of its superior merits.
hung with icicles, trees candied with the hoarfrost, &c., no one seems to be a
greater curiosity, or has afforded greater entertainment, than what happened a
little beyond the turnpike by the bursting of one of the Chelsea water-pipes; for
part of the water that spouted up met in its descent with a willow-tree, and,
freezing before it fell, enclosed every individual twig with ice: whence fresh
streams continually trickled down, forming the greatest variety of twisted,
branching, and in every way interfering icicles, that the fancy can imagine,
which in the end reached to the very ground, and in the middle formed a perfect
harbour of crystal, to the infinite admiration of all who beheld it; but being
soon converted into a gin-shop, every one who purchased a dram took away a
fragment of this extraordinary fragment with them, so that in a very little time
hardly the ruins of it remained."
The Thames, it is said, at this season presented a strange and picturesque
appearance, being covered with rocks and shoals of ice, in various fantastic
shapes, and covered with snow of the purest white. Tents and printing-presses
were erected on it, and a huge Frost-fair held. It was whilst pursuing her avo-
cations here that Doll the pippin-woman, celebrated in Gay's "Trivia," lost her
life:
"The cracking crystal yields; she sinks, she dies-
Her head, chopped off, from her lost shoulders flies;
Pippins she cried, but death her voice confounds,
And 'Pip, pip, pip,' along the ice resounds.'
""
Some vintners in the Strand, upon this occasion, bought a large ox to be.
roasted whole on the ice; and one Hodgson, a butcher in St. James's Market,
claimed the privilege of felling or knocking down the beast as a right inherent
in his family, his father having knocked down the ox roasted on the river in the
great Frost-fair of 1684. (See Timbs' "Curiosities of London.")
ZT. 30-33.]
117
THE CHAMPION.
This success was not unmerited. Dr. Drake-a com-
petent authority on the matter-observes, that "The Cham-
pion," with the exception of "The Freethinker," is superior
to any similar publication up to the time of its appearance,
since the close of the eighth volume of "The Spectator."1
Both in style and matter, it soared above the ordinary
publications of the day. Some of its lighter essays would
not have been unworthy of the pen of Addison, whilst it
embraces moral homilies which the author of "The Ram-
bler" need not have blushed to own. The following obser-
vations upon vice and virtue―unquestionably Fielding's—
might have been dictated by the "great moralist" himself:-
"Vice cheats us with the appearance of good, while virtue
only gives it us in reality. Honour, pleasure, wealth, are
only found under her conduct. Vice plays the courtier
with us; it flatters, and promises, and deceives. Virtue is
more reserved, less liberal to us on a slender acquaintance;
but when we prove ourselves worthy her favours she is
always profuse in bestowing them.
"And this is she that hath been represented in so rigid
and odious a light by her own advocates; that hath been
pictured as such a tyrant, requiring things almost impos-
sible to be performed, and forbidding us other things from
which it is as difficult to abstain. This is that virtue which
wanton wits have strove to ridicule, and wicked sophisters
have argued to be so contrary to our worldly interest;
whereas her commands are most easy, and her burthens
light; she commands us no more than to be happy, and
forbids us nothing but destruction. In short, 'her ways are
ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.
9992
In the same grave and dignified tone the Essayist (in the
course of an apology for the clergy) delineates the character
of a model priest. The sketch is worthy of the pen that
produced the portrait of Parson Adams:
(1) Essays on Periodical Publications.
(2) The Champion, January 24, 1740.
¿
118
[1737-40.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
"A clergyman is a successor of Christ's disciples: a
character which not only includes an idea of all the moral
virtues-such as temperance, charity, patience, &c.; but he
must be humble, charitable, benevolent, void of envy, void
of pride, void of vanity, void of rapaciousness, gentle, candid,
truly sorry for the sins and misfortunes of men, and rejoicing
in their virtues and happiness. This good man is entrusted
with the care of our souls, over which he is to watch as a
shepherd for his sheep: to feed the rich with precept and
example, and the poor with meat also: to live in daily
communication with his flock, and chiefly with those who
want him most (as the poor and distressed), nay, and after
his blessed Master's example, to eat with publicans and
sinners; but with a view of reclaiming them by his admo-
nitions, not of fattening himself by their dainties."
Amongst the writers whom Fielding diligently studied,
and whose style he selected for imitation, may be men-
tioned the learned and witty Dr. South. This celebrated
divine is frequently quoted by him in "The Champion ;"
and there can be no doubt that his masculine discourses
formed the model of that pure and undefiled English in
which the author of "Tom Jones" so much excelled.
The curious reader will discover in Fielding's essays in
"The Champion" many indications and examples of the
peculiar excellences for which he was afterwards distin-
guished as a writer. It was in this publication, in fact,
that his genius began to discover its proper bent. As a
dramatic writer his faults had certainly overbalanced his
merits. His contributions to the stage were, for the most
part, crude performances; thrown off, as it has been shown,
without reflection, and many of them written merely to
supply the necessities of the moment. For the worst of
them the only excuse that can be offered is, that they must
be numbered amongst the sins of youth, and apologised for
like other early indiscretions. But he had now reached a
(1) The Champion, April 19, 1740.
ZET. 30-33.]
119
THE CHAMPION.
period of life when the passions are more under the control
of the judgment; his mind had been severely disciplined
by misfortune, by experience, and latterly also by serious
study; and though he wrote for bread, he probably began
to feel the promptings of a nobler ambition than could be
satisfied with the applause of a capricious multitude, or by
raising a temporary peal of mirth at the expense of morality
and decorum.
Ideas were also suggested to the Essayist which were
afterwards carefully elaborated, and formed the germ of
more considerable productions. In "The Champion" of
May 24th, 1740, will be found" A Vision," which evidently
served as the groundwork of the most admirable of his
minor productions-"The Journey from this World to the
next." Many examples, likewise, of the apt illustrations
drawn from the occurrences of ordinary life, for which he
was subsequently so famous, are continually to be met with
in these essays. The celebrated simile with which he com-
mences the novel of "Tom Jones" seems to have had its
prototype in the following apt comparison, which appears in
a letter from Sir Hercules to Captain Vinegar, in "The
Champion" of January 10th, 1740:-"I consider my paper
as a kind of stage-coach, a vehicle in which every one hath
a right to take a place. If any letter, therefore, should
hereafter appear in it, which may give offence to particular
persons, they can have no more anger to me on that account
than they would show to the master of a stage who had
brought their enemy to town." Remarkable as they are
for so many excellences, it is difficult to understand why
such of these essays as are capable of identification have
not been included in any collection of Fielding's works.
Should Mr. Murphy's edition be reprinted, they ought not
to be omitted.
(1) "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."
120
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737-40.
(C
.
Whilst "The Champion" was at the height of its repu-
tation, Colley Cibber published his famous "Apology."1
This eccentric egotist, whom Ralph has coarsely but rather
happily described as "a bottle of as pert small beer as ever
whizzed in any man's face," had been deeply wounded by
the blows which had been dealt him in "Pasquin" and the
Register." In revenge for these attacks, he penned a
contemptuous notice of Fielding in the "Apology;" not
mentioning him, indeed, by name, but at the same time
taking good care that there should be no mistake as to the
person intended. After speaking of theatrical speculations
in 1736, the Apologist thus proceeds :-"These so tolerated
companies gave encouragement to a broken wit to collect
a fourth company, who for some time acted plays in the
Haymarket. .. This enterprising person, I say (whom
I do not choose to name, unless it could be to his advan-
tage, or that it were of importance), had sense enough to
know that the best plays with bad actors would turn but
to a very poor account, and therefore found it necessary to
give the public some pieces of an extraordinary kind, the
poetry of which he conceived ought to be so strong that
the greatest dunce of an actor could not spoil it: he knew,
too, that as he was in haste to get money, it would take
up less time to be intrepidly abusive than decently enter-
taining; that to draw the mob after him he must rake the
channel and pelt their superiors. . . . Such then was the
mettlesome modesty he set out with; upon this principle.
he produced several frank and free farces, that seemed to
knock all distinctions of mankind on the head-religion,
laws, government, priests, judges, and ministers, were all
laid flat, at the feet of this Herculean satirist! this Draw-
cansir in wit, who spared neither friend nor foe! who, to
make his poetical fame immortal, like another Erostratus,
•
(1) The first edition was published at the beginning of 1740, the dedication
being dated November, 1739.
(2) The Case of Authors.
ÆT. 30-33.]
121
CIBBER'S APOLOGY.
set fire to his stage by writing up to an act of parliament
to demolish it. I shall not give the particular strokes of
his ingenuity a chance to be remembered by reciting them;
it may be enough to say, in general terms, they were so
openly flagrant that the wisdom of the legislature thought
it high time to take a proper notice of them."¹
2
Thus virulently assailed, it is not wonderful that Fielding
should have used his position as a public writer to inflict
condign chastisement on his opponent. As soon as the
"Apology” made its appearance, it was accordingly sub-
jected to a vigorous criticism in "The Champion;" its bad
grammar, slip-shod style, and extravagant phraseology,
being mercilessly ridiculed and exposed. In another paper
Fielding published a humorous mock-trial of his anta-
gonist for murdering his native tongue; wherein he makes
excellent use of the legal formularies with which his law
studies had rendered him familiar. This jeu d'esprit ob-
tained great celebrity; and a brief specimen will show that
it was not without point and genuine wit :—
2. T. Pistol³ was called to the bar, but the gaoler answered that
he had been that morning taken out of his custody by the officer of
(1) Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber. 2nd edition, chap. v., p. 232. 1740.
(2) April 22, 29, and May 6, 1740. A brief extract from the latter paper is
subjoined:
:-"The pages 217 and 218 are almost entirely taken up to inform
the reader that the biographer lent Colonel Brett his clean shirt. This brings
to my mind a story in Dr. South's letter to Sherlock, which is in substance as
follows: 'Once on a time a gentleman and his servant were travelling together,
and the gentleman called to his man and said unto him, "John, get thee down
from thy horse, and I will get me down from my horse; then take off the saddle
that is on thy horse, and afterwards take off the saddle that is on my horse.
Then take thou the saddle that was on my horse and put on thy horse, and the
saddle that was on thy horse put thou on my horse! "Lord, sir," says John,
"could you not have said, Change saddles." "So might our biographer have said
Change shirts." In the same paper Fielding tells the following story of Cibber:
"This brings to my mind a story which I once heard from Booth, that our bio-
grapher had in one of his plays, in a local simile, introduced a lion in some
island or country where this generous beast did not grow; of which being in-
formed by the learned Booth, the biographer replied, 'Prithee tell me then
where there is a lion, for, God's curse, if there be a lion in Europe, Asia, Africa,
or America, I will not lose my simile.'
(3) Theophilus Cibber.
33
""
122
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1737-40.
another court, the said Pistol being at this time in almost every
court of the kingdom.¹
3. Col. Apol. was then sent to the bar.
Clerk. Col. Apol., hold up your hand.
Some time was spent before the prisoner could be brought to
know which hand he was to hold up."
2
"
Clerk. You stand indicted here by the name of Col. Apol.,
late of Covent Garden, Esq., for that you not having the fear of
grammar before your eyes, on the
day of
at a certain
place called the Bath, in the county of Somerset, in Knightsbridge,
in the county of Middlesex, in and upon the English language an
assault did make, and then and there with a certain weapon called a
goosequill, value one farthing, which you in your left hand then
held, several very broad wounds, but of no depth at all, on the said
English language did make, and so you the said Col. Apol. the said
English language did murder.³
To this indictment the prisoner pleaded "not guilty,"
and evidence in support of it is therefore called, after
which the prisoner is in due course called on for his
defence. The jury are ultimately directed to bring him in
not guilty of murder, as he had no intention of doing any
harm, but to find his offence chance medley.
4
Cibber's mock trial was very widely read, and its clever
personalities much relished. Of the attention it created,
some evidence is furnished in a pamphlet published by one
T. Johnson (by whom the preface is signed), and dedicated
to "Mr. Ralph of Redriffe (or Rotherhythe, in the vulgar
tongue)." This production is a strange jumble, and was
probably intended merely as a re-issue of the papers in
"The Champion," relating to Cibber, which are all re-
printed and denominated libels. At the end there is a brief
address "To the self-dubbed Captain Hercules Vinegar,
alias Buffoon," stating that the writer had faithfully laid
before the public "the malevolent flings exhibited by him
(1) Alluding to the scandalous case of Cibber v. Sloper; an action for crim.
con., in which the plaintiff laid the damages at £5000, and recovered £10.
(2) Cibber was left-handed.
(3) The Champion, May 17, 1740.
(4) The Tryal of Colley Cibber, comedian, &c. Svo., 1740.
ÆT. 30-33.]
123
CIBBER'S APOLOGY.
and his man Ralph.”
which is here presented verbatim :-
(6
Then follows an (C
Advertisement,"
ADVERTISEMENT.
"If the ingenious Henry Fielding, Esq. (son of the Hon. Lieut.-
General Fielding, who, upon his return from his travels, entered
himself of the Temple, in order to study the law, and married one
of the pretty Miss Cradocks of Salisbury), will own himself the
author of eighteen strange things, called Tragical Comedies and
Comical Tragedies, lately advertised by J. Watts,¹ of Wild Court,
printer, he shall be mentioned in capitals in the third edition of
Mr. Cibber's Life, and likewise placed among the poetæ minores
dramatici of the present age: then will both his name and writings
be remembered on record in the immortal poetical register written
by Mr. GILES JACOB."
From this coarse satire it may be gleaned that Fielding
had openly expressed resentment at being described by
Cibber as "a broken wit," without being mentioned by
name. The insult rankled in his sensitive bosom, and was
never forgotten or forgiven. Henceforth he endeavoured,
in season and out of season, to cover the comedian with
ridicule. His satire, like that of Pope, was, however, too
obtrusive, and too disproportionate to the object of attack,
to secure its desired effect. If the character of Cibber
were as contemptible as "The Dunciad" and Fielding's
writings represent it, much printer's ink was thrown away
in blackening it.
(1) John Watts was at this time the ordinary theatrical publisher. He is
mentioned by Fielding in his "Eurydice Hissed," where, in describing the pro-
cess of condemnation, one of the characters observes:
"John Watts,
Who was this morning eager for the copy,
Shrank hasty from the pit, and shook his head.”
ܙ
124
[1740.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER XI.
66
LITERARY NOTICES IN THE CHAMPION."- BOYSE. LILLO.-
J
HOGARTH.
[1740.]
THE period at which Fielding first lent his powerful pen
to the periodical press was a very gloomy one in the annals
of letters. The profession of authorship was at its lowest
ebb, both with respect to emolument and consideration.
Most of those who lived by the quill had to encounter
every species of degradation and misery, and were fully
entitled to the compassion which, in the preceding cen-
tury, a titled author expressed towards this long-suffering
class:-
“I pity from my soul unhappy men,
Condemned by want to prostitute their pen ;
Who must, like lawyers, either starve or plead,
And follow, right or wrong, where guineas lead.”¹
The finest minds were condemned to the meanest task-
work. The author of "London" was still engaged in the
drudgery of filling the columns of "The Gentleman's Maga-
zine," having vainly endeavoured to extricate himself from
the precarious occupation of writing for bread. James
Thomson—whose poem of "The Seasons" has since glad-
dened so many hearts--was subsisting still more miserably
by writing for the stage. And whilst men of letters of
the first class (or such of them as really lived by the pen)
were thus employed, those in the second and third rank
2
D
(1) Roscommon. Essay on Translated Verse.
(2) Thomson's Tragedy of "Edward and Eleonora," finished in 1739, was
refused a license by the Lord Chamberlain. "He endeavoured," says Johnson,
"to repair his loss by a subscription, of which I cannot now tell the success."
ÆT. 33.]
BOYSE'S DEITY.
125
fared still worse.
Some of these latter were constrained
to sink into the mere "scribblers for a party," whom
Johnson classed, with Commissioners of Excise, as the
lowest of human beings; whilst others were contented
to write poems, essays, and prefaces for booksellers-re-
ceiving rather less wages than carpenters or bricklayers,
and working twice as hard.
6
There is one literary notice in "The Champion” which
brings most forcibly to mind the miserable condition of
the hack author at this time. On the 12th of February,
1740, the periodical critic thus writes: "Last week a poem
was published with the simple but all-comprehensive title
of Deity.'. . . . It is wrote in a clear and elegant style,
the versification smooth and flowing, but, being cramped
with almost perpetual distiches, allows very little variety
of cadence and period. And that it is not void of the
sublime let the following passage demonstrate." Then
occurs an extract from the poem which is to be found in
one of the introductory chapters in "Tom Jones,”¹ where
it is thus introduced :-
"The brevity of life hath likewise given occasion to this com-
parison. So the immortal Shakspere:
'Life's a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.'
For which hackneyed quotation I will make the reader amends by
a very noble one, which few, I believe, have read. It is taken from
the poem called 'The Deity,' published about nine years ago, and
long since buried in oblivion,—a proof that good books, no more than
good men, do always survive the bad :-
'From Thee 2 all human actions take their springs,
The rise of empires and the fall of kings!
See the vast theatre of Time displayed,
While o'er the scene succeeding heroes tread !
With pomp the shining images succeed,
What leaders triumph, and what monarchs bleed!
(1) Book vii. c. 1.
(2) The Deity.
126
[1740.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
Perform the parts Thy providence assigned,
Their pride, their passions, to Thy ends inclined :
Awhile they glitter in the face of day,
Then at Thy nod the phantoms pass away;
No traces left of all the busy scene,
But that remembrance says-THE THINGS HAVE BEEN
•
) 23
These lines must have made a strong impression upon
Fielding when he first read them; since they remained
after the lapse of nine years so firmly fixed in his memory.
The poem itself is certainly a remarkable one;-especially
when the character and position of the author (to whom,
said "The Champion," "the Church owes great obliga-
tions") are brought under consideration.
1
薯
​Samuel Boyse-the writer of the poem on the Deity—
was, during this bitter year of 1740, the victim of the
most abject poverty. Without clothes to walk abroad, he
spent the whole of his time in bed, huddled up in some
old blankets,—for sheets he had none,-through which
there was a hole for the passage of his arm when he wrote
for the purpose of procuring a daily meal. Imagination
cannot picture any sight more miserable than this poor
shivering wretch, in his desolate garret, pursuing under
such circumstances his literary labours. That those labours
were but ill-requited is tolerably evident, not only from
his extreme poverty, but also from the character of his
employers. Cave, the proprietor of "The Gentleman's
Magazine," was one of these. He was in the habit of
purchasing Boyse's poetry, and paying for it by the hundred
lines; but after a time, taking advantage of the author's
poverty, he insisted on making this "the long hundred;"
and so got his ten or twenty lines in. That grave mis-
conduct, however, as well as the niggardliness of his
patrons, contributed to the poet's calamity, may be well
conceived. For the sensual enjoyment of the hour he
submitted to days of misery; and though common pru-
dence might not have insured him a competence, it would
(1) Chalmers' Biographical Dictionary, &c.
ÆT. 33.]
127
BOYSE.
have preserved him from some of the worst ills of poverty.
Whatever he possessed soon found its way into the hands
of the pawnbroker-books, clothes-everything went the
same way, and when redeemed by his friends, they were
soon pawned again. Dr. Johnson, a genuine Samaritan in
his way, collected on one occasion a considerable sum to
release Boyse's clothes, in order that he might rise from
his uncomfortable couch: but in two days the clothes were
pawned again. "The sum was collected," the Doctor after-
wards said, "in sixpences, at a time when to me sixpence
was a serious consideration.”
What hope was there in such an age for such a man as
this? No art could lure him within the pale of comfort
and civilization; misery could not reform, experience could
not instruct him. Yet Boyse had been carefully nurtured
and educated, and possessed at one time troops of gene-
rous and sympathising friends. He was the son of an
English dissenting minister, residing in Dublin, where
he received his early education. At eighteen the youth
was sent to Glasgow, and here he committed his first
worldly mistake by an early and improvident marriage.
His poetical abilities afterwards procured patrons, who one
by one became disgusted with his imprudence, or alienated
by his arrogance. At length he found himself in London,
-an author-of-all-work in the days of Savage, Johnson,
Amherst, and Rolt. The privations he endured, in com-
mon with other members of his craft, have been above.
sketched. Poverty and dependence became, as years rolled
on, his normal condition. It was not a strange thing for
him to fast for days together. In July, 1742, he addressed
to Cave a letter from a sponging-house, in which, piteously
imploring a pecuniary advance, he said, "I am every
moment threatened to be turned out here, because I have
not money to pay for my bed two nights past, which is
usually paid beforehand; and I am loth to go into the
Compter till I see if my affair can possibly be made up.
128
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740.
I hope, therefore, you will have the humanity to send me
half-a-guinea for support, till I can finish your papers in
my hands. . . . I humbly entreat your answer, having
not tasted anything since Tuesday evening I came here;
and my coat will be taken off my back for the charge of
the bed, so that I must go into prison naked, which
is too shocking for me to think of." This letter was
accompanied by the following lines, which bear witness to
the elasticity of this poor wretch's mind under the pressure
of extreme suffering:
(6
INSCRIPTION FOR ST. LAZARUS' CAVE.
"Hodie, teste cœlo summo,
Sine pane, sine nummo;
Sorte positus infeste,
Scribo tibi dolens moeste,
Fame, bile, tumet jecur:
Urbane, mitte opem, precor.
Tibi enim cor humanum
Non a malis alienum :
1
Mihi meus nec male grato,
Pro a te favore dato.
"Er gehenna debitoria
Vulgo, domo spongiatoria."
"ALCEUS." 1
This appeal, it is satisfactory to find, was responded to
by Cave, who forwarded half-a-guinea to his distressed
journeyman.
On his release from prison, Boyse subsisted partly by
obtaining subscriptions for works he never intended to
write-a favourite plan with the unscrupulous denizens
of Grub Street at that time-and partly by soliciting
charity through his wife, on the plea that he was sick or
dying. He was afterwards engaged by Mr. Henry, of
Reading, upon some historical composition, and-improved
by country air and a quiet life-he is said to have become
66
more decent in his dress and behaviour." He died in
(1) The signature under which Boyse wrote in "The Gentleman's Maga-
zine."
ÆT. 33.]
AMHERST.
129
great indigence, however, at a lodging in Shoe Lane, and
was buried at the parish cost.¹
Boyse was not the only labourer in the literary vine-
yard, at this epoch, whose life was clouded by misfortune
and closed in penury. Of Savage it is unnecessary here to
speak; but two other literary outcasts may be mentioned,
who endured more than an ordinary share of the calamities
of authorship. One of them was Amherst, for many years.
editor of that powerful opposition print, "The Crafts-
man," whose fate was only in one degree less miserable.
than that of Boyse. "Poor Amherst," says Ralph, in the
pamphlet already quoted,2 " after having been the drudge of
his party for the best part of twenty years together, was as
much forgot in the famous Compromise of 1742,3 as if he
(1) Hawkins' Life of Johnson, &c.
(2) The Case of Authors.
(3) When Sir Robert Walpole was hunted out of office by the conjoined
efforts of the opposition press and parliamentary orators, Pulteney having
contented himself with a peerage, lent himself to the famous "Compromise'
which excited the suspicion and indignation of his party. A meeting of
members of both Houses was subsequently held at the Fountain Tavern in the
Strand, which Pulteney attended, and made his "explanations." This meet-
ing-so often referred to in contemporary pamphlets and periodicals-is also
immortalised in Sir C. Hanbury Williams' celebrated ode of "The Statesman,"
which contains the following caustic lines on the powerless "Earl of Bath,"
once so formidable as Pulteney:
"Leave a blank here and there in each page,
To enroll the fair deeds of his youth;
When you mention the acts of his age,
Leave a blank for his honour and truth.
"Say he made a great monarch change hands,
He spake, and the minister fell;
Say he made a great statesman of Sandys,
(0 that he had learnt him to spell)."
>>
Amherst was, from the period of its establishment (Dec. 1726), associated with
Pulteney and Bolingbroke in "The Craftsman." The influence of this paper
was immense, the circulation sometimes reaching 10,000 or 12,000; and it
contributed greatly to render Walpole unpopular. Like Fielding, Amherst was
a Whig; and in attacking Sir R. Walpole, neither of these facile scribes had
any desire to assist the views of the Tory and Jacobite party. Their dream,
it
is evident, was to make intelligence a power in the State, which should control
the moneyed and mercantile influence, through which Walpole reigned. When
K
·
3
130
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740.
had never been born! And when he died of what is called
a broken heart, which happened within a few months
afterwards, he became indebted to the charity of his very
bookseller for a grave a grave not to
a grave not to be traced now,
because then no otherwise distinguished than by the fresh-
ness of the turf, borrowed from the next common to cover
it." Of Richard Rolt, another literary drudge of this
age, it is sufficient to say, that on the publication of
Akenside's Pleasures of the Imagination" (in 1744), he
went over to Ireland, and boldly reprinted it as his own
work-putting his name upon the title-page: a piece
of unblushing effrontery unequalled in the annals of
literature.¹
GT
Very differently situated with respect to worldly cir-
cumstances,—and presenting in character and disposition
a marked contrast to these literary vagrants,-was the
jeweller and dramatist, George Lillo, to whose genius.
Fielding, in "The Champion," paid a proper tribute of
respect. Lillo is principally known to posterity by the
on the fall of the minister Amherst found his mistake,-when he was thrown
over as an instrument no longer needed, and left to shift for himself in the
barren field of literature, his disappointment was so bitter that it occasioned
his death. He is said to have been a good scholar, and he was certainly a
vigorous political writer. In early life he was expelled from Oxford, according
to his own statements, on account of his zeal for the house of Hanover; his
opponents say for irregularities and violations of college discipline. There is
reason to believe that Pulteney unfairly took to himself the credit of Amherst's
writings. H. Walpole says he was assured by Franklin, the printer of The
Craftsman, “that Lord Bath never wrote a 'Craftsman' himself, only gave
hints for them; yet great part of his reputation was built on these papers!
-Letter to Sir H. Mann. Correspondence, vol. ii. "The Craftsman" (says
Goldsmith, in his "Life of Lord Bolingbroke") "though written with great
spirit and sharpness, is now almost forgotten, although when it was published
as a weekly paper, it sold much more rapidly than The Spectator." And again
in "The Bee," Goldsmith thus writes More, Savage, and Amherst, were
possessed of great abilities; yet they were suffered to feel all the miseries that
usually attend the ingenious and the imprudent,—that attend men of strong
passions, and no phlegmatic reserve in their command."
66
――
>
(1) This story is too good to be pronounced a fabrication; but it is said to
have been "completely refuted." (See Croker's "Boswell's Life of Johnson,"
vol. ii. p. 125. 1853.)
ÆT. 33.]
LILLO.
131
somewhat lugubrious morality of "George Barnwell" a
dramatic work which, whatever its literary merits, should
not be lightly spoken of, since it has drawn tears from
thousands, and effected the reformation of many a youth-
ful profligate.¹ Besides this piece, Lillo was the author of
two or three plays, which possess, at any rate, a distinct
character of their own, and are still read with interest.
The best of these-a domestic drama in blank verse, called
"The Fatal Curiosity"-was produced by Fielding at the
Haymarket Theatre in 1736, and acted by the Great
Mogul's Company. "Tom Davies," who performed the part
of young Wilmot, says that Lillo's play was not successful
at first, but that in the following season the manager tacked
it to "The Historical Register," when it was acted to more
advantage, and was frequently repeated. That the play is
distinguished by a homely, genuine pathos, rarely, if ever
met with, in the dramatic efforts of the age, will be ad-
mitted by every reader. In fact, Lillo was to dramatic,
what Crabbe, half a century later, was to narrative poetry.
2
(1) A remarkable instance of the salutary effect produced by the representa-
tion of this play is related by Mr. Ross, the actor. In the year 1752, Dr.
Barrowby, the eminent physician, was called in to see a young gentleman,
apprenticed to a merchant, who was suffering from a slow fever, and apparently
at the point of death. The doctor saw that the patient's mind was ill at ease,
and entreated him to divulge the oppressive secret. The attendants and rela-
tives being sent out of the room, the youth confessed that he had appropriated
some of his master's money, and that afterwards going to Drury Lane, and
seeing Mr. Ross and Mrs. Pritchard in the characters of George Barnwell and
Millwood, he was struck with horror at his crime, and had not since enjoyed a
moment's peace.
Dr. Barrowby upon this communicated with the patient's
parents, the money was quickly paid, and the youth lived to become an eminent
London merchant. "Though I never knew his name," writes the actor,
saw him to my knowledge, I had for nine or ten years, at my benefit, a note
sealed up with ten guineas, and these words, 'A tribute of gratitude from one
who was highly obliged, and saved from ruin, by seeing Mr. Ross's performance
of Barnwell.' It has also been stated that at the first representation of this
play not a few of the auditors came prepared to ridicule it, and were for that
purpose furnished with copies of the old ballad; but the play had not proceeded
far, when they were obliged to drop their ballads and pull out their handker-
chiefs. (Dibdin's "History of the Stage," vol. v.)
CC
or
})}
(2) Dramatic Miscellanies.
K 2
132
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740.
If not a genius of the highest order, he had strong and
healthful sympathies; and at a period when profligacy,
fustain, and affectation, held possession of the stage, it is
refreshing to turn to his simple humanity and unexcep-
tionable morality.
As a man he was honourable and just in all the relations
of life. Like Richardson, "he kept his shop, and his shop
kept him." His disposition was genial, kind, and social;
and, though prudent and correct himself, he could tolerate
error in others, and render assistance to those who too often
neglected to assist themselves. Fielding was evidently on
terms of great intimacy with him; and the character which
he gives of him in "The Champion" shows how highly he
respected him, and how much he valued his friendship.
This character was written on the occasion of the produc-
tion of "Elmerick" (a posthumous tragedy of Lillo's), in
February, 1740.2 "His Fatal Curiosity" (writes the
somewhat too eulogistic friend), "which is a masterpiece of
its kind, and inferior only to Shakspere's best pieces, gives
him a title to be called the best tragic poet of his age; but
this was the least of his praise: he had the gentlest and
honestest manners, and at the same time the most friendly
and obliging. He had a perfect knowledge of human
nature, though his contempt of all base means of applica-
tion, which are the necessary steps to great acquaintance,
restrained his conversation within very narrow bounds. He
had the spirit of an old Roman, joined to the innocence of
a primitive Christian; he was content with his little state
of life, in which his excellent temper of mind gave him a
happiness beyond the power of riches, and it was necessary
for his friends to have a sharp insight into his want of their
services, as well as good inclination or abilities to serve him.
(1) Macaulay's Essays. "Keep your shop and your shop will keep you," was
a favourite tradesman's motto in the olden time. (See Timbs' "Curiosities of
London," p. 607.)
(2) Lillo died in September, 1739.
ET. 33.]
HARDYKNUTE.
133
In short, he was one of the best of men, and those who
knew him best will most regret his loss.'
""
Lillo was unmarried; and with respect to the disposition
of his property after death a rather singular story is told.
Resolving to put the sincerity of his friends to the test, he
proposed to borrow a large sum of money, for which he
would give no other security than his own note of hand.
On applying to one or two of his most intimate friends,
those prudent gentlemen declined to make an advance on
such terms. He then addressed himself to a nephew, with
whom he had been long at variance, and who at once con-
sented to lend the money on the proposed security. This
so gratified Lillo, and so well satisfied him of his nephew's
disinterested regard, that he bequeathed to him the bulk of
his fortune.¹
On the whole, the literary notices in "The Champion,"
during Fielding's management, are highly creditable to his
taste and judgment. One or two other examples may be
advantageously quoted. In the number for May 17th,
1740, are published copious extracts from the ballad of
"Hardyknute," which had been given to the world in 1719
as a composition of great antiquity, though its modern
origin has been since satisfactorily established. That
this production should have attracted Fielding's notice
is not remarkable, for of nature and simplicity he was a
genuine worshipper. But it is not improper to remind the
reader that the same ballad also influenced in a most
remarkable manner the mind of another great novelist.
"The ballad of Hardyknute," says Sir Walter Scott,
(1) On the 26th of February, 1740, it appears that "Elmerick was acted the
third time, "for the benefit of the author's poor relations, and by command of
the Prince and Princess of Wales."-Some Account of the English Stage, vol. iii.
From this it has been inferred that Lillo died in impoverished circumstances;
but this was by no means the case, as he was possessed of an estate of £60 per
annum, and personal effects to a considerable value. (Baker's "Biographia Dra-
matica.")
""
(2) It is now known to have been written by Lady Wardlaw, who died about
1727. Dodsley published an edition in 1740.
134
[1740.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
((
was the first poem I ever read, and it will be the last I
shall forget.' "1 A ballad which has been extolled by the
author of "Waverley" and of "Tom Jones"—whether
ancient or modern-must have merit and attractions of no
common order.
It is also worthy of remark that in "The Champion" for
June 10th, 1740, will be found the first reference made by
Fielding to the great artist of the age, with whom he after-
wards lived on terms of the closest friendship, and whose
works are so often mentioned in his novels. In no place,
however, has he so warmly commended the genius of
Hogarth as on this, the first occasion, in which he did
homage to it. "I esteem," says The Champion, "the
ingenius Mr. Hogarth as one of the most useful satirists
any age has produced. . . . I almost dare affirm that those
two works of his, which he calls the 'Rake's' and the
'Harlot's Progress,' are calculated more to serve the cause
of virtue and for the preservation of mankind than all the
folios of morality which have been ever written; and a
sober family should no more be without them than without
'The Whole Duty of Man' in their house."
The period of Fielding's legal probation was now draw-
ing to a close; and, in the anticipation of other duties and
avocations, he meditated a gradual withdrawal from "The
Champion." Perhaps he considered that, on being called
to the Bar, it was neither seemly nor "professional" to
be connected with a public print, and he may have ex-
pected that he should obtain sufficient legal business to
employ his time without the aid of literature. Accord-
ingly a fresh arrangement was made in the proprietorship
C
(1) Lord Byron, according to Sir Walter Scott, was equally affected with this
celebrated imitation of the ancient ballad. On their first meeting, Scott says,
"I remember particularly repeating to him the fine poem of 'Hardyknute,' an
imitation of the old Scotch ballad, with which he was so much affected, that
some one in the same apartment asked me what I could possibly have been
telling Byron by which he was so much agitated."-Lockhart's Life of Scott,
vol. iii.
ÆT. 33.]
WAR WITH SPAIN.
135
and conduct of the publication, and Fielding, parting with
his share in it, was succeeded by Ralph. He continued,
however, to contribute a few papers for a twelvemonth
afterwards.
It was at no very favourable juncture that Fielding pre-
pared to enter on the practice of his profession. The sun
of England has been rarely obscured by thicker clouds.
than those which overshadowed it in this disastrous year.
In the previous autumn war had been declared against
Spain, in opposition to the better judgment of Sir Ro-
bert Walpole, who suffered himself to be goaded into the
measure by popular clamour. This contest was in the
commencement signalised by reverses, destructive alike to
the national interests and honour. In every sea, British
commerce suffered severely from Spanish privateers. At
the end of the year 1740, it was computed that no less than
four hundred and seven English merchantmen had been
captured; whilst the injury inflicted on the enemy was
small in comparison. The opposition newspapers contained
every week announcements of ships taken by the Spaniards,
and by the English-none. The prospect at home was as
unsatisfactory as that presented abroad. For once the
elements seemed to combine with foreign foes to depress the
fortunes of Britain. A hard winter had been succeeded by
a cold spring, and a summer so late as to realise the descrip-
tion in the "Midsummer Night's Dream:"
"The seasons alter; hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
(1) "The Drought of 1740" is commemorated by a poem in the "Gentleman's
Magazine," which contains, amongst others, the following lines :-
J
"Seasons no longer by their fruits are known,
Nor March her winds, nor April had her show'rs,
Nor bloomy herbage May, nor June her flowers;
The mob run mad, their famine turned to rage,
They almost dare our well-fed troops engage;
The staff of life is broke, the naked fields
Ceres forsakes, nor hope of harvest yields."
0
1.2
136
[1740.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
On the 3rd June, there appeared in "The Champion'
the following gloomy picture of the prospects of the
country:"The long continuance of the wind in the
north-east, our late violent hard winter, the present back-
ward spring, the visitation of an epidemic cold, almost as
contagious, though not so fatal as a plague; the stag-
nation of trade, the scarcity of money, the present dearness
of provisions, and danger of an approaching famine; wars,
fleets, armies, taxes, and poverty,-present us at this time.
with a very dreadful prospect, and have afforded wise and
cool heads a melancholy subject for their reflection." Such
a combination of calamities might appal the stoutest heart.
Hard times these for the struggling adventurer, who had
at last fought his way to a position in which he hoped
to secure competence and independence! His own life's
summer, like that of the year, Fielding might have thought
had come too late, especially after the chill that had fallen
on its spring. An untried ocean lay before him; and as
he prepared to embark on it, the dark clouds lowering
over head must have filled even his sanguine mind with
gloomy forebodings.
در
ÆT. 33-34.] THE WESTERN CIRCUIT IN 1740.
137
CHAPTER XII.
CALL TO THE BAR.-THE WESTERN CIRCUIT IN 1740.-LEGAL
EXPERIENCES.
[1740-1741.]
FIELDING was called to the Bar by the benchers of the
Middle Temple on the 20th of June, 1740, and chambers
were assigned him in Pump Court. On assuming the wig
and gown, he at once commenced the practice of the pro-
fession, and chose the Western Circuit, a district in which
he had many personal friends as well as family connexions.
1
The road to legal honours and emoluments was in those
days, no less than in our own, beset with difficulties and
perplexities. At the very time when Fielding joined the
Western Circuit, one of the greatest lawyers of the age was
commencing on it a career of brieflessness, destined to last
for eight or nine dreary years. This was Charles Pratt
(son of a chief-justice, and afterwards Earl of Camden),
whose so long unrewarded assiduity proves that the most
shining talents, combined with the rarest industry, were
not in times past always appreciated by the attorneys of
the West. Perhaps the independence of Pratt's nature,
which could stoop to no unworthy artifice to achieve success,
might partly account for his long exclusion from business :
certain it is, that heart-sick at length from hope deferred,
he resolved to abandon the law, and qualify himself for
holy orders. It was at this crisis of his fate that through
(1) In the year 1741, in a familiar letter to a friend, Pratt thus describes his
desperate circumstances :-" Alas! my horse is lamer than ever; no sooner cured
of one shoulder than the other began to halt. My losses in horseflesh ruin me,
and keep me so poor that I have scarce money enough to bear me out in a
summer's ramble; yet ramble I must, if I starve to pay for it."-Life of Lord
Camden, in Law Magazine, vol. ix. At this time, it must be remembered,
barristers rode the circuit.
138
[1740-41.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
the friendship of Henley, his senior on the circuit, he
received a brief in an important cause which his friend led.
The story goes that in order to give Pratt a chance, Henley
contrived to be absent at the trial, and so afforded his junior
an opportunity of displaying his powers of advocacy and
professional ability.
Pratt, like Fielding, was an Etonian; but as the latter
was at least six years the great lawyer's senior, it is not
probable that there was any very early intercourse between
them. On the circuit, some common tastes, as well, per-
haps, as a common experience of the res augustæ, must have
attracted the two men together. Pratt was a great reader
of romances, a devout admirer of the genius of Fielding's
idol-Cervantes; and being a fifth son, with a very slender
private fortune and no business, he was, in respect to worldly
circumstances, little better off than the future novelist.¹ To
this it may be added that Pratt was not disinclined to the
pleasures of the festive board, and where could he have met
with a convivial companion equal to Harry Fielding?
Henley, afterwards Lord Chancellor Northington, was a
curious specimen of a race of lawyers which may be now
"L
(1) Mr. George Hardinge, a Welsh judge, had formed an idea of preparing
a Life of Lord Camden, founded principally on personal recollections, and had
written the skeleton of the contents, which is given by Lord Campbell in his
"Lives of the Chancellors." From this skeleton it would appear that Pratt's
acquaintanceship with Fielding began in London, whilst the former was a law-
student, and the latter a professed town-wit. A few entries are given where
Fielding's name occurs:
fond of convivial habits and convivial talents,
but abstaining from vice.
read, as before, at broken intervals.
formed an acquaintance
with Hawkins Browne,
and with Henry Fielding.
Short character of both as given by him.
became intimate with Lord Northington, who took a fancy to him.
called to the Bar,
hated it
was going to leave it," &c.
Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors, vol. v.
C
ÆT. 33-34.] THE WESTERN CIRCUIT IN 1740.
139
pronounced extinct. Though of a genial and kindly nature,
he affected a rough and rude demeanour, which approached
the verge of bearishness. In private conversation he rarely
let fall a sentence which was not garnished with an oath;
and this habit, which the license of the times excused in a
private individual, he carried with him to the highest
judicial station. Even on the Woolsack itself,-when
visited by a twinge of gout more than usually severe, the
Chancellor would indulge in a muttered imprecation,—to
the inexpressible astonishment of suitors, and to the grave
scandal of the profession. To hear him swear at his
coachman and footman, as he entered or left the state-coach
which carried him to the House of Lords with the mace
and seals, was a rich treat to the idler of those days:-
what effect such a practice must have had upon public
morals can be too well surmised. Of his undignified bear-
ing, when his temper was more than ordinarily tried, the
following story is told. Upon one occasion the Speaker,
Onslow, who was at all times remarkable for the decency
of his demeanour, on coming later than usual to the House
of Commons, complained that his coach had been detained
by the obstinacy of a carman. He was told that the Lord
Chancellor had met with the same obstruction. "Indeed!"
said the Speaker, "what did he do? Did he not show him
the mace and seals, and strike the fellow dumb with terror?”
No," was the reply, "he merely said with an oath"
(which it would be unseemly to transfer to these pages)
"that if he had been in his private coach, he would have
jumped out and beaten the rascal to a jelly."1
CC
Pratt and Henley were not the only distinguished law-
yers on the Western Circuit at this period. That most
successful advocate, Mr. (afterwards Serjeant) Davy, was
then a member of it. For ready wit Davy has been rarely
surpassed in his profession. Lord Mansfield himself is
said to have quailed beneath one of his witticisms: for that
(1) Strictures on the Lives of Eminent Lawyers. 1790.
140
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740-41.
eminent judge having on one occasion threatened to sit on
Good Friday, to clear off the arrears of business in his
court, Davy at once put an end to the project by saying,
perhaps rather profanely, that if he did, "he would be the
first judge who had sat on that day since Pontius Pilate.'
Of this privileged joker, the following characteristic story,
well known in his profession, is told. Being once sum-
moned before the Circuit Mess, for an alleged irregularity
in taking "silver" from a client, when the profession
recognised nothing but a "golden" coinage, the Serjeant
made the following defence: "It is true, gentlemen, I took
silver from the fellow; but I took it because I could not
get gold :—and, further, I took every sixpence the man
had;-if that is not keeping up the character of the pro-
fession, I don't know what is.” ¹
در
(1) In Manning and Bray's "History of Surrey," the following curious account
is given of Mr. Serjeant Davy's early career:-"This gentleman was a most
eccentric character. He was a chymist at Exeter, and a sheriff's officer coming
to serve on him a process from the Court of Common Pleas, he very civilly asked
him to drink some liquor. Whilst the man was drinking, he contrived to heat
a poker, and then asking what the parchment process was made of, and being
answered of sheep-skin, he told the man he believed it must eat as well as
mutton, and recommended him to try. The bailiff said it was his business to
serve processes, not to eat them; on which Mr. Davy told him if he did not eat
that, he should swallow the poker; the man preferred the parchment: but the
Court of Common Pleas (not then accustomed to Mr. Davy's jokes) sent for him
to Westminster Hall, read him a serious lecture in contempt of their process,
and sent him to the Fleet. From this circumstance, and the conversation of
some unfortunate legal man whom he met there, he acquired that taste for the
law which the eating a process had not given to the bailiff, and when he was
discharged from the Fleet, he applied to the study of it in earnest. He was
called to the Bar, made a serjeant, and by his humour acquired so much the
ear of the court and of the juries, that every one desired to have him as an
advocate. He was a great while in very considerable practice; but not confining
his wit to the narrow compass of the courts, the guineas procured in it slipped
through his pockets into some other place, and he ended his professional career
little richer than he began it."-Manning and Bray, vol. iii. p. 456. He died
in 1780, and was buried at Newington, Surrey.
Since the notice of Davy in the text was written, reference has been made
to the manuscripts of Serjeant Davy, deposited in Lincoln's-Inn Library, and
from one of his note-books it appears that he was, in 1750, a member of the
Home Circuit. He might nevertheless have originally belonged to the Western,
as professional etiquette permits one change of circuit.
ÆT. 33-34.]
141
MR. JUSTICE GOULD.
Fielding also found on the circuit a relative who was
carefully plodding his way into business, and who in due
time carried away a large proportion of its honours and
emoluments. This was his cousin, Mr. Gould, afterwards
Sir Henry Gould, a judge of the Court of Common Pleas.
No two men could be in all respects more dissimilar than
were Fielding and his kinsman. Whilst the one was a man
of taste and pleasure, the other was simply and solely a
lawyer. Mr. Gould looked into no books except the
crabbed volumes of the law-a science which Blackstone
had not yet taught to speak English; cared for no diver-
sions; went not to plays; affected not the society of wits,
and sought not to recommend his pleadings by elegance
of diction. He is described by one who knew him at the
Bar as having no eminence as an advocate. Speaking,"
says the legal critic in question, "is not his talent; his
arguments are more pleasing to the eye than grateful to
the ear; his tones are the reverse of harmony, and his
voice is extremely faint and feeble. Action he has none;
neither elegance nor energy. The graces are out of the
question. His language is the plain unadorned style of
common conversation: often defective in purity and cor-
rectness, and always destitute of that warmth and variety
which characterise ardour of character and vigour of
conception." 1 Such was Mr. Gould, one of the most
successful lawyers of his day, and at this time a “junior”
in great estimation. Had Fielding been told, however,
that his cousin would have risen step by step to the bench,
he might have treated the supposition with disdain. If
such were the stuff of which judges were made, what
chance had one of his lively parts, vivid imagination, and
brilliant wit, of achieving professional distinction?
On the bench, it is right to say, that Mr. Justice Gould
displayed considerable ability as well as independence.
CC
(1) Strictures on the Lives of Eminent Lawyers. 1790.
(2) During the riots of 1780, after the attack on Lord Mansfield's house by
142
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740-41.
{
He often differed from the other members of the court,
and sometimes singly; a circumstance that shows not,
perhaps, that he had greater learning than his brethren,
but that he possessed considerable firmness of character.
His mind was in his work: his time and talents entirely
devoted to the public. "He sticks close,"
"He sticks close," says the critic
before quoted, "to Rolle and Littleton and Coke; and
his just praise is, that he is learned in the laws of his
country, which he studies with labour, and interprets with
integrity, tempered by the most amiable of all virtues-
humanity."
"" 1
For some time after he was called to the Bar, Fielding
regularly attended circuit and sessions; and in term time
he was rarely absent from Westminster Hall. That he
possessed considerable aptitude for the legal profession
cannot be doubted. Few men of the period could have
had a more varied knowledge of mankind, a keener insight
into human motives, or a more extensive fund of general
information; and to these important qualifications he
added the faculty of expressing himself upon every subject
with clearness and precision. His manners were agree-
able, his society fascinating in the extreme; his powers of
application considerable at all times, and now sharpened
by necessity. Above all, he possessed a vigorous will,
which was dismayed by no opposing obstacles, and which
refused to recognise the possibility of disappointment or
defeat. That he conscientiously laboured at his profes-
a lawless mob, a message was sent by the king to each of the twelve judges,
offering them the protection of a military guard. Mr. Justice Gould, with a
courage and equanimity which every one must have admired, refused this offer,
stating, "That he had grown old under the protection of English laws; that he
was persuaded, however some persons might be misled, the people in general
loved and respected the laws; and so great was his own attachment to them,
that he would rather die under them than live under the protection of any other
laws."-Gentleman's Magazine.
(1) Mr. Justice Gould was admitted a member of the Middle Temple in 1728,
called to the Bar in 1734, became a bencher in 1754, and a serjeant in 1761.
(2) Murphy's Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding. He is said to have
selected the Wiltshire Sessions. (Hutchins' "History of Dorsetshire.")
ÆT. 33-34.]
PRACTICE AT THE BAR.
143
-
sion, and had a taste for some branches of it, is also
evident. He is known to have compiled a work on Crown
or Criminal Law, forming in manuscript two folio volumes,
which was, after his death, placed in the hands of his
half-brother, Sir John Fielding, the magistrate,—a com-
petent judge of its merits,—and who is said to have pro-
nounced it as being in some parts a perfect work. The
reputation for legal learning which he afterwards earned
on the Middlesex bench, likewise tends to show that at
one period of his life he must have taken pains to acquire
a competent knowledge of his profession. A mind like
his could not seriously apply itself to any subject with a
perfectly unsatisfactory result. It is a great mistake to
suppose that the intellectual powers which have been
successfully exerted in the world of letters, would have
been fruitlessly employed in the practical business of life.
Had not Murray and Blackstone been attracted by cir-
cumstances to the practice of the law, can it be doubted
that they would have each achieved distinction in litera-
ture? If "so sweet an Ovid" were lost in the one, it
is not impossible that in the other the world has been
deprived of an Addison or a Prior. Had Johnson or
Swift, again, been attached to the Bar, allured by fortune
to exert their talents in that arena, is it to be for a moment
supposed that they would have ignominiously failed? It
was a favourite idea of the former, that had he pursued
the law as a profession, he would have mounted the
judicial bench, with the title of Baron Lichfield; and as
for the latter, it seems impossible that the powers of
advocacy displayed in the "Drapier's Letters" could have
failed to command attention, when employed in the discus-
sion of private rights.2
-
(1) Murphy's Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
(2) It is almost impossible here to avoid a reference to Mr. Justice Talfourd's
successful cultivation of literature amidst his professional pursuits, and which
will cause his name to be handed down to a late posterity, who might never
have heard of him only as a judge.
144
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740-41.
I
That the world should refuse to give the man of letters
credit for being able to learn what duller persons are
known to acquire without much difficulty is obviously un-
just. But the fallacy, in all its stark, staring deformity,
was prevalent at the period when Fielding commenced his
legal career, and is not quite hunted down yet. The
dangerous reputation of a wit clung to him from the very
outset, and scared away attorneys. Uncheered by the
patronage of those powerful allies, he was constrained to
take his place in the melancholy ranks of the briefless,
or almost briefless, hangers-on of the courts,—a position
not perhaps of discredit, but certainly of grave incon-
venience.
Many a brilliant career at the Bar has commenced under
circumstances of equal discouragement. With some men,
however, it has happened that time and patience have
stood in the place of early patronage and encouragement.
But Fielding could not afford to wait. He had a wife and
child to whom he was tenderly attached (for a fonder
husband and father never breathed), who depended for
their subsistence upon his exertions. The wolf poverty
was at his door, and to scare it away he was again com-
pelled to have recourse to authorship. Accordingly, at
the very time when he was devoting himself to his profes-
sion by a constant attendance on the courts and private
study, he managed to compose two or three trivial pam-
phlets,-evidently thrown off to supply the necessities of
the hour, and he continued still to contribute a few
papers to "The Champion." Six months after his call to
the Bar (in January, 1741), he published two poetical
brochures, to one of which, entitled "True Greatness," 1
(1) True Greatness: an epistle to George Dodington, Esq." This was
afterwards reprinted by Fielding in his "Miscellanies." The person to whom
it is addressed, George Bubb Dodington (afterwards Lord Melcombe), was one
of the most notorious personages of the age. A restless political intriguer,—
active, clever, and witty,—he was likewise a fop of the first water, and managed
to bring upon himself continual ridicule. Sir Charles Hanbury Williams lam-
ÆT. 33-34.]
145
SESSIONS PRACTICE.
he affixed his name; the other-yclept "The Vernoniad"
-was sent forth anonymously. It is a coarse burlesque,
of which the hero was the popular idol of the day,
Admiral Vernon, whose victories over the Spaniards were
then in every mouth. The title displays a rather humorous
affectation of learning.¹ In the following December
another trifle, called "The Opposition: a Vision," was
added to the list of his occasional compositions, and was
about the last which he published anonymously.2
If the attendance on courts at this period were produc-
tive of little pecuniary profit to the struggling barrister,
it doubtless enlarged considerably his fund of expe-
rience. At country sessions he became acquainted with
the qualifications of the rural magistrates of that day;
J
(C
•
pooned him in a ballad, once immensely popular, called "A Grub upon Bubb;"
and Lord Chesterfield says of him, "With submission to my Lord Rochester,
God made Dodington the coxcomb he is-mere human means could never
bring it about." Dodington attached himself to the party of Frederick, Prince
of Wales, to whom he lent money; and in his famous Diary will be found a
curious record of party secrets and political intrigues.
(1) ΤΗΣ ΟΜΗΡΟΥ VEPNON-IΑΔΟΣ Ραψωδια ἤ Γραμμα ά. The
Vernoniad, done into English from the Original Greek of Homer, lately found
at Constantinople, with Notes in usum, &c. Book the first." In Mr. Roscoe's
edition of Fielding's works (Svo., 1841) is published the following note, as a
fac-simile of his handwriting, from the collection of the late Mr. Upcott:-
"Mr.
please to deliver Mr. Chappel fifty of True Greatness, and fifty of
the Vernoniad. Yours, Henry Fielding." Dated April 20th, 1741. Admiral
Vernon's successful attack on Porto Bello (Nov., 1739) had, at this period,
made him the idol of the hour. H. Walpole, writing to Sir H. Mann, Nov. 12,
1741, says, "It is Admiral Vernon's birthday, and the city shops are full of
favours, the streets of marrowbones and cleavers, and the night full of mobbing,
bonfires, and lights." Such were the manifestations of popular joy in 1741!
(2) Several other trivial productions were probably thrown off by Fielding at
this period, of some of which even the very names have perished; mention of one
-evidently a political squib-is made in Nichols' "Literary Anecdotes” (Addi-
tions to vol. iii.):-"I possess a pamphlet," says the writer, "intituled "The
Crisis a Sermon on Rev. xiv. 9, 10, 11; necessary to be preached in all the
Churches in England, Wales, and Berwick-upon-Tweed, at or before the next
general election; humbly inscribed to the Right Reverend the Bench of Bishops.
By a Lover of his Country. Vendidit hic auro Patriam. VIRG. London :
Printed for A. Dodd, without Temple Bar. 1741. Svo.' On the title-page of
which is this remark :-This sermon was written by the late Mr. Fielding,
author of Tom Jones, &c., as the printer of it assured me.-R. B.'"
L
146
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740-41.
a class of persons severely satirised in his subsequent
works. The lady who relates "The History of the Unfor-
tunate Leonora," in "Joseph Andrews," gives, it will be
recollected, a description of "sessions practice,” which is
gravely contradicted by Parson Adams; and the quiet
irony both of the description and contradiction must have.
been much relished by Fielding's contemporaries at the
Bar. "It seems it is usual," said the lady, " for the young
gentlemen of the Bar to repair to these sessions, not so
much for the sake of profit, as to show their parts, and
learn the law of the justices of the peace; for which pur-
pose one of the wisest and gravest of all the justices is
appointed speaker or chairman, as they modestly call it;
and he reads them a lecture, and instructs them in the
true knowledge of the law." "You are here guilty of a
little mistake," says Adams, "which, if you please, I will
correct; I have attended at one of these quarter-sessions,
where I observed the counsel taught the justices, instead
of learning anything of them." And in the same novel
there is presented a picture of "justice business" not very
flattering to the rural gentry of the west in 1740. The
depositions taken by the magistrate, in the absence of hist
clerk, previous to committing Joseph and Fanny to Bride-
well, for the offence of cutting a twig (a crime which the
learned personage defines as a kind of felonious larcenous
thing"), may be taken as a fair caricature of the docu-
ments which occasionally came under the satirical barris-
ter's own eye :-
(C
"The depusition of James Scout, layer, and Thomas Trotter, yeo-
man, taken before me, one of his majesty's justasses of the peace for
Zumersetshire.
"These deponents saith, and first Thomas Trotter for himself
saith, that on the of this instant October, being Sabbath-day,
between the ours of two and four in the afternoon, he zeed Joseph
Andrews and Frances Goodwill walk akross a certane felde belung-
ing to layer Scout, and out of the path which ledes thru the said
felde, and there he zede Joseph Andrews with a nife cut one hasel
ÆT. 38-34.]
147
JUDGE PAGE.
twig, of the value, as he believes, of three halfpence, or thereabouts;
and he saith, that the said Frances Goodwill was likewise walking
on the grass out of the said path in the said felde, and did receave
and karry in her hand the said twig, and so was comfarting, eading,
and abating to the said Joseph therein. And the said James Scout
for himself says, that he verily believes the said twig to be his own
proper twig," &c.¹
Even on the bench of the superior courts at this time
there were some singular varieties of the judicial character.
When Fielding's legal experience commenced, certain
judges of the old school presided on circuit and in West-
minster Hall, who, however competent their professional
knowledge, were neither distinguished for dignity nor
suavity of demeanour. Like a notorious chief-justice, they
knew how to give "a lick with the rough side of their
tongues." Of one of these personages a capital story is
told in "Tom Jones" by Partridge, which may be properly
referred to this period. Not only is the story a good one,
but the exposure of the unfairness and inhumanity of the
practice which then (and till a comparatively recent time)
prevailed of depriving an accused person of the full privi-
lege of professional advocacy, is creditable to the writer's
sense of justice. Partridge has related how Francis, the
son of Farmer Bridle, had detected a horse-stealer at a fair
in possession of his father's mare. The thief is secured,
bound over to take his trial, and the narration thus pro-
ceeds :-"Well, at last down came my Lord Justice Page to
hold the assizes, and so the fellow was had up, and Frank
was had up as a witness. To be sure I shall never forget
the face of the judge when he began to ask him what he
had to say against the prisoner. He made poor Frank
tremble and shake in his shoes. Well, you fellow,' says
(1) "I know some justices," says Lawyer Scout to Lady Booby, "who make
as much of committing a man to Bridewell, as his lordship at 'size would of
hanging him; but it would do a man good to see his worship, our justice,
commit a fellow to Bridewell; he takes so much pleasure in it: and when once
we ha un there, we seldom hear any more o'um. He's either starved or eat up
by vermin in a month's time."
L 2
148
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1740-41.
:
my lord, 'what have you to say? Don't stand humming
and hawing, but speak out;' but however he soon turned
altogether as civil to Frank, and began to thunder at the
fellow; and when he asked him if he had anything to say
for himself, the fellow said 'He had found the horse.'
'Ay!' answered the judge, 'thou art a lucky fellow; I
have travelled the circuit these forty years, and never
found a horse in my life; but I'll tell thee what, friend,
thou wast more lucky than thou didst know of: for thou
didst not only find a horse, but a halter too, I pro-
mise thee.' To be sure I shall never forget the words.
Upon which everybody fell a laughing, as how could
they help it? Nay, and twenty other jests he made,
which I can't remember now. There was something
about his skill in horseflesh, which made all the folks
laugh. To be certain the judge must have been a very
brave man, as well as a man of much learning. It is
indeed charming sport to hear trials upon life and death.
One thing, I own, I thought it a little hard that the
prisoner's counsel was not suffered to speak for him,
though he desired only to be heard one very short word;
but my lord would not hearken to him, though he suf
fered counsellor to talk against him for above half an hour.
I thought it hard, I own, that there should be so many of
them-my lord, and the court, and the jury, and the
counsellors, and the witnesses, all upon one poor man, and
he too in chains."
.
Mr. Justice Page, here referred to, died in December,
1741, having "adorned" the bench to the last. He is
well known in literary history as the judge before whom
Richard Savage was tried for wilful murder in the year
1728. Upon that occasion,-if Savage's partial biogra-
pher is to be trusted, he behaved with great indecency
and unfairness. He is even represented as endeavouring
to enlist the prejudices of the jury against the accused.
"Had his [Savage's] audience been his judges," says
ET. 33-34.]
DEATH OF GENERAL FIELDING.
149
Johnson, “he had undoubtedly been acquitted; but Mr.
Page, who was then upon the bench, treated him with his
usual insolence and severity; and when he had summed up
the evidence, endeavoured to exasperate the jury, as Mr.
Savage used to relate it, with this eloquent harangue :—
'Gentlemen of the jury, you are to consider that Mr.
Savage is a very great man-a much greater man than you
or I, gentlemen of the jury; that he wears very fine clothes—
much finer clothes than you or I, gentlemen of the jury;
that he has abundance of money in his pocket-much more
money than you or I, gentlemen of the jury: but, gentle-
men of the jury, is it not a very hard case, gentlemen of
the jury, that Mr. Savage, should therefore kill you or me,
gentlemen of the jury ?'” 1
(1) Some years afterwards Savage took his revenge in a rancorous and elabo-
rate satire, published in "The Gentleman's Magazine" for September, 1741,
entitled, "A Character." In the commencement the poet admirably delineates
the excellent qualities of Philip Yorke (Lord Hardwicke), the greatest lawyer
of his age :-
"Were all, like Yorke, of delicate address,
Strength to discern and sweetness to express ;
Learn'd, just, polite, born every heart to gain,
Like Comyns mild, like Fortescue humane."
Then, as a contrast, Savage thus depicts the character of Page:
"Of heart impure, and impotent of head,
In hist'ry, rhet'ric, ethics, law unread;
How far unlike such worthies! once a drudge,
From floundering in low cases rose a judge."
Upon some subjects Mr. Justice Page entertained liberal notions of rather an
advanced character, for he appears to have considered that women were unfairly
excluded from the elective franchise. On the question being argued before the
Court of King's Bench, whether a woman could be chosen sexton, and vote at
such elections, Page J. observed, coinciding with the affirmative opinion of
Chief Justice Lee, "I am of the same opinion as to the principal case. But I see
no disability in a woman from voting for a parliament man."-7 Mod. Rep. 265.
Page's coarseness and severity are also commemorated by Pope :-
"Slander or poison dread from Delia's rage:
Hard words or hanging, if your judge be Page."
When these lines first appeared, the name of Page was represented by four
asterisks. But, taking the compliment to himself, he sent his clerk to Pope to
complain of the insult. Pope told the young man that the blank might be
supplied by many monosyllables other than the judge's name: 'But, sir,' said the
(6
150
[1740-41.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
In June, 1741, died Fielding's father, the General, at
the age of sixty-five. His decease is recorded in "The
Gentleman's Magazine" for that month, where it is said
he held the appointment of Colonel of Invalids. At the
close of his life the veteran was by no means in affluent
circumstances, and his son Henry obtained by his death
no accession of fortune. Both father and son, indeed,
were victims of a prodigal disposition, and probably no
amount of wealth could have kept either of them out of
difficulties.
clerk, ‘the judge says that no other word will make sense of the passage.' 'So
then it seems,' says Pope, 'your master is not only a judge but a poet; as that
is the case, the odds are against me. Give my respects to the judge, and tell
him I will not contend with one that has the advantage of me, and he may fill
up the blank as he pleases.'"-Johnson's Lives of the Poets (note).
The facetious barrister, Mr. Crowle, according to Horace Walpole, being once
upon circuit with Page, was asked by some person "if the judge was not just
behind." To which it is said he replied, "I don't know; but I am sure he
was never just before." This was the same Mr. Crowle of whom a well-known
story is told. Being counsel for Sir George Vandeput, at the famous Middlesex
election in 1749, he was charged before the House of Commons with wilfully
protracting the scrutiny, and showing contempt of the House, and was sentenced
to be reprimanded on his knees by the Speaker. As he was rising from the
ground, after the reprimand, he was heard to mutter, "This is the dirtiest
house I ever was in."-- Walpole's Memoirs of the Reign of George II.
ÆT. 35.]
151
RICHARDSON'S PAMELA.
CHAPTER XIII.
CC
RICHARDSON'S "PAMELA."- JOSEPH ANDREWS."
[1742.]
IN the month of February, 1742, Fielding sent forth
into the world his first novel, "The Adventures of
Joseph Andrews and his friend, Mr. Abraham Adams."
This work must have been written during the latter
months of the previous year, when the author—unencum-
bered by briefs-had both leisure and necessity for literary
exertion; and its origin may be briefly narrated.
At the close of the year 1740 the first part of Richard-
son's "Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded," made its appear-
ance, and suddenly soared into astonishing popularity.
Amongst all classes-in all intelligent circles-the book
was quite the rage. The old recommended it to the
young; brothers presented it to their sisters; its merits
were extolled from the pulpit, and that too by no less
celebrated a divine than Dr. Sherlock. Even at Ranelagh
Gardens, it is said the chosen resort of the gay world,
and the temple of fashion and frivolity—the ladies were in
the habit of holding up the book to each other, to show
that they were not without the popular favourite. Mr.
Urban, in "The Gentleman's Magazine" for January,
1741, excuses himself for not reviewing what everybody
had read; "it being judged in town," he says, "as great
a sign of want of curiosity not to have read ‘Pamela,'
as not to have seen the French and Italian dancers." It
was also whispered abroad that the great literary autocrat,
Mr. Pope, had said that this so famous novel would do
more good than volumes of sermons. In addition to this
flood of eulogy the author received substantial and satis-
V
152
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742
factory proofs of the approval of the public, several editions.
of the work being disposed of within a twelvemonth. A
French translation also was published in London, about a
year after the publication of the original, which procured
for "Pamela" even a continental reputation.
It would be idle to say that a work which was so exten-
sively read, does not possess merits of a very high order.
But, on the other hand, it is clear, that however great
its attractions, they were much over-estimated and over-
praised. The moral teaching which received the approba-
tion of Pope and Sherlock should not be lightly spoken
of; yet, with all due deference to such great authorities,
it may be questioned whether many readers have risen.
from the perusal of Richardson's novel with more elevated
notions of female honour than they before entertained.
His morality was that of the age-rather the virtue of
prudence than principle. His heroine adroitly resists
the arts of the wealthy seducer, but her ruling motive is
obviously lawful matrimony, rather than the simple pre-
servation of chastity. The fortunate girl who gains a
husband superior to her in station, and possessed of many
amiable qualities, by vigilantly guarding her honour, must
be always considered by the prudent portion of womankind
an excellent pattern for imitation. In such a sketch the
"rewards of virtue" are no doubt eloquently set forth;
but in what do they consist?-a coach-and-six, a gay
wedding-dress, and a handsome bridegroom! Such temp-
tations may certainly induce women to persevere in the
path of virtue; but very similar inducements also may
lead them to infamy. This Richardson-morality was, in
fact, vulgar and conventional, not high-toned and spiritual;
appealing only to self-interest and self-love; cool, shrewd,
calculating, and sagacious; a good marketable article to
pass through the world with, and to win its hollow respect
and substantial rewards.
Fielding saw the "morality" of "Pamela" in this light
ÆT. 35.]
RICHARDSON'S PAMELA.
153
when he ridiculed it in "Joseph Andrews." It is not fair
to suppose that he had any intention of representing in a
ludicrous light those ideas of female purity which have
received for ages the sanction of religion and the respect
of mankind. His object was very different. It was a
sham morality which he assailed,—the affectation of virtue,
not virtue itself. He saw that the popular idol was not
made of solid gold, as its worshippers believed, but a gilt
and lacquered image, got up for show, and manufactured
to suit the fashion of the times. A man of his hearty and
genial humour could not hear with patience all the cant
and nonsense uttered about it, and he therefore determined
to show the world what it was made of. The self-suffi.
ciency of the author was also no less provocative of satire.
than the book itself. Richardson's peculiarities were well
known to Fielding. He knew him to be dull, respectable,
vain, and sensitive, and he took a secret pleasure in aiming
a shaft which he knew would wound him in his tenderest
point.
The character of the author of "Pamela" was, indeed,
in perfect keeping with his work. From his youth up-
wards he had delighted in feminine society and in tea-table
sentimentality. In his maturer years his greatest pleasure
was to give laws to a little senate of soft admirers, who
regarded him with awe and tenderness, and never contra-
dicted, argued with, or thwarted him. Whilst Fielding-
roughly handled by the world-had made acquaintance
with every species of folly and dissipation, and had been
as familiar with the mirth of the tavern as the misery of
the sponging-house, Richardson had lived the life of the
thoroughly respectable and respected trader; accurate in
his accounts, punctual in his dealings, regular in his habits,
comfortable in his circumstances. No two men could
differ more widely from each other. Fielding had escaped
from his wild life, not without stain or reproach, but
with a knowledge of the world and the world's ways, a
154
[1742.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
quickness of apprehension, and a faculty for discerning
and dissecting human motives, which could never have
been acquired in a life of retirement and staid propriety.¹
He had been too much rubbed about in the world to be
duped by the most specious cunning, cant, or hypocrisy.
Richardson, on the other hand—who had never known
the want of a guinea, or committed an act which the
most rigid moralist could censure-had so fortified and
hedged himself up in his little citadel of virtue, and had
so narrowed his views of human life, that he stumbled
quite unsuspiciously into the pit-falls of insipidity and
absurdity which lay in his way. Though an amiable and
respectable, he was by no means a generous or large-
minded man, and his mode of life had not been calculated
to develop any great qualities. He had been flattered and
idolised; whilst Fielding had been abused as a mad-
brained profligate, ridiculed and cut by his acquaintances.
The breath of adulation was pleasant to Richardson, but
Fielding estimated it at its true worth. The one was
childishly covetous of praise, and greedy of the applause of
partial friends; the other was as reckless of reputation as
of his purse. If the proceeds from an essay or a pamphlet
were sufficient to buy out an execution, or to satisfy a
relentless tax-gatherer, Fielding was a happier man than
if the whole society of wits at Will's, or all the critics of
the press, had combined to trumpet forth his excellences.
With such striking differences of disposition, it is not
surprising to find the two great novelists of the age in
direct antagonism. The success of "Pamela" was all that
AD
(1) "Lastly, come Experience, long conversant with the wise, the good, the
learned, and polite. Nor with these only, but with every kind of character,
from the minister at his levée, to the bailiff at his sponging-house; from the
duchess at her drum, to the landlady behind her bar. From these only can the
manners of mankind be known, to which the exclusive pedant, however great his
parts or extensive his bearing may be, hath ever been a stranger."-Tom Jones,
book xiii. c. 1. Richardson said of Fielding, no doubt with truth, in one of his
letters "His brawls, his jars, his gaols, his sponging-houses, are all drawn
from what he has seen and known.'
:
""
T. 35.]
155
JOSEPH ANDREWS.
was required to draw Fielding out. He was determined
that the virtuous heroine should not have it all her own
way, and his "wicked wit" suggested to him a most
original and effective method of ridiculing the popular
favourite.
Though Fielding's principal object in the composition of
"Joseph Andrews" was to caricature "Pamela," by pre-
senting a picture of male virtue in humble life, as a
ludicrous counterpart of Richardson's sketch, another and
much higher design was included in his plan. From his
youth, as we have seen, he had been a warm admirer of
Cervantes and his wonderful book, "Don Quixote." His
earliest literary effort (already glanced at) had been to
identify with English scenes, in a dramatic form, the
humour of the greatest of European romance-writers; and
it is not, therefore, to be marvelled at that, in his first
novel, he should endeavour to imitate the manner, and
catch a portion of the spirit, of his idol. To present an
English parallel to the adventures of the chivalrous Don
suggested itself to his mind; and he created a hero calcu-
lated, like the Don, to afford amusement to his readers,
without ever forfeiting their esteem.¹
The character of Mr. Abraham Adams is the most
delightful in the whole range of English fiction. It is the
embodiment of Christianity in all its noblest bearings-
the grandest delineation of a pattern priest which the
world has yet seen. From the moment we are introduced
to him drinking his cup of ale in Sir Thomas Booby's
kitchen, and taking that opportunity of asking Joseph
Andrews a few questions about religion, till we bid farewell
to him at the celebration of his young friend's nuptials,
when he courageously rebukes Mr. Booby and Pamela" for
laughing in so sacred a place, and on so solemn an occa-
(1) See the title of Joseph Andrews-"The History of the Adventures of
Joseph Andrews and his friend, Mr. Abraham Adams. Written in imitation
of the manner of Cervantes, author of Don Quixote.”
156
[1742.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
ONE
sion," there is such a noble consistency and unaffected
simplicity in his character-so beautiful a union of true
dignity and genuine humility-that, in spite of the un-
seemly tricks and unbecoming treatment to which he is ex-
posed, we never cease both to love and respect him. There
is no adventure, however low and ludicrous, no undeserved
misfortune to which Adams is exposed, which can at all
tend to lower him in our estimation. Even when-mis-
taken for the pig-dealer he is prostrated in the mire with
Parson Trulliber's hogs, or when-the victim of a practical
joke he is soused in the water-tub by his treacherous
entertainers, our respect for his simple faith and man-
liness represses the tendency to contemptuous mirth; and,
though he stands before us bespattered with mud or
drenched with water, with a ragged cassock and a crown-
less hat, he has lost none of the dignity of the cloth, and
has become in no degree an object of contempt.¹
It is impossible here to ignore the tradition that Parson
Adams was sketched from a living original, and that that
original was one of Fielding's own friends, the Rev.
William Young. "Mr. Young," says Murphy, "was re-
markable for his intimate acquaintance with the Greek
authors, and had as passionate a veneration for Eschylus
as Parson Adams; the overflowings of his benevolence.
(1) Mr. Forster has the following admirable criticism on the characters of
the Vicar of Wakefield and Mr. Abraham Adams :-" Resemblances have been
found, and may be admitted to exist, between the Rev. Charles Primrose and
the Rev. Abraham Adams. They were from kindred genius; and from the
manly habit which Fielding and Goldsmith shared of discerning what was good
and beautiful in the homeliest aspects of humanity. In the parson's saddle-bag
of sermons would hardly have been found this prison-sermon of the vicar; and
there was in Mr. Adams not only a capacity for beef and pudding, but for
beating and being beaten, which would ill have consisted with the simple
dignity of Doctor Primrose. But unquestionable learning, unsuspecting sim-
plicity, amusing traits of credulity and pedantry, and a most Christian purity
and benevolence of heart, are common to both these masterpieces of English
fiction;
and are in each with such excellent touch discriminated, as to leave no
possible doubt of the originality of either."-Life and Times of Goldsmith,
vol. ii. 2nd edition.
ÆT. 35.]
157
JOSEPH ANDREWS.
•
1
were as strong, and his fits of reverie were as frequent."
Dr. Johnson, speaking of the same individual as the
original of Fielding's immortal sketch, tells us of him, that
"he supported an uncomfortable existence by translating
from the Greek; and if he did not seem to be his own
friend, was at least no man's enemy." A curious story is.
narrated by Mr. Murphy in illustration of the reverend
gentleman's absence of mind, and occasional forgetfulness
of mundane affairs. During the Duke of Marlborough's
campaign in Flanders, Mr. Young served as chaplain in
an infantry regiment, and one evening, when encamped
close to the enemy, carelessly wandered into the hostile
camp, with his "Eschylus" in his hand, and with a heart
full of benevolent reflection, called forth by the tranquillity
of the hour, and the balmy sweetness of the evening air.
The French sentry's cry of " Qui va là !" first apprised him
of his danger, and he immediately surrendered himself a
prisoner of war. But the officer in command, perceiving
the simplicity of his character, and that his appearance in
the camp was unintentional, immediately released him,
and politely directed him back to his regiment. In con-
junction with this profound and simple-minded Grecian,
Fielding meditated a translation of "Aristophanes," and
one play was published as a specimen, soon after the
appearance of "Joseph Andrews." But the manner in
which it was received did not probably encourage the
friends to persevere in their undertaking, or to continue.
this notable partnership of wit and scholarship.
2

That Parson Adams of the novel is merely the Reverend
Mr. Young of real life-a minute copy of a well-known
original-cannot, however, be conceded. Some of the
qualities which distinguished Fielding's friend-such as
his passion for "Eschylus," his absence of mind, his trick
(1) Lives of the Poets.
(2) "Plutus, the God of Riches: a Comedy from the Greek of Aristophanes."
By H. Fielding, Esq., and the Rev. Mr. Young. Waller. 1742.
158
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742.
of snapping his fingers when pleased or embarrassed, his
unsuspecting gentleness of disposition-might have been
transferred, it is true, to Adams. But it is one thing for
an artist to give individuality to a grand ideal by copying a
few traits from real life, and another to produce an exact
portrait. As Hogarth, sitting at his easel, doubtless had
in his mind's eye some reputable alderman, whose placid
features might become his sketch of the Good Apprentice,
or some irreclaimable profligate, whose quick, restless eye
and sinister glance might suit the character of Tom Idle;
so Fielding, in the delineation of Mr. Abraham Adams,
occasionally threw in a few personal traits, which might be
recognised by a common acquaintance as pertaining to
Mr. Young; but clearly nothing more than this was either.
attempted or intended.3
Amongst the minor characters in the novel, Parson
Trulliber (as already mentioned) and Mr. Peter Pounce,
(1) It is said that Mr. Young resented the imputation of having sat for the
portrait of Parson Adams, and once threatened to knock down a gentleman who
addressed him by that name. He died in Chelsea College, in 1757, and in the
registry is this entry, "William Young, a clergyman."-Hutchins' History of
Dorset.
(2) It is well observed by Mr. Murphy, with respect to the character of Adams,
that his "habitual absence of mind, which is his prominent foible, and which
never fails to give a tinge to whatever he is about, makes the honest clergyman
almost a rival of the renowned Don Quixote. . . . . I will venture to say (he
adds) that when Don Quixote mistakes the barber's basin for Mambrino's helmet,
no reader ever found the situation more ridiculous and truly comic than Parson
Adams' travelling to London to sell a set of sermons, and actually snapping his
fingers and taking two or three turns round the room in ecstasy, when introduced
to a bookseller in order to make an immediate bargain; and then immediately
after, not being able to find those same sermons, when he exclaims, 'I profess-
I believe I left them behind me!'"-Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
4
(3) This view is confirmed by the last paragraph in the preface, where the
novelist claims for his sketch the merit of originality, whilst he avows its object.
"As to the character of Adams," he says, as it is the most glaring in the
whole, so I conceive it is not to be found in any book now extant. It is designed
as a character of perfect simplicity; and as the goodness of his heart will recom-
mend him to the good-natured, so I hope it will excuse me to the gentlemen of
his cloth."

(4) See p. 4. It is said in Hutchins' "History of Dorset," 2nd edition,
that a curate of Metcombe, a village near East Stour, was the original of
ÆT. 35.]
JOSEPH ANDREWS.
159
the steward of Sir Thomas Booby, are also said to have
been sketches from life. The original of the latter portrait
was Mr. Peter Walter, a wealthy attorney and scrivener-
alias usurer-who purchased an estate near Sherborne,
Dorsetshire, and was for some time Fielding's neighbour.'
He filled the office of steward to several persons of distinc-
tion, and realised an immense fortune. Sir Charles Hanbury
Williams² has ridiculed this important personage in a ballad
called, "Peter and my Lord Quidam," written in 1743.
In "the curious dialogue" in Joseph Andrews, "which
"The
Trulliber, but this was denied by the reverend gentleman's widow.
house where he lived," says the local historian, "seemed to accord with Field-
ing's description ('Joseph Andrews,' book ii., chap. 14.), and an old woman who
remembered him, observed, that he dearly loved a bit of good victuals and a
drop of drink.'
C
>")
(1) Walter's estate was at Stalbridge Park, about four miles from East
Stower. He represented the borough of Bridport in Parliament, and died in
1745, aged eighty-three. ("History of Dorset.")
(2) See "Poems of Sir C. H. Williams," 3 vols., 1822: the cleverest, though
not the most decent collection, of personal and political squibs in the language.
Sir Charles Williams was the consistent friend and supporter of Sir R. Walpole,
whose fall he revenged by a series of stinging attacks upon Pulteney, Earl of
Bath, the hero of the opposition. Amongst them is the following inscription for
the Earl of Bath's house in Piccadilly :-
"Here, dead to fame, lies patriot Will,
His grave a lordly seat;
His title proves his epitaph,
His robes his winding-sheet."
the Earl of Bath in the
"Here we are, my lord,
•
When the Earl of Orford (Sir R. Walpole) first met
House of Lords, he is said to have thus greeted him :-
the two most insignificant fellows in England."
In an ode, written soon after Sir R. Walpole's retirement from power, Sir C.
Williams has this most true and pithy stanza :----
"Oh! my poor country, is this all
You've gained by the long-laboured fall
Of Walpole and his tools?
He was a knave-suppose-what then?
He'd parts, but this new set of men
A'n't only knaves-but fools."
His character of Walpole, again-"Whom many loved, few hated, none de-
spised"-is very happy.
Mr. Peter Walter figures frequently in Pope's satires. See "Moral Essays,"
Ep. iii.; "Satires of Dr. Donne versified; "Imitations of Horace," &c.
19
160
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742.
passed between Mr. Abraham Adams and Mr. Peter Pounce,
better worth reading than all the works of Colley Cibber
and many others," the inhumanity and self-conceit of
the purse-proud steward are felicitously portrayed. The
argument on charity is especially characteristic:-

“‘Sir,' said Adams, 'my definition of charity is, a generous dis-
position to relieve the distressed.'
"There is something in that definition,' answered Peter, which
I like well enough; it is, as you say, a disposition-and does not so
much consist in the act as in the disposition to do it; but, alas!
Mr. Adams, who are meant by the distressed? Believe me, the dis-
tresses of mankind are mostly imaginary, and it would be rather folly
than goodness to relieve them.?
"Sure, sir, replied Adams, 'hunger and thirst, cold and naked-
ness, and other distresses which attend the poor, can never be said to
be imaginary evils.'
"How can any man complain of hunger,' said Peter, 'in a country
where such excellent salads are to be gathered in almost every field?
or of thirst, where every river and stream produces such delicious
potations? And, as for cold and nakedness, they are evils introduced
by luxury and custom. A man naturally wants clothes no more than
a horse or any other animal; and there are whole nations who go
without them; . . . . the greatest fault in our constitution is the
provision made for the poor, except that perhaps made for some
others.""
With respect to the conduct of the story, it is very evi-
dent that, as Fielding proceeded, he thought less of his
original design, as he became more attached to those excel-
lent beings whom his fancy had called into existence-good
Parson Adams, honest Joseph Andrews, and beautiful,
tender-hearted Fanny. As it has been said of Cervantes,
so it may be said of his English follower, that he came "at
last to love the creations of his marvellous power, as if they
were real familiar personages ; "2 and if at the outset he
thought only of ridiculing Richardson, and throwing in a
sly sarcasm at Cibber, as he advanced in his narrative he
ceased to think of those personages or their works. That
(1) Joseph Andrews, book iii., chap. 13.
(2) Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature.
ÆT. 35.]
JOSEPH ANDREWS.
161
2
!
on subjects of religion and morality he occasionally made
Adams his mouthpiece, and delivered through him his own
sentiments on the most important topics which can interest
mankind, is also very evident. True Christianity, undefiled
by bigotry or fanaticism, had always in Fielding a powerful
advocate; and of this there is a splendid instance in the
discussion between Adams and Barnabas at the close of the
first book of "Joseph Andrews." More enlarged and tole-
rant, or juster views of religious truth, are nowhere to be
found than in Adams' argument.
These were not the palmy days of Church-of-England
discipline. From the sketches of Barnabas and Trulliber, it
may be assumed that, in the early part of the Georgian era,
there did not prevail amongst the rural clergy any high
standard of clerical acquirements or conduct. Good Sir
Roger de Coverley, in selecting a chaplain (it will be re-
membered), was modestly anxious "to find a person rather
of plain sense than much learning; of a good aspect, a clear
voice, and sociable temperament; and, if possible, a man
that understood a little of backgammon;" and these were
the qualifications of many a polite divine who said grace at
the great man's table, or preached him to sleep on Sunday,
in the days of Addison and Fielding. But the acquire-
ments of the rural curate were often of a still humbler
order, as his social status was lower. Poor Adams, "had no
nearer access to Sir Thomas Booby or my lady than through
the waiting-gentlewoman.'. . . . They both regarded the
curate as a kind of domestic only, belonging to the parson
of the parish, who was at that time at variance with the
knight; for the parson had for many years lived in a con-
stant state of civil war, or, which is perhaps as bad, civil
law, with Sir Thomas himself and the tenants of his
(1) The immortal Mistress Slipslop, herself a curate's daughter, and therefore
disposed to regard the parson with tenderness. Sheridan's Mrs. Malaprop-
one of the happiest caricatures in the whole range of English comedy-was
probably suggested by Lady Booby's "waiting-gentlewoman."
M
162
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742.
manor." Such disagreements between the wealthier clergy
and the rural squires were not infrequent during the earlier
half of the seventeenth century. A similar state of things
is represented in "The Spectator," as existing in the next.
parish to Sir Roger:-"The parson is always preaching at
the squire, and the squire, to be revenged on the parson,
never comes to church. The squire has made all his
tenants atheists and tithe-stealers; while the parson in-
structs them every Sunday in the dignity of his order, and
insinuates to them in almost every sermon that he is a
better man than his patron. In short, matters are come to
such an extremity that the squire has not said his prayers
either in public or private this half-year; and the parson
threatens him, if he does not mend his manners, to pray
for him in the face of the whole congregation." The prac-
tice which prevailed amongst some of the homelier clergy
of this period of uniting agricultural occupations with
the duties of their sacred calling (as in the case of Trul-
liber)-must have considerably detracted from their legi-
timate influence. The vicar who bargained at fairs and
markets—and sometimes even at the church porch—with
farmers and drovers; who dined and smoked his pipe at
the market ordinary, was less a clergyman than a trades-
man; and was so regarded by his flock. What greater
moral influence was possessed by a Barnabas or a Trulliber,
than by any other farmer or grazier?
It may be finally remarked that the grand characteristic
of Fielding's first novel is the singular healthiness of its
tone. Though some of its pages are not unexceptionable
in point of taste and tendency, they are preferable to the
sickly sentiment and trite morality of Richardson. Whilst
the one writer is all stilts and buckram, the other is full of
health, vigour, and animal spirits. "How charming! how
wholesome is Fielding!" says Coleridge; "to take him
up after Richardson is like emerging from a sick-room,
heated by stoves, into an open lawn on a breezy day in
ÆT. 35.]
JOSEPH ANDREWS.
163
21 2
May." No attachment to long-sanctioned worldly pro-
prieties, no comfortable and convenient prejudices, no
conventional interpretations of human motives, prevented
his recognition of what was radically right, just, and true.
Though Parson Adams is a perfect Christian, his conduct
is not at all times consistent with clerical etiquette. When
insulted, he does not rely on the protection of his gown,
but, clenching his brawny fist, tells his tormentor "he has
thrashed many a better man.' Though as gentle as a
lamb, he is at all times ready to wield his cudgel in defence
of innocence. He is no less remarkable, in fact, for
physical than moral courage, carrying both to an extremity
which is calculated to shock many decent worldly minds.
"Child," he says to Joseph, when his "condescension" to
a footman has provoked surprise, "I should be ashamed of
my cloth if I thought a poor man, who is honest, below my
notice or my familiarity. I know not how those who think
otherwise can profess themselves followers of Him who
made no distinction, unless, peradventure, by preferring
the poor to the rich." The author of "Joseph Andrews,"
indeed, was no idolater of wealth and station. In the
"byeways and hedges" of the world, rather than its high
places, he found his noblest specimens of humanity. When
Joseph Andrews is discovered by the wayside, stripped and
wounded, he might have perished for all that the respect-
able people inside or outside the stage-coach would have
done for him, "unless," continues the novelist, "the
postillion (a lad who hath since been transported for
robbing a hen-roost) had not voluntarily stripped off a
great-coat, his only garment, at the same time swearing
a great oath (for which he was rebuked by the passengers),
(1) Coleridge's Table Talk.
(2) A story is told by Horace Walpole which reminds us of Adams' pugna-
city:-"A Dr. Suckling, who married a niece of my father's, quarrelled with
a country squire, who said, 'Doctor, your gown is your protector.' 'Is it so?”
replied the parson, then it shall not be yours,' pulled it off, and thrashed him
directly."
M 2
164
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742.
that he would rather ride in his shirt all his life than
suffer a fellow-creature to lie in so miserable a condition.'
"""
The publication and immediate popularity of "Joseph
Andrews" made Richardson very angry. That one so
inferior to him in literary merit, as he imagined Fielding
to be, should venture to make fun of any book of his was
an insult and an indignity not to be forgotten or forgiven.
He was at this time on very intimate terms with his rival's
two sisters (both of whom had a most ladylike admiration for
him and his writings), and to them he communicated with-
out scruple his severe displeasure. He told them that their
brother was a person of low habits, and complained bitterly
of his scurrility. From this time forth he could never see
a single merit in anything which the fellow wrote; and he
persuaded some of his friends to think or to say so too.
The worst of it was, that the book which he so much decried
steadily made its way, and became as great a favourite as a
wise and witty book should be; in short, it was almost as
much read as "Pamela" itself had been. A second edition
was published in August, 1742, and a third was called for
in the following March. Like other greatly popular works,
"}
(1) In a brief notice of Fielding's life, contained in a modern work ("British
Cyclopædia of Biography," edited by C. F. Partington), an amusing story is told
about Fielding's negotiation for the sale of "Tom Jones." But the circum-
stances recorded, if they occurred at all, must relate (as will hereafter be shown)
to the earlier novel of "Joseph Andrews." At the time the author had com-
pleted the manuscript, he was anxious, it is said, to discharge a debt of £20.
The bookseller to whom he showed it gave a significant shrug on looking
through it; whereupon Fielding despondingly asked, "If he gave him no
hopes?"
"Very faint ones, indeed, sir,” replied the bookseller, "for I have
scarcely any that the book will move.' Well, sir," replied the poor author,
"money I must have; so pray give me some idea what you can afford." The
bookseller still repeating that [Joseph] was not to the public taste, and would
not move, mentioned £25 as the highest price he could offer.
"And will you
give that?" inquired Fielding, anxiously. "Why,
Why," said the bookseller, "I
must think again; leave the book with me, and I will make up my mind to-
morrow."
"Then remember," rejoined the author, "for £25 the book is
yours.' After this Fielding happened to meet Thomson, the poet, to whom he
related what had taken place at the interview, and who wisely advised him to
get the manuscript back. About this there was no difficulty, for it was returned
the next morning. Thomson upon this introduced Fielding to Andrew Millar,
CC
ÆT 35.]
JOSEPH ANDREWS.
165
÷
rr
Joseph Andrews" was also subject to piratical attacks.
In the October after its publication, the Attorney-general
(Sir Dudley Ryder) was instructed to move for an injunc-
tion to restrain the sale of an unauthorised impression.
The first application having been unsuccessful, on account
of a technical objection, Sir Dudley thus communicated
the circumstance to his wife, then at Bath :— "My dearest
girl, I can't help thinking of you in the midst of the noise
of Westminster Hall. I have this moment sat down, after
endeavouring to rescue Joseph Andrews and Parson Adams
out of the hands of pirates, but in vain; for this time we
are foiled by a mistake in the attack. However, another
broadside next week will do the business."1
It need scarcely be stated that his irascible rival in-
sisted on believing that this success was only temporary-
a gush of ephemeral popularity scarcely worth having.
Comfortably wrapped up in his garment of self-sufficiency,
he declared that "Pamela" would be remembered when
"Joseph Andrews" and its author were alike forgotten;
just as Aaron Hill speculated on the period arriving when
his own name should be more celebrated in the realm of
song than that of Pope.
CC
CC
who was not in the habit then of publishing light literature; but his wife,
having read the manuscript, advised him not to let [Joseph Andrews] slip
through his fingers. Accordingly, Thomson and Fielding were invited by Millar
to a tavern to settle the bargain over a bottle of wine. With much modest
trepidation, Fielding, after the second bottle of port, asked the bookseller what
he would give for the novel. "I am a man.
"I am a man," said Millar, "of few words, and
fond of coming to the point, but I don't think I can afford to give more than
£200.” “Two hundred pounds!" said Fielding, in amazement;
are you
serious?" "Never more so," replied Millar. Then," said the delighted
author, "give me your hand, the book's yours." That this could not have
occurred with respect to the novel of "Tom Jones," is evident from two or
three facts. That work was published in 1749, and Thomson died in 1748.
Millar, also, was the publisher of Joseph Andrews," which appears to be the
first work of Fielding's which issued from his press. In addition to this, it will
be borne in mind, that when "Tom Jones" was published, Fielding had esta-
blished a reputation as a novelist.
CC
(1) Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chief Justices, vol. ii. The letter is endorsed
October 23, 1742.
166
[1742–43.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER XIV.
tr
K
MISS LUCY IN
DEFENCE OF THE DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.-
TOWN."-" THE WEDDING DAY."-GARRICK AND FIELDING.
[1742-1743.]
EITHER inclination or necessity at this period led Field-
ing to give more attention to literature than to law. Pro-
bably he found the latter by no means the profitable pursuit
he had imagined; and briefs not arriving when he expected
them, he fell back on his ready pen for the means of liveli-
hood. At this time, too, he began to suffer from the attacks
of his inveterate and ultimately victorious adversary—the
gout; and attendance in court became inconvenient,
sometimes impossible. Thus situated, it is not surprising
to find him endeavouring to earn money as a political
pamphleteer, and also once more as a writer for the stage.
In April, 1742, he published anonymously a pamphlet in
defence of the Duchess Dowager of Marlborough, who,
though tottering on the verge of the grave, continued
actively to interfere in politics; and had just published,
with the literary assistance of Nathaniel Hooke, an account
of her eventful career. The manner in which Fielding
1
2
4
-
(1) A Full Vindication of the Dowager Duchess of Marlborough. In a
Letter to the noble Author of a late scurrilous Pamphlet.
(2) In December, 1741, young Horace Walpole thus writes of old Sarah to Sir
Horace Mann-"Old Marlborough is dying-but who can tell! last year she
had lain a great while ill, without speaking; her physicians said, 'She must be
blistered, or she will die.' She called out, 'I wont be blistered, and I wont
die.' If she takes the same resolution now, I don't believe she will." In another
budget of gossip addressed to the same person, the Duchess' Memoirs are thus
described: "Old Marlborough has at last published her 'Memoirs;' they are
digested by one Hooke, who wrote a Roman History, but from her materials,
which are so womanish, that I am sure the man might sooner have made a gown
and petticoat with them."
•
P
ÆT. 35-36.] DEFENCE OF DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH,
167
speaks of "Old Sarah" will astonish those who only re-
member her as Pope's Atossa, who,
"From loveless youth to unrespected age,
No passion gratified except her rage:"
E
for, in language of extravagant eulogy, he does not hesi-
tate to describe her as "a glorious woman, whose character
he had never contemplated but with admiration." Proba-
bly Fielding had more reasons than one for forming so
flattering an estimate of the character of a woman who
is considered, by most impartial readers of history, a
troublesome and mischievous intriguer. It is not impos-
sible that his advocacy received pecuniary reward from
the Duchess or her partisans; but it should also be re-
membered that his father had fought under Churchill, and
the name of Marlborough had been honoured by him from
childhood.
1
"}
On the 5th of May following, a ballad-farce was pro-
duced at Drury Lane from Fielding's pen, called "Miss
Lucy in Town," being a sequel to "The Virgin Unmasked."
The latter production ended with the marriage of the
heroine to Thomas the footman: in the sequel, Thomas
and his wife are brought up to London, where the wife
falls unsuspectingly into the hands of a vicious procuress-
one Mrs. Midnight-who seems to be the original of
Foote's celebrated sketch of Mrs. Cole in "The Minor.'
The coincidence, in language and idea, is, to say the least
of it, remarkable; and affords one instance, amongst many,
of the unscrupulous use made of Fielding's hurried sketches
by succeeding dramatists. Mrs. Clive, who had originally
performed in "The Virgin Unmasked," made a decided
hit in the character of the heroine, and the farce promised.
to be a profitable one to its author. On May 19th he had
a benefit-night, when it was performed for the seventh
(1) See page 62.
(2) Originally Mrs. Haycock.
168
LIFE OF FIELDING. ´
[1742—43.
time, after his comedy of "The Miser." It was repre-
sented once more, when, to the surprise and indignation
of the author, its further performance was prohibited by
the order of the Lord Chamberlain. The ground of pro-
hibition was not that it was offensive to public morals
(although it must be confessed that the piece is coarse
enough), but that in one of its characters-Lord Bawble-
a particular person of quality was aimed at. This personal
experience of the rigour of the Chamberlain drew from
Fielding a sharp expostulation. He published a pamphlet
on the subject, in which he disavowed any idea of a per-
sonal attack; and it would appear that subsequently the
prohibition was withdrawn. Although throughout this
farce there are undoubted marks of Fielding's strong hand,
he remarks, in the preface to his "Miscellanies," that "he
had but a small share in it." By whom he was assisted he
does not say.
2
Towards the close of the year, in spite of repeated vows
against the stage, Fielding was again induced to devote his
attention to dramatic composition, attracted thereto by a
temptation which it was not in his nature to resist. A new
theatrical star had just risen above the horizon, whose
brightness dazzled every eye. A young actor had taken
the town by storm, and in one season achieved a reputation
second only to that of Betterton or Booth. The name of
GARRICK was upon every lip; his merits and defects as an
actor were the engrossing topics of coffee-house discussion;
and those who had not attended a theatre for years were
attracted thither to witness his wonderful achievements in
tragedy, comedy, and farce.3
A
(1) Some Account of the English Stage, vol. iii. Bath, 1832. The author of
this work (to which the biographer has been indebted for much information)
was the Reverend John Genest, of Bath.
(2) A Letter to a noble Lord to whom alone it belongs, occasioned by the Repre-
sentation of a Farce called "Miss Lucy in Town." 1742.
(3) In the following budget of dramatic gossip, addressed (May 26, 1742) to
Sir Horace Mann, Horace Walpole thus refers to Fielding's farce and Garrick's
ÆT. 35-36.]
GARRICK.
169
Very early in his dramatic career, or rather ere it
actually commenced, Garrick had made acquaintance with
the wit and genius of Fielding. Before he trod the boards
of any theatre, or resolved on making the stage his profes-
sion, he privately performed a character in one of Fielding's
farces in a place and under circumstances of some interest.
The place was the room over St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell,
where a stage was improvised, and suitable decorations and
dresses invented for the occasion. The time was soon after
Garrick's friend and tutor, Samuel Johnson, had formed a
close intimacy with Cave, the printer and publisher of
"The Gentleman's Magazine;" whilst Garrick was still
in the wine-trade with his brother Peter, and secretly
meditating a withdrawal from it, in order to adopt the
congenial but (in the opinion of his mercantile friends)
disreputable calling of an actor. The audience was com-
posed, first, of Cave himself, who, though not a man given
to mirth, or with an idea beyond his printing-presses, had
been tickled by Johnson's description of his young towns-
man's powers, and was willing to bear an experiment upon
his risible nerves. Then there was the burly Johnson-in
those days very shabby and seedy indeed, but proudly
battling his way in the world, and not a little elated by
reflecting on the figure which the boys, who had enjoyed
with him and Garrick the advantage of being flogged and
taught by Mr. Hunter of Lichfield, were likely to make in
it. Several more of Cave's literary handicraftsmen were
.
W
acting "There is a little simple farce at Drury Lane, called 'Miss Lucy in
Town,' in which Mrs. Clive mimics the Muscovite admirably, and Beard Amore-
voli tolerably. But all the run is now after Garrick, a wine-merchant, who is
turned player at Goodman's Fields. He plays all parts, and is a very good mimic.
His acting I have seen, and may say to you, who will not tell it again, I see
nothing wonderful in it—but it is heresy to say so; the Duke of Argyll says he
is superior to Betterton."
(1) In "The Gentleman's Magazine" for September, 1740, there is an Epilogue
to "The Mock Doctor," signed G. It is not impossible that this was written by
Garrick, expressly for the performance recorded by Hawkins.
(2) Besides Johnson and Garrick, there is said to have been amongst Mr.
170
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742-43.
doubtless amongst the audience: Webb, the enigma writer,
Duick, the pen-cutter, and Tobacco Browne, whose serious.
poetry even the religious Johnson confessed himself unable
to read with patience. The actors who assisted Garrick
upon this occasion were some of Cave's journeymen
printers, who laid aside their composing-sticks, and read
or recited the parts allotted to them as well as they could.
The play was Fielding's successful farce of "The Mock
Doctor; or, the Dumb Lady cured;" in which the débu-
tant of course played the part of Gregory.¹
For broad farcical humour "The Mock Doctor" is almost
without its equal; and who can doubt that Garrick did
full justice to it upon this occasion? Even Cave's hard
features must have soon relaxed into a smile, whilst his
journeymen were unable to read their parts for laughing.
As for Johnson-every one has heard how, in his later
years, returning from the Mitre with Boswell, in the early
morning, he would grasp the street-post by the Temple
gate, and send forth a peal of laughter, which echoed and
re-echoed through the silent streets; even with such a
laugh-broad, hearty, earnest indication of enjoyment-
did he hail the irresistible humour of his clever friend,
little Davy.
From performing in Fielding's farce, Garrick's next
step was to make the acquaintance of the author; and this
was an easy matter. The witty barrister was a most ac-
cessible personage, one who was hail-fellow-well-met with
any man who liked good wine, good company, and hearty
merriment. For many reasons the young actor must have
desired this intimacy. There was no name so well known
Hunter's pupils the following eminent judges-Wilmot, Chief Justice of the
Common Pleas (who was present at Garrick's first and last appearance on the
stage); Lord-Chancellor Northington; Sir Thomas Clarke, Master of the Rolls;
Chief Justice Willes; and Chief Baron Parker. "The head-master (Hunter),'
said Johnson, was very severe, and wrong-headedly severe. He used to beat
us unmercifully; and he would beat a boy equally for not knowing a thing, or
for neglecting to know it."
44
(1) Hawkins' Life of Johnson, p. 45.
サ
​ÆT. 35-36.]
171
GARRICK AND FIELDING.
came
in the green-room as Fielding's when Garrick first
out" in Goodman's Fields, in October, 1741. His wit-
ticisms were widely circulated; the events of his life were
well known; and his reputation as a comic dramatist stood
as high, at least, as any of his contemporaries. Circum-
stances, therefore, soon brought Garrick and Fielding into
close intimacy; and when the former had been upon the
stage rather more than a twelvemonth, he expressed to his
friend an earnest wish to appear in a new play from his pen.
At that time Fielding had by him two unfinished comedies.
One of them, to which he had intended to give the title of
"The Good-natured Man," he thought of in this emer-
gency; but before proceeding to revise and finish it, he
hinted to Garrick his misgivings that the manager of
Drury Lane (Mr. Fleetwood) would not at that time (pro-
bably about December, 1742) feel disposed to incur the
risk and expense of introducing a new piece. A word
from Garrick, however, was law to the manager; and
Fielding, who confesses that he was "full as desirous of
putting words into his friend's mouth as he could appear
to be of speaking them," was at once engaged by Fleet-
wood to produce a comedy on a given day, in which
Garrick should have a suitable part.
1
When the author came to revise his comedy-which had
been written some years before he found that he had
allowed himself "too little time for perfecting it;" and
being more than usually attached to the plan and plot, he
was unwilling that it should be represented in an imperfect
and unripe condition. But, besides this, he found that
the part he had designed for Garrick was a comparatively
insignificant one; and as it was at the actor's suggestion
he had resolved to bring it on the stage at all, his prin-
cipal object would have been frustrated by its representa-
tion. It was true that Garrick himself made no objection
to the character assigned him; and the play was actually
(1) Preface to Fielding's Miscellanies. 1743.
A
172
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742-43.
written out in parts for the actors, when Fielding bethought
him of the other unfinished comedy,-a more crude and
inartistic work than "The Good-natured Man," but
having the merit of giving nearly the whole business of the
piece to one actor.
This comedy was called "The Wedding Day," and was
"the third play he ever wrote." Whether he could never
get a manager to risk its representation, or whether he
was himself somewhat ashamed of it, or had forgotten it
altogether, he does not say, but he informs us that the
principal characters were originally intended for Wilkes
and Mrs. Oldfield. They were now proposed to be allotted
to Garrick and Mrs. Woffington; Fleetwood agreed to the
exchange, and Garrick was not dissatisfied with it. Having
concluded this arrangement, Fielding prepared himself,
with characteristic energy, to perform his part of the
original agreement, by having a comedy ready at the ap-
pointed time. Accordingly, he sat down with a resolution.
to work night and day during the short time allowed.
him-which was about a week-in altering and correct-
ing this production of his more juvenile years. The
time was in all conscience short enough, but ere the
week was over domestic calamity stayed his hand alto-
gether. The extreme danger of life into which a person
very dear to him was reduced, rendered him, he says,
altogether incapable of executing his task. This very
dear person was Mrs. Fielding, whose declining health had
long filled him with anxiety. Other sorrows about the
same time visited his cheerless home. During this winter
he was laid up with an attack of the gout, and he had the
misery, as he tells us, "of seeing a favourite child dying in
one bed, and his wife, in a condition very little better, on
another, attended with other circumstances which served
as very proper decoration to such a scene."4
2
3
(1) Preface to Fielding's Miscellanies. 1743.
(2) Ibid.
(3) Ibid.
(4) Ibid.
ÆT. 35-36.]
173
THE WEDDING DAY.
What these "circumstances" were may be readily
imagined. In the presence of sickness and pecuniary
difficulties it was mockery, be thought, to be squeamish
about literary reputation. He therefore permitted "The
Wedding Day" to be put in rehearsal with all its imper-
fections, and in that state announced for representation.
"Perhaps it may be asked me," he writes, in the garrulous
preface already quoted, "Why then did I suffer a piece
which I knew to be imperfect to appear? I answer honestly
and freely, that reputation was not my inducement; and
that I hoped, faulty as it was, it might answer a much
more solid, and, in my unhappy situation, a much more
urgent motive." Under such disadvantages the comedy
was produced on the 17th February, 1743, and though sup-
ported by the inimitable acting of Garrick, Macklin, Mrs.
Pritchard, and Mrs. Woffington-a brilliant constellation of
dramatic talent!—it is not surprising to find that it proved
a failure. Through the friendship of Fleetwood and Garrick
it kept its place on the stage, however, for six nights; but
the author's share of the profits did not amount to £50.¹
On the last night of its performance there were only five
ladies in the boxes. Rumours had been circulated, which
were not without foundation, that the comedy was objection-
able on the score of its indecency; but from this charge
Fielding defends it, by saying that the report arose entirely
from the objection of the licenser to certain passages, which
were immediately expunged. But this defence is not
tenable. In the plot of the comedy, with which the
licenser's pen could not interfere, there is an ingrained
deformity; and portions of the dialogue remind us of the
age of Wycherley and Congreve. That ladies of quality,
in the year 1743, should refuse to sanction such an enter-
(1) Preface to Fielding's Miscellanies. 1734.
(2) Mrs. Clive refused a part in the comedy which she considered particularly
objectionable: a circumstance which gave rise to a copy of verses by Sir C. H.
Williams. (See Williams' Poetical Works. 1822.)
·
174
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742-43.
tainment with their presence, is a proof that an improve-
ment in public morals was gradually taking place. More
than fifteen years had elapsed since Fielding produced his
first comedy. During that period many play-goers-
male and female-who had been accustomed from their
youth to the license of a corrupted theatre, had passed
away, and their successors happily were not equally dis-
posed to ignore every sense of decency and propriety.
The dramatic author is not so often the corrupter of his
audience as he is corrupted by it. Vicious tastes had
been heretofore pandered to by the glorious pen of Dryden,
not from inclination, but necessity; and in an irreligious.
and immoral age, young Harry Fielding had learned to
write immoral comedies for the amusement of immoral
audiences.
In a doggrel prologue to "The Wedding Day," spoken
by Macklin, and full of rough humour, Fielding clearly in-
timates that he had by this time discovered that the stage
was not the proper sphere for the exercise of his talents.
After many mistakes he had found out the right road to
fame, and that road was not the dramatic one. Macklin,
"with his good, long, dismal, mercy-begging face," thus
apostrophised the author, supposed to be seated amongst
the audience:
“What think you now? Whose face looks worse, yours or mine?
Ah! thou foolish follower of the ragged Nine!
You'd better stuck to honest ABRAHAM ADAMS, by half:
He, in spite of critics, can make your readers laugh."
It is not improper here to remark that the ill-success
of Fielding's last comedy was attributed by some of his
friends to his unconquerable independence of spirit, and
"the sovereign contempt (to quote the words of Mr.
Murphy) which he always entertained for the under-
standings of the generality of mankind." His behaviour
to Garrick, who remonstrated with him on the effect likely
-
ÆT. 35-36.]
THE WEDDING DAY.
175
·
to be produced by a particularly objectionable passage, is
quoted as an instance of this. At the rehearsal, the young
actor told him that he feared the audience might express
their disapprobation of this passage, and added, that "a
repulse might so flurry his spirits as to disconcert him for
the rest of the night." But Fielding was inexorable. "If
the scene is not a good one," he said, "let them find that
out." The actor's forebodings, however, turned out to be
well-founded. The objectionable passage was met with a
storm of hisses, and Garrick, who was peculiarly sensitive
on such matters, retired from the stage in a huff, and
sought for consolation in the gossip of the green-room.
There he found Fielding, sitting over a bottle of cham-
pagne, of which he had drunk rather freely. "What's
the matter, Garrick?" he exclaimed, as the actor entered
the room in a somewhat excited state; "what are they
hissing now?" He was angrily informed it was the scene
he had been advised to retrench. "Oh," said the author,
with an oath, coolly resuming his pipe of tobacco, "they
HAVE found it out, HAVE they?" 1
Fielding was fully sensible of Garrick's good offices in
forcing on the representation of his comedy, as the means
of relieving him from pecuniary difficulties. Gratitude for
this act of kindness, combined with a high admiration for
the actor's genius, laid the foundation of a friendship as
close and sincere as the very different characters of the
two men permitted. In one respect, certainly, they were
most unlike. Fielding was profuse and generous to a
fault; Garrick was niggardly and parsimonious to a pitiful
degree. This spirit manifested itself in the actor from the
earliest period of his wonderful career; and nothing de-
lighted Fielding more than to ridicule and expose it. On
one occasion he attempted to do this by means of a prac-
tical joke, which is thus narrated by Macklin. Garrick,
we are told, had given a dinner at his lodgings to Fielding,
(1) Murphy's Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
w
176
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742-43.
Macklin, Havard (the comedian), Mrs. Cibber, and others;
and vails to servants being then much in fashion, Macklin,
and most of the company, gave Garrick's man (David, a
Welshman) something at parting-some a shilling, some
half-a-crown, whilst Fielding very formally slipped a piece
of paper into his hand, with something folded in the inside.
When the company were all gone, David seeming to be in
high glee, Garrick asked him how much he got? "I
can't tell you yet, sir," said David; "here's half-a-crown
from Mrs. Cibber, Got pless her-here's a shilling from
Mr. Macklin-here is two from Mr. Havard-and here is
something more from the poet, Got pless his merry heart."
By this time David had unfolded the paper, when, to his
great astonishment, he saw it contained no more than
one penny! Garrick felt nettled at this, and next day
spoke to Fielding about the impropriety of jesting with a
servant. "Jesting!" said Fielding, with seeming surprise;
CC
so far from it, I meant to do the fellow a real piece
of service; for had I given him a shilling or half-a-
crown, I know you would have taken it from him: but
by giving him only a penny, he had a chance of calling
it his own." 1
S
Notwithstanding the ridicule to which Garrick's parsi-
mony exposed him, it was certainly a more serviceable
quality than Fielding's thoughtless and often misplaced
generosity. It cannot escape observation that the profuse
man is often unjust both to himself and others. What is
lightly and without reflection parted with to-day, is found
on the morrow necessary to meet a claim which it is
dishonourable to leave unsatisfied. Men of Fielding's
stamp are thus continually betrayed into acts of injustice
(to give them their lightest name), not from want of prin-
ciple, but from yielding impulsively to the prompting of
a thoughtless good-nature. That this temperament proved
his curse through life is very plain. When he had earned
(1) Macklin's Memoirs. 1804.
ZET. 35-36.]
177
ANECDOTE OF FIELDING.
a score of pounds he would spend or lend them, though
beggary stared him in the face the next moment. "Open,
unbounded, and social in his temper," says Mr. Murphy,
"he knew no love of money; but inclined to excess even
in his very virtues, he pushed his contempt of avarice into
the opposite extreme of imprudence and prodigality."
An anecdote may properly find insertion here which
shows to what an imprudent extent Fielding carried his
generosity of disposition. Certain parochial rates on a
house which he occupied in Beaufort Buildings having
been long due and unpaid, he was told by the collector,
after repeated demands, that no further delay would be
granted. In this strait he applied to his bookseller (per-
haps Andrew Millar) for an advance, and received from
him the sum he wanted (about ten or twelve guineas), on
the security of a work he was writing. Returning home
to pay off the obdurate tax-gatherer, he met with an old
college friend whom he had not seen for many years, and
whose circumstances he found, on comparing notes, to be
still more desperate than his own. His benevolent heart
was touched by the narrative of his friend's distresses; and
having invited him into a tavern, he called for a bottle of
wine, and then and there, without reflecting on the con-
sequences of the act, immediately handed him over all the
money he had received from the bookseller. When he
reached home (where he had been long expected), over-
joyed with the consciousness of having done a generous
act, he was told that the collector had called twice for the
taxes. Fielding's reply, says the narrator of the anecdote,
was as laconic as it is memorable: "Friendship has called
for the money and has had it; let the collector call again."
It is satisfactory to add that the bookseller, whoever he
was, was liberal enough to make a second advance to the
(1) Gentleman's Magazine. 1781.
(2) The relater of the anecdote gives the name of Jacob Tonson; but this is
obviously incorrect.
N
178
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1742-43.
thoughtless man of letters, with which the collector was
paid.¹
That Fielding should from the first have shown a full
appreciation of Garrick's genius, is not less satisfactory
than that Garrick should have recognised in him-despite
his carelessness and irregularities—the healthiest and wit-
tiest writer of the age. In the several spheres in which
their talents found scope, both men were remarkable for
their disdain of conventionalisms, and for their freedom
from every trace of affectation. In the healthful tone and
natural ease of "Joseph Andrews," there was something
not dissimilar to Garrick's acting. The novel was read by
thousands, and the actor followed for the same reasons.
In each there was visibly displayed the grace of truth and
4
(1) In an account of the club at Old Slaughter's coffee-house ("Wine and
Walnuts," vol. i. p. 119), when enlivened by the presence of Hogarth and
Fielding, there is the following characteristic sketch of the wealth-despising
novelist "In the same strain I have heard my great-uncle say, in defending
the reputation of the witty fraternity- No, sir, ill-nature had no seat at our
table. It is true that Fielding, the lively rogue, would sometimes entertain us
at the expense of some well-known, harmless, humdrum prosers, who filled a
box in the coffee-room, or others; and above all, some overbearing, purse-proud
miscreants who frequented the house, against whom he indulged an ever-in-
creasing antipathy. O what a look of indignation did he assume immediately,
on metamorphosing his features from the vacuity of a grovelling man of wealth
back again to his own intelligent countenance, after playing the consequential
grub in the act of asking, when a bright man of letters or genius has been
praised, the sickening questions-' HOW MUCH CAN HE EARN? WHAT MAY HE
BE WORTH?'
222
·
From the same work (written by Mr. Pyne, and published, we believe, ori-
ginally in the "Literary Gazette") we cull another anecdote of Fielding and
the club-life of this convivial period:-"There is a curious story of Jonathan
Richardson [the painter] and Harry Fielding, which I have heard my uncle
relate, but it is too long for this chapter. It was about Richardson's notes to
Milton, which he used to read to all comers at Old Slaughter's, Button's, and
Wills'. He seldom rambled city-ways, though sometimes he slipped in at the
Rainbow, where he counted a few worthies, or looked in at Dick's, and gave
them a note or two. He would not put his foot on the threshold of the Devil
[a tavern by Temple Bar, long since removed], for he thought the sign profane.
Fielding would run a furlong to escape him; he called him Doctor
Fidget." It should be observed that these sketches are not matter-of-fact re-
lations, but a collection of biographical incidents illustrative of the period, some
of which only have any authentic foundation.
ÆT, 35-36.]
179
ANECDOTE OF FIELDING.
nature, in opposition to strut and rant, bombast and buck-
ram. In the case of Garrick, the transition was great and
strange. "If this young fellow," said Quin, "be right, I
and the rest of the players must be all wrong." It was
impossible, thought the veteran, that a mere stripling
should have seized by intuition on an idea which proved.
that so many Richards, Lears, and Othellos, had been
fools and blunderers. He comforted himself, therefore,
with the notion that "it was a fashion, and would soon be
It was a new religion: Whitfield was followed for
a time, but the people came back to church.” ¹ When
this observation was reported to Garrick, he truly and
wittily observed, that "it was not heresy but reformation."
And reformation it undoubtedly was, which swept away
high-heeled boots and enormous perriwigs, and made even
tragedy-kings talk like reasonable beings.
over.
Another oracle of the green-room, beside Quin, re-
fused to recognise the merits of the popular idol. When
Fleetwood had made a hit at Drury Lane by securing the
services of Garrick, Fielding's old antagonist, Colley
Cibber, strolled one night into the green-room.
"Mr.
Cibber," said the manager, deferentially, "when may we
hope to have another comedy from you?" "From me!"
replied the Laureate, "why who the deuce have you got
to act it?" "Why, sir," said Fleetwood, modestly,
"there's Garrick, Macklin, Pritchard, and Clive-”
yes," broke in the irritable comedian, "I know all these
very well; but (coolly taking a pinch of snuff) where the
devil are your ACTORS?"2 Garrick, as well as Fielding,
could, however, well afford to bear the enmity and sar-
casms of Colley Cibber. It was more than a compensation
to the former that the great poet of an age of great wits
*
"Oh
(1) Dibdin's History of the Stage, vol. v.
(2) Macklin's Memoirs. 1804. A qualified admiration of Garrick was never-
theless soon wrung from Cibber. "I'faith, Bracy," he is reported to have said,
taking snuff, and turning to his aucient partner in theatrical glory, Mrs. Brace-
girdle, "the lad is clever.”—Forster's Life of Goldsmith, vol. i,
N 2
180
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743.
繁
​and poets-who had known Betterton in his best days,
and enjoyed his friendship-took the trouble, though in
feeble and failing health, to see him when he performed
in Goodman's Fields. Mr. Pope-for it was he-made the
remark that "he was afraid the young man would be
spoiled, for he would have no competitor." Can it be
doubted that the admiration of Pope, and the friendship
of Fielding, were amongst the most agreeable incidents of
Garrick's professional career?
ÆT. 36.]
181
MISCELLANIES.
66
CHAPTER XV.
FIELDING'S
MISCELLANIES."-POEMS.-ESSAYS.-" JOURNEY
FROM THIS WORLD TO THE NEXT."-" JONATHAN WILD."
[1743.]
THE domestic distresses which interrupted Fielding when
engaged in the task of revising "The Wedding Day" for
the stage, also delayed the publication of a work which he
had for some time promised. He had undertaken to issue.
three volumes of "Miscellanies," consisting of fugitive
poems, and some original pieces in prose. The work was
to be published by subscription; and it is gratifying to
state that the members of his profession rallied round him
on the occasion with generous zeal. When the "Mis-
cellanies" at length appeared (in the course of the year
1743), he mentioned in his preface his deep sense of the
friendship shown him by a profession of which he was "a
late and unworthy member," and from whose assistance
he derived more than half the names in his subscription-
list. The delay which had taken place in the publica-
tion of the volumes he apologised for in terms of the
deepest pathos. The real reason of it, he said, was
"the serious illness of one from whom I draw all the solid
comfort of my life during the greatest part of the winter.
This, as it is most sacredly true, so will it, I doubt not,
sufficiently excuse the delay to all who know me." It may
seein that Mr. Murphy's anecdote respecting his behaviour
on the night of the first representation of "The Wedding
Day," is somewhat inconsistent with the excessive anxiety
which he endured on account of his wife's failing health.
But a man of Fielding's temperament is always liable to
fall into extremes. From his wife's sick-bed to the riot of
182
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743.
the green-room must appear indeed a strange transition.
But it may be assumed, that on the night in question
Fielding repaired to the theatre with a heavy heart, being
naturally anxious about the fate of a piece from which he
expected the pecuniary supplies he so much required.
What followed was in keeping with his character. He felt
that the play was not likely to prove a "success;" and
a glass of champagne was resorted to, which brightened up
his spirits and unloosed his tongue. And then what more
natural from such a man than the jest at calamity and
disappointment, and the loud laugh in which the aching
heart often hopes to find relief?
The three volumes of "Miscellanies" which Fielding
now gave to the world contained at once some of the best
and some of the worst productions of his pen. He applied
to them, with truth, Martial's famous line:-
"Sunt bona, sunt quædam mediocria, sunt mala plura."
In the last class may be included most of the poems which
filled the greater portion of the first volume. For versifi-
cation he never possessed any striking talent; and as he
wrote his verses off, and published them, as he did much of
his prose, without correction or retrenchment, it is not
surprising to find them diffuse and inelegant. Some of his
early rhymes-perhaps "The Masquerade," by Lemuel
Gulliver, before-mentioned-induced Dean Swift to insert
his name in the early copies of his "Rhapsody on Poetry,"
in the well-known lines:
"For instance, when you rashly think
No rhymer can like Wellsted sink;
His merits balanced, you shall find
That Fielding leaves him far behind."
Swift, however, saw reason afterwards to respect Fielding's
character and talents, withdrew his name from the line, and
inserted "the Laureate" instead.
Doubtless it would be unfair to subject these fugitive
ÆT. 36.1
MISCELLANIES.
183
2
poems to the test of severe criticism. They are written at
very different periods, and, for the most part, dictated by
the whim of the moment. One copy of verses bears the
early date of 1728,¹ whilst another, addressed to a lady at
Bath, and "written extempore in the pump-room," belongs
to the year 1742. The most ambitious poem in the col-
lection is the "Epistle on True Greatness," addressed to
George Dodington, Esq., and first published in 1741; and
the best is an address "To a Friend on the Choice of a
Wife," which contains many vigorous and nervous lines.
In delineating the character of a model wife, the poet-it
may be almost unconsciously-sketched the portrait of his
own charming helpmate, in whom it is obvious that un-
varying gentleness of disposition, and a yielding temper,
were the most conspicuous qualities:-
"C
May she thus prove who shall thy lot befall,
Beauteous to thee, agreeable to all;
Nor wit, nor learning, proudly may she boast,
No low-bred girl, nor gay fantastic toast,
Her tender soul good-nature must adorn,
And vice and meanness be alone her scorn.
Superior judgment may she own thy lot;
Humbly advise, but contradict thee not;
Thine to all other company prefer;
May all thy troubles find relief from her!
If fortune gives thee such a wife to meet,
Earth cannot make thy blessings more complete."
The poetry in the first volume of the "Miscellanies" is
followed by three prose essays: the first on "Conversation,"
the second on the "Knowledge of the Characters of Men,"
(1) A description of U- -n G (alias New Hog's Norton), in Com. Hants.
Written to a young lady in the year 1728.
(2) Bath was at this time a place of much resort, and the health-restoring
quality of its waters in high repute. The barristers who rode the Western
Circuit-for in those days barristers as well as bagmen traversed the country on
horseback—were wont to assemble in this city of gaiety and pleasure after the
labours of the circuit. (See Lord Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors—“Life
of Lord Northington.")
184
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743.
and the third on "Nothing." The two former are replete
with good sense and sound philosophy. No one had a
more acute sense of the tact which constitutes good-breeding
than Fielding. He was also well skilled in that most diffi-
cult knowledge-the art of placing a proper estimate on
oneself and others. "If," he says, in the Essay on Conver-
sation, “I prefer my excellence in poetry to Pope or Young
-if an inferior actor should, in his opinion, exceed Quin.
or Garrick—or a signpost painter set himself above the
inimitable Hogarth-we become only ridiculous by our
vanity; and the persons themselves, who are thus humbled
in the comparison, would laugh with more reason than any
other." In the same spirit he rebukes the offence against
good manners, so often committed by members of his pro-
fession. "There is another very common fault, . . . . dis-
coursing on the mysteries of a particular profession, to
which all the rest of the company, except one or two, are
utter strangers. Lawyers are generally guilty of this fault,
as they are more confined to the conversation of one
another; and I have known a very agreeable company
spoiled, where there have been two of these gentlemen
present, who have seemed rather to think themselves in
a court of justice than in a mixed assembly of persons,
met only for the entertainment of each other."
In the "Essay on the Characters of Men," the following
excellent directions are given for testing the disposition of
a friend or acquaintance :-"Trace then the man proposed
to your trust into his private family and nearest intimacies.
See whether he hath acted the part of a good son, brother,
husband, father, friend, master, servant, &c. If he hath
discharged these duties well, your confidence will have a
good foundation; but if he hath behaved himself in these
offices with tyranny, with cruelty, with infidelity, with
inconstancy, you may be assured he will take the first oppor-
1
(1) They are both printed in Mr. Murphy's edition of Fielding's Works.
The Essay on "Nothing" is published in Mr. Roscoe's edition. 1840.
ÆT. 36.]
MISCELLANIES.
185
tunity his interest points out to him of exercising the same
ill talents at your expense.
Nothing, indeed, can be
more unjustifiable to our prudence than an opinion that
the man whom we see act the part of a villain to others,
should, on some minute change of person, time, place, or
other circumstance, behave like an honest and just man to
ourselves."
•
Two or three other slight pieces-thrown off at different
times—were included in the first volume of these "Miscel-
lanies." The pedantic papers of the Royal Society are
ridiculed in a piece called "Philosophical Transactions for
the year 1742-3;" the contents being "Several papers
relating to the terrestrial Chrysipus, Golden-foot, or guinea,
-an insect, or vegetable, which has this surprising property,
that being cut into several pieces, each piece lives, and in a
short time becomes as perfect an insect, or vegetable, as that
of which it was originally only a part." Fielding spoke
experimentally of the habits of the Chrysipus, or guinea,
when, in one part of this paper, he thus describes the diffi-
culty of keeping it under some circumstances :-" As to the
age of the Chrysipus, it differs extremely; some being of
equal duration with the life of man, and some of scarce a
moment's existence. The best method of preserving them
is, I believe, in bags, or chests, in large numbers; for they
seldom live long when they are alone. The great Gualterus
says, he thought he could never put enough of them
together. If you carry them in your pockets, singly, or in
pairs, as some do, they will last a very little while, and in
some pockets not a day." To show that he had not alto-
gether neglected classical learning during his gay and busy
life, Fielding also inserted in this volume a translation of
the First Olynthiac of Demosthenes.2
Vála
(1) Intended to ridicule a paper published by the Royal Society on the Fresh-
water Polypus.
(2) A Dialogue between Alexander the Great and Diogenes the Cynic, together
with a Mythological Interlude (which had been intended to form an introduction
to an unwritten comedy), complete the volume.
·
186
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743.
The greater portion of the second volume of these "Mis-
cellanies" is occupied with that curious and valuable frag-
ment, called "A Journey from this World to the next."
The groundwork, or rough sketch, of this production is to
be found, as already intimated, in one of the numbers of
"The Champion," when Fielding presided over that pub-
lication. The idea was a very fortunate one, since it en-
abled him, not only to indulge in a rich vein of pleasantry,
but also to display a very considerable fund of learning and
information. It is, indeed, said by Mr. Murphy that the
subject, or its treatment, "provoked the dull, short-sighted,
and malignant enemies of our author to charge him with
an intention to subvert the settled notions of mankind in
philosophy and religion." From such a charge, however,
Fielding does not require any serious vindication. The
people who accused him of profanity must have been "dull
and short-sighted" enough; and their religious notions.
were just as liable to subversion from reading "Telema-
chus" or (( Gulliver's Travels."
There is, in truth, much excellent satire in this imagined.
spirit-journey. The punishment of the miser, for instance,
who is sentenced to keep a bank, and to distribute money
gratis to all passengers,-is exquisitely devised.
"This
bank," says the satirist, "originally consisted of just that
sum which he had miserably hoarded up in the other
world, and he is to perceive it decrease visibly one shilling
a day, till it is totally exhausted; after which he is to
return to the other world, and perform the part of a miser
for seventy years; then, being purified in the body of a hog,
he is to enter the human species again and take a second
trial."
The spirit's description of the conversation and de-
meanour of some of the world's great literary celebrities
in the Elysian fields, is likewise full of humour and
character. Every one must admire the nice discrimination
displayed by Fielding in the following little sketch of two
ÆT. 36.] JOURNEY FROM THIS WORLD TO THE NEXT.
187
of his most distinguished predecessors in the kingdom of
letters :-
Virgil then came up to me, with Mr. Addison under his arm.
'Well, sir,' said he, 'how many translations of these few last years
produced of my Eneid?' I told him I believed several, but I could
not possibly remember, for that I had never read any but Dr. Trapp's.
'Ay,' said he, 'that is a curious piece indeed!' I then acquainted
him with the discovery made by Mr. Warburton of the Eleusinian
mysteries couched in the sixth book. 'What mysteries?' said Mr.
Addison. 'The Eleusinian,' answered Virgil, 'which I have dis-
closed in my sixth book.' 'How?' replied Addison; 'you never
mentioned a word of any such mysteries to me in all our acquaint-
'I thought it was unnecessary,' cried the other, ‘to a man of
your infinite learning: besides, you always told me you perfectly
understood my meaning.' Upon this I thought the critic looked a
little out of countenance, and turned aside to a very merry spirit,
one Dick Steele, who embraced him, and told him he had been the
greatest man upon earth; that he readily resigned up all the merits
of his own works to him. Upon which Addison gave him a gracious
smile, and clapping him on the back with much solemnity, cried out,
Well said, Dick!'
ance.'
(6
259
The meeting with Shakspere, standing between Betterton
and Booth, is equally characteristic, and the dispute on the
true reading of the famous line in "Othello'
"Put out the light, and then put out the light"—
is well worthy of the attention of Shaksperian critics and
commentators. After various readings and emendations
had been proposed, the matter is referred to Shakspere
himself, "who," says the satirist, "delivered his senti-
ments as follows:-Faith, gentlemen, it is so long since
I wrote the line, I have forgot my meaning. This I
know could I have dreamt so much nonsense would have
been talked and writ about it, I would have blotted it out
of my works.""
:
The curious transmigrations of Julian the Apostate,
which appear at the end of the fragment, and are left
unfinished, may be also referred to as presenting a succes-
sion of pictures of men and manners replete with historical
truth, and surpassed by very few writers of fiction.
188
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743.
The third volume of Fielding's "Miscellanies" is wholly
occupied with the "History of the Life of the late Mr.
Jonathan Wild the Great." This is certainly the least
agreeable of all his fictions. Its scathing satire and bitter
truisms remind one rather of the manner of Swift than of
the genial humour of the author of "Joseph Andrews"
and "Tom Jones." Nevertheless, it must be conceded
that none of his works display greater shrewdness of obser-
vation; and in none do we meet with sounder philosophical
reflections. The "prodigious force of habit" was never
better illustrated than by the conduct of Wild and the
gambling Count La Ruse, when wiling away the tedious
hours of their imprisonment by a game at cards; "for
though," we are told, "the Count knew, if he won ever so
much of Mr. Wild, he should not receive a shilling, yet
he could not refrain from packing the cards; nor could
Wild keep his hands out of his friend's pockets, though he
knew there was nothing in them." In the delineation of
Wild's character and motives, there is throughout a vein.
of fine general satire, and the very perfection of irony.
"He carried good nature," it is observed, "to that won-
derful and uncommon height, that he never did a single
injury to man or woman, by which he himself did not
expect to reap some advantage." A remarkable acuteness,
again, is shown in the following observation :—“ Wild,
indeed, always kept to as much truth as was possible in
everything; and this, he said, was turning the cannon of
the enemy upon themselves."
In the preface to the "Miscellanies," Fielding guarded
his readers against expecting an authentic history of the
famous thief-taker; a narrative which was to be found in
its proper place-the pages of "The Newgate Calendar."
"The History of Jonathan Wild," he says, "is rather a
narrative of such actions as he might have performed, or
would, or should have performed, than what he really did;
and may, in reality, as well suit any other man as the
ÆT. 36.]
JONATHAN WILD.
189
person himself whose name it bears." The argument is,
in fact, roguery in the abstract rather than the career of
any particular rogue ;-an exposition of the motives which
actuate the unprincipled great in every walk and sphere of
life, and which are common alike to the thief and murderer
on the small scale, and to the mighty villain or reckless
conqueror who invades the rights and destroys the liberties.
of nations. He also protested against the inference which
the multitude would be too likely to draw, that he intended
to write a general satire on mankind, or meant his hero to
represent human nature in general. "Such insinuations,"
he said,
"must be attended with very dreadful conse-
quences; nor do I see any other tendency they can natu-
rally have, but to encourage and soothe men in their
villanies, and to make every well-disposed man disclaim his
own species, and curse the hour of his birth into such a
society." With regard to his use of the word greatness,
he conceived it necessary to warn the world that the
greatness he intended to satirise was that which was
altogether divorced from goodness, and which seemed to
resemble the false sublime in poetry. "This bombast
greatness," he observes, "is the character I intend to
expose; and the more this prevails in and deceives the
world, taking to itself not only riches and power, but often
honour—or at least the shadow of it-the more necessary
it is to strip the monster of these false colours, and show
it in its native deformity; for by suffering vice to possess
the reward of virtue, we do a double injury to society, by
encouraging the former, and taking away the chief incen-
tive to the latter."
Such is Fielding's explanation of the design and inten-
tion of this curious work; but it can scarcely be held a
sufficient excuse for the mass of disagreeable details-the
revolting villanies and unrelieved depravities which it
unfolds to the general reader. With all its wit and clever-
ness, it cannot be classed with his other fictions, nor read
190
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743.
with the same degree of pleasure. Yet it contains some
things which scarcely any one else could have written :—
witness the characters of Heartfree and his wife; the
Newgate scenes between Wild and the Ordinary; and the
description of the hero's trial and condemnation :-
"The day of his trial now approached, for which, as Socrates did,
he prepared himself; but not weakly and foolishly, like that philo-
sopher, with patience and resignation, but with a good number of
false witnesses. However, as success is not always proportioned to
the wisdom of him who endeavours to attain it, so are we more sorry
than ashamed to relate, that our hero was, notwithstanding his
utmost caution and prudence, convicted and sentenced to a death,
which, when we consider not only the great men who have suffered
it, but the much larger number of those whose highest honour it
hath been to merit it, we cannot call otherwise than honourable.
. . . For my own part, I confess, I look on this death of hanging
to be as proper for a hero as any other; and I solemnly declare, that
had Alexander the Great been hanged, it would not in the least have
diminished my respect for his memory. Provided a hero in his life
doth but execute a sufficient quantity of mischief; provided he be
but well and heartily cursed by the widow, the orphan, the poor,
and oppressed, . . . . I think it avails little of what nature his death
be, whether it be by the axe, the halter, or the sword. Such names
will be always sure of living to posterity, and of enjoying that fame
which they so gloriously and eagerly coveted; for, according to a
great dramatic poet,—
'Fame
Not more survives from good than evil deeds.
The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian dome,
Outlives in fame the pious fool who raised it.""
As a matter of some literary interest, it may be observed
that there is a complimentary allusion in "Jonathan Wild"
to the parliamentary reports which Dr. Samuel Johnson
had been for some years in the habit of compiling for
"The Gentleman's Magazine." It is well known that
soon after Cave had commenced reporting the debates,
(1) The reverend gentleman's reason for preferring punch to wine, is one of
Fielding's happiest hits. "ORDINARY. Why wine? Let me tell you, Mr. Wild,
there is nothing so deceitful as the spirits given us by wine. If you must drink,
let us have a bowl of punch; a liquor I the rather prefer, as it is nowhere spoken
against in Scripture."
ÆT. 36.]
191
JONATHAN WILD.
and when they had increased in interest and importance,
he received an intimation from one of the clerks of the
House of Commons that their publication had given offence
to the Speaker, and that measures would be taken to
interfere with it as a breach of parliamentary privilege.
Upon this, Mr. Urban hit upon the expedient of giving
fictitious names to the speakers in parliament, and to
places and countries alluded to in debate; and as "Gulli-
ver's Travels” were then widely read, and in the height of
their popularity, the Houses of Lords and Commons were
transformed into the senate of Magna Lilliputia; the peers
were termed Hurgos; France was called Blefuscu; and a
similar liberty was taken with other names of places and
persons. Happily, Cave published in his magazine, from
time to time, a key to this curious jargon, or otherwise ora-
tors might have been unable to recognise their harangues
in the ornate phraseology of the reporter. To this Fielding
alludes in his account of Jonathan Wild's courtship, when,
having quoted his love-letter, and remarked on the differ-
ence presented in its style of elaborate compliment to the
writer's ordinary discourse, he observes that the ancients
(particularly Sallust) embellished their narratives with
speeches which had obviously received some flourishes
from the eloquence of the historian. "Nay," he adds,
"even amongst the moderns, famous as they are for elocu-
tion, it may be doubted whether those inimitable harangues,
published in the monthly magazines, came literally from
the mouths of the HURGOS, &c., as they are there inserted,
or whether we may not rather suppose some historian of
great eloquence hath borrowed the matter only, and
adorned it with those rhetorical flowers for which many of
the said HURGOs are not so extremely eminent."
This curious experiment in the art of parliamentary
reporting answered so well that it enabled Cave to set up
his coach, and raised the credit of the English legislature
so high as to draw from Voltaire the remark, that the
192
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743.
eloquence of Greece and Rome was revived in the British
senate."1
With respect, however, to the reporter's impar-
tiality and fidelity, it is only necessary to refer to his
avowed confession, that he took care "the Whig DOGS
should never have the best of the argument." Nothing.
also can be more strikingly Johnsonian than the pointed,
antithetical sentences put into the mouths of all the
speakers, good, bad, and indifferent,—so that the blunt Sir
John Barnard, famed for his vulgarisms, the courtly
Wyndham, the polished Pulteney, and the impetuous
Pitt, were made to deliver their sentiments precisely in the
same style and language.
2
(1) Hawkins' Life of Johnson.
((
(2) Ibid.
AT. 36-38.]
193
DEATH OF MRS. FIELDING.
CHAPTER XVI.
DEATH OF MRS. FIELDING. — PREFACE TO DAVID SIMPLE,"
ETC. REBELLION OF 45.-" THE TRUE PATRIOT."
45.—
[1743-1745.]
WHILST thus busily employed,-hanging on to the law,
but subsisting mainly by literature,-Fielding was stunned
by a calamity which seemed to fill up the measure of his
misfortunes. The wife to whom he was so tenderly attached
had been for some time a confirmed invalid. The flower
of New Sarum gradually faded in the huge "brick desert,"
where she had, like a true woman, faithfully shared her
husband's fortunes. Alas! the vicissitudes of his life were
sufficient to try the strength of a more vigorous frame than
hers. Every variety of fortune, from comparative comfort
to absolute privation, had she experienced with him: some-
times, it is on record, they lived in decent lodgings;
sometimes in a garret.¹ Continual experience of narrow
circumstances, constant anxieties, many privations, how-
ever cheerfully borne, in the end undermined the constitu-
tion, and left it open, like a defenceless city, to the inroads
of disease. Still the husband was little prepared for the
sudden stroke which deprived him for ever of her dear
companionship on this side the grave. After many months
of declining health she caught a fever, it is said, and died
in his arms. Up to this moment-apprehending no imme-
diate danger-he had marked with sorrow and anxiety her
(1) "Sometimes they lived in decent lodgings, with tolerable comfort; some-
times in a garret, without necessaries; to say nothing of the sponging-houses
and hiding-places in which he was occasionally found." - Letters of Lady
M. W. Montague. Edited by Lord Wharncliffe. Introductory Anecdotes,
(2) Letters of Lady M. W. Montague.
0
194
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743-45.
failing strength, but never ventured to think of final sepa-
ration. The blow with which he was now stricken was too
painful for endurance: poverty, with her, he could bear;
sickness, pain, detraction, disappointment—all but this!
It is not wonderful that this bereavement should have
powerfully affected him; for he was bound to his departed
wife by no common tie. They had not been many years
united when Death "sued out this strict divorce between
them," but those years had been crowded with the events
of a lifetime. They had known prosperity, or apparent
prosperity, together; enjoyed together the smiles of for-
tune; and had tasted together the bitterest cup of adversity.
We need not, therefore, be surprised to learn that Fielding
mourned over his loss as one that would not be comforted.
His grief was so excessive that his friends feared that the
consequences might be fatal to his reason. It may be that,
with the tears of sorrow which he shed over his wife's early
grave, were mingled those of remorse. Though a fond
and faithful, had he not also been a reckless and imprudent
husband? Had he not brought misery and misfortune
upon himself and upon her who was no more, which com-
mon prudence might have averted? Never harsh or cruel
in word or thought, had he not been so practically in act
and deed? It is a beautiful trait in the human character,
as every one who has lost a dear friend or relative must
know, that when Death strikes down a beloved object,
the first feelings which rend the heart and aggravate the
tide of grief, are those of self-accusation. Then it is that
Į every unkind deed, and thought, and word, rises up in
judgment against us. Then it is that the accusing spirit
within reminds us of every selfish sin which brought dis-
quietude, care, or misery, upon the dear departed one.
Not only for what we have done do we then reproach
ourselves, but for what we have left undone-for words.
unspoken, for duties unperformed, for self unsacrificed.
Reflections like these added, in all probability, to the
.
1.
ÆT. 36-38.]
DEATH OF MRS. FIELDING.
195
=
poignancy of Fielding's sufferings. But, beyond this, his
calamity had another circumstance of aggravation. In his
painful struggles with adversity he had hitherto been
supported by womanly sympathy, and the consolation
which a loving woman knows so well how to administer in
the hour of misfortune and disappointment; now he must
labour on alone-a dark night had closed around, and a
cheerless path lay before him.
Of the lasting impression which this sad event made on
Fielding's mind, there is evidence in many parts of his
subsequent writings. The manner in which, for instance,
he commemorates Mr. Allworthy's sense of a similar
bereavement (in the first book of "Tom Jones") reminds
us of this melancholy passage in his own domestic life:-
“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 at 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 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."1
As soon as Fielding had somewhat recovered from the
(1) This description of marital constancy was perhaps intended by Fielding
to apply more particularly to the case of his friend George Lyttleton, who
sustained a similar loss, in the beginning of the year 1747. Lyttleton gave ex-
pression to his grief in a Monody, which was ridiculed by Smollett in a parody
called “An Ode on the Death of my Grandmother :" published in "Peregrine
o 2
196
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743-45.
stupor of grief into which his wife's death had plunged him,
and felt sufficient fortitude to face the world once more,
he applied himself seriously to his profession. It is said
by Mr. Murphy that the law "had its hot and cold fits
with him ;" and that "he pursued it by starts, and after
frequent intermissions." These "intermissions" were not
voluntary; for attacks of illness often confined him to his
house, when he ought to have been in Westminster Hall or
on circuit. Nevertheless, he struggled on vigorously and
courageously, impelled to exertion by the strong incentive
of parental affection. As to literature, for some time he
abandoned it upon principle, and from motives of policy.
He had found out that his reputation as an author inter-
fered with his progress at the Bar, and the fame which he
acquired was no compensation for the loss of a livelihood.
Few men of his powers had ever devoted themselves to let-
ters and reaped therefrom so little advantage. In bitterness
of spirit he cursed such barren triumphs, derided the notion
of purchasing posthumous fame by a life of poverty and
wretchedness, and sought elsewhere for more substantial
rewards.
8
Now and then, indeed, he was beguiled into print. In
1744, his sister Sarah published, anonymously, her novel
of "David Simple," which having in the first instance been
Pickle" (first edition). In the following stanza Lyttleton gives emphatic
expression to his grief:
"O best of wives! O dearer far to me
Than when thy virgin charms
Were yielded to my arms!
How can my soul endure the loss of thee?
How in the world, to me a desert grown,
Abandon'd and alone!
Without my sweet companion can I live?
Without thy lovely smile,
The dear reward of every virtuous toil,
What pleasure now can pall'd Ambition give?
Ev'n the delightful sense of well-earned praise,
Unshar'd by thee, no more my lifeless thoughts could raise."
(1) Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
1
T. 36-38.]
197
PREFACE TO DAVID SIMPLE, ETC.
ascribed to him, he was induced to prefix a preface to a
second edition, in which he disclaimed its authorship, and
at the same time announced his abandonment of litera-
ture. More than one motive impelled him to make this
declaration: first, he was anxious to rescue himself from
the charge of anonymous publication, after having in his
preface to the "Miscellanies" undertaken, in the most
solemn terms, never to send forth a book or pamphlet
without his name. In spite of this declaration, many
anonymous libels had been fathered upon him.
him. Self-con-
stituted critics affected to detect his style in every scurrilous
pamphlet which was issued from the press; and busy
rumour (he complained, with deep feeling) reported him
the author of half the treason and blasphemy the few last
years had produced. One poetical libel of a particularly
gross and offensive character had been attributed to him, of
the authorship of which he eagerly seized the opportunity
of proclaiming his innocence. "Among all the scurrilities,"
he said, "with which I have been accused (though equally
and totally innocent of every one), none ever raised my
indignation so much as 'The Causidicade:' this accused
me not only of being a bad writer and a bad man, but with
downright idiotism, in flying in the face of the greatest
men of my profession. I take, therefore, this opportunity
to protest that I never saw that infamous, paltry libel till
long after it had been in print; nor can any man hold it in
greater contempt and abhorrence than myself."
3
(1) "And I do further protest that I will never hereafter publish any book or
pamphlet whatever, to which I will not put my name;—a promise, which, as I
shall sacredly keep, so will it I hope be so far believed, that I may henceforth
receive no more praise or censure, to which I have not the least title."-Preface
to Miscellanies. 1743.
(2) Preface to David Simple.
(3) Ibid. "The Causidicade" was certainly a worthless performance. It was
published in 1743, with the following title:-"The Causidicade, a panegyri-
satiri-serio-comic-dramatical Poem on the Strange Resignation and stranger
Promotion. By Porcupinus Pelagius." Most of the members of the legal
profession who were then in prominent business came in for their share of
198
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743-45.
Fielding's second object in assigning "David Simple"
to its right owner was to prevent an ill-natured world from
assuming that he was still coquetting with literature, instead
of applying himself to law: an assumption, he observed,
which would have a tendency to injure him in a profession,
to which he had applied with so arduous and intent a dili-
gence, that he had no leisure, even if he had inclination, to
compose anything of that kind. "Indeed," he adds, "I am
very far from entertaining such an inclination; I know the
value of the reward which fame confers on authors too well
to endeavour any longer to obtain it; nor was the world
ever more unwilling to bestow the glorious, envied prize of
the laurel and the bays, than I should now be to receive
any such garland or fool's cap." That he should at this
period have been so tender of his legal reputation, induces
the belief that the struggling barrister was visited with
a temporary gleam of professional prosperity. There was
formerly a tradition on the Western Circuit that Fielding,
having for some time travelled it without success, at length
hit upon the expedient of circulating amongst the attorneys
of the West a proposal for a new law-book. The scheme
succeeded, and on his next circuit he had more than a
due proportion of briefs; but the business thus suddenly
acquired soon left him, and he was reduced to his former
condition of brieflessness.? Whether this tale has any
abuse. As a specimen of its style and personalities, we give four lines, in
which the weak voice of Chief Justice Willes is selected for ridicule :-
+
"When strait a weak voice was heard, crying out,
Like some poor old woman pent up in a butt,
All took it for granted 'twas C[hief] J[usti]ce W[illes],
But who should it be but my good Master M[ills]."
The "Strange" resignation alluded to was the retirement of Sir John Strange,
from the Solicitor-generalship, in order to make room for Murray, afterwards
Lord Mansfield. H. Walpole, alluding to the alleged Jacobite tendencies of the
last-named eminent lawyer, thus mentions the circumstance to Sir H. Mann
(December, 1742):-"I suppose you have heard from Rome that Murray is made
Solicitor-general, in the room of Sir J. Strange, who has resigned for his health."
(1) Preface to David Simple.
(2) London Register, April, 1762.
Maou
ÆT. 36-38.]
PREFACE TO DAVID SIMPLE, ETC.
199
foundation in truth or not, it is evident from the language
of the preface to "David Simple," that at the time it was
written the law received the author's undivided attention,
which he could hardly, from his position, have given to it,
had he found it still unremunerative.
A third and more unselfish motive which urged Fielding
into print upon this occasion, was to do justice "to the
real and sole author" of the book, who, he said (the obser-
vation does not appear very complimentary to the sex),
“notwithstanding the many excellent observations dispersed
through it, and the deep knowledge of human nature it
discovers, is a young woman; one so nearly and dearly
allied to me, in the highest friendship as well as relation,
that if she had wanted any assistance of mine, I would have
been as ready to have given it her as I would have been
just to my word in owning it." The tone of superiority
here assumed by the brother may be thought, perhaps, too
patronising; but in that age it was not common for a very
high respect to be paid to the female intellect. Neverthe-
less, in a preface to his sister's subsequent work, published
in 1747 ("Familiar Letters between the principal Characters
in David Simple "1), Fielding expressed his sense of a truth
which has been fully recognised since his time-namely,
that it is possible for the keen instinct of woman to discover
(1) Richardson, who was extremely fond of praising the literary efforts of the
ladies of his court, was very liberal of his eulogy on Miss Fielding. In a letter
of his to that lady, dated December 7th, 1756, he thus commends her "Familiar
Letters:""I amuse myself," he says, CC as well as I can with reading. I have
just gone through your two volumes of 'Letters;' have reperused them with
great pleasure, and found many new beauties in them. What a knowledge
of the human heart! Well might a critical judge of writing say, as he did to
me, that your late brother's knowledge of it was not (fine writer as he was) com-
parable to yours. His was but as the knowledge of the outside of a clockwork-
machine, while yours was that of all the finer springs and movements of the
inside." An observation of the same description was made by Dr. Johnson, on
the comparative merits of the writings of Richardson and Fielding :-" Gray was
much pleased with an answer which Dr. Johnson once gave to a person on the
different and comparative merits of Fielding and Richardson. 'Why, sir, Fielding
could tell you what o'clock it was; but as for Richardson, he could make a clock
or watch.'"-Boswell's Life of Johnson, 1853. vol. x. (Supplementary Anecdotes.)
200
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743-45.
and develop traits of character, which escape the observation
of the acutest writers of the opposite sex. A knowledge of
human nature, he confessed, was not necessarily learnt by
living in the hurry of the world. "True genius, with the
help of a little conversation, will be capable of making a
vast progress in this learning; and, indeed, I have observed
there are none who know so little of men as those who are
placed in the crowds either of business or pleasure.
shall only (he continues) add an answer to the same objec-
tion, relating to 'David Simple,' given by a lady of very
high rank, whose quality is, however, less an honour to her
than her understanding. So far,' said she, 'from doubting
David Simple to be the performance of a woman, I am well
convinced it could not have been written by a man.
I
1 <
1992
•
3
At this period Fielding passed much of his time with his
sister, and they probably resided under the same roof till
his second marriage. Joseph Warton, writing to his
brother from Basingstoke, in 1746, records a delightful
evening passed in their society: "I wish you had been
with me last week," he says, "when I spent two evenings
with Fielding and his sister, who wrote 'David Simple,'
and you may guess I was very well entertained. The lady,
indeed, retired pretty soon, but Russell and I sat up with
the poet till one or two in the morning, and were inexpres-
sibly diverted. I find he values, as he justly may, his
'Joseph Andrews' above all his writings. He was extremely
civil to me, I fancy, on my father's account.' From this
14
(1) Probably Lady Mary Wortley Montague, who seems to have entertained
almost as great an admiration for the works of "Sally Fielding" as those of the
brother.
(2) Preface to the Familiar Letters.
(3) Wooll's Biographical Memoirs of the Rev. Joseph Warton. 1806.
(4) The Rev. Thomas Warton, Vicar of Basingstoke, who died in 1745. He
was Professor of Poetry at Oxford, and, like most Oxford men of his time, had
a strong tincture of Jacobitism in his composition, which subjected him to some
sharp attacks from Amherst, in the periodical called "Terræ Filius," published
by the latter on his expulsion from the university. It was not without reason
that Gibbon designated Oxford the head-quarters of "port and prejudice" in the
eighteenth century. ·
il
ÆT. 36 38.]
201
REBELLION OF '45.
statement of Warton's, many of Fielding's biographers
have fallen into the error that the author preferred "Joseph
Andrews" to the more perfect work, "Tom Jones;" but
it will be seen, from the date, that at the time of Warton's
visit the latter novel was not written.
The memorable events of the year '45 induced Fielding
to resume the pen once more, and to enter the lists of
authorship in a new character-that of a political journalist.
At the beginning of the month of September came the
news to London¹ that the Chevalier Charles Edward Stuart
had landed in Scotland with six or seven friends; that he
had been joined by some of the Highland clans, and had
raised his standard in the ancient city of Perth. Rumours
soon followed that many Scotch noblemen, together with
several disaffected English gentlemen, had taken up arms
in the Stuart cause, and had proclaimed the Pretender at
Dundee and other places. Still, at that time, amongst well-
informed persons in the metropolis, there was little appre-
hension that the rebellion would assume a very formidable
character: for it was known that the adventurer was ill-
provided with the munitions of war, and the Highlanders
who constituted the bulk of what was called his army were
regarded as an undisciplined rabble. Then came the
(1) "I came back last night," writes Horace Walpole to his friend Sir H.
Mann, from Arlington Street, on September 6th, "and found three packets from
you, which I have no time to answer, and but just time to read. The confusion
I have found, and the danger we are in, prevent my talking of anything else.
The young Pretender, at the head of 3000 men, has got a march on General
Cope, who is not 1800 strong, &c. The clans will not rise for the government :
the Dukes of Argyle and Atholl are come post to town, not having been able to
raise a man."
(2) The Highland troops of Charles Edward were thus described by a spy, sent
from England about the middle of October:-"They consist of an odd medley of
grey-beards and no-beards-old men fit to drop into the grave, and young boys,
whose swords are near equal to their weight, and I really believe more than their
length. Four or five thousand may be very good, determined men; but the
rest are mean, dirty, villanous-looking rascals, who seem more anxious about
plunder than their Prince, and would be better pleased with four shillings than
a Crown."-Lord Mahon's History of England.
When the news of the rebels being at Edinburgh reached London, Horace
202
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743-45.
astounding intelligence that Edinburgh had been entered
and taken possession of by the Chevalier, who, surrounded
with his Highlanders, was actually holding his court in the
Palace of Holyrood; and this was followed by the more
serious news that Sir John Cope and the troops under his
command had been completely defeated by the rebels, with
great slaughter, at Preston Pans. These events-following
each other with astonishing rapidity-alarmed the most
phlegmatic; and courtiers as well as citizens admitted that
the country was in danger.
That the cause of order and constitutional government
in Great Britain was at this time in extreme peril cannot
be doubted. The country swarmed with secret Jacobites,
who only waited to see rebellion successful in order to
dignify it with the name of loyalty. Many causes existed
for popular discontent. The arms of England were un-
prosperous abroad; taxes were increased, and the laws
severely administered. Above all, it cannot be denied that
the house of Brunswick had entirely failed to conciliate
the affections of the English people. Both George I. and
George II. were essentially foreigners; and, in a country
naturally jealous of foreign influence, they had the bad
taste and bad policy to manifest a continual preference for
Hanoverian over English interests. So little regard had
George II. for his English subjects, that his only study
seemed to be to get away from them as often as possible.
On one occasion (in 1736), when some church debates had
Walpole, in communicating the fact to Sir H. Mann, thus speculates on their
"desperate enterprise :"-" There never was so extraordinary a rebellion!
One can't tell what assurances of support they may have from the Jacobites in
England, or from the French, and nothing of either sort has yet appeared.
One can hardly believe that the English are more disaffected than the Scotch;
and among the latter no persons of property have joined them-both nations
seem to profess a neutrality. Their money is all gone; and they subsist merely
by levying contributions. But sure banditti can never conquer a kingdom!
น
1
•
They have hitherto taken no place but open towns, nor have they any
artillery for a siege but one-pounders."-Letter to Sir H. Mann, September 20th,
1745. Walpole's Correspondence, vol. ii.
ÆT. 36-38.]
REBELLION OF '45.
203
my
protracted a parliamentary session longer than he ex-
pected, and so postponed his customary journey to his
continental dominions, he is reported to have said to the
Queen, "I wish with all my heart that the devil may take
your bishops, and the devil take your ministers, and the
devil take the parliament, and the devil take the whole
island, provided I can get out of it and go to Hanover." 1
The notion that English money was squandered abroad
upon foreign minions and mercenaries, aggravated the
public displeasure to a grave extent, and placed the royal
authority in imminent danger.
To this it must be added, that the two first princes of
the house of Brunswick were deficient in most of the
personal qualities which command respect or secure attach-
ment. They had no elegant tastes-caring neither for
Boetry nor Bainting-no refinement of character; nor could
either of them speak or spell the English language cor-
rectly. Both of them also lacked the kingly bearing
and demeanour which, to the vulgar eye, bespeak the
sovereign, and oftentimes make up for the absence of
the sterling qualifications of a ruler. To a moral nation
their habits likewise were, in the highest degree, repulsive.
Charles II. was a shameless profligate; but his profligacy
was to some extent redeemed by the wit and taste which
veiled its most disagreeable features from the public eye.
On the other hand, the vices of George II. were so coarse
(1) Lord Hervey's Memoirs of the Court of George II. During the king's
long absence in Hanover, in 1736, many pasquinades were, according to Lord
Hervey, openly exhibited in London, which show the temper of the times.
"At the Royal Exchange a paper with these words was stuck up :-
"It is reported that his Hanoverian Majesty designs to visit his British
dominions for three months in the spring?'
"On St. James' gate this advertisement was pasted :
“Lost or strayed out of this house, a man who has left a wife and six chil-
dren on the parish; whoever will give any tidings of him to the churchwardens
of St. James' parish, so as he may be got again, shall receive FOUR SHILLINGS
AND SIXPENCE reward.-N.B. This reward will not be increased, nobody judging
him to deserve a CROWN.'"
204
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743-45.
and depraved, that they could inspire no other feeling than
that of disgust. A nation will always make large allow-
ances for the indiscretions of a youthful sovereign; but
what could be said or thought of an old reprobate, who
prided himself upon what he called his "foiblesses,” and
regaled the ears of his too indulgent queen with the details
of his unsentimental amours?
With such a monarch on the throne, and with the pro-
spect of a successor whose fickle and uncertain character
filled courtiers and ministers with alarm,¹ the chances of
Charles Edward were not altogether desperate. But the
good sense of the nation saved it at this crisis. The
Jacobite risings which were reckoned upon in different
parts of England did not take place; for a little reflection
convinced even many of the discontented that the triumph.
of the Stuarts would inevitably lead to national disgrace
and infamy. All thoughtful Englishmen knew full well
that it would bring with it the suppression of parlia-
mentary government, and of the freedom of the press;
that it would lead to the repudiation of the state debts;
to subserviency to France; arbitrary rule at home; the
ascendancy of absolutism abroad; and, finally, that it
2
(1) Frederick Prince of Wales. Lord Hervey has the following sketch of his
royal highness's character :-"A poor, weak, irresolute, false, lying, dishonest,
contemptible wretch; that nobody loves, that nobody believes, that nobody will
trust, and that will trust everybody by turns; and that everybody by turns will
impose upon, betray, mislead, and plunder."
(2) The most ingenious appeals were made at this time also to the prejudices
and self-interest of the people. "My dear child," says H. Walpole to Sir H.
Mann (October 4th, 1745), "dry your wet-brown-paper-ness, and be in spirits
again. Pray let Mr. Chute have ample accounts of our zeal to figure with
Tell him of the whole coast so guarded that nothing can pass
at Rome.
unvisited; and, in short, send him this advertisement out of to-day's papers, as
an instance of more spirit and wit than there is in all Scotland :-
G
،، ، TO ALL JOLLY BUTCHERS.
•
► •
•
"MY BOLD HEARTS,
"The Papists eat no meat on Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays, nor during
Lent. Your friend,
"JOHN STEEL.'
-Walpole's Correspondence, vol ii.
59)
ZET. 36–38.]
205
THE TRUE PATRIOT.
would crush for ever the cause of English Protestantism
and religious liberty. Such forebodings as these preserved
the bulk of the intelligent classes from the contagion of
Jacobitism and it was with the view of forcibly impres-
sing these considerations on the public mind that Fielding
at this crisis became a political writer.
:
On Tuesday, the 5th of November, he published the
first number of "The True Patriot." Under similar cir-
cumstances, in 1715, Addison had lent his pen to the
support of constitutional authority, by the establishment
of" The Freeholder;" and such a precedent was an excel-
lent one for imitation. The rebels were at this period en-
camped in some force near Edinburgh, and were meditating
an expedition across the Border. In London their move-
ments were watched with intense anxiety; every scrap of
intelligence was devoured with eagerness, and newspaper
writers had enough to do to satisfy the popular craving.
At such a time many false rumours were put into circula-
tion by unprincipled writers, and the comments in the
press were by no means distinguished by a high standard
of intelligence. The editor of "The True Patriot," accord-
ingly, in launching his paper, did not scruple to assail
the imbecility and corruption of contemporary journalists,
whilst, with excusable vanity, he promised the public
a better article than they had been accustomed to :-
M
C
"Fashion," he began, "is the great governor of this world. It
presides not only in matters of dress and amusement, but in law,
physic, politics, religion, and all other things of the gravest kind;
indeed, the wisest of men would be puzzled to give any better
reason why particular forms in all these have been at certain times
universally received, and at others universally rejected, than that
they were in or out of fashion .... In strict obedience to the sove-
reign power, being informed by my bookseller, a man of great sagacity
in his business, that nobody at present reads anything but newspapers,
I have determined to conform myself to the reigning taste. The
number indeed of these writers at first a little staggered us both;
but upon perusal of their works, I fancied I had discovered a little
imperfection in them all, which somewhat diminished the force of
206
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1743-45,
·
this objection. . . . . The first little imperfection in these writings is,
that there is scarce a syllable of TRUTH in any of them. If this be
admitted to be a fault, it requires no other evidence than themselves,
and the perpetual contradictions which occur not only on comparing
one with the other, but the same author with himself on different
days. Secondly, There is no SENSE in them. To prove this likewise, I
appeal to their works. Thirdly. There is in reality NOTHING in them
at all. And this also must be allowed by their readers, if paragraphs
which contain neither wit, nor humour, nor sense, nor the least
importance, may be properly said to contain nothing. Such are the
arrival of my Lord with a great equipage; the marriage of Miss
of great beauty and merit; and the death of Mr. who
was never heard of in his life, &c. &c. Nor will this appear strange,
if we consider who are the authors of such tracts; namely, the
journeymen of booksellers, of whom, I believe, much the same may be
truly predicated as of these their productions. But the encouragement
with which these lucubrations are read, may seem more strange and
more difficult to be accounted for. And here I cannot agree with
my bookseller, that their eminent badness recommends them. The
true reason is, I believe, simply the same which I once heard an
economist assign for the content and satisfaction with which his
family drank water-cyder, viz., because they could procure no other
liquor. Indeed, I make no doubt but that the understanding, as
well as the paľate, though it may out of necessity swallow the worse,
will in general prefer the better.
The journalist then proceeded to describe his personal
qualifications for his office. He observes that he is a
gentleman, and of no party: "a word," he adds, "which I
hope, by these my labours, to eradicate out of our consti-
tution: this being indeed the true source of all those evils
which we have reason to complain of." He finally defends
the high price which he placed on his labours, as compared
with those of other news-writers; and "to conclude the
whole," exclaims, "in the words of the fair and honest
tradesman-Gentlemen, upon my word and honour, I can
afford it no cheaper; and I believe there is no shop in
town will use you better for the price."
In his third number the editor records the incidents of
a frightful dream, in which it had appeared to him that
the rebels having been victorious, he was arrested for
writing against the government, dragged from his family,
ET. 36-38.]
THE TRUE PATRIOT.
207
whom he saw treated with great barbarity, and, being
brought to Westminster Hall, tried as a traitor. The
trial, under the new order of things, is thus sketched :-
p
"A charge of high treason was then, I dreamed, exhibited against
me, for having writ in defence of his present Majesty King George,
and my paper of 'The True Patriot' was produced in evidence
against me.
(6
Being called on to make my defence, I insisted entirely on the
statute of Henry VII., by which all persons are exempted from
incurring the penalties of treason, in defence of the King de facto.
But the Chief Justice told me in broken English, that if I had no
other plea, they should presently overrule that; for that his Majesty
was resolved to make an example of all who had anyways distin-
guished themselves in opposition to his cause. Methought I then
replied, with a resolution which I hope every Englishman would
exert on such an occasion, that the life of no man was worth pre-
serving longer than it was to be defended by the known laws of the
country; and that if the King's arbitrary pleasure was to be that
law, I was indifferent what he determined concerning myself.
"The Court having put it to the vote (for no jury, I thought,
attended), and unanimously agreed that I was guilty, proceeded to
pass the sentence usual in cases of high treason, having first made
many eulogiums on the Pope, the Roman Catholic religion, and the
King, who was to support both, and be supported by them."
The month of December, '45, was long remembered in
London. The news that the rebels had arrived in Derby,
after beating up for recruits in Manchester and other large
towns, and were actually within two days' march of the
metropolis, occasioned a general panic. Shops were shut,
and groups of anxious idlers congregated in the principal
streets; whilst some prudent citizens rushed to the Bank,
which is said only to have saved its credit by paying the
demands upon it in sixpences, and thus gaining time. The
day on which the rumour was circulated (December 6th)
was afterwards designated Black Monday. The city Jaco-
bites, of whom there were not a few, headed by Alderman
Heathcote, made no secret of their exultation, which
increased the apprehensions of the well-affected. No con-
fidence was felt in the army, which had been encamped
208
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1744.
at Finchley to protect the Londoners; and indeed such
was the state of affairs, that historians have confidently
asserted that if the resolution of the Pretender to march
on the metropolis had been indulged by his followers, he
would have been quietly recognised as Regent of England
before Christmas Day, 1745.¹
In this season of dismay, "The True Patriot" was
distinguished by its enthusiastic advocacy of the cause of
the house of Hanover, and by a literary merit then rarely
seen in the political journal. On the 17th December (No. 7),
its readers were gratified by the reappearance in its
columns of an old acquaintance-the worthy Mr. Abraham
Adams-who characteristically delivers his opinion of
public affairs, and declares his approval of Fielding's paper:
"I am delighted," he says, "and that greatly, with many
passages in these papers. The moderation which you
profess towards all parties perfectly becomes a Christian.
Indeed, I have always thought that moderation in the
shepherd was the best, if not only, way to bring home all
the straggling sheep to his flock. I have intimated this
at the vestry, and even at visitation before the Archdeacon:
Sed Cassandræ non creditum est. I like your method of
placing a motto from the classics at the head of every
paper. It must give some encouragement to your readers,
that the author understands (at least) one line of Latin,
which is, perhaps, more than can be safely predicated of
every writer in this age."
The honest parson naturally expresses surprise at the
progress of the rebellion, which, he observes, can only be
ascribed to one cause," the just judgment of God against
an offending people;" and he advises, with characteristic
emphasis, recourse to fasting and prayer, and, above all,
the exercise of Christian charity.
The Jeremiad of Mr. Abraham Adams over the mar-
vellous successes of the rebels was scarcely in print, when
(1) Lord Mahon's History of England, and the authorities there cited.
-
ÆT. 36-38.1
209
THE TRU PATRIOT.
their fortunes began to decline. With the Duke of Cum-
berland on their track, they had commenced their retreat
from Derby in sullen silence and bitter despondency. As
they retraced their steps, their reception in Manchester,
and other towns through which they passed, was very
different from that which they met with in their advance.
Having finally entered Carlisle-the great border town-
they left there a scanty garrison, whilst the main body
marched into Scotland. Before the year had ended, Car-
lisle was surrendered unconditionally to the forces of King
George, and England was cleared of her rebellious invaders,
who promised, on their departure, that they would pay
another visit in the spring: a promise they were little
likely to keep, now that the prestige of success had
vanished.
(1) On the invasion of England by the rebels, Fielding, in all probability,
"turned out," with his brethren of the Bar, prepared to serve his sovereign
with the sword as.well as the pen. On December 9th, 1745, Horace Walpole
thus writes to Sir H. Mann:-"We are threatened with great preparations for a
French invasion, but the coast is exceedingly guarded; and for the people, the
spirit against the rebels increases every day. Though they have marched thus
into the heart of the kingdom, there has not been the least symptom of a rising,
not even in the great towns of which they possessed themselves.
But
here in London, the aversion to them is amazing; on some thoughts of the
king's going to an encampment at Finchley, the weavers not only offered him
a thousand men, but the whole body of the Law formed themselves into a little
army, under the command of Lord Chief-Justice Willes, and were to have done
duty at St. James', to guard the royal family in the king's absence." This
precedent was followed in more recent times by the inns of court, whose
members, on the apprehended invasion of England by Napoleon Buonaparte,
formed themselves into a volunteer corps under the command of the celebrated
Erskine, who appropriately baptised his awkward squadron "The Devil's Own."
For
P
•
•
210
[1746.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER XVII.
،، THE TRUE PATRIOT."- END OF THE REBELLION.-SECOND
MARRIAGE.
[1746.]
THE beginning of the year 1746 found Fielding still
occupied with "The True Patriot," and rendering thereby
acknowledged service to the panic-stricken government.
His varied information and nervous diction imparted an
unwonted interest to the discussion of political topics, and
his paper was in great request. Rarely indeed have literary
talents of so high an order been pressed into the service of
party journalism. Nor is it to be supposed that the accom-
plished journalist wielded a merely mercenary pen on
behalf of established authority. His sympathies were
entirely with the cause he so warmly espoused and so
ably supported; he was, upon principle and from convic-
tion, a devoted friend of the house of Hanover-regarding
its permanent sway as the best guarantee for social order
and rational liberty;-and his political writings have con-
sequently an additional value as the faithful reflex of his
genuine sentiments.
When the cause of the rebels became more desperate,
and the panic occasioned by their advance into Englaud
began to subside, Fielding felt justified in treating the
attempt in a lighter strain than might have appeared
becoming in the first instance. He accordingly now
indulged in a vein of caustic satire, which was calculated to
render the unprosperous cause ridiculous as well as odious.
In the number for January 7th, for instance, he printed
an imaginary journal of events in 1746, formed on the
ÆT. 39.]
THE TRUE PATRIOT.
211
supposition that the rebels had proved victorious, from
which the following items are selected :
"Jan. 12. Being the first Sunday after Epiphany, Father Mac-
dagger, the royal confessor, preached at St. James' sworn after-
wards of the Privy Council-arrived the French Ambassador with a
numerous retinue.
"Feb. 2. Long Acre and Covent Garden allotted out in portions
to the Highland Guards. Two watermen and a porter committed to
Lollards' Tower at Lambeth, for heresy.
"Feb. 13. Four heretics burnt in Smithfield-Mr. Mac Henley¹
attended them, assisted on this extraordinary occasion by Father
O'Blaze, the Dominican.
«March 4. An eminent physician fined 200 marks in the King's
Bench for an inuendo at Batson's, that Bath water was preferable to
holy water. Three hundred Highlanders of the opposite party, with
their wives and children, massacred in Scotland. The Pope's nuncio
arrived this evening at Greenwich."
In the thirteenth number (January 28th), there is a
second communication from Mr. Abraham Adams. The
parson begins by stating that he is concerned to find, by all
the public accounts, that the rebels still continued in the
land.
"In my last," he writes, "I evidently proved that their suc-
cesses were owing to a judgment denounced against our sins, and
concluded with some exhortations for averting the divine anger, by
the only methods which suggested themselves to my mind. These
exhortations, by the event, I perceive have not had the regard
paid to them I had reason to expect. Indeed, I am the more con-
firmed in this conjecture, by a lad whom I lately met at a neigh-
(1) Mr. Orator Henley. This person, whose eccentric career has been noticed
in a previous chapter (pp. 23-26), distinguished himself as a furious Jacobite.
On the 4th December, 1746, it is stated, in a contemporary newspaper, that he
was, "by order of the Earl of Chesterfield, one of the secretaries of state, de-
livered into the custody of a messenger, in order to be examined on a charge
of endeavouring to alienate the minds of his majesty's subjects from their
allegiance, by his harangues at his Oratory Chapel." Horace Walpole thus
notices the circumstance: "The famous Orator Henley is taken up for treason-
able flippancies."-Correspondence, vol. ii.
A
P 2
212
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1746.
bouring baronet's, where I sojourned the two last days of the year,
with my good friend Mr. Wilson.¹ This lad, whom I imagined to
have been come from school to visit his friends for the holidays (for
though he is perhaps of sufficient age, I found, on examination, he
was not yet qualified for the university) is, it seems, a man sui juris ;
and is, as I gather from the young damsels, Sir John's daughters,
a member of the Society of Bowes. I know not whether I spell the
word right; for I am not ashamed to say, I neither understand its
etymology nor true import, as it hath never once occurred in any
lexicon or dictionary which I have yet perused.”
The manners and opinions of this beau are most revolting
to the patriotic spirit of Adams, whose comments thereon
are curious and characteristic:
"When grace was said after meat, and the damsels departed,
the lad began to grow more wicked. Sir John, who is an honest
Englishman, hath no other wine but that of Portugal. This our
Bowe could not drink; and when Sir John very nobly declared he
scorned to indulge his palate with rarities for which he must furnish
the foe with money to carry on a war with the nation, the stripling
replied,' Rat the nation!' (God forgive me for repeating such words!)
'I had rather live under French government than be debarred from
French wine.' Oho! my youth! if I had you horsed, thinks I
again. But, indeed, Sir John well scourged him with his tongue
for that expression. . .
Mr. Wilson now found me grow very
uneasy, as indeed I had been from the beginning; nor could any-
thing but respect to the company have prevented me from correcting
the boy long before; he therefore endeavoured to turn the discourse,
and asked our spark when he left London. To which he answered,
the Wednesday before. How, sir,' said I, 'travel on Christmas-
day!' Was it so?' says he; 'fags, that's more than I knew; but
why not travel on Christmas-day as well as any other?' Why
not!' said I, lifting my voice, for I had lost all patience; 'were you
not brought up in the Christian religion? Did you never learn your
Catechism?' He then burst out into an unmannerly laugh, and so
provoked me that I should certainly have smote him, had I not laid
my crabstick down in the window, and had not Mr. Wilson been
fortunately placed between us."
C
The rebellion, having lingered out the winter, was deci-
sively crushed in the spring by the bloody battle of Culloden,
which was fought on the 16th of April, In one half hour
(1) See Joseph Andrews.
ET. 39.]
END OF THE REBELLION.
213
of fearful carnage—for no quarter was given¹—the Stuart
cause was effectually crushed, and about one thousand of
its faithful adherents left dead upon the battle-field. This
victory relieved the nation from all anxiety on the score of
Jacobitism, and prevented any further manifestations of
hostility to the reigning dynasty.
The summer after the rebellion many piteous spectacles
were witnessed in the metropolis, and the unhappy men
who were a few months before regarded with so much
terror and indignation, became the objects of a deep and
generous compassion. In the punishment of its rash but
brave assailants, the government of George II. displayed a
degree of inhumanity which admits of no excuse. The
detestable cruelties which were practised in Scotland after
the rout of Culloden³ soon found a parallel in the proceed-
ings taken in England against the traitors who had been.
(1) It is said to have been on this occasion that the Duke of Cumberland
wrote a hasty order to General Campbell, to refuse quarter, on a playing card—
the nine of diamonds-hence and since called the curse of Scotland.
(2) Horace Walpole, after describing with great minuteness the behaviour of
Lords Kilmarnock and Balmerino on their trial, in a letter to Sir H. Mann,
observes: "The King is much inclined to some mercy, but the Duke, who has
not so much of Cæsar after a victory as in gaining it, is for the utmost severity.
It was lately proposed in the city to present him with the freedom of some
company; one of the aldermen said aloud, 'Then let it be the butchers.""
To Lord Kilmarnock, especially, merey would have been judiciously shown. He
was miserably poor, and, according to Horace Walpole, thus replied to the Duke
of Argyle, who expostulated with him for engaging in such a cause: "My
lord," said he, "for the two kings and their rights I cared not a farthing which
prevailed; but I was starving, and if Mahomet had set up his standard in the
Highlands, I had been a good Mussulman for bread, and had stuck close to his
party." These were the sentiments, no doubt, of many of the luckless com-
batants.
(3) "Quarter was seldom given to the stragglers and fugitives, except to a
few considerately reserved for public execution. No care or compassion was
shown to their wounded; nay more, on the following day most of them were
put to death in cold blood, with a cruelty such as never perhaps before or since
has disgraced a British army. Some were dragged from the thickets or cabins
where they had sought refuge, drawn out in line, and shot, while others were
dispatched by the soldiers with the stocks of their muskets. One farm-building,
into which some twenty disabled Highlanders had crawled, was deliberately set
on fire the next day, and burnt with them to the ground."—Lord Mahon's
History of England.
214
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1746.
captured in arms. A special commission was held in July
for the trial of the rebel prisoners, when eight persons
who had held commissions in the Pretender's army were
condemned to die; and in the same month suffered
on Kennington Common the punishment then awarded
to the crime of high-treason, which was executed on
them with disgusting barbarity. Amongst these victims.
were Mr. Townley,' a gentleman of ancient family in Lan-
cashire, and James Dawson, the hero of Shenstone's
pathetic ballad. The fearful scene was witnessed by a
(1) The execution of Mr. Townley is 'thus described in the "State Trials'
(vol. xviii. p. 351): "After he had hung six minutes he was cut down, and
having life in him, as he lay upon the block to be quartered, the executioner
gave him several blows on his breast, which not having the effect desired, he
immediately cut his throat; after which he took his head off; then ripped him
open and took out his bowels and heart, and threw them into a fire, which
consumed them; then he slashed his four quarters, and put them with the head
into a coffin." Except in the case of some of the gunpowder-plot conspirators,
there is no other instance recorded in which the barbarities inflicted under the
old sentence of high-treason was executed on the living body, it being usual for
the executioner to take care that every sign of life had departed before he com-
menced his disgusting operations. The government appears to have had a fit
instrument for the perpetration of these cruelties in the person of the hangman,
John Thrift, who, in 1750, was tried and condemned for murdering a man in a
quarrel. He was afterwards pardoned, on condition of resuming his odious
office, and the “Old England" (a Tory print) insinuated, that "having become
obnoxious to the Jacobites for his celebrated operations on Tower Hill and
Kennington Common, he was pardoned in terrorem, and to mortify them."
Gentleman's Magazine, September, 1750.
-
(2) There is a letter extant (and preserved in the "State Trials,” vol. xviii.
p. 375) which gives an account of Dawson's execution, far more touching than
the ballad. It is dated July 31, 1746, and contains the following melancholy
particulars: "A young lady of a good family and handsome features had, for
some time, extremely loved, and been equally beloved by, Mr. James Dawson,
one of those unhappy gentlemen who suffered yesterday at Kennington Com-
mon for high-treason; and had he been either acquitted, or, after condemnation,
found the royal mercy, the day of his enlargement was to have been that of
their marriage. . .. Not all the persuasions of her kindred could prevent her
from going to the place of execution; she was determined to see the last of a
person so dear to her, and accordingly followed the sledge in a hackney-coach,
accompanied by a gentleman nearly related to her, and one female friend. She
got near enough to see the fire kindled which was to consume that heart she
knew so much devoted to her, and all the other dreadful preparations for his
fate, without being guilty of any of those extravagancies her friends had
apprehended. But when all was over, and that she found he was no more, she
•
ÆT. 39.]
THE TRUE PATRIOT.
215
large multitude, who looked on with awe and silence. No
manifestation of feeling took place; but the predominant
sentiment in the mind of the spectators must have been
that of pity. The execution of the rebel lords Kilmarnock
and Balmerino followed in August, both of whom laid
their heads upon the block with great dignity, and
calmly suffered the punishment which their rashness had
incurred.
During a great part of this eventful year Fielding con-
tinued to conduct "The True Patriot," and derived from
it both profit and reputation. The paper maintained its
popularity, not only on account of the constitutional in-
formation which it displayed, but also for its occasional
"sallies of humour." Of these "humorous sallies" there
are some very favourable specimens in the twenty-third
number (April 8, 1746), where the following illustrations
are given of the different meanings attached to particular
expressions by different persons :—
"I remember to have supped last winter at a surgeon's, where
were present some others of the faculty. The gentleman of the
house declared he had a very good subject above in the garret. As
the gentleman who said this was, I knew, himself as good a subject
as any in the kingdom, I could not avoid surprise at his choosing to
confine such a person in a cold night in such a place: but I soon
found my mistake, and that the good subject had been hanged the
day before for a most heinous felony. An error of the same kind
once happened to me amongst some gentlemen of the army, who all
agreed that one Mr. Thunderson was the best man in England. I
own I was somewhat staggered when I heard he was a corporal of
drew her head back into the coach, and crying out, 'My dear, I follow thee-I
follow thee !-sweet Jesus, receive both our souls together!' fell on the neck of
her companion, and expired the very moment she was speaking. The excess of
grief, which the force of her resolution had kept smothered within her breast,
it is thought, put a stop to the vital motion, and suffocated at once all the
animal spirit."
(1) Murphy's Essay on Fielding's Life, &c. It may be here stated that a
few select numbers of "The True Patriot" are contained in Murphy's edition
of Fielding's Works.
216
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1746.
:
grenadiers but how much more was I astonished when I found that
he had half-a-dozen wives, and was the wickedest fellow in the
whole regiment.”
As an instance of the "selfish attention" paid by per-
sons to minute circumstances connected with their own
occupations or position in life, the journalist, in the same
paper, narrates the following anecdote :-
"I knew a gentleman who had a great delight in observing the
humours of the vulgar, and for that purpose used frequently to
mount into the upper gallery. There, as he told me, he once seated
himself between two persons, one of whom he soon discovered to be
a broken tailor, and the other a servant in a country family, just
arrived in town. The play was 'Henry the Eighth,' with that
august representation of the coronation. The former of these,
instead of admiring the great magnificence exhibited in that cere-
mony, observed, with a sigh, 'That he believed very few of these
clothes were paid for.' And the latter, being asked how he liked
the play (being the first he had ever seen), answered, 'It was all
very fine, but nothing came up, in his opinion, to the ingenuity of
snuffing the candles.'
192
Somewhere about this time Fielding contracted a second
marriage. Foolishly enough, most of those who have.
professed to give the particulars of his life, have refrained
(as it would appear from a vulgar notion that the fact
might lower him in the world's esteem) from stating who
succeeded the first Mrs. Fielding as the mistress of his
heart and home. "His biographers," writes one who has
happily supplied the information so unwisely withheld,¹
"seem to have been shy of disclosing, that after the death
of this charming woman he married her maid. And yet the
act was not so discreditable to his character as it may sound.
The maid had few personal charms, but was an excellent
creature, devotedly attached to her mistress, and almost
broken-hearted for her loss. In the first agonies of his
(1) Letters, &c., of Lady Mary Wortley Montague. Edited by Lord Wharn-
cliffe. Introductory Anecdotes, vol. i. pp. 80, 81.
T. 39.]
SECOND MARRIAGE.
217
.
own grief, which approached to frenzy, he found no relief
but from weeping along with her; no solace, when a
degree calmer, but in talking to her of the angel they
mutually regretted. This made her his habitual confi-
dential associate; and in process of time he began to think
he could not give his children a tenderer mother, or secure
for himself a more faithful housekeeper and nurse. At
least this was what he told his friends, and it is certain
that her conduct as his wife confirmed it, and fully
justified his good opinion."
In the circumstances connected with this second mar-
riage there is much that is highly characteristic of Field-
ing's disposition, and also much that is very creditable to
him. Another instance is displayed in it of the "sovereign
contempt" which he entertained for conventional pre-
judices and the opinions of "the generality of mankind.”
Disregarding altogether what many men would have
shrunk from with dismay,-the ridicule of acquaintances,
the scorn, the jeers, and taunts, he was sure to encounter
at the hands of his enemies, he obeyed implicitly the
dictates of his own heart and feelings. "What the world
would say” he knew full well, and he accordingly resolved
to show the world how little he cared for its opinion. His
lively kinswoman, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, won-
dered indeed at those "natural spirits" of his, which could
give him "
rapture with his cook." But looking at the
matter from a less aristocratic point of view, it is difficult
to imagine why so perfectly disinterested an attachment
to a genuine and true-hearted woman should provoke a
sneer. The sensible companion and tender protector of
the motherless child, the attentive nurse, and the faithful
friend, could neither have been degraded in his eyes by
the performance of menial offices, nor elevated by worldly
station.
But in this second union, also, it cannot escape obser-
218
[1746.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
vation that the bereaved husband gave a fresh manifesta-
tion of the deep affection which he felt for his departed
wife. The hand which he now grasped at the altar, had
helped to wipe away the death-dew from the brow of that
"perfect woman." She whom he had now taken for a
helpmate, had been by his side and sustained him in the
hour of his bitterest agony. With her he had watched
in the chamber of death, when that grim visitant, clothed
in his worst terrors, robbed him of his angel-wife. Her
tears had mingled with his; he had heard her, amidst
convulsive sobs, proclaim the kindness, meekness, affection,
purity, of her beloved mistress. And when he, bowed to
the earth, had yielded up his soul to the pangs of frenzied
sorrow, she had cheered and comforted him; had talked
with him, in tones he could never forget, of the "mutually-
regretted" dead; had ordered his sad household with
delicate attention; and, by constant acts of womanly care
and kindness, taught his children to regard her as a second
mother.
.
Let it likewise be remembered that the maid was the
confidential friend of the first Mrs. Fielding, the depositary
of her secrets, the companion of many of her lonely hours.
Amidst the vicissitudes and calamities of her husband's
life, it is very plain that she must have had need enough
of a confidante. His business and pursuits carried him
much abroad. When he was absent on circuit and sessions,
she was frequently left for days alone with her maid in
their humble London lodgings; nay, it is to be feared that
in the season of their bitterest penury she had often in
such companionship worn away the weary hours whilst
he was the inmate of the prison or sponging-house. The
faithful attendant who had remained with Mrs. Fielding
amidst all reverses of fortune, and who was often her only
companion, must have known therefore much of her be-
loved mistress which had never been guessed at by the
**
ÆT. 39.]
219
SECOND MARRIAGE.
sorrowing husband. From her lips he learned secrets
which would never have been revealed to him by those
now cold in death; learned of tears shed in solitude, of
silent griefs, of sufferings from him carefully concealed.
Who can thoroughly read a human heart, and that heart
a woman's? Vain man! you think you can fathom its
inmost depths, and reckon up all its pulsations; but-
however unrestrained the intercourse, however close the
confidence there are secrets there which baffle all your
boasted cunning. In that heart which you believe is freely
laid
open to you, there will always be some corner sacred
to emotions of which it is impossible for you to have
cognisance. For, true it is, women will dissemble for
love as well as hate. She who has all your confidence
retains from you some tenderly-guarded thoughts, knowing,
with the quick apprehensiveness of affection, it were better
for your peace they should be buried with her in the
secret-keeping grave.
From the friend and attendant of his departed wife it
is not unreasonable to suppose that Fielding learned
much that rendered her in his eyes an object of almost
sacred interest, and made her daily more necessary to his
existence, whilst it strengthened and intensified his affec-
tion for the dead. How often had the dear dissembler,
whose loss they both deplored, met him with a smiling face,
and spoken to him cheerily of brightening prospects and
better days, when at that very moment she was herself
a prey to deep despondency! What pious frauds had she
not used to encourage him in his labours; how often
promised professional fame and honour, when her own
heart had ceased to entertain the flattering hope! Now
too, perhaps, he heard, that though her gentle voice
breathed to him no word of complaint or of reproach,
there were times when it required all her cunning to
hide the traces of grief upon her cheek, and to assume
220
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1746.
that cheerful air which had so often cheated him into
content and happiness.¹
(1) The maiden name of Fielding's second wife was Mary Macdaniel. She
survived him nearly half a century, and died at Canterbury, in the year 1802,
at a very advanced age. In "The Gentleman's Magazine" for July, 1746,
there are some satirical stanzas "On Felix, marry'd to a Cook-maid," which
may probably have referred to Fielding. The following are two of the verses,-
the first and last :
*
1
"Felix, who once an ode could write
To a victorious duke,
Must needs in humble strains indite
Love-sonnets to a cook.
"Marriage his wit may check-to show it
Before he was too eager,
Now better qualified for poet
Since he became a beggar."
!
་
1
ET. 40–41.]
221
THE JACOBITE JOURNAL.
i
CHAPTER XVIII.
cr THE JACOBITE
JOURNAL."-PERSONAL ATTACKS ON THE
EDITOR.-FIELDING APPOINTED A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
[1747-1748.]
SOON after the suppression of the rebellion, "The True
Patriot," having performed its office, was discontinued. Its
success, however, encouraged Fielding, after the lapse of a
considerable interval, to set on foot another political paper,
to which he gave the name of "The Jacobite Journal."
The object of this publication was (in the words of the
author of "Waverley") "to eradicate those feelings and
sentiments which had been already so effectually crushed
on the field of Culloden." Though the rebellion had been
quelled, and disaffection dared not openly manifest itself,
the cause of the Stuarts was not at this period wholly
abandoned by their English and Scotch adherents. "The
king over the water" was still toasted in many old-fashioned
country houses; and many a peer and politician who pro-
fessed an ardent attachment to the house of Hanover was
known to be ready and eager to transfer his allegiance to
the Stuarts, if a safe opportunity offered. At this juncture,
when the ranks of the Jacobites had been thinned by the
sword, by exile, and the scaffold, the political journalist
sought "to discredit the shattered remnant of an unsuc-
cessful party," by covering it with ridicule, and holding it
up to national contempt. The design, it is said, was
heartily approved of by persons in power; for Fielding's
talents were well-known, and it was believed that ridicule
might have more success than argument in the eradication
of Jacobite sentiments.
(1) Scott's Life of Fielding. Lives of the Novelists.
222
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1747-48.
The first number of "The Jacobite Journal, by John
Trott-plaid, Esq.," was published in December, 1747. As
in commencing "The True Patriot," so in his new paper,
Fielding began with a wholesale assault on contemporary
news-writers, little likely to conciliate that fraternity. "If
ever there was a time," he says, "when a weekly writer
might venture to appear, it is the present; for few readers
will imagine it presumption to enter the lists against those
works of his contemporaries which are now known by the
name of newspapers; since his talents must be very indif-
ferent, if he is not capable of shining among a set of such
dark planets."
With a faithful hand the journalist describes the de-
meanour of the unavowed Jacobites of the time-a nume-
rous and very dangerous class :-
"Others, though very stanch Jacobites in their hearts, have been
ashamed of owning themselves so in all companies. Amongst one
another, indeed, whilst the glass goes merrily round, they freely
drink the healths and talk the language of the party, according to
the old observation-Defendit numerus, &c.; but in the presence of
wicked Whigs, who look grave at the king over the water, the Royal
Exchange, the three W's (a great health), and other such witty jests,
a modest man may be put out of countenance;-as men of wit gene-
rally blush when their jest is not laughed at. Besides, he may thus
be drawn into argument, and be put upon the defence of those
doctrines by reason, which are far above the reach of it; for it may
be truly said of Jacobitism (what a modern writer, with as much
malice as falsehood, says of Christianity) that it is not founded on
argument."
"The Jacobite Journal" was adorned with a woodcut,
representing Mr. Trott-plaid and his wife, the one arrayed
in a plaid waistcoat, and the other in a plaid petticoat,
huzzaing, whilst a sly-looking Jesuit introduces to their
notice a copy of "The London Evening Post." To this
(1) This description is taken from "The Gentleman's Magazine," for we
have not been lucky enough to meet with any original copy of Fielding's paper.
Might not the caricature in question have been designed by the pencil of
Hogarth, himself a stanch Whig as well as Fielding's friend? To appreciate

ET. 40-41.]
THE JACOBITE JOURNAL.
223
caricature the journalist refers in the course of his intro-
ductory address; and he winds up with a piece of whimsical
satire on the affectation then so prevalent amongst political
writers of italicising unimportant words, and printing only
the first and last letters, or a mere skeleton of others, for
the purpose of attracting attention, and giving mysterious
importance to their lucubrations. Having remarked that
the days of severity in dealing with Jacobitism had passed,
the journalist (in the person of Mr. Trott-plaid) thus
proceeds :-
،،
'But, God be praised, there is no such spirit at present in power;
and if a man will only venture being laughed at, he may own himself
a Jacobite without any other danger. Now, as I really love to make
men laugh, more than any other of my acquaintances, so I have
owned myself a Jacobite thus publicly, and have contrived a method
of appearing in my Scotch plaid all over the kingdom at one and the
same time.
"In this dress I intend to abuse the *** and the *** 4; I intend
to lash not only the m-stry, but every man who hath any p-ce or
p-ns-n from the g-vernm-t, or who is entrusted with any degree
of power or trust under it, let his r-nk be ever so high, his f―rt-ne
never so great, or his ch―r-cter never so good. For this purpose I
have provided myself with a vast quantity of Italian letter, and
asterisks of all sorts. And as for all the words which I embowel, or
rather envowel, I will never so mangle them but they shall be as well-
properly the purpose and satire of "The Jacobite Journal," the circumstances of
the period must be borne in mind. Symptoms of disaffection manifested them-
selves in 1748-9, not in open rioting and outrage, but in ostentatious displays of
the symbols of a proscribed faction. The Scotch plaid was selected as the most
favoured emblem of Jacobitism. "Many individuals," says Smollett (1748),
"animated by the fume of inebriation, now loudly extolled that cause which
they durst not avow when it required their open approbation and assistance;
and, though they industriously avoided exposing their lives and fortunes to the
chance of war, in promoting their favourite interest when there was a possibility
of success, they betrayed no apprehensions in celebrating the memory of its last
effort, amidst the tumult of a riot, and the clamours of intemperance. In the
neighbourhood of Lichfield the sportsmen of the party appeared in the Highland
taste of variegated drapery; and their zeal descending to a very extraordinary
exhibition of practical ridicule, they hunted with hounds clothed in plaid, a fox
dressed in a red uniform. Even the females at their assembly, and the gentle-
men at the races, affected to wear the chequered stuff by which the Prince Pre-
tender and his followers had been distinguished."-History of England.

224
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1747-48.
}
known as if they retained every vowel in them. This I promise
myself, that when I have any meaning they shall understand it."
In December, 1747, Fielding also published a political
pamphlet, in vindication of the character of a deceased
friend and schoolfellow, Mr. Winnington, well-known as an
active politician, who had held office under Sir Robert
Walpole, and had acted as chairman of committees in the
House of Commons. He died in 1746; and about a year
after his decease a pamphlet was published, entitled, “ An
Apology for the Conduct of a Second-rate Minister, from
the Year 1739, when he commenced Courtier," and said to
be "written by himself, and found amongst his papers."
This apology was a Tory squib, written with some art and
method, and representing that Sir R. Walpole and his
associates were all secret Jacobites, who had designedly
legislated in the manner best calculated to waste and ener-
vate the strength of the nation, so that the people "would
in length of time come of themselves to a sense of their
condition, and be ready to exchange it for a better;" and
that "another branch of his scheme was to corrupt the
morals of the people generally, in order to create an indif-
(1) Horace Walpole has left us the following amusing account of this cele-
brated politician :-"Winnington had been bred a Tory, but had left them in
the height of Sir R. Walpole's power: when that minister sunk, he had injudi-
ciously, and to please my Lady Townsend, who had then the greatest influence
over him, declined visiting him, in a manner to offend the sturdy old Whigs;
and his jolly way of laughing at his own want of principles had revolted all the
graver sort, who thought deficiency of honesty too sacred and profitable a com-
modity to be profaned and turned into ridicule. He had infinitely more wit
than any man I ever knew, and it was as ready and quick as it was constant and
unmeditated. His style was a little brutal; his courage not at all so; his good
humour inexhaustible: it was impossible to hate or to trust him."-Memoirs of
the Reign of George II. In a letter to Sir H. Mann, dated April 25th, 1746,
Walpole gives a circumstantial account of Winnington's death, and attributes
it entirely to the bad treatment of Thomson, whom he contemptuously describes
as "One Thomson, a quack, whose foundation of method could not be guessed
but by a general contradiction to all received practice." Of this physician
(who was the friend of Fielding and other literary men of the period) more
will be said hereafter (see chap. xxi.) Thomson's treatment of Winnington
gave rise to many pamphlets.
ZET. 40-41.]
225
PERSONAL ATTACKS.
1
ference to religion and posterity." To these impudent
assertions Fielding replied in a pamphlet full of clever
retort aud convincing argument. The friends and repre-
sentatives of the deceased statesman were not contented, it
seems, to leave the matter here, as they might very safely
have done. They took the extreme step of offering a
reward of £50 for the discovery of the writer of the libel,
certifying (somewhat unnecessarily) that no such production
had been found amongst Mr. Winnington's papers, and
expressing an opinion that it had been put into circulation
with a most treasonable view.2
It has been seen that Fielding did not spare contempo-
rary journalists, and it followed, as a natural corollary, that
they did not spare him. Whilst he looked down upon
them with the lofty contempt which it was natural for a
man of genius to feel towards an inferior gang of scribblers,
they revenged themselves by discharging at him volley after
volley of abuse, which it was perfectly impossible for him
to answer. The follies and irregularities of his life were
absurdly magnified. He was taunted with his poverty;
accused of corrupt motives; and assailed with personal
insults of the grossest character. Whatever might have
been the faults and errors of his earlier years, the penalty
which he was made to pay for them was unreasonably
severe. They were wantonly thrown in his teeth upon all
occasions; and his enemies, instead of engaging in a fair
controversy with him, collected together all the scandalous.
tales that had ever been circulated about him, and lam-
pooned him without mercy.
Party feeling at this time ran high, and private character
was savagely calumniated by some of the creatures who
contributed to the newspapers. Fielding appears to have
been attacked with a peculiar malignity. His assailants.
(1) A proper Answer to a scurrilous Libel, entitled, An Apology, &c. By the
Editor of The Jacobite Journal." 1747.
(C
(2) See Gentleman's Magazine, December, 1747, and February, 1748.¸
226
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1747-48.
<
exhausted the vocabulary of scurrility, and indulged in the
most wanton personalities. Of the kind of abuse to which
he was subject, a characteristic specimen is preserved in
"The Gentleman's Magazine" for March, 1748. In giving
his customary extracts from the journals for this month,
Mr. Urban observes, that "they are pretty much taken up
with personal altercations." "The Jacobite Journal," he
continues, "having mentioned Porcupinus Pelagius, author
of The Episcopade,' with contempt, Mr. Pelagius begs
room to pay his respects to the press-informer, whose cha-
racter he describes at great length to this effect in 'Old
England," March 3." Amongst other elegant expressions
of abuse, Fielding is then described as "A needy vagrant,
who long hunted after fortunes, scored deep at taverns,
abused his benefactors in the administration of public
affairs, from the state to the stage; hackneyed for book-
sellers and newspapers; lampooned the virtuous; ridiculed
all the inferior clergy in the dry unnatural character of
Parson Adams, related the adventures of footmen, and
wrote the lives of thief-catchers; bilked every lodging for
ten years together, and every alehouse and every chandler's-
shop in every neighbourhood; defrauded and reviled all
his acquaintance, and meeting and possessing universal
infamy and contempt."
1
This is a character with a vengeance! but the malignity
of the libel deprived it altogether of its sting. Fielding
replied to it with a quiet forbearance and magnanimity,
which prove how properly he appreciated its probable
(1) And also "The Causidicade," noticed in p. 197. The biographer is unable
to identify Porcupinus Pelagius; but the works to which this pseudonym ap-
peared are very contemptible. A correspondent of Richardson's (Mr. Edwards)
writes: "The Ruttiad, the Causidicad, and other foolish things which have
come out with this termination, in imitation of 'The Dunciad,' have given
people a surfeit of, and even an aversion to, omne quod exit in ad.”
(2) "Old England; or, the Constitutional Journal, was a weekly paper,
written to oppose the ministry which succeeded to the long reign of Sir Robert
Walpole. It commenced in February, 1743, and had many contributors; of
whom William Guthrie, the author of 'The Geographical Grammar,' and who
died in 1769, was the principal."-Drake's Essays on Periodical Papers, vol. i.
ÆT. 40-41.]
227
PERSONAL ATTACKS.
{
:
:
influence, in the following brief notice of the proceed-
ings in his Court of Criticism:-"One Porcupine Pillage
came into the court, and crying out, 'I am the author
of the Causidicade, Processionade, Triumvirade, 'Pisco-
pade, and Old England,' threw a great shovelful of dirt
at his honour, but luckily none of it hit him; he was imme-
diately seized, brought to the bar, and severely reprimanded
by the court."
It is not the business of a biographer to palliate or
explain away proved delinquencies; but, in the case of
Fielding, it is obvious that the accusations so wantonly
heaped upon him by envious rivals or political opponents
were, for the most part, groundless slanders. That the
world had frequently found him guilty of impecuniosity
is undoubtedly true; for misfortune, privation, and re-
morse, had never taught him even the common rudiments
of prudence. But that he had ever designedly committed
a base or fraudulent action, is not only unproved, but-
taking into consideration his high principle and open and
generous disposition-is to the last degree improbable.
As to the charge of "defrauding and reviling acquaint-
ances, "it is notorious that no man was more fortunate
than Fielding in retaining through life the esteem and
regard of his personal friends. And who were those
friends? Not the vicious or the frivolous, certainly; but
men like the pious Lyttleton-the generous Allen, whose
name is a synonyme for benevolence—and honest, high-
minded Hogarth. It is hardly necessary to say more,—
for the libeller who denounces the character of Adams as
"dry and unnatural," will scarcely be received as an
authority when deposing to the nonliquidation of an ale-
house score. The libel itself is cited rather to show the
spirit which animated the lowest order of political scribes
at that period, and the kind of warfare to which the
journalist was then exposed.
Undeterred by personalities, the editor of "The Jacobite
Q 2
228
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1747-48.
Journal" steadily pursued the object for which the journal
had been started,—the ridicule of Jacobite principles, and
the exposure of the intrigues of Jacobitism. As in "The
True Patriot," so here he displayed a breadth of humour
and a liveliness of expression which contrasted most favour-
ably with the dull declamation of most of his contem-
poraries. In the fifteenth number (Saturday, March 12th,
1748), there is a favourable specimen of his pointed satire,
in an alleged version of a new poem in three books, "De
Arte Jacobitica." After the invocation, come the following
characteristic instructions:-
:
“First of all, learn the art of lying and misrepresenting. Fling
dirt enough, and some will certainly stick. You may venture to
abuse the king himself; but do this with caution, for the sake of
your ears and head. But spare not his ministers-give a wrong turn
to their most plausible actions. If they prosecute the war with
vigour, swear they are neglectful; if they desire peace, call them
cowards; if war, call them bloodthirsty, and seekers after the ruin
of their country. The next thing you are to remember, is to
feign a love to your country and religion: the less you have of both,
the better you can feign both. O liberty! O virtue! O my country!
Remember to have such expressions as these constantly in your
mouth words do wonders with silly people. But do not too openly
discover your design of ruining your country by changing the religion
of it, and introducing arbitrary power and a popish king. Do not
be caught in your own trap. Remember the end of Perillus, who
was burnt in his own bull; and you may be ruined yourself before
you bring about the ruin of your country. Keep, therefore, to
general terms, and never descend to particulars: you may wish
things went better. You can't tell, but surely 'twas better in good
Queen Anne's days, or in the bacchanalian times of Charles,—or
in the holy martyr's reign. At the mentioning the martyr you may
drop a tear; and if you are sure of your silly company, you may swear
the present ministry cut off his head. Anachronism in politics is no
more faulty than anachronism in poetry. If you are among good
and orthodox churchmen, you may swear the Church of England is
in danger under a Church of England king, and cannot be secured
unless the popish Pretender is restored. Paradoxes in conversation
are to be supported with confidence and sophistry. Remember,
likewise, that you frequently inculcate the divine right of kings to do
wrong, and that they are accountable to God only for being devils
upon earth."
•
•
•●
ÆT. 40-41.]
229
PERSONAL ATTACKS.
"Mr. Trott-plaid's Jacobite Journal" made its appearance
regularly every Saturday during the year 1748, till the
month of November, when it was discontinued. In his
last number the journalist gave substantial and satisfactory
reasons for withdrawing from his post. Jacobitism, which
had been dangerous at the end of the former year,-
when England was involved in a sanguinary war, with
enemies ready to invade her on the slightest encouragement
held out by a native faction,—was now, on the restoration
of peace (ratified by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle), no
longer formidable. It was useless to wage a relentless war
with a crushed and powerless party; and accordingly “The
Jacobite Journal," like "The True Patriot," was given up
as soon as the circumstances which called it into being had
changed. Fielding's enemies, indeed, gave another reason
for the discontinuance of the paper, and also insinuated
that he was actuated by corrupt motives. They said
that he had been discarded for inability and buffoonery,
and that his salary was stopped at Michaelmas.¹ That
Fielding had been all along in the pay of the government,
or, as they chose to call him, a "press-informer," was the
common cry of opposition news-writers. But this accusa-
tion rests upon no proof, and, indeed, contrasts very
strangely with the neglect which he unquestionably expe-
rienced at the hands of persons in power.
Services less
conspicuous than his had been heretofore rewarded by
commissionerships and pensions; and talents inferior to
those which he had employed in the cause of the house
of Hanover, had been thought worthy of ministerial recog-
nition. He might, therefore, have honestly and fairly
hoped that his labours would have found some more
permanent recompence than the pence of his subscribers.
But to assert that he prostituted his pen for pay-that
he was a mere government scribe, hired to write up or
(1) Gentleman's Magazine, November, 1748.
230
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1747-48.
write down particular opinions-was a most unjust and
illiberal insinuation. His heart was in his work; he
expressed his genuine opinions-opinions to which he had
consistently clung through evil and through good report;
he started his journals in times of difficulty and of danger,
and only ceased writing when he believed there was no
further necessity for his labours.¹
Grave anxieties for the future he must, at this period of
his life, have reasonably entertained. He was now above.
forty, and frequent attacks of the gout disabled him alto-
gether from pursuing his profession. To have. relied upon
his pen for the means of supporting his wife and family
would have been almost madness. Literature is at all
times but a precarious trade-a fragile staff to lean upon;
and if it be so to the strong, what would it have been to
the confirmed valetudinarian, whose body was sometimes
so racked with pain that it was impossible for him to hold
a pen! Without some regular employment-some certain
means of subsistence-Fielding's prospects were dark in-
deed. In this extremity he was induced to accept an
office which was then considered disreputable, but which
was the only appointment his friends were able to pro-
cure for him. Such as it was, he owed it, not to his
writings on behalf of the government, but to the inter-
(1) A scurrilous epitaph on Mr. Trott-plaid appeared in the "Old England"
newspaper of November 20th, from the pen of Fielding's bitter antagonist-
Porcupine Pillage." The following is the first stanza of this contemptible
doggrel-
66
"Beneath this stone
Lies Trott-plaid John,
His length of chin and nose;
His crazy brain,
Unhum'rous vein,
In verse and eke in prose."
The peculiarity in Fielding's features here alluded to (viz., the prominence of
nose and chin) is very observable in the portrait sketched by Hogarth from
recollection, and in the miniature preserved by his daughter, and engraved in
Hutchins' "History of Dorset," vol. iii., and Nichols' "Library Anecdotes of
the Eighteenth Century."
AT. 40-41.]
231
APPOINTED JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
cessions of his schoolfellow and friend, George Lyttleton,
who had been made one of the lords of the Treasury in
1744. Through his powerful advocacy, towards the close
of the year 1748, our great novelist was nominated to the
office and emoluments of a justice of the peace for Middlesex
and Westminster-a sphere of duty in which he speedily
earned for himself credit and distinction.
-HENRY FIELDING, the novelist, originated
the practice, now universal, of putting tlie mar-
riages and deaths together in newspapers. This
was in the Jacobite's Journal, set up by FIELDING
in 1747, one number of which was illustrated by
a wood-cut of HOGARTH'S. FIELDING even car-
ried his liking for classification so far as to have
yet a third list, which contained the names of
people who had come to life again.
232
[1748-49.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER XIX.
FIELDING A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.-CRIME AND CRIMINALS
IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
[1748-1749.]
FIELDING appears to have commenced his duties as an
acting magistrate for the county of Middlesex, and city and
liberties of Westminster, in the month of December, 1748.¹
The office of a paid Middlesex magistrate was not at this
time held in very high estimation. According to the
popular notion, his worship generally realised a large
income by mulcting rich offenders, whilst he upheld the
terrors of his office by sending the poor ones to Bridewell
or Newgate. The nick-name conferred on him-that of a
trading justice—expressed the character of his office. He
was paid by fees-certainly the most objectionable mode of
remunerating a public functionary; and the commercial
value of his post rose and fell with the depression or pro-
sperity of crime. The portrait of the justice of the peace
in "Hudibras”—perhaps not overdrawn for the period at
(1) In "The General Advertizer" for December 10, 1748, it is stated that
one John Salter was committed to the Gatehouse, the day before, by Henry
Fielding, Esq., "of Bow Street, Covent Garden, formerly Sir Thomas de Veil's.”
The illness and retirement of an esteemed magistrate, about this time, had pro-
bably caused the vacancy which the novelist was promoted to fill; for in "The
General Advertizer" of December 19, 1748, appears the following flattering
obituary:" On Saturday last died, after a few days' illness, aged seventy-
eight, at his house in Bow Street, Covent Garden, John Poulson, Esq., who
hath been one of his Majesty's justices of the county of Middlesex, and city
and liberties of Westminster, for upwards of thirty-seven years. He was a
loving and affectionate husband, a tender parent, a good master, a true and
faithful friend, and charitable to the oppressed, which makes him greatly
lamented by all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance." And in the same
paper we read, that on the day of Justice Poulson's decease, one John Fandley
46 was committed to the Gatehouse by Henry Fielding, Esq."
ÆT. 41-42.]
FIELDING A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
233
which it was sketched-was considered applicable, in its
most prominent features, to the same officer administering
justice in the eighteenth century :—
"An old dull sot, who toll'd the clock
For many years at Bridewell dock,
At Westminster and Hicks' Hall,
And Hiccius Doctius played in all;
Where, in all governments and times,
He'd been both friend and foe to crimes.
Let out the stocks and whipping-post,
And cage, to those who gave him most;
Imposed a tax on bakers' ears,
And for false weights on chandelers;
Made victuallers and vintners fine
For arbitrary ale and wine;
But was a kind and constant friend
To all that regularly offend."
Most of Fielding's friends looked upon his acceptance of
such an office as a degradation; whilst his enemies affected
to compassionate him. Paul Whitehead, in a poetical
epistle to Dr. Thomson, has contemptuously referred to the
literary magistrate,¹ and narrated an anecdote, in a note,
which, if authentic, shows the estimation in which the office
he filled had been formerly held by men of letters. "It is
reported," he says, "that during the time Mr. Addison was
secretary of state, when his old friend and ally, Ambrose
Phillips, applied to him for some preferment, the great man
very coolly answered, that 'He thought he had already pro-
vided for him by making him justice for Westminster;' to
which the bard, with some indignation, replied, "Though
(1)
"Rich in these gifts, why should I wish for more?
Why barter conscience for superfluous store?
Or haunt the levée of a purse-proud peer
>To rob poor F―d-g of the curule chair.'
"
"How-
And, after relating the anecdote printed in the text, the satirist adds:
ever great men in our days may practise the secretary's prudence, certain it is
the person here pointed at was very far from making a precedent of his brother
poet's principles."
234
[1748-49.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
poetry was a trade he could not live by, yet he scorned to
owe his subsistence to another that he ought not to live by.'
"""
That the discreditable practices of many of his prede-
cessors had made the office disreputable, Fielding well
knew; and he also soon found out, to his great disquietude,
how difficult it was for any man in such a situation to
escape from grave imputations and ill-natured criticism.
The proceedings of the Middlesex justice had too long been
associated with fraud and extortion to permit him an
exemption from calumny. But in his case, it may be
maintained, without any fear of serious contradiction, that
the aspersions of his unscrupulous enemies are as little.
to be trusted as the idle accusations of the thoughtless and
censorious. It is more than probable that he might have
made his office more remunerative if he had followed the
example of some of his judicial brethren; but his proud
and independent spirit shrank with indignant sensitiveness
from any practice which savoured of meanness or dishonour.¹
(1) A short manual, written by the celebrated Bow Street justice, Sir Thomas
de Veil, and published after his death, for the instruction of Middlesex magis-
trates, illustrates the unsatisfactory position of "the trading justice," the dangers
and temptations to which he was exposed, and the small consideration in which
he was held :-
"A justice of the peace should be firm in his resolution to act according to
the several statutes relating to the office of a justice, and not be biassed by
entreaties or shaken by threatenings. He is to avoid familiarity with the con-
stables, who are too apt to take great liberty upon such freedoms, which greatly
lessen the dignity of a magistrate.
"A justice of the peace must be very careful to distinguish well what is
cognisable before him and what is not; for the Old Bailey solicitors, &c., make
it their business to entangle him in difficulties, and do very often bring matters
before him in a very courteous manner, and use the most plausible arguments to
induce him to act in a thing which they at the same time know is only cognis-
able in the courts of Westminster Hall; but whenever they prevail, and have
effected their design, they immediately cause an action to be brought against the
justice for concerning himself where he had no jurisdiction.
"As to justice's fees or perquisites, the best rule is to observe strictly the
oath of office; which tells you what you may safely take yourself, or suffer your
clerk to receive for you; which last method is best suitable to the dignity of that
honourable station. For though a justice of the peace be never so just in taking
only what he has a right to, yet the receiving that himself brings a contempt on
the office, as well as on the justice that doth it; and makes those persons who
·
ÆT. 41-42.]
235
FIELDING A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
Amidst all the temptations of his position, he maintained
the integrity of his character, and preferred an honest.
poverty to venal affluence. In the introduction to the last
production of his pen, "The Journal of a Voyage to
Lisbon," he has taken the pains to vindicate his character,
and to lay bare the secrets of his office, in a manner which
shows how keenly he felt any reflections on his integrity.
A portion of that vindication will not be out of place
here:-
"I will confess," he says, "that my private affairs, at the begin-
ning of the winter (1752-3), had but a gloomy aspect; for I had not
plundered the public or the poor of those sums which men, who
are always ready to plunder both as much as they can, have been
pleased to suspect me of taking; on the contrary, by composing, in-
stead of inflaming the quarrels of porters and beggars (which I blush
when I say hath not been universally practised), and by refusing to
take a shilling from a man who most undoubtedly would not have had
another left, I had reduced an income of about £500 a year, of the
dirtiest money upon earth, to little more than £300, a considerable
portion of which remained with my clerk; and, indeed, if the whole
had done so, as it ought, he would be but ill paid for sitting sixteen
hours in the twenty-four in the most unwholesome, as well as
nauseous air in the universe, and which hath in his case corrupted a
good constitution without contaminating his morals."
In a note to this passage Fielding enters more into
detail.
"A predecessor of mine,” he adds, “used to boast that he made
£1000 a year in his office; but how he did this (if indeed he did it)
is to me a secret. His clerk, now mine, told me I had more business
than he had ever known there; I am sure I had as much as any
man could do. The truth is, the fees are so very low, when any are
are before him look on him with disdain, when after their mean low way of
thinking, they believe they can bias the justice with a shilling, which often
makes them take indecent liberties, till they find that the gentleman they are
before acts in a different character. Nor would I have a justice of the peace,
when he has a clerk, make a bargain with him that may savour of mercenary
views-such as giving so much in the shilling to the clerk, &c., which spurs
him on for his own interest to look out indecently, and at the expense of his
master's reputation, for business."—Observations on the Practice of a Justice of
the Peace; intended for such Gentlemen as design to Act for Middlesex or West-
minster. By Sir Thomas de Veil, Knt. London, 1747.
236
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1748-49.
due, and so much is done for nothing, that if a single justice of the
peace had business enough to employ twenty clerks, neither he nor
they would get much by their labour. The public will not, there-
fore, I hope, think I betray a secret when I inform them that I
received from the government a small pension out of the public
service money, which I believe indeed would have been larger, had
my great patron been convinced of an error which I have heard him
utter more than once, that he could not indeed say that the acting
as a principal justice of peace in Westminster was on all occasions
very desirable, but that all the world knew it was a very lucrative
office."
In a country where wealth, or the outward manifestation
of it, has been always necessary to secure a large amount
of respect, the influence of the magistrate was naturally
affected by his position, and that to a most mischievous
extent. "In some countries, perhaps," it is observed
by Fielding, "you may find an overgrown tyrant, who
lords it over his neighbours and tenants with despotic
sway, and who is as regardless of the law as he is igno-
rant of it but as to the magistrate of a less fortune, and
more knowledge, every riotous, independent butcher and
baker, with two or three thousand pounds in his pocket,
laughs at his power, and every pettyfogger makes him
tremble."
:
Whatever might be the opinion entertained of Fielding's
office by his contemporaries, it is not unworthy of remark,
that he has himself, by his own forcible and inimitable
satire, contributed to render it odious in the eyes of pos-
terity. However irreproachable his own conduct as a
Middlesex magistrate, he did not spare the order to which
he belonged. It is in his pages that we find the ignorance,
rapacity, and meanness of the "trading justices" more
relentlessly exposed, and more minutely described, than in
the productions of any other writer of the period. After
his appointment to the office, and when he had for some
time diligently performed its duties, he did not scruple to
embody in one immortal portrait all the popular prejudices
against his fraternity. The sketch alluded to is that of
ÆT. 41-42.]
FIELDING A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
237
Justice Thrasher, in "Amelia," a character which was
perhaps drawn from some too well-known original :
"On the 1st of April," says the novelist, "in the year ——,
the
watchman of a certain parish (I know not particularly which) within
the liberty of Westminster, brought several persons, whom they had
apprehended the preceding night, before Jonathan Thrasher, Esq.,
one of the justices of the peace for that liberty. . . . . Mr. Thrasher,
the justice before whom the prisoners above-mentioned were now
brought, had some few imperfections in his magisterial capacity. I
own I have been sometimes inclined to think that this office of justice
of peace requires some knowledge of the law; for this simple reason,
because in every case which comes before him, he is to judge and act
according to law. Again, as these laws are contained in a great
variety of books, the statutes which relate to the office of a justice
of peace making of themselves at least two large volumes in folio,
and that part of his jurisdiction which is founded on the common
law being dispersed in an hundred volumes, I cannot conceive how
this knowledge should be acquired without reading; and yet, certain
it is, Mr. Thrasher never read one syllable of the matter.
(6
:
This, perhaps, was a defect-but this was not all for when mere
ignorance is to decide a point between two litigants, it will always be
an even chance whether it decides right or wrong; but sorry am I to
say, right was often in a much worse situation than this, and wrong
hath often had five hundred to one on his side before that magis-
trate, who, if he was ignorant of the law of England, was yet well
versed in the laws of nature. He perfectly well understood that
fundamental principle so strongly laid down in the institutes of the
learned Rochefoucault, by which the duty of self-love is so strongly
enforced, and every man is taught to consider himself as the centre
of gravity, and to attract all things thither. To speak the truth
plainly, the justice was never indifferent in a cause, but when he could
get nothing on either side."¹
•
To render such an office as this in any degree respectable,
and to perform its duties with honour, fidelity, and zeal,
(1) The portrait of Justice Thrasher was not the first or only satire on the
paid magistrates of Middlesex which proceeded from Fielding's pen. Many
years before the res augustæ had compelled him to belong to the fraternity—
before he had studied the law, or been called to the Bar-he had perpetrated a
dramatic caricature of a Bow Street justice. The sketch of Justice Squeezum,
in the comedy of "The Coffee-house Politician; or, the Justice caught in his own
Trap" (see p. 32), preceded that of Justice Thrasher by a long interval of time ;
but the satire is of the same description, and equally forcible and pointed. We
238
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1748-49.
required, it will be admitted, more than ordinary mental
vigour. An over-sensitive nature might have shrunk with
disgust from its disagreeable duties, and the still more
disagreeable reputation which clung to it. But Fielding
was no sentimentalist. Like many other great writers, he
was by no means enamoured of a life of seclusion. He
was as anxious as any man could be to discharge the most
responsible duties of the private citizen, and to bear his
part in the active business of life. As a magistrate, he saw
that there were many ways in which he could render him-
self useful to the public; and this consideration was of
itself sufficient to reconcile him to an office which had
((
quote a fragment of one scene, as a specimen of Fielding's notion of the habits
and character of a trading justice," before he had made a personal acquaint-
ance with the duties of the office:
ACT II. SCENE 2.
SQUEEZUM, QUILL, STAFF.
Quill. Sir, here's Mr. Staff, the reforming constable.
Staff. An't please your worship, we have been at the gaming-house in the
alley, and have taken six prisoners, whereof we discharged two, who had your
worship's license.
Squeezum. What are the others?
Staff. One is a half-pay officer; another an attorney's clerk; and the other
two are young gentlemen of the Temple.
Squeezum. Discharge the officer and the clerk; there is nothing to be got by
the army or the law: the one hath no money, and the other will part with
But be not too forward to quit the Templars.
none.
Staff. Asking your worship's pardon, I don't care to run my finger into the
lion's mouth. I would not willingly have to do with any limb of the law.
Squeezum. Fear not-these bear no nearer affinity to lawyers than a militia
regiment of squires do to soldiers: the one gets no more by his gown than the
other by his sword. These are men that bring estates to the Temple, instead of
getting them there.
Staff. Nay, they are bedaubed with lace as fine as lords.
Squeezum. Never fear a lawyer in lace: the lawyer that sets out in lace,
always ends in rags.
Staff. I'll secure them. We went to the house where your worship com-
manded us, and heard the dice in the streets; but there were two coaches with
coronets on them at the door, so we thought it proper not to go in.
Squeezum. You did right. The laws are turnpikes, only made to stop people
who walk on foot, and not to interrupt those who drive through them in their
coaches. The laws are like a game at loo, where a blaze of court-cards is always
secure, and the knaves are the safest cards in the pack.
ÆT. 41-42.] FIELDING A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
239
sunk, and perhaps justly sunk, so low in popular estima-
tion. Although he looked upon the fees by which he was
remunerated as (C
some of the dirtiest money upon earth,"
and doubtless felt humiliated in being obliged to take
them at all, he neither disliked nor despised the important.
functions which devolved on him. On the contrary, it
will be shown that, as long as his health permitted, he
discharged those functions not merely with assiduity, but
with hearty good-will; and that the services which he
rendered to the public were of so important a kind as to
entitle him to the respect of posterity, if he had never
written a line.
The times are strangely altered since Henry Fielding
presided in the justice-room at Bow Street, committing
rogues and vagabonds to Bridewell, and highwaymen to
Newgate. Every facility was then offered to the proceed-
ings of the lawless depredator and bold-faced villain. The
streets of the metropolis were dangerous after nightfall.
When a peaceful tradesman had to take a journey of fifty
or sixty miles, he made his will before he took his place in
the mail. Notorious highwaymen and swindlers swag-
gered about in public places, winking at the officers of
justice, and enjoying the admiration of the rabble. To
prevent the commission of crime, and to detect and secure
offenders, the very feeblest means were employed. The
nocturnal guardians of the ill-lighted, narrow streets of
London were infirm old men, who would have been charge-
able to a parish, and shut up in a workhouse, if they had
not been employed in protecting the lives and property of
the devoted inhabitants of the metropolis. Fielding him-
self has admirably described the London watchmen of
these days, and has not, in all probability, exaggerated
their impotence and incapacity :-"To begin," he says,
"I think as low as I well can, with the watchmen in our
metropolis, who, being to guard our streets by night from
thieves and robbers-an office which at least requires.
240
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1748-49.
¡
strength of body-are chosen out of those poor old decrepid
people who are, from their want of bodily strength, rendered
incapable of getting a livelihood by work. These men,
armed only with a pole, which some of them are scarce
able to lift, are to secure the persons and houses of his
Majesty's subjects from the attacks of gangs of young,
bold, stout, desperate, and well-armed villains.
(
• Quæ non viribus istis
Munera conveniunt.'
If the poor old fellows should run away from such enemies,
no one, I think, can wonder, unless it be that they were
able to make their escape." 1
When such men were the only guardians of the night,
it was easy enough for the practised thief to lighten the
home-returning reveller of his watch and purse. If the
booty were not delivered up in pursuance of a civil request,
the unhappy wight was soon stretched upon the pavement,
stunned and stupified-sometimes even deprived of life—
whilst the thief walked quietly away to pursue his profes-
sion in some other locality. The Bow Street officers, who
were more immediately charged with the apprehension of
desperate offenders, were also distinguished for their pecu-
liar remissness and capriciousness in the performance of
their duties. No one knew how or why, but, to the great
scandal of public justice, known offenders-highwaymen,
pickpockets, and footpads-were often at large for months
after warrants had been issued for their apprehension,-
walking about London without disguise or concealment,
frequenting their nightly haunts of dissipation, and pur-
suing, without let or hindrance, their lawless calling. The
truth was, that the thief then belonged to a powerful
corporation, with its army of spies and desperadoes, and
hosts of secret allies. Oftentimes the officer of justice
was himself little better than the thief's confederate; but
(1) Amelia, book i. c. 2.
ÆT. 41-42.]
241
INCREASE OF ROBBERS.
oftener still prudence compelled him to refrain from
meddling with a notorious ruffian.
"How long," says
Fielding, in his treatise on The Causes of the Increase
of Robbers, "have we known highwaymen reign in this
kingdom after they have been publicly known as such?
Have not some of these committed robberies in open day-
light, in the sight of many people, and have afterwards
rode solemnly and triumphantly through the neighbouring
towns, without any danger or molestation? This happens.
to every rogue who has become eminent for his audacious-
ness, and is thought to be desperate; and is, in a more
particular manner, the case of great and numerous gangs,
many of which have for a long time committed the most
open outrages in defiance of the law. Officers of justice.
have owned to me that they have passed by such, with
warrants in their pockets against them, without daring to
apprehend them; and, indeed, they could not be blamed
for not exposing themselves to sure destruction: for it is a
melancholy truth, that, at this very day, a rogue no sooner
gives the alarm, within certain purlieus, than twenty or
thirty armed villains are found ready to come to his
assistance." 1
(1) In one of his letters to Sir Horace Mann, in 1742, Horace Walpole gives
the following frightful picture of the conduct of the officers of justice in these
days: "There has lately been the most shocking scene of murder imaginable.
A parcel of drunken constables took it into their heads to put the laws in execu-
tion against disorderly persons, and so took up every woman they met, till they
had collected five or six-and-twenty, all of whom they thrust into St. Martin's
round-house, where they kept them all night, with doors and windows closed.
The poor creatures, who could not stir or breathe, screamed as long as they had
any breath left, begging at least for water: one poor wretch said she was worth
eighteen pence, and would gladly give it for a draught of water-but in vain!
So well did they keep them there, that in the morning four were found stifled
to death, two died soon after, and a dozen more are in a shocking way. In
short, it is horrid to think what the poor creatures suffered; several of them were
beggars, who, from having no lodging, were necessarily found in the street, and
others honest labouring women. One of the dead was a poor washerwoman,
big with child, who was retiring home late from washing. One of the constables
is taken, and others absconded; but I question if any of them will suffer death,
though the greatest criminals in this town are the officers of justice; there is no
tyranny they do not exercise, no villany of which they do not partake."
R
242
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1748-49.
Highwaymen and street-robbers were, however, at this
period by no means the vulgar and common-place creatures
they have since become. Desperate men then "took to
the road" as the legitimate and congenial occupation of
an unquiet and adventurous spirit. Horace Walpole gives
us a fair picture of a professional plunderer of this period,
in whose fate (as may be seen by the newspapers of the
day) a remarkable interest was excited, particularly amongst
the fair sex. Writing to Horace Mann, in August, 1750,
he says: "I have been in town for a day or two, and
heard no conversation but about M'Lean, a fashionable
highwayman, who is just taken, and who robbed me
amongst others. . . . . His history is very particular, for he
confesses everything, and is so little of a hero, that he
cries and begs. . . . . His father was an Irish Dean; his
brother is a Calvinist minister in great esteem at the
Hague. He himself was a grocer, but losing a wife that.
he loved extremely, about two years ago, and a little girl,
he quitted his business with £200 in his pocket, which
he soon spent, and then took to the road, with only
one companion, Plunket, a journeyman apothecary. . .
M'Lean had a lodging in St. James' Street, over against
White's, and another at Chelsea; Plunket one in Jermyn
Street; and their faces are as well known about St. James'
Street as any gentleman's who lives in that quarter, and
perhaps goes upon the road too." A few days later he
writes to the same correspondent:-"M'Lean is con-
demned, and will hang. . . . . His profession grows no
joke: I was sitting in my own dining-room on Sunday
night, the clock had not struck eleven, when I heard a
loud cry of Stop thief!' A highwayman had attacked a
postchaise in Piccadilly: the fellow was pursued, rode over
the watchman, almost killed him, and escaped." In
another letter, written nearly two years later, a still more
fearful picture of the state of London in the middle of the
last century, is given by the same writer:-"It is shock-
،
ÆT. 41-42.]
SEVERITY OF THE PENAL LAWS.
243
ing," he says, "to think what a shambles this country is
grown seventeen were executed this morning, after having
murdered the turnkey on Friday night, and almost forced
open Newgate. One is forced to travel, even at noon, as
if one were going to battle."
It is impossible to avoid coming to the conclusion that
the frightful fertility of crime in these days was increased.
by the very means resorted to for its repression—that of
indiscriminate severity of punishment. During the reigns
of the first two princes of the house of Hanover, the life
of man was rated by the legislature as a thing of slight
importance, when compared with the preservation of pro-
perty. Whenever any offence against private property
increased to an inconvenient degree, such as forgery,
shoplifting, nay, even the wilful destruction of trees
planted for ornament, or the cutting a hop-bind in a hop-
plantation, it was made capital. George II. is said to
have expressed an opinion that a fine young oak-tree was
worth more than a man's life; the oak could not be re-
placed, the man might.3 At every assize scores of men—
aye, and of boys and women—were "told off" for the
gallows with the utmost indifference; and even the great
panegyrist of English jurisprudence (Mr. Justice Black-
stone) ventured mildly, in his "Commentaries," to draw
1
2
(1) 9 Geo. I. c. 22.
(2) 10 Geo. II. c. 32.
(3) Lord Hervey's Memoirs. Although the merciful spirit of George II. has
been commended by Fielding and other writers, he was in truth callously re-
gardless of human life. The most notorious instance of his inhumanity was his
obstinate refusal to grant the mercy of the crown to a young Oxford student,
named Paul Wills, convicted in September, 1749, of a trifling forgery, only
because Chief Justice Willes, who had tried the case, and had recommended the
youth to his mercy, belonged to the party of the Prince of Wales, with
whom his majesty was then at daggers drawn. Wills was executed, says
Horace Walpole, "for the following scarce-to-be-called forgery: being sued by
a Mrs. Crooke for a debt of only £9, and odd money, W. altered the date of the
year in the bond to the ensuing year, to evade the suit for twelve months.".
Memoirs of the Reign of George II. Such was the value of man's life in the
middle of the eighteenth century !
R 2
244
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1748-49.
:
attention to "the melancholy truth that among the variety
of actions which men are liable to commit, no less than a
hundred and sixty have been declared by act of parlia-
ment to be felonies, without benefit of clergy, or, in other
words, to be worthy of instant death."
-..-..
This severity of punishment-unknown to the more
merciful spirit of the English common law-it is needless
to say, defeated its own object. The highwayman felt no
hesitation in adding the crime of murder to that of robbery,
when he knew that it would not alter his punishment if
detected. The punishment of death lost much of its dis-
grace and terror when there perished on the same gallows
with the brutal murderer, a harmless lad who had cut down
a tree, or a poor servant girl who, in a moment of tempta-
tion, had committed a trifling robbery. But the greatest
mischief which resulted from this extreme severity of the
laws, was the reluctance naturally felt by judges, juries, and
prosecutors to carry them into execution. Technical objec-
tions of the most absurd description were permitted by the
former to prevail-in favorem vitæ. Juries stultified them-
selves, and disregarded the oath they had taken by refusing
to convict on the clearest evidence, or by committing the
pious falsehood of finding a one pound note of less value than
one shilling. All who could escape from prosecuting were too
glad to avoid the terrible responsibility of sending a fellow-
creature to the scaffold; and even when the thief had been
brought to trial, the timid and the tender-hearted would
often conceal some important fact to favour his acquittal.
Such a state of things favoured the hardened criminal
immensely. He chuckled when his counsel discovered a
convenient flaw in the indictment, or adroitly managed to
shut out some important evidence; but if defeated here, he
had still the hope remaining that either the prosecutor or
the jury would take a lenient view of his case, rather than
have him hanged. If he had committed a serious robbery,
and the facts were too clear to warrant an acquittal, still a
8c

ÆT. 41-42.]
245
THE WHIP.
.
merciful-minded jury would take the value of the articles
into consideration, and solemnly determine that they
were not worth a shilling. Instead of being hanged, he
would then be sentenced to a whipping-a public whip-
ping at the cart's tail. Although the sentence had a disa-
greeable sound, the thief chuckled again, for he knew that
the flogging, like the trial, would be only a farce. When
the bare-backed ruffian was tied to the cart, his associates
crowded the streets, jostled the hangman, and adroitly
impeded his operations. If necessary, a riot upon a small
scale was got up to defeat the execution of the sentence;
until at length the lucky thief, uninjured by the cat-o'-
nine-tails, was untied from the cart, and perhaps the very
same day renewed his nefarious trade.
.
The whip was much in vogue at this period. If a pren-
tice-lad got into bad company and robbed his master, he
was publicly whipped through the street in which his master
dwelt; and if he was not a hardened criminal, with hosts
of abandoned associates to protect him, the lash was laid on
with savage severity, whilst in character he was ruined and
disgraced for life. Women, too, were whipped-publicly
whipped at noonday through the crowded streets of London,
in defiance of public decency, and to the disgrace of the/
national character. And what was the result of these
brutal punishments? Did they deter from the commission
of crime, or excite a wholesome respect for the law and
its administrators? The answer may be found in the
criminal records of the period, which are filled with details
of cruelty and brutality, happily unparalleled at the present
day.
As the frequency of capital punishments was calculated
to weaken that respect for the sanctity of human life which
it is the interest of governments to inculcate, so the manner
in which these punishments were carried into effect was at
once disgraceful to the law and demoralizing to the public.
With a pedantic barbarity, as shocking as it was absurd,
}
246
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1748-49.
female offenders, in a particular class of cases which came
under the denomination of treasons, were burnt alive.
Coining was one of these offences, and so late as 1777, Sir
William Meredith related in parliament an instance of a
little girl, not fourteen years of age, who, for an alleged
participation in this offence, was on the point of under-
going this cruel punishment. Revolting punishments.
were in these days accompanied by indulgences almost
as revolting. On their way from Newgate to Tyburn,
criminals were permitted to drink, and were often “turned
off" in a state of intoxication. Poor wretches, who, for
slight offences, were hurried from the scene of life, buried
their senses in forgetfulness, ere they encountered the
pangs of dissolution.
The following brief notice of an
execution in the year 1750, seems to speak trumpet-
tongued against the administration and execution of the
laws in the reign of George II. :-"Executed at Tyburn,
July 6, Elizabeth Banks, for stripping a child; Catherine
Conway, for forging a seaman's ticket; and Margaret Har-
vey, for robbing her master. They were all drunk, contrary
-
(1) "By this nickname of treason, however, there lies at this moment in
Newgate, under sentence to be burnt alive, a girl just turned of fourteen; at
her master's bidding, she hid some whitewashed farthings behind her stays, on
which the jury found her guilty, as an accomplice with her master in the treason.
The master was hanged last Wednesday; and the faggots all lay ready-no
reprieve came till just as the cart was setting out, and the girl would have been
burnt alive on the same day, had it not been for the humane but casual inter-
ference of Lord Weymouth! . Sir, we are taught to execrate the fires of
Smithfield, and are we lighting them now to burn a poor harmless child for
hiding a whitewashed farthing! And yet this barbarous sentence, which ought
to make men shudder at the thought of shedding blood for such trivial causes,
is brought as a reason for more hanging and burning. It was recommended to
me, not many days ago, to bring in a bill to make it treason to coin copper, as
well as gold and silver. Yet, in the formation of these sanguinary laws,
humanity, religion, and policy, are thrown out of the question. This one wise
argument is always sufficient; if you hang for one fault, why not for another?
If for stealing a sheep, why not for a cow or a horse? If for a shilling, why not
for a handkerchief that is worth eighteen pence? and so on. We therefore ought
to oppose the increase of these new laws; the more, because every fresh one
begets twenty others."-Speech of Sir W. Meredith, in the House of Commons,
May 13, 1777, in committee on a bill creating a new capital felony.
ÆT. 41-42.] FIELDING A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
247
to an express order of the court of aldermen against serving
them with strong liquors." Here were three women,
condemned to undergo the same punishment for offences of
very different magnitude-permitted, most probably, by a
kind of rude compassion, to yield up in a state of insen-
sibility the life which the law so wantonly deprived them
of. Public executions, even now-a-days, though inflicted
at rare intervals, and for atrocious crimes, are obviously not
attended with much profit to the beholders; but what must
they have been when, to the ordinary scenes of riot and
levity, was superadded the spectacle of a human being,
stupified by intoxication, on the verge of eternity.2
Such was the aspect of crime in the metropolis, and such
the state of our criminal code, when Fielding commenced
the exercise of his magisterial functions. That he would
apply his powerful mind to the exposure and correction of
the abuses within his reach, might have been safely pre-
dicted by any one at all acquainted with his active tempera-
ment and earnest disposition. That he would, however,
have been equally successful in the performance of the
laborious and irksome duties of his office, might have
seemed more problematical. Although not old in years,
(1) Gentleman's Magazine, July, 1750.
(2) Fielding was too sensible a man not to perceive the brutalising tendejúcy
of these shameful scenes; but he does not appear to have felt that horror at the
indiscriminate severity of the law which one would have expected. The coarse
and common spectacle of a public execution he readily admitted was an unmixed
evil; and for that objectionable spectacle he advocated the substitution of a more
solemn and imposing show-fantastic and peculiar, but no less barbarous and
revolting. His suggestion was as follows:
"Suppose," he says, "that the court at the Old Bailey was, at the end of the
trials, to be adjourned during four days; that, against the adjournment day, a
gallows was erected in the area before the court; that the criminals were all
brought down on that day to receive sentence; and that this was executed the
very moment after it was pronounced, in the sight and presence of the judges.
Nothing can, I think, be imagined (not even torture, which I am an enemy to
the very thought of admitting) more terrible than such an execution; and I
leave it to any man to resolve himself, upon reflection, whether such a day at
the Old Bailey, or a holiday at Tyburn, would make the strongest impression on
the mind of any one."-Causes of the Increase of Robbers, &c.
248
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1748-49.
he was now old in constitution: he was a martyr to the
gout in its worst and most virulent form. And even had
he been blessed with uninterrupted health, his previous
pursuits the irregularities of his early life, his taste for
literature, his want of business habits-might justify the
apprehension that he would shun the foetid air of Bow
Street as much as possible, and find little interest in
taking the depositions of reluctant witnesses, and examin-
ing into the complicated details of atrocious criminality.
But the result proved that such apprehensions were
groundless. As already intimated, the man of letters
and the novelist proved a most efficient magistrate; and
the newspapers of the period furnish a trustworthy record
of his activity, energy, and spirit, in the performance of
his duties. In the commencement of the year 1749,
aggravated street robberies appear to have been peculiarly
prevalent, and he was kept constantly on the alert.¹ But
while thus occupied in identifying felons, examining wit-
(1) In "The General Advertizer" for February 18th, 1748-9, we read that
the day before-
"One Edward Mullins was committed to Newgate, by Henry Fielding, Esq.,
on the oaths of John Ball and John Few, for assaulting them, with several other
persons, cutting and wounding them with cutlasses and hangers in a desperate
manner; and also for going armed by night in the publick streets."
The following paragraph, of the 20th of February following, proves that
Fielding was zealously endeavouring to put a stop to these outrages, and taking
the most effectual means for that purpose:
"This morning, at eleven o'clock, Edward Mullins is to be brought from
Newgate before Justice Fielding, at his house in Bow Street. And to-morrow,
at the same time, Atkinson, Roach, and Michael Malony, will be brought before
the same justice, in order to be re-examined and confronted with Nicholas
Marney, who has given information against them concerning divers robberies in
the streets, and in the highway, when it is hoped that all gentlemen and others
who have been robbed within these last six months, either in the streets or on
the highway, between Kensington and London, or on Constitution Hill, will
attend, in order to see the said persons, and if they should know them, to give
evidence against them."
On the 24th of February, there is also the following significant announce-
ment :-
"On Wednesday night, two notorious street-robbers were committed to New-
gate by Justice Fielding, under a guard of twelve soldiers.”
ÆT. 41-42.] FIELDING A JUSTICE OF THE PEACE.
249
nesses, and framing schemes for the protection of the
peaceable inhabitants of the metropolis, it is a circum-
stance of more interest to posterity that he found time
to superintend through the press, and put the finishing
touch to, a work which has placed him at the head of
English novelists.
F
*
matt plane
250
[1749.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER XX.
66
TOM JONES."
[1749.]
THE novel of "Tom Jones" made its appearance in the
month of February, 1749-exactly seven years after the
publication of "Joseph Andrews." The work was not
composed by Fielding-as it is often asserted-amidst the
bustle of his magisterial duties; but, on the contrary, it
had been long in preparation, and was the labour of many
years, and those not the brightest, of his life. It is not
the least interesting circumstance connected with the his-
tory of this fascinating classic, that its sunny portraitures
of human character, its genial humour, and healthy sen-
timent, were the emanations of a mind clouded by mis-
fortune, and depressed by physical suffering. Like another
immortal romance,3 "Tom Jones" was penned amidst "dis-
heartening struggles" and bitter worldly conflicts. How
(1) The following advertisement, announcing the appearance of this famous
novel, is copied from "The General Advertizer" of February 28th, 1749:-
This day is published, in six vols., 12mo.,
THE HISTORY OF TOM JONES,
A FOUNDLING.
Mores hominum multorum´vidit.
By HENRY FIELDING, Esq.
It being impossible to get sets bound fast enough to answer the
demand for them, such Gentlemen and Ladies as please may have
them served in Blue Paper and Boards, at the price of 16s. a
set, of
A. Millar, over against Catherine Street, in the Strand.
(2) See Dedication of Tom Jones to Mr. Lyttleton.
(3) Don Quixote. See Ticknor's "History of Spanish Literature."
ÆT. 42.]
251
TOM JONES.
great the soul and enviable the disposition which no adverse
circumstances, no amount of poverty, disappointment, suf-
fering, or detraction, could deprive of such a glorious
sympathy with humanity, and such a perennial fund of
cheerfulness !
During the time occupied in the composition of his great
novel, Fielding confesses to have received assistance from
more than one friend to letters and humanity. Foremost
among these was his friend, George Lyttleton, to whom,
without permission, he dedicated the work on its com-
pletion. Lyttleton would appear, from the language of
that dedication, not merely to have dispensed pecuniary
assistance to the necessitous author, while engaged upon
his novel, but also by his encouraging exhortations to have
contributed to its existence. "To you, sir," says Fielding,
"it is owing that this history was ever begun. It was by
your desire that I first thought of such a composition. .
Again, sir, without your assistance this history had never
been completed. Be not startled at the assertion. I do
not intend to draw upon 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 benefactor of
Fielding's during the same period was the Duke of Bed-
ford, Lyttleton's political patron; and a third was that
1

(1) John Duke of Bedford-born October 20, 1710, died January 14, 177
had little title, except that derived from his rank, to be associated with men
Allen and Lyttleton in this philanthropic partnership. According to Ch
field, "he was more considerable for his rank and immense fortune th
either his parts or his virtues. He had rather more than a common s
common sense, but with a head so wrong-turned, and so invincibly
that the share of parts which he had was of little use to him, and very
some to others." This nobleman was attacked by Junius, in 1769, in d
most virulent letters ever penned by him :-"You are, indeed," sa
formidable assailant, a very considerable man. The highest rank, a sple
fortune, and a name glorious till it was yours, were sufficient to have support
you with meaner abilities than I think you possess." It is unnecessary
quote more from this unsparing denunciation, which is said to have shortene
his grace's life.
(C
252
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749.
generous and unostentatious friend of the distressed, whose
virtues are immortalised in the well-known couplet of
Pope:
"Let humble ALLEN, with an awkward shame,
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame." 1
As a mark of gratitude to these friends, and of homage
to their virtues, Fielding professed to embody the various
excellences of their characters in one of the most prominent
delineations in his novel. According to his own statement,
Mr. Allworthy is not a mere fancy portrait. The partial
eye of friendship kept steadily in view the mental linea-
ments of his three patrons, whilst the hand was employed in
penning this exquisite sketch of a wise and good man. The
result is, that we have in the character of Allworthy an
assemblage of qualities which rarely, if ever, meet in the
same individual: the most perfect benevolence, tempered
by a stern sense of justice; a complete immunity from the
common faults and weaknesses of our species, joined to
an exquisite compassion for, and large toleration of, the
frailties of others; in short, a character more nearly
approaching perfection than it is possible to conceive of,
and offering a marked contrast (perhaps too marked a con-
trast) to the other persons in the story.
One or two other characters in "Tom Jones," besides
Allworthy, are said to have been sketched by Fielding from

1) See chap. xxvi. (and note). "In the first dialogue," says Johnson
inally published under the title of '1738'), "having an opportunity of
ng Allen of Bath, he [Pope] asked his leave to mention him as a man not
ous by any merit of his ancestors, and called him in his verses 'low-born
Men are seldom satisfied with praise introduced or followed by any
of defect. Allen seems not to have taken any pleasure in his epithet,
as afterwards softened into 'humble.'"-Johnson's Lives of the Poets.
differences which are said to have afterwards existed between Pope and
it is unnecessary here to speak at any length. They seem to have origi-
d entirely in the alleged arrogant behaviour of Mrs. Blount (whom Pope had
ken with him to Prior Park), and who requested the use of Allen's chariot to
ke her to a Roman Catholic chapel, when he was actually Mayor of Bath!
rs. Allen resented this conduct, and the misunderstanding between the two
ies caused a coolness on the part of Pope to his quondam friend.
ÆT. 42.]
TOM JONES.
253
living originals. Squire Western-the most striking por-
trait of all—was, according to some authorities, intended as
a caricature of one of the proprietors of Montacute, in
Somersetshire. To this tradition it would, however, be
improper to attach much importance. Western is the
representative of a class rather than of an individual-an
embodiment of the peculiarities which distinguished the
rural squires in remote parts of England, who lived upon.
their estates, and despised modern innovations and the
refinements of fashionable life. To that class it must be
remembered that Fielding had no reason to feel particularly
well-disposed. The bitter recollection of the slights he
had experienced in his early manhood, when, with foolish
ostentation, he squandered his patrimony among the Dor-
setshire squires-in hounds, horses, and hospitality—and
was only laughed at for his pains, still rankled in his bosom,
and added to the contempt which, as a man of genius and
education, he naturally felt for the rude manners and
unintellectual pursuits of the home-bred squires of those
days. In Western are embodied all the faults of this
narrow-minded race-faults not unredeemed by character-
istic virtues. Though violent, coarse, brutal, and tyrannical,
the rude squire is not devoid of a certain strength of affec-
tion, and a warmth and heartiness of disposition, which
atone for many defects. The only flagrant inconsistency
in his character, is the cowardice exhibited by him when
he takes unresistingly the beating administered by Lord
Fellamar's friend—a part of the story which has naturally
provoked much criticism. We do not expect to hear of
Western fighting a duel, but we are certainly surprised to
find that the sturdy, high-handed, sporting squire should
take a drubbing from a London dandy, without lifting a
hand in his own defence, and "bellowing" all the while
with his utmost might and main for assistance. For the
rest, it may be fairly conceded that the prejudices and
predilections of Squire Western were common to the
254
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749.
rustic gentry of his time. Like them, he hated all lords, be-
cause "they were a parcel of courtiers and Hanoverians;"
and he also liberally hated Whigs, Dissenters, Frenchmen,
and poachers. He was a Jacobite, partly from a spirit of
contradiction and opposition, and partly from a genuine
sympathy for ultra-monarchical principles. As regards
domestic life, the picture which Fielding gives us of
Western's home may be taken as a faithful delineation
of the country gentleman's household in the middle of
the eighteenth century; where the indoor amusements
were entirely confined to eating and drinking, and femi-
nine society was only tolerated during the dinner-hour,
and the short time after it which sufficed for the cir-
culation of the first bottle. What place, indeed, had
woman in such a household-woman, alternately a drudge
or a toy! The accomplishments of Sophia Western are
only called into requisition when she performs her evening
task upon the harpsichord, after her father is drunk; and
of the rank which Sophia's mother had occupied in her
husband's house and affections, a humiliating and pathetic
sketch is given by the novelist, which shows how fully the
lords of the creation, when they are able to have it all their
own way, are entitled to the designation bestowed upon
them by a wit-that of the unfair sex.¹
(1) "Sophia never had a single dispute with her father, till this unlucky
affair of Blifil, on any account, except in defence of her mother, whom she had
loved most tenderly, though she lost her in the eleventh year of her age. The
squire, to whom that poor woman had been a faithful upper-servant all the time
of their marriage, had returned that behaviour by making what the world calls
a good husband. He very seldom swore at her (perhaps not above once a week),
and never beat her; she had not the least occasion for jealousy, and was perfect
mistress of her time; for she was never interrupted by her husband, who was
engaged all the morning in his field exercises, and all the evening with bottle-
companions. She scarce, indeed, ever saw him but at meals, where she had the
pleasure of carving those dishes which she had before attended at the dressing.
From these meals she retired about five minutes after the other servants, having
only stayed to drink The king over the water.' Such were, it seems, Mr.
Western's orders; for it was a maxim with him that women should come in
with the first dish, and go out with the first glass. Obedience to these orders
ÆT. 42.]
TOM JONES.
255
Sophia Western herself was also a sketch from life; but
the reader is referred to a former chapter for further parti-
culars respecting the "fair original." It should, however,
be stated that if-as tradition relates-Fielding depicted
from recollection the personal charms of his cousin, he
also appears to have intended in Sophia to portray the
feminine grace and elegance of his first wife; for he inti-
mates that, under the fictitious name of Sophia, he was
anxious to perpetuate the real worth which once existed in
his Charlotte.

The popularity of "Tom Jones" on its first appearance
was almost commensurate with its wonderful merits. Its
sale was extremely rapid, and commendations flowed in
from all sides. Lady Mary Wortley Montague wrote in her
copy of the work, “Ne plus ultra." The hero was voted by
persons of quality a complete gentleman, and excited at once
an immense sensation.3 This sudden success must have
was, perhaps, no difficult task, for the conversation (if it may be so called) was
seldom such as could entertain a lady."-Tom Jones, book vii. chap. 4.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
+
The squire's notions of marriage are also eminently characteristic:-"The
idea of a marriage between Jones and his daughter had never once entered into
the squire's head, either in the warmest minutes of his affection towards that
young man, or from suspicion, or on any other occasion. He did, indeed, con-
sider a parity of fortune and circumstances to be physically as necessary an
ingredient in marriage as difference of sexes, or any other essential; and had no
more apprehension of his daughter falling in love with a poor man, than with
any animal of a different species."-Book vi. chap. 9.
(1) See chap. vii. p. 68.
(2) As a specimen of the praise at this period lavished on a novel which was
destined to become so world-famous, we quote the following lines from a poem
addressed to "H. Fielding, Esq., on reading his inimitable History of Tom
Jones," published in "The Gentleman's Magazine" for August, 1749, and signed
"Thos. Cawthorn :".
"Sick of her fools, great Nature broke the jest,
And Truth held out each character to test,
When Genius spoke: 'Let Fielding take the pen!'
Life dropped her mask, and all mankind were men.'
کرتے
"As to Tom Jones," writes one of Richardson's lady-correspondents
(Mrs. Belfour), "I am fatigued with the 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 call their favourites."-Richardson's Correspondence, vol. iv,
256
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749.
1
gratified Fielding; but it is evident that the anticipation of
a more permanent fame had supported him during the long
period necessarily employed in the production of so perfect
a work of art. No one can read the "Invocation" with
which he commences the thirteenth book of the novel,
without feeling that it was to the judgment of posterity
rather than of his own age that he appealed :-
Come, bright love of fame! inspire my glowing breast; not thee
I call, who over swelling tides of blood and tears dost bear the hero
on to glory, whilst sighs of millions waft his spreading sails; but
thee, fair gentle maid, whom Mnesis, happy nymph! first on the
banks of Hebrus did produce. Thee, whom Mæonia educated, whom
Mantua charmed, and who, on that fair hill which overlooks the
proud metropolis of Britain, sat'st with thy Milton sweetly tuning
thy heroic lyre; fill my ravished fancy with the hopes of charming
ages yet to come. Foretel me that some tender maid, whose grand-
mother is yet unborn, hereafter, when, under the fictitious name of
Sophia, she reads the real worth which once existed in my Charlotte,
shall from her sympathetic breast send forth the heaving sigh. Do
thou teach me not only to foresee, but to enjoy, nay, even to feed on
future praise. Comfort me by a solemn assurance, that when the little
parlour in which I sit at this instant shall be reduced to a worse
furnished box, I shall be read with honour by those who never knew or
saw me, and whom I shall neither know nor see."
These aspirations after posthumous applause have not
been disappointed. No writer has had a more enthusiastic
band of eulogists than Fielding. Gibbon has described
"Tom Jones" as "the first of ancient or modern romances;
and La Harpe as "le premier roman du monde et le livre
le mieux fait de l'Angleterre." Lord Byron has styled its
author “the prose Homer." Never, perhaps, was there a
novel which has delighted a greater variety of readers-
from the scholar and philosopher to the man of the world.
As a story, it surprises and charms by its wonderful suc-
cession of natural and amusing incidents, and by the re-
markable manner in which the interest and excitement of
the narrative are kept up to the close; so that it is doubtful
(as it has been well observed), up to the very last chapter,
ÆT. 42.]
TOM JONES.
257
"whether the hero is to be married or hanged." This
characteristic merit of the novel did not escape the critical
eye of Coleridge. "What a master of composition," he is
reported to have said, "Fielding was! Upon my word I
think the Edipus Tyrannus,' the 'Alchemist,' and 'Tom
Jones,' the three most perfect plots ever planned."
'
22 1
<
Among the minor characters in Fielding's great novel,
it is unfit that Thwackum and Square should pass un-
noticed. In the former, the extravagant Antinomian doc-
trines, which were promulgated with no slight success.
in an age of general religious indifference, are vigorously
assailed; and in the latter, is handed down to posterity a
sketch of the sceptical philosopher of the Bolingbroke and
Tindal school,-regulating his conduct, in the slang of the
age, by the rule of right and the moral fitness of things,
and affecting an unbounded faith in the strength and
&
(1) Table Talk. The following admirable criticism on "Tom Jones" is from
the pen of that able but eccentric writer, Lord Monboddo :-"There is lately
sprung up amongst us a species of narrative poem, representing likewise the
characters of common life. It has the same relation to comedy that the epic
has to tragedy, and differs from the epic in the same respect that comedy differs
from tragedy; that is, in the actions and characters, both of which are much
nobler in the epic than in it. It is therefore, I think, a legitimate kind of
poem; and accordingly, we are told, Homer wrote one of that kind, called
Margites,' of which some lines are preserved. The reason why I mention it
is, that we have in English a poem of that kind (for so I will call it), which has
more of character in it than any work, ancient or modern, that I know. The
work I mean is, 'The History of Tom Jones,' by Henry Fielding, which, as it
has more personages brought into the story than anything of the poetic kind
I have ever seen, so all those personages have characters peculiar to them,
insomuch that there is not even an host or an hostess upon the road, hardly a
servant, who is not distinguished in that way; in short, I never saw anything
that was so much animated, and, as I may say, all alive with characters and
manners, as The History of Tom Jones."-Lord Monboddo's Origin and Pro-
gress of Language, vol. iii. pp. 134, 135.
Murphy also justly observes, that in this novel "the seeds of everything that
shoots up are laid with a judicious hand, and whatever occurs in the latter part
of the story, seems naturally to grow out of those passages which preceded."
Of this the hero's parentage is an instance; for though no reader, during the
early chapters, perhaps, ever suspected that Mr. Allworthy's sister was the
mother of the little foundling, yet, when the discovery is made at the end,
every incident will be found to have been wonderfully consistent with the fact.
S
1

258
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749.
efficacy of human virtue. To these opposite heresies.
Fielding was equally hostile. His own opinions are faith-
fully indicated in the language of good Mr. Abraham
Adams, in that famous controversy with Parson Barnabas,
already referred to; and although polemical disputations
are generally out of place in a novel, he lost no oppor-
tunity of inculcating moderation and rational piety, in
opposition both to bigotry and scepticism.¹
"Tom Jones" has been translated into most, if not all,
of the languages of Europe. The year after its publication,
a version appeared in France, by M. de la Place, illustrated
with engravings designed by Gravelot. This translation
was actually prohibited by a royal arrêt, as it has been
asserted, on account of the immoral tendency of the work!
-another example, as Sir W. Scott felicitously observes, of
the way in which our versatile neighbours, in matters of
morality, strain at the gnat and swallow the camel.2 Great
liberties have been taken with the work by many trans-
lators, of which an instance is afforded in a Polish version,
where the introductory chapters to each book are omitted.
Whilst every critical reader will regard this omission as
most barbarous, it must be admitted that these preliminary
disquisitions have been always stumbling-blocks in the way
(1) The argumentations of the bigot and the philosopher are pleasantly
noticed by Goldsmith in "The Vicar of Wakefield," where Olivia displays her
knowledge of religious controversy by saying: "I have read the disputes
between Thwackum and Square, the controversy between Robinson Crusoe and
Friday, the savage, and I am now employed in reading the controversy in
Religious Courtship."
(2) "Tom Jones " was also dramatised in France during the eighteenth
century. "Tom Jones: Comédie Lyrique. En Trois Actes. Imitée du Roman
Anglais de M. Fielding. Par M. Poinsinet. Amsterdam, 1767." That "Tom
Jones" was refused a license in France, on account of its immorality, seems
incredible, when it is recollected that the popular novels in Paris at that period
were the grossly licentious tales of Crébillon. Horace Walpole has preserved
a bon mot of the literary roué, who was the son of the well-known tragic poet.
"His father, one day in a passion with him, said: 'Il y a deux choses que je
voudrais n'avoir jamais fait-mon Catilina et vous.' He answered, 'Consolez-
vous, mon père, car on prétend que vous n'avez fait ni l'un ni l'autre."".
Walpole's Correspondence, vol. ii.
→
ÆT. 42.]
259
TOM JONES.
of those who read a novel only for the story's sake. Fielding
seems to have foreseen this, for he thus commences the
introductory chapter to the fifth book:-"Peradventure
there may be no part in this prodigious work which will
give the reader less pleasure in perusing than those which
have given the author the greatest pains in composing.
Among these probably may be reckoned those initial essays
which we have prefixed to the historical matter contained
in every book; and which we have determined to be essen-
tially necessary to this kind of writing, of which we set
ourselves at the head." No one of the least discernment
can regret the frequent recurrence of these chapters; and
whilst the thoughtless merely skim, or pass them over alto-
gether, the more prudent reader will dwell on and digest
them, and perhaps, on a re-perusal, may be disposed to
consider them the most valuable portions of the tale.
.
The moral tendency of Fielding's great novel has been
much discussed. It might justly be considered prudish in
the critic to dilate on the coarseness and indelicacy by
which its pages are occasionally deformed, because these
are blemishes for which the age and not the man is respon-
sible. Few of our British classics are unspotted by some
such stains, and yet no one dreams of excluding them on
that account from our libraries. But more serious charges
have been brought against "Tom Jones." In the person
of the hero, it is urged, that vice is rendered alluring by
(1) It will be recoliected that Johnson, many years later, spoke of Prior
as a "lady's-book." And the "Memoirs of Lord Hervey," and other works
of the age, show us that in the very highest society, language was deli-
berately used by princesses of the blood, and maids of honour, which would be
now considered discreditable from the lips of a fishwoman. To this it may be
added, that Dr. Doddridge read with delight "The Wife of Bath's Tale," as
modernized from Chaucer, to young Hannah More. (Forster's Goldsmith, vol. ii.)
Of the tendency to cant and illiberality displayed by some modern writers on
this subject, there is a characteristic specimen in Phillimore's Life of Lyttle-
ton" (vol. i.), where, speaking of "Tom Jones," the biographer remarks, that it
is "often unread by men, and scarcely ever read by women; though its merits
have saved it from the oblivion to which unredeemed indecency has consigned
'Amelia.'"
$ 2
260
LIFE OF FIELDING
[1749.
being united with so many good qualities. In his earliest.
boyhood, as well as riper youth, this Jones is a perfect
scapegrace. From an orchard-robbing boy, without sobriety
of manners or respect for superior virtue, he passes into a
wild, quick-tempered, impulsive youth, who can never keep
himself out of disreputable scrapes. And yet, in spite of all
his faults and frailties, he possesses so good a heart, so
handsome a person, and such winning manners, that the
most serious reader cannot find it in his heart to dislike
him. Is not all this, says the moralist, a dangerous tam-
pering with the social proprieties? Why make profligacy
so alluring in Jones, and a pretence to virtue so contemp-
tible in Blifil? The answer is obvious. The vices of Tom
Jones are vices which lie on the surface of the character;
they are the result of impulse rather than design; they are
patent to the world, easily exposed, detected, punished.
Not so the vice of hypocrisy, ever on its guard against
detection, and under the mask of virtue sapping the foun-
dations of morality. The Blifils of the world are not so
easily brought to account as the Joneses. Surrounded by a
halo of respectability-like "the goodly apple, rotten at the
core"-they generally succeed in deceiving all but the
most shrewd observers. He does good service to society
who brings them down from their high estate, exposing
their windings, turnings, and shufflings, and holding them
up to public aversion and contempt.
With respect to the objection so often urged-that the
attractive features displayed in Fielding's frail but popular
hero, are calculated to serve the cause of libertinism-Sir
Walter Scott has spoken out with great truth and man-
liness: "The vices and follies of Tom Jones," he observes,
66 are those which the world soon teaches to all who enter
on the career of life, and to which society is unhappily but
too indulgent; nor do we believe that in any one instance
the perusal of Fielding's novel has added one libertine
to the large list who would not have been such had it
L
ET. 42.]
TOM JONES.
261
never crossed the press. And it is with concern we add
our sincere belief, that the fine picture of frankness and
generosity exhibited in that fictitious character has had as
few imitators as the career of his follies. Let it not be
supposed we are indifferent to morality, because we treat
with scorn the affectation which, while in common life it
connives at the open practice of libertinism, pretends to
detest the memory of an author who painted life as it was,
with all its shades, and more than all the lights which it
occasionally exhibits to relieve them." 1
Another high authority may be appealed to on this
subject, whose reputation as a Christian moralist is unim-
peached, and whose subtle philosophy analysed and exposed
with wonderful acuteness the springs of human action.
In the British Museum there is deposited an edition
of "Tom Jones," which passed through the hands of
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and is enriched by his manu-
script notes. One of these notes refers to the question
under discussion. A portion is lost, through the leaf on
which it was written having been torn away; but what
remains is intelligible, and very characteristic of the
writer. "In short," says Coleridge, "let the requisite
allowances be made for the increased refinement of our
manners, and then I dare believe that no young man, who
consulted his heart and conscience only, without adverting
to what the world would say, could rise from the perusal
of Fielding's 'Tom Jones,' Joseph Andrews,' and 'Amelia,'
without feeling himself a better man; at least, without an
intense conviction that he could not be guilty of a base
act. If I want a servant or mechanic, I wish to know
what he does; but if a friend, I must know what he is.
And in no writer is this momentous distinction so finely
brought forward as by Fielding. We do not care what
Blifil does the deed, as separate from the agent, may
be good or ill-but Blifil is a villain, and we feel him
(1) Scott's Lives of the Novelists.
*


262
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749.
i
to be so from the very moment he (the boy Blifil) restored
Sophia's captive bird to its active and rightful liberty."
1
On the other hand, Fielding's opponents have main-
tained that in "Tom Jones" he reached the culminating
point of immorality. Soon after its production, Richardson
wrote to a French correspondent "Tom Jones is a
dissolute book. Its run is over even with us. Is it true
that France had virtue enough to refuse to license so
profligate a performance?"2 Nor did Fielding's rival
stand alone in the expression of these extreme opinions.
Dr. Johnson never hesitated to declare his aversion and
contempt for the work, with an illiberality which was
astonishing even in the literary autocrat. But it must not
be forgotten that Fielding was a Whig, and a political
writer in favour of the house of Hanover; whilst Johnson
was a Tory, and for a long time a Jacobite. The doctor
was also an intimate friend of Richardson's, to whom
he was bound by ties of gratitude. These circumstances
may, in some respect, account for the severe strictures
which, in his recorded conversations, he thought fit to pass
on the writings of the great English novelist.
On one
occasion, according to Boswell-"Fielding being men-
3
•
K
(1) From the language of Fielding's dedication of "Tom Jones" to Lyttleton,
it is evident that he himself entertained no misgiving as to the moral tendency
of its pages.
"From the name of my patron, indeed," he says, "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. .. 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 men that their true interest directs them to
a pursuit of her. For this purpose I have shown that no acquisition 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 introduced into our bosoms."
(2) Richardson's Correspondence, vol. v. Letter to M. Defreval.
(3) Johnson always called him "Harry Fieldin'." (Forster's Goldsmith, vol.
ii. p. 18.)
ÆT. 42.]
TOM JONES.
263
(
tioned, Johnson exclaimed, 'He was a block head;' and
upon my expressing my astonishment at so strange an
assertion, he said, 'What I mean by his being a blockhead
is, that he was a barren rascal.'-BOSWELL. 'Will you not
allow, sir, that he draws very natural pictures of human
life?'-JOHNSON. Why, sir, it is of very low life. Rich-
ardson used to say that had he not known who Fielding
was, he should have believed he was an ostler. Sir, there
is more knowledge of the heart in one letter of Richardson's
than in all Tom Jones. I indeed never read Joseph
Andrews.'" The doctor was also, we are told by the
same authority, very fond of quoting with approbation a
saying of Richardson's, "that the virtues of Fielding's
heroes were the vices of a truly good man." 2
Before these comments on Fielding's great novel are
brought to a conclusion, it may not be improper to draw
attention to the fact, that during the progress of the story
he paid a tribute of admiration to two of his contempo-
raries, who were at once his personal friends and intellec-
tual rivals. The genius of Garrick is immortalised in the
chapter describing Partridge's visit to the playhouse; a
chapter perhaps more familiarly known than any other in the
novel. Happy the artist whose peculiar excellences have
been so appropriately delineated and forcibly conveyed
to posterity! Even the English Roscius, mighty as were
his powers of impersonation, and insatiable his thirst for
(1) Boswell's Life of Johnson. Croker's edition, vol. iii. 1853.
(2) Ibid. Johnson's notions about Fielding were shared by his blind old
protegée, Miss Williams. "In distant times,"-the good old lady writes in
"The Gentleman's Magazine" for 1754:
>>
"In distant times, when Jones and Booth are lost,
Britannia her Clarissa's name shall boast.
-Verses to Mr. Richardson on his History of Sir C. Grandison.
A correspondent in the same periodical (vol. xi. 1791) points out some
curious anachronisms in Fielding's novel :-"In the celebrated novel of Tom
Jones,' we find the first volume closes in the month of June; the second
volume contains three weeks, five days, twelve hours, and in the end we find a
hard and long frost; the other two volumes proceed with winter transactions."
264
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749.
A
applause, could not have desired or hoped for a more dis-
criminating estimate of his genius, or a more permanent
panegyric. The literal-minded Partridge, it will be recol-
lected, is taken completely off his guard by the admirable
truth and nature of Garrick's Hamlet. When the ghostly
visitant, clad in complete steel, appears, the sapient peda-
gogue visibly shares the terrors of "the little man upon
the stage," and even justifies his cowardice to his com-
panions. "Nay," he says to Jones, "you may call me
coward if you will; but if that little man there upon the
stage is not frightened, I never saw any man frightened in
my life. Ay-ay; go along with you! ay, to be sure!
Who's fool then? Will you? Lud have mercy upon
such fool-hardiness!" This, indeed, is the triumph of
acting; and, though the description may at first sight
seem improbable, yet several traditionary anecdotes show
that Fielding has not exaggerated the effect of Garrick's
impersonations. There is a well-known story related by
Macklin, and received by him from Dr. Johnson, respect-
ing a grocer in Garrick's native town, who, coming to
London with a letter of introduction to the great performer
from his brother, Peter Garrick, went to the theatre first,
to see him in the character of Abel Drugger. Like Par-
tridge, the honest grocer was completely taken in by the
actor. "On Garrick's appearance," it is said, "he was for
some time in doubt whether it could be he or not; at last,
being convinced of it by the people about him, he felt so
disgusted by the mean appearance and mercenary conduct
of the performer (which, by a foolish combination, he
attached to the man), that he went out of town without
delivering the letter." It is added that, on returning to
Lichfield, the grocer was naturally asked by Mr. Peter
Garrick how his brother had received him, when he was
informed, with some hesitation, that the letter had never
been delivered. "To say the truth," observed his towns-
(1) Macklin's Memoirs.
1
ÆT. 42.]
TOM JONES.
265
man, "I saw enough of him on the stage to make that
unnecessary; he may be rich, as I dare say any man who
lives like him must be, but-" and here the grocer deli-
vered himself of a tremendous oath-"though he is your
brother, Mr. Garrick, he is one of the shabbiest, meanest,
most pitiful hounds, I ever saw in the whole course of my
life." From such a circumstance having occurred in real
life, it may be properly inferred that the intensity of
Garrick's acting has not been exaggerated by Fielding.
But it is in the criticism of Partridge, after the perform-
ance, that the happiest tribute is paid to the triumph of
the art which conceals itself so effectually from the vulgar
eye, that the player altogether disappears from the scene.
"He the best player!" cries Partridge, with a contemp-
tuous sneer; "Why, I could act as well as he myself. I
am sure if I had seen a ghost, I should have looked in the
very same manner, and done just as he did. And then, to
be sure, in that scene, as you called it, between him and
his mother, when you told me he acted so fine, why, Lord
help me, any man—that is, any good man that had such a
mother-would have done exactly the same.
I know you
are only joking with me; but indeed, madam, though I
was never at a play in London, yet I have seen acting
before in the country; and the king for my money; he
speaks all his words distinctly, half as loud again as the
other. Anybody may see he is an actor."
To another great genius inseparably associated with the
age, whose manners he has so inimitably portrayed, Field-
ing, also, took occasion in his novel to pay a proper tribute
of respect. The works of William Hogarth are often
alluded to in "Tom Jones," and in more than one instance
the novelist directly refers his reader to the artist for
portraits of his characters. In describing the disinterested
attachment of Captain Blifil for Miss Bridget Allworthy,
the charms of that fair personage are thus set forth:
"The
lady, no more than her lover, was remarkable for beauty.
266
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749.
.
I would attempt to draw her picture, but that is done.
already, by a more able master, Mr. Hogarth himself, to
whom she sat many years ago, and hath been lately ex-
hibited by that gentleman in his print of a Winter's Morn-
ing, of which she was no improper emblem, and may be
seen walking (for walk she doth in the print) to Covent
Garden Church, with a starved foot-boy behind, carrying
her Prayer-book." And that inexorable virago, Mistress
Partridge, has her likeness pointed out in the same manner :
"This woman was not very amiable in her person. Whe-
ther she sat to my friend Hogarth or no, I will not deter-
mine; but she exactly resembled the young woman who
is pouring out her mistress' tea in the third picture of
the Harlot's Progress." Parson Thwackum, also, is de-
scribed as very nearly resembling in countenance "that
gentleman, who, in the Harlot's Progress, is seen correct-
ing the ladies in Bridewell."
Whilst Fielding thus keenly relished the productions of
"the moral satirist," it cannot escape observation that the
two men had many qualities in common. Both of them
are remarkable as minute painters of the habits of man-
kind, so far as those habits fell under their own scrutiny.
The pen of the one was no less remarkable for the scrupu-
lous accuracy of its delineations than the pencil of the
other. Both were men of large experience and quick
apprehension; of lively fancy, subtle wit, and a remark-
able sense of humour. In both also, it must be admitted,
there was a tendency to dwell too much on the disagree-
able, the repulsive, and the low. That two such minds.
could have existed in the same age and country, without
being strongly attracted towards each other, was impos-
sible. The admiration which each of them entertained for
the other's genius naturally led to an intimacy, which
subsisted without interruption until the fatal hour when
inexorable death laid his cold hand on the novelist.
Hogarth's regard for Fielding, however, stretched beyond
-
ÆT. 42.]
JUSTICE BUSINESS.
267
the grave. The sensitive sorrow which he felt for his
departed friend frequently manifested itself; and when,
upon one occasion, Garrick (whose powers of impersona-
tion were almost miraculous) thoughtlessly attempted to
frighten him, by appearing as the ghost of Fielding, whose
manners and features the actor counterfeited to the life,
the painter was dreadfully affected, and could never after-
wards speak of the incident without evident emotion.¹
(1) Macklin's Memoirs.
1
1
268
[1749-51.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
GIN.
CHAPTER XXI.
JUSTICE BUSINESS.-FIELDING'S PRIVATE LIFE DESCRIBED BY
WALPOLE.-TREATISE ON ROBBERIES.-DENUNCIATION
OF
[1749-1751.]
WHILST the novel of "Tom Jones" was delighting the
town, and affording unlimited satisfaction to every reader
of taste, the author was busily engaged in the discharge of
his responsible and multifarious duties. On the 12th of
May, 1749, he was unanimously elected by the Middlesex
magistrates to preside as chairman at the sessions, then, as
now, held at Hicks' Hall, better known in modern parlance
as the Clerkenwell Sessions House. This additional duty,
whilst it afforded a higher scope for the exercise of his
intellectual faculties, and the application of his extensive
legal knowledge, imposed upon Fielding a considerable
increase of labour. His mind-too active for his weakened
and wasted frame-was now constantly occupied. On the
Middlesex bench, and in the justice-room at Bow Street,
he was equally distinguished as an efficient and conscien-
tious magistrate. As the judge of a criminal court, he
performed his duties with great propriety and ability. Of
this we have a convincing proof in the excellent charge
which he delivered to the grand jury of the Middlesex
Sessions, on Thursday, the 29th of June, 1749, which is
printed in all the editions of his collected works. This
production is no less delightful to the lawyer than to the
lay reader. The former will admire the depth and sound-
A
(1) "Last Friday (12th of May, 1749), Henry Fielding, Esq., was unanimously
chosen chairman of the sessions at Hicks' Hall, in the room of Thomas Lane,
Esq., now one of the Masters in Chancery."-Newspaper purugraph.
ET. 42-44.]
JUSTICE BUSINESS.
269
ness of Fielding's legal learning, and his clear exposition of
legal principles; whilst the latter will be both pleased
and surprised to find how entertaining the dryest of dis-
quisitions may be made by an accomplished master of
elegant style and forcible diction. At the commencement
of his address, the acute and able magistrate vindicates and
eulogises the principle of jury-trial as the best guarantee
of the subject's liberty, and as the noblest institution.
devised by the wisdom of our ancestors. He then defines
the functions of the grand, as distinguished from the petty,
jury; particularly enlarging on the privilege enjoyed by
the former of presenting notorious offences against religion,
morality, and the laws. The observations which are made
by Fielding in this portion of his charge, on the state of
society and of public morals in 1749, are rather curious,
particularly when the earlier incidents of his life are brought
to recollection. With a zeal, which certainly savours much
of inconsistency, he rebukes the personalities of Foote, whose
performances at the Haymarket, in 1748-9, received a
larger measure of popularity than had been formerly awarded
to "Pasquin" and "The Register:"-" There is a great
difference, gentlemen," says the magistrate (no longer a
dramatist), "between a morose and over-sanctified spirit,
which excludes all kinds of diversion, and a profligate dispo-
sition, which hurries us into the most vicious excesses of
this kind. . . . . For the upper part of mankind, and in this
town, there are many lawful amusements, abundantly suf-
ficient for the recreation of any temperate and sober mind.
But, gentlemen, so immoderate are the desires of many, so
hungry is their appetite for pleasure, that they may be said
to have a fury after it; and diversion is no longer the
recreation or amusement, but the whole business of their
lives. They are not content with three theatres, they must
have a fourth; where the exhibitions are not only contrary
to law, but contrary to good manners, and where the stage
is reduced back again to that degree of licentiousness
270
[1749-51.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
which was too enormous for the corrupt state of Athens to
tolerate; and which, as the Roman poet, rather I think in
the spirit of a censor than a satirist, tells us, those Athe-
nians, who were not themselves abused, took care to abolish
from their concern to the public."
The magistrate then vehemently denounces the corrupt-
ing and licentious character of other public amusements.
"Our newspapers," he says, "from the top of the page to
the bottom, the corners of our streets up to the eaves of
our houses, present us with nothing but a view of masque-
rades, balls, and assemblies of various kinds, fairs, wells,
gardens, &c., tending to promote idleness, extravagance,
and immorality among all sorts of people." As a natural
consequence of this state of things, gaming-houses flourished
in all directions; the vice of gambling, as observed by
Fielding, "being inseparable from a luxurious and idle
age for while luxury produces want, idleness forbids honest
labour to supply it." In conclusion, after reminding the
grand jury that they were summoned to the execution of
an office of the utmost importance to the well-being of the
community, he charges them not "to suffer that establish-
ment, so wisely and carefully regulated, and so stoutly and
zealously maintained by our wise and brave ancestors, to
degenerate into mere form and shadow."
From these details of Fielding's public career, we turn
to his private life and habits at this period. With regard
to his worldly position, it may be concluded that after the
publication of "Tom Jones" his circumstances were much
easier;¹ and though his magisterial duties were irksome,
they were performed with cheerfulness. Above all, he had
a full sense of the value of family ties, and a hearty, manly
turn for domestic enjoyments. He loved his wife and
children; delighted in the conversation of a few intimate
friends; and, when free from bodily pain, had a keen zest
for the simplest pleasures of existence. He was also still
(1) See post.
ET. 42-44.]
PRIVATE LIFE.
271
distinguished for his hospitality and generosity to the un-
fortunate, often beyond his means. "When in the latter
end of his days," says Murphy, "he had an income of
four or five hundred a year, he knew no use of money but
to keep his table open to those who had been his friends
when young, and had impaired their own fortunes." Such
a taste-if expensive to gratify-brought with it many
sweet rewards. If his aristocratic friends pitied him for
being compelled to accept a preferment which condemned
him to familiarity with every form "of vice and misery,"2
he had the compensatory pleasure of being often able to
relieve those who were poorer and more unfortunate than
himself; and many hours were passed beneath his roof
which peers and princes might have envied.
One very unflattering picture, indeed, of the justice's
ménage in Bow Street has been transmitted to posterity;
but it is a sketch from so unscrupulous a hand, that little
reliance can be placed on its accuracy. In one of his
letters to George Montague (dated May 18th, 1749),
Horace Walpole introduces, with characteristic flippancy
and malevolence, the following "humiliating" anecdote (as
Sir W. Scott calls it) of our great novelist. After relating
a scene of low life in Holborn, he says:- "Rigby gave me
as strong a picture of nature. He and Peter Bathurst,
t'other night, carried a servant of the latter's, who had
attempted to shoot him, before Fielding, who, to all his
other avocations, has, by the grace of Mr. Lyttleton, added
that of Middlesex justice. He sent them word he was at
supper; they must come next morning. They did not
understand that freedom, and ran up, when they found him
banqueting with a blind man and three Irishmen, on some
cold mutton and a bone of ham, both in one dish, and the
dirtiest cloth I ever saw. He never stirred, or asked them
to sit. Rigby, who had seen him come so often to beg a
(1) Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
(2) See letter of Lady Mary Wortley Montague, quoted in chap. xxv.
272
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
guinea of Sir Charles Williams, and Bathurst--at whose
father's he had lived for victuals-understood that dig-
nity as little, and pulled themselves chairs; on which he
civilised."
A very slight examination of this ungenerous and inso-
lently worded paragraph, will enable us to fix with tolerable
accuracy the degree of credit which ought to be attached
to it. In the first place, the animus of the aristocratic
writer is apparent in every expression. A Middlesex
justice--and, worse still, one who had once depended on
his pen for his support-had DARED, in the plentitude of
his insolence, to treat the august friends of Walpole as he
would have treated any other of his Majesty's subjects!
Having pressed this business of theirs on the magistrate at
an unseasonable hour, they were met with a suitable admo-
nition to come at a proper time. Was this to be endured?
Who was this Fielding, that dared to send such a message
to men like Bathurst and Rigby? A fellow who, in former
days, had received a guinea from his patron for a trumpery
play or dedication; a scribbler, who had once been glad to
receive his board in exchange for his wit. That such a
man should attempt to vindicate the dignity of his office,
or presume to treat persons of quality as he would have
treated the cornmon people, was beyond the comprehension
of the dandy littérateur. Not understanding" this
freedom, he tells us that his friends invaded the privacy,
and rushed unannounced into the presence of the imper-
tinent magistrate! Is it so surprising that, under such
circumstances, a man like Fielding, with noble blood in
his veins, and boasting the better nobility of a sovereign
intellect, should have been deficient in the observance of
certain ordinary courtesies towards the intruders? Having
been guilty of an unparalleled act of rudeness to the man,
and disrespect to the magistrate, these worthy gentlemen,
according to Walpole, were surprised to find that Fielding
(1) Walpole's Letters, vol. ii. p. 280.
ÆT. 42-44.]
PRIVATE LIFE.
273
did not rise with a low bow and request them to be seated.
Perhaps some persons may think that the novelist, if not
the justice, would have been perfectly justified in compel-
ling them to make a speedy retreat down the stairs they
had so unceremoniously ascended. Instead of doing this,
we learn that, though naturally angry and annoyed at their
unjustifiable interruption, the good-natured magistrate suf-
fered the intruders to remain, and, to use the expression of
his libeller, actually "civilised" towards them.
Again, with respect to the persons said to have been
assembled at Fielding's supper-table: he was "banqueting,"
we are told, amongst others, "with a blind man." Very
possibly; for the novelist's half-brother,¹ who succeeded him
as a Middlesex magistrate, was then an inmate of his house.
To sneer at such a calamity was worthy of Walpole!
"The blind man," however, in spite of his misfortune,
happens to have been a person of rare judgment and attain-
ments; and that being so, we shall know how to appreciate
the description given of the other parties. The libeller
would have us believe that Fielding was indulging his taste
for low society by a nocturnal orgie with beggars and
persons of disreputable character. But after this exposure
of the spirit and animus of the libel, we think it more than
probable that there was not a person present with whom
the aristocratic Walpole himself might not have associated
without dishonour, and perhaps with profit.
As for the cold mutton and the bone of ham, to these
Fielding may plead guilty without much disparagement to
his character. Poets and novelists have been often obliged
to content themselves with much worse fare. Nor is it any
(1) Afterwards Sir John Fielding, who succeeded Fielding as a Bow Street
Magistrate, and, though an able lawyer, had been blind from his youth. In an
article on the Education of the Blind, in the "North American Review," July,
1833, the following admirably confused account is given of this gentleman:
"It is recorded of the father of FLETCHER, the novelist, that he was long con-
tinued in the post of Judge of the Police-court of London after he became
blind;
and that he knew the voices of more than 3000 of the light-fingered
gentry, and could recognise them at once when brought in.
"}
T
274
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
serious circumstance of aggravation that these viands were
both in one dish. Fielding was indulging himself in a
private symposium with his friends, without the slightest
idea of his crockery being criticised by visitors so alarm-
ingly polite. The dirty table-cloth, again, which is said to
have offended the fastidious taste of Walpole's friends, was
in all probability a polite invention, to add zest to the story.
Is not the introduction of such topics, however, a mark of
the writer's intellectual littleness and pitiful meanness of
disposition? On the whole, having subjected this "hu-
miliating anecdote" to a fair examination, and noticed the
spirit of misrepresentation which pervades it, it would be
insulting the common sense of the reader¹ to accept it as
anything like an accurate picture of Fielding's private life.
It is true that a morbid taste for low society has been
imputed to the novelist by another of his contemporaries;
but this accusation also proceeds from a most suspicious
quarter. The dislike which, after the publication of
(1) We are indebted to Horace Walpole for the information that Fielding was
some time resident at Twickenham-that quiet village by the silver Thames to
which Essex, Bacon, and Hyde, by turns, retired from the bustle of court and
the toils of active life; and where, at a later period, Pope made love to Lady
Mary, received the visits of Swift and St. John, and indited verse that will never
die. In a poem by Walpole, entitled, "The Parish Register of Twickenham,”
written about the year 1758, Fielding's name is thus introduced, amongst the
other celebrities whose genius has hallowed this locality :—
"Where Fielding met his bunter* muse,
And as they quaffed the fiery juice,
Droll nature stamped each lucky hit
With unimaginable wit."
With respect to the period at which the novelist resided at Twickenham, it is
not in our power to afford any accurate information. Probably he adopted it as
a retreat, when compelled by severe attacks of gout to relinquish for a season
his official duties. The change from his house in Bow Street to those green
river-banks, so long celebrated as the haunt of the Muses, must have been pecu-
liarly grateful to his jaded frame. What a contrast between the close and fœtid
air of the justice-room, and those balmy, life-giving breezes which on gentle
summer evenings rippled the waters of the winding Thames!
*
*Bunter, a cant word for a woman who picks up rags about the street; and
used by way of contempt for any low vulgar woman.-Johnson.
ET. 42-44.]
275
PRIVATE LIFE.
"Joseph Andrews," Richardson entertained for Fielding's
writings extended itself to the person of the author. In
the select coterie where he presided as a little divinity, he
freely gave expression to his querulous animosity; affecting
to treat Fielding with a kind of insolent compassion, as a
person whose vulgar tastes and habits altogether unfitted
him for polite society. "Poor Fielding," he writes, in one
of his letters, "I could not help telling his sister that I was
equally surprised at, and concerned for, his continued lowness.
Had your brother, said I, been born in a stable, or been a
runner at a sponging-house, one would have thought him a
genius, and wished him a liberal education, and of being
admitted into good company." These observations, it will
be observed, were addressed to Fielding's sister, the accom-
plished authoress of "David Simple," and were doubtless
intended to be conveyed to the person of whom they were
spoken. They prove Richardson's immeasurable self-conceit
and narrow-mindedness, but nothing else. The "vulgarity"
imputed to Fielding was certainly not the vulgarity of the
mean mind and grovelling nature-for those who knew him
best say that his sense of honour was lively and delicate;¹
but it is quite true that, having been for years exposed to
all the painful shifts of poverty, he had suffered therefrom in
health and reputation; and in his necessities had conde-
scended to expedients which he never thought of justify-
ing. It was natural, perhaps, for the wealthy bibliopolist
2
(1) Murphy's Essay.
(2) "When he was not under the immediate urgency of want, they who were
intimate with him are ready to aver that he had a mind greatly superior to any-
thing mean or little; when his finances were exhausted, he was not the most
elegant in his choice of the means to redress himself, and he would instantly
exhibit a farce or a puppet-show in the Haymarket Theatre, which was wholly
inconsistent with the profession he had embarked in. But his intimates can
witness how much his pride suffered, when he was forced into measures of this
kind; no man having a juster sense of propriety, or more honourable ideas of
the employment of an author and a scholar."-Murphy's Essay on Fielding's
Life and Genius.
This passage shows that the imputations cast on Fielding for vulgarity and
T 2
276
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
to associate "continued lowness" with penury; but a more
generous disposition would have made large allowances for
the misfortunes of a man of talent, continually struggling
for existence. To this it may be added that in all proba-
bility Fielding was careless about the company into which
he flung himself-pleased with eccentricity and character
in every walk of life-an accessible, pleasant, easy com-
panion; and whilst these habits and qualities gave occa-
sion to many unfounded calumnies, they were undoubtedly
sometimes carried further than prudence would justify. It
would nevertheless be most unfair to take his character
from the lips of an angry and vindictive rival, or from the
devoted son of the powerful minister whom he had ridiculed.
in the height of his power.¹
In the summer of 1749,2 Lyttleton followed Fielding's
example by entering a second time into the wedded state.
Dr. Johnson, after describing the melancholy death of the
first Mrs. Lyttleton, adds: "He did not, however, condemn
himself to perpetual solitude and sorrow, for after awhile
he was content to seek happiness again by a second marriage
with the daughter of Sir Robert Rich; but the experiment
was unsuccessful."3 By the subject of this biography the
intelligence of this "experiment" was received with the
satisfaction usually manifested or expressed on such occa-
unprofessional conduct, were founded on some of the early events of his life.
But his "Haymarket scheme," alluded to by Murphy, was before he was called
to the Bar, or entered as a student.
(1) Although personal pique or private antipathy had made Fielding in early
life the bitter satirist of Sir Robert Walpole, at a subsequent period he fully
acknowledged his transcendant qualities as a first minister. In his "Journal of
a Voyage to Lisbon" he thus dilates on Sir Robert's attention to the naval arma-
ments of England:-" When the late Sir Robert Walpole, one of the best of men
and of ministers, used to equip us a yearly fleet at Spithead, his enemies of taste
must have allowed that he at least treated the nation with a fine sight for their
money."
(2) Lyttleton's second marriage was solemnized on the 10th July, 1749, and,
according to the custom of the time, he is advertised in "The Gentleman's
Magazine" as having married "the daughter of Sir Robert Rich, with
£20,000."
(3) Lives of the Poets.
ET. 42-44.]
277
LETTER TO LYTTLETON.
sions; and he wrote the following congratulatory letter to
his friend, which was preserved amongst the Lyttleton
papers, and is published in Mr. Phillimore's "Memoirs and
Correspondence of George Lord Lyttleton":-
Bow Street, Aug. 29, 1749.
“SIR,
"Permit me to bring up the rear of your friends in paying my
compliments of congratulation on your late happy nuptials. There
may, perhaps, be seasons when the rear may be as honourable a post
in friendship as in war; and if so, such certainly must be every time
of joy and felicity. Your present situation must be full of bliss; and
so will be, I am confident, your future life from the same fountain.
Nothing can equal the excellent character your lady bears amongst
those of her own sex, and I never yet knew them speak well of a
woman who did not deserve their good words. How admirable is
your fortune in the matrimonial lottery! I will venture to say there
is no man alive who exults more in this, or in any other happiness
that can attend you, than myself, and you ought to believe me from
the same reason that fully persuades me of the satisfaction you
receive from any happiness of mine; this reason is that you must be
sensible how much of it I owe to your goodness; and there is a great
pleasure in gratitude, though I believe it second to that of benevolence,
for of all the delights upon earth, none can equal the raptures which
a good mind feels in conferring happiness on those whom we think
worthy of it. This is the sweetest ingredient in power, and I solemnly
protest I never wished for power more than a few days ago, for the
sake of a man whom I love, the more, perhaps, from the esteem I
know he bears you than any other reason. This man is in love with
a young creature of the most apparent worth, who returns his affec-
tions. Nothing is wanting to make two very miserable people
extremely blest, but a moderate portion of the greatest of human
evils, so philosophers call it, and so it is called by divines, whose word
is the rather to be taken as they are, many of them, more conversant
with this evil than even the philosophers were. The name of this
man is Moore, to whom you kindly destined the laurel, which, though
it hath long been withered, may not probably soon drop from the
brow of its present possessor.¹ But there is another place of much
the same value now vacant: it is that of deputy-licenser to the
stage. Be not offended at this hint; for though I will own it impu-
dent enough in one who hath so many obligations of his own to you
to venture to recommend another man to your favour, yet impudence
(1) Colley Cibber still wore the laurel, which he had received on the death of
Mr. Eusden, in 1730. Cibber died in December, 1757, aged 86.
278
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
P
itself may possibly be a virtue when exerted on behalf of a friend:
at least, I am the less ashamed of it, as I have known men remarkable
for the opposite modesty, possess it without the mixture of any other
quality. In this fault then you must indulge me for should I ever
see you as high in power as I wish, and as it is perhaps more my
interest than your own that you should be, I shall be guilty of the
like as often as I find a man in whom I can, after much intimacy,
discover no want but that of the evil above mentioned. I beg you
will do me the honour of making my compliments to your unknown
lady, and believe me to be, with the highest esteem, respect, and
gratitude,
Sir, your most obliged,
(6
"Most obedient, humble servant,
“HENRY FIELDING."
"To the Honourable George Lyttleton, Esq."
This characteristic letter affords abundant evidence, if
further proof were needed, of the warmth and kindliness of
Fielding's nature. The friend whom in this instance he
was so anxious to serve was well worthy of his intercession.
Edward Moore is now remembered by his tragedy of “The
Gamester," which still keeps possession of the stage, and his
"Fables for the Female Sex," almost as remarkable for easy
versification as the more celebrated fables of Gay. He was
originally a linendraper, but forsook business early in life
for the more congenial pursuits of literature. The "young
creature" with whom he was at this time in love, who
"returned his affections," and whom he afterwards married,
was the daughter of a Mr. Hamilton, who held the im-
portant office of "table-decker" to the princesses. This
lady united considerable literary ability to an amiable
disposition, and in the warmth of her attachment for Moore
she published a poem in "The Gentleman's Magazine” for
1749, which acquired some celebrity. It is addressed to
the daughter of Stephen Duck, the thresher and poet, and
commences thus
"Would you think it, my Duck, for the fault I must own,
Your Jenny, at last, is quite covetous grown;
Tho' millions if fortune should lavishly pour
I still should be wretched, if I had not MORE.”
-
ÆT. 42-44.
279
EDWARD MOORE.
The last stanza of the poem has also an equally felicitous
quibble :-
You will wonder, my girl, who this dear one can be,
Whose merit can boast such a conquest as me;
But you sha'n't know his name, tho' I told you before
It begins with an M, but I dare not say MORE.”
After this poetical demonstration of affection, it would have
been indeed a pity if adverse fate had separated the lovers.
Before the date of Fielding's letter, Moore had shown
his appreciation of Lyttleton's many excellent qualities by
warmly complimenting him in a poem called "The Trial
of Selim the Persian." Dr. Johnson says, "Moore courted
his (Lyttleton's) favour by an apologetical poem, called
'The Trial of Selim,' for which he was paid with kind
words, which, as is common, raised great hopes, that
were at last disappointed." This latter statement is by no
means correct. Lyttleton did not indeed present Moore
with any appointment (perhaps it was not in his power to
procure a suitable one), but he nevertheless seized an early
opportunity of rendering him substantial assistance. In
January, 1753, was commenced the periodical called "The
World," printed and published by Dodsley, who accepted
the services of Moore as the editor, and undertook to pay
three guineas for every paper he communicated, whether
written by himself or others. Lyttleton, being informed of
this bargain, immediately "beat up" for a staff of fashion-
able contributors, and his exertions were so successful, that
it became (as one of them expressed it) "the bow of
Ulysses, in which it was the fashion for men of rank and
genius to try their strength." Lord Chesterfield himself
contributed three or four papers; Horace Walpole nine;
and Soame Jenyns, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, Lord
(1) Lives of the Poets. The Trial of Selim was intended as a defence of
Lyttleton for having taken office under Mr. Pelham, which had subjected him
to much abuse from some of his quondam associates.
(2) See Drake's Essays illustrative of Periodical Papers.
280
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
Hailes, the Earl of Orrery, and the Honourable Hamilton
Boyle, were the authors of several others. Amongst its
less known but equally accomplished contributors may be
mentioned the name of the Rev. Richard Owen Cambridge,
the author of "The Scribleriad," and a celebrated clerical
wit.¹ Recommended by such high and aristocratic support,
"The World" made its way with astonishing rapidity; and
the editor-thanks to Lyttleton-soon found himself in a
position of comparative affluence. He died in 1757.
، ،
As a dramatist, Moore's genius was of a kindred cha-
racter to that of Fielding's old friend Lillo. The novelist
lived to see the play of "The Gamester" performed, and
must have been reminded by it of the truthful pathos of
George Barnwell" and "The Fatal Curiosity." It was
first acted in 1753, and was received rather coldly: "the
general cry against it being that the distress was too deep
to be borne." Shrewder critics, however, assert that it
assailed too vehemently the fashionable vice of gaming,
which then infested every grade of society, to prove agree-
able to a general audience.
The tone of this letter to Lyttleton must altogether be
regarded as highly honourable to Fielding. The grateful
terms in which he speaks on this, as on other occasions, of
benefactions received, prove that he was deeply sensible of
an act of kindness, and never slow to acknowledge it. De-
sirous at all times of performing a service, or procuring a
favour for a friend, he never forgot one rendered to himself.
Had unbounded power or wealth been his, his largesses.
would have freely distributed amongst the necessitous of
every rank; no loving pair, anxious to be united in the
bonds of wedlock, but divided by want of means, would long
"A note from Mr. Moore
(1) The following repartee is related by his son:-
(the conductor of 'The World'), requesting an essay, was put into my father's
hands on a Sunday morning, as he was going to church; my mother, observing
him rather inattentive during the sermon, whispered, 'Of what are you thinking?'
he replied,' of the next World!'"-Life, prefixed to his Works. 1803.
(2) Baker's Biographia Dramatica, vol. ii.
P
ÆT. 42-44.]
281
CASE OF PENLEZ.
have lacked a wedding portion; no man of letters would
have been without the means of gratifying his most lux-
urious tastes; no poverty, no grief, which wealth could
have alleviated, would longer have afflicted earth. A
plentiful and unsparing distribution of the gifts of Provi-
dence seemed to Fielding all that was required to make the
world a paradise.
In the month of November, this year, Fielding took an
active part in a case which excited considerable public
interest. A young man named Penlez, or rather Bosavern
Penlez, a Jew, was capitally convicted, with others, of a
riotous attack on a disorderly house in the Strand, where
some sailors had been robbed. Through Fielding's repre-
sentations, however, all the prisoners except Penlez were
reprieved, but the latter (upon whom were found some
clothes taken from the house attacked) suffered the extreme
penalty of the law, to the horror and indignation of hun-
dreds who had participated in the offence. In justification
of the punishment of Penlez, Fielding published an article
in "The London Review" of November 25, which was
afterwards enlarged into a pamphlet, in which the prin-
ciple and policy of the Riot Act (1 Geo. I.) were fully
discussed.1
-
Whilst thus earnest and zealous in the discharge of his
public duties, it is to be regretted that the exertions of
the active magistrate were so often interrupted by his
constitutional infirmities. Just as he had completed the
first year of his official life, a serious illness deprived the
public for some time of his services. So alarming was his
state of health at this period, that his disease was reported
to be mortal; and that report is thus contradicted, and his
re-appearance as a magistrate announced in the columns
(1) The title of the pamphlet is as follows:-"A True State of the Case of
Bosavern Penlez, who suffered on account of the late Riot in the Strand; in
which the law regarding this offence, and the statute of George I., commonly
called the Riot Act, are fully considered." 8vo. 1749.
"
282
[1749-51.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
of "The General Advertizer" of Thursday, December 28,
1749:-
"Justice Fielding has no mortification in his foot, as has been
reported; that gentleman has indeed been very dangerously ill with
a fever, and a fit of the gout, in which he was attended by Dr.
Thomson, an eminent physician, and is now so well recovered as to
be able to execute his office as usual."
Dr. Thomson, "the eminent physician" above men-
tioned, has been denounced by Sir John Hawkins as "one
of the many physicians who, in this country, have enjoyed
a short-lived reputation, acquired by methods unknown to
any but themselves;" and Johnson speaks of him as "a
man who had, by large promises and free censures of the
common practice of physic, forced himself up into a
sudden reputation." 2 He had been the medical attend-
ant of Pope (who was persuaded by Thomson's enemies to
dismiss him), and was subsequently private physician to
Lord Melcombe³ (Bubb Dodington), who gave him £50
a year, and an apartment in his house, which was supposed
to confer on him what the doctor, it is believed, much
required a privilege from arrest.
"He was," says
Hawkins, "an everlasting prater on politics and criticism,
and saw so deep into the counsels of the King of Prussia,
that he could assign the motives of all his actions during
the last war in which he was engaged. At taverns, in
coffee-houses, at the cyder-cellars in Maiden Lane, he was
frequently to be found holding forth on these subjects
without interruption, in a tone of voice which Mr. Garrick
(1) Hawkins' Life of Johnson, p. 337.
(2) Life of Pope.
(3) The following entries in Lord Melcombe's diary refer to this physician
April 16. Consulted the speaker about Dr. Thomson's privilege.
"April 17. Went to town to attend Dr. Thomson's action of defamation
against Saxon, the apothecary, at the King's Bench-begun at six, ended at
nine. Evidences speaking to the doctor's skill and reputation were the Duke
of Roxburgh, Earl of Middlesex, Mr. Levison, Sir Francis Dashwood, Sir
Francis Eyles, Mr. Drax, and myself. He carried his cause, and the jury gave
£20 damages."
J
ÆT. 42-44.]
283
TREATISE ON ROBBERIES.
would say was like the buzz of an humble-bee in a hall-
window." The self-sufficient knight afterwards relates
that Thomson sunk into "contempt and obscurity," "not-
withstanding the advantages with which he set out, and
the extravagant encomiums of Fielding and others, of him
and his practice." But a striking contrast to this depre-
ciating criticism is afforded by Sir John himself in the
same page, where he narrates an instance of a young
military officer, who had received a wound in the leg,
which was saved from amputation by Thomson, in oppo-
sition to the opinion of two "eminent surgeons," who
wished to proceed secundum artem.¹
During the whole of the year 1750, the novelist had
his hands full of justice business. Flagrant violations
of the law were at this time of frequent occurrence.
Bands of ruffians infested the streets of London, and com-
mitted the most daring depredations. The state of the
metropolis was represented as so fearful, that country
people were afraid to venture there.2 Every form of
villany flourished in rank luxuriance, and a morbid in-
terest was taken in the fate of notorious criminals, which
rendered malefactors the heroes of the age, and imparted
a mischievous prestige to crime. In a letter to Sir H.
Mann (dated October 18, 1750), Horace Walpole thus
playfully alludes to the growing evil: "Robbery is the
only thing which goes on with any vivacity, though my
friend Mr. M'Lean is hanged.3 The first Sunday after
(1) Thomson's professional treatment of Mr. Winnington has been already
referred to. Hawkins calls him "a free-thinker" in medicine, and this may
explain the hostility displayed towards him by Walpole and others.
(2) "The Gentleman's Magazine" of August, 1751, inserts the following
very naïve and cool suggestion of a country correspondent for the repression of the
crimes which were so prevalent at this period:-"A gentleman in the country
who is deterred, with many others, from coming to London, for greater terror
of malefactors, proposes that the convicted should be thrown into Eldon Hole,
in the Peak. As that dreadful hole is too far distant to be used on such
occasions, suppose they were thrown from the Monument into Monument Yard,
or from Westminster Bridge, with a stone round their necks ?"
(3) See also p. 242.
284
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
his condemnation three thousand people went to see him;
he fainted away twice with the heat of his cell. You can't
conceive the ridiculous rage there is of going to Newgate;
and the prints that are published of the malefactors, and
the memoirs of their lives and deaths, set forth with as
much parade as-as-Marshal Turenne's-we have no
generals worth making a parallel." 1
The extensive experience which at this period Fielding
acquired at Bow Street he was laudably anxious to turn.
to public account, and he accordingly employed his pen in
the composition of a treatise on the criminal disorders of
the age, with suggestions for their cure. The result
of his labours appeared in a bulky pamphlet, published
in January, 1751, and entitled, "An Inquiry into the
Causes of the late Increase of Robbers, &c.; with some
Proposals for remedying the growing Evil." It is said
by Murphy that this pamphlet (which has been already
referred to in these pages) "was held in high estimation
by some eminent persons who have administered justice in
Westminster Hall;" and among these may be mentioned
that great lawyer, Philip Yorke, Lord Hardwicke, to whom
it is dedicated. Of the extent of the evil with which he
endeavoured to grapple, and of the dangers which threat-
ened society, the zealous magistrate gives us a startling
picture: "What indeed," he says, "may not the public.
apprehend, when they are informed as an unquestionable
fact, that there are at this time a great gang of rogues,
whose number falls little short of a hundred, who are in-
corporated in one body, have officers and a treasury, and
have reduced theft and robbery into a regular system.
There are of this society men who appear in all disguises,
and mix in most companies. Nor are they better versed
in every act of cheating, thieving, and robbing, than they
are armed with every method of evading the law if they
should ever be discovered, and an attempt made to bring
(1) Walpole's Correspondence, vol. ii.
ET. 42-44.]
285
DENUNCIATION OF GIN.
them to justice. Here, if they fail in rescuing the prisoner,
or (which seldom happens) in bribing or deterring the
prosecutor, they have for their last resource some rotten
members of the law to forge a defence for them, and a great
number of false witnesses ready to support it." As to the
inadequate motives which at this time occasionally insti-
gated persons to commit the most heinous crimes, the
justice relates an instance of an highwayman "who lately,"
he says,
"confessed several robberies before me, his motive
to which, he assured me (and so it appeared), was to pay a
bill that was shortly to become due."
Voluptuousness and extravagance are cited by Fielding
as the most ordinary causes which at that period induced
persons to enter on a career of crime. He advocated,
therefore, the rigorous interference of the law, so far as it
was possible, with expensive diversions and luxurious in-
dulgences. Whatever his private failings may have been,
in theory, at any rate, he was a rigid moralist. Though
he might have been himself addicted to convivial habits,
as a magistrate he did not hesitate to denounce the vice
of intemperance as the fruitful source of crime. His em-
phatic denunciation of gin-drinking-which he describes as
(C
a new kind of drunkenness, unknown to our ancestors,"
which had lately sprung up-might satisfy the most en-
thusiastic tea-totaller of the present day.
"The drunkenness I here intend (he says) is that acquired by the
strongest intoxicating liquors, and particularly by that poison called
gin: which, I have great reason to think, is the principal sustenance
(if it may be so called) of more than one hundred thousand people in
this metropolis. Many of these wretches there are who swallow
pints of this poison within the twenty-four hours, the dreadful effects
of which I have the misfortune every day to see, and to smell too.
But I have no need to insist on my own credit, or on that of my
informers; the great revenue arising from the tax on this liquor (the
consumption of which is almost wholly confined to the lowest order
of the people) will prove the quantity consumed better than any
other evidence."
Having described in vivid colours the enervated condi-
286
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
tion of a gin-drinking people, the indignant magistrate
compares "the first inventor of this diabolical liquor" to
"the poisoner of a fountain whence a large city was to
derive its waters." He even hints at the expediency,
if it were practicable, of passing a kind of Maine law, so
far as spirits were concerned. "Suppose," he says, "all
spirituous liquors were, together with other poison, to be
locked up in the chemists' or apothecaries' shops, thence
never to be drawn till some excellent physician calls them
forth for the cure of nervous distempers; or suppose the
price was to be raised so high, by a severe impost, that
gin would be placed entirely beyond the reach of the
vulgar." If such extreme measures were, however, imprac-
ticable, he contends that the State was bound to take some
steps to palliate the monstrous evil. "Some little care,"
he concludes, "on this head is surely necessary; for
though the increase of thieves and the destruction of
morality; though the loss of our labourers, our sailors,
and our soldiers, should not be sufficient reasons, there is
one which seems to be unanswerable, and that is, the loss
of our gin-drinkers: since, should the drinking of this
poison be continued in its present height during the next
twenty years, there will, by that time, be very few of the
common people left to drink it.” ¹
This powerful exposure of the monster evil of the
time was not without its effect. On the meeting of par-
liament in January, 1751, the king's speech referred to
the "outrages and violence" of which the metropolis had
been lately the theatre; and a committee of the Lower
House was appointed to take into consideration the most
effectual means of repressing them. The proceedings
before this committee are thus noticed by Horace Walpole.
(1) Of the squalid misery caused by "King Gin," an appalling representation
The historians of the
is given by Hogarth, in his picture of "Gin Lane.'
period, as well as the newspapers and magazines, all admit the magnitude of
the evil.
T. 42-44.]
THE GLASTONBURY WATERS.
287
Under the date of February, 1751, he says:-"A com-
mittee had been appointed to consider on amending the
laws enacted against the vices of the lower people, which
were increased to a degree of robbery and murder beyond
example. Fielding, a favourite author of the age, had
published an admirable treatise on the laws in question,
and agreed with what was observed on this occasion, that
that these outrages proceeded from gin. The depopulation
of the city was ascribed to the same cause. On the
12th of March following, Potter (son of the archbishop of
that name), according to the same authority, "produced
several physicians and masters of workhouses to prove the
fatal consequences of spirituous liquors, which laid waste
the meaner parts of the town, and were now spreading
into the country." The magnitude of the evil being thus
fully demonstrated by parliamentary inquiry, a statute
was passed (24 Geo. II. c. 40, commonly called the Tip-
pling Act), which, after reciting that "the immoderate
drinking of distilled spirituous liquors by persons of the
meanest and lowest sort hath of late years increased to
the great detriment of the health and morals of the common
people," proceeded to impose restrictions on the sale of
spirits, which, although described by Walpole as "slight
ones for so enormous an evil," were in fact of a very
stringent character.2
The once famous "Glastonbury Waters" appear, amongst
"1
(1) Memoirs of the Reign of George II.
(2) One section of this act of parliament (which is still in force) is often
productive of great hardship and injustice. By section 12, it is enacted that
no person shall be entitled to sue for, or on account of, any spirituous liquors,
unless such debt shall have been bona fide contracted for, at one time, to the
amount of 20s. or upwards; nor shall any particular item or article in any account
or demand for distilled spirituous liquors be allowed and maintained, when the
liquors delivered at one time, and mentioned in such article or item, shall not
amount to 20s. at the least." The only use of this enactment now is to furnish
a fraudulent defence to a tavern-bill; and it is difficult to understand why, when
the reason of a law has ceased, the English legislature should so obstinately
retain it on the statute-book. Obsolete laws are often, in legal proceedings, the
source of serious inconvenience and injustice.
288
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1749-51.
other more important matters, to have occupied Fielding's
attention in the year 1751. A man of about thirty years
of age, living at Glastonbury, in Somersetshire, who was
afflicted with what was considered an incurable asthma,
dreamed (according to the newspaper accounts) "that he
saw, near the Chain-gate, in the horse-track, the clearest
pool of water, and that a person told him if he drank a
glass of the same, fasting for seven Sundays, he would be
cured; which actually proved true, as he attested the same
on oath." As soon as this marvellous circumstance became
known, thousands of persons, suffering from asthmatic and
other complaints flocked to Glastonbury. Bath was almost
deserted by its colony of invalids, and the merits of the new
waters were everywhere vehemently proclaimed.
Fielding naturally took some interest in this matter.
He was born near Glastonbury,' and had therefore a local
knowledge of the scene where the alleged miracle was
worked. Moreover, he was himself an invalid, and prone
(as such persons often are) to try every new remedy which
promises sudden relief. He accordingly visited the cele-
brated spring, whose virtues were then the theme of general
wonderment, and, on his return to London, was able to
confirm, from his own experience, the marvellous accounts
of their efficacy. In answer to the numerous letters which
were published in the newspapers by more sceptical persons,
who doubted or denied the merits of the waters, he
published in the month of September a statement in "The
London Daily Advertizer." His letter is signed "Z. Z.,"
and was dictated, he asserts, by a sincere desire to serve his
countrymen; having seen great numbers of his fellow-
creatures under two of the most miserable diseases human
(1) Sharpham House, where Fielding was born, was one of the rural resi-
dences of the abbots of Glaston. It had been in the possession of the Gould
family since the middle of the seventeenth century. (History of the Abbey of
Glaston and Town of Glastonbury. By the Rev. R. Warner. Bath. 1826.) The
writer speaks of Sharpham House as then "destined to be levelled with the
ground."
ET. 42-44.]
THE GLASTONBURY WATERS.
289
nature can labour under-the asthma and evil-return from
Glastonbury cured of their ailments, and having himself
been relieved from a disorder which baffled the most skilful
physicians. Whatever temporary relief Fielding may have
experienced from this marvel-working spring, it is certain,
however, that he derived no permanent benefit from it.
As with many others, probably, the cure only existed in
imagination.
(1) Gentleman's Magazine, September, 1751.
U
+3
290
[1751.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CHAPTER XXII.
"AMELIA."
[1751.]
HAPPILY for posterity, Fielding's important duties as an
acting magistrate did not monopolise all his time. Though
he freely presented the public with the first-fruits of his
labours, he found leisure enough before the close of the
year 1751, to compose another work of fiction. In "The
General Advertizer" of December 15th, his novel of
"Amelia" is advertised by Millar to be published on the
18th of that month. The wonderful popularity of "Tom.
Jones" encouraged the bookseller to expect a rapid sale,
as the following somewhat ungrammatical notice would.
imply "To satisfy the earnest demand of the publick,
this work is now printing at four presses; but the proprietor,
notwithstanding, finds it impossible to get them bound in
time, without spoiling the beauty of the impression, and
therefore will sell them sewed at half a guinea the set."
According to Sir Walter Scott, the worthy bookseller did
not content himself with the puff direct, but also adopted
the following oblique and ingenious method of pushing the
sale of the new novel. "Millar," says the author of
Waverley, "published 'Amelia' in 1751. He had paid
£1000 for the copyright; and when he began to suspect.
that the work would be judged inferior to its predecessor,
he employed the following stratagem to push it upon the
trade. At a sale made to the booksellers previous to the
publication, Millar offered his friends his other publications
on the usual terms of discount; but when he came to
،
Amelia,' he laid it aside as a work expected to be in
such demand that he could not afford to deliver it to the
ÆT. 44]
AMELIA.
291
trade in the usual manner. The ruse succeeded-the im-
pression was anxiously bought up, and the bookseller
relieved from every apprehension of a slow sale."
The sum given by Millar for the copyright of " Amelia"
appears large, and, at that period, it was unprecedentedly
So. But the bookseller had been a great gainer by "Tom
Jones." For this work he had originally given Fielding
£600, and to that sum he afterwards voluntarily added
£100,' in consideration of its wonderful popularity. As it
is too much the fashion amongst authors to regard the
booksellers as their natural enemies, this instance of gene-
rosity ought to be recorded for the credit of the craft.
Millar, too, be it remembered, was not only a bookseller,
but a Scotchman-a shrewd, hard man of business, of a
singularly literal turn of mind. Apropos of the latter
quality, the following anecdote, from an old copy of "The
St. James' Chronicle" newspaper, will not be out of place.
Fielding, it is said, always asserted that the Scotch had no
taste for, or idea of, humour. This was denied by a friend,
and the trial was agreed to be made upon the aforesaid Millar,
who was at that very moment ascending the stairs, to pay
a visit to the justice and novelist. Upon his entering the
room, Fielding pretended to be continuing a conversation,
and said: "I will be judged by my friend here, whether my
scheme be not a good one.". “What is it?” inquired the
bookseller, quite unsuspiciously.—"I was thinking,” replied
Fielding, "how I might keep a coach with little or no
(1) "Millar, the bookseller, has done very generously by him (Fielding);
finding 'Tom Jones,' for which he gave him £600, sell so greatly, he has since
given him another £100."-H. Walpole. Letter to George Montague.
Dr. Johnson paid an authoritative tribute of respect to "honest Andrew."
"I respect Millar, sir," he said; "he has raised the price of literature." This
testimonial will appear of the more value when some of the lexicographer's
dealings with the bookseller are brought to mind. When the messenger who
carried the last sheet of his Dictionary to Millar returned, Johnson asked him,
"Well, what did he say ?". Sir," answered the messenger, "he said, 'Thank
God, I have done with him!'"-" I am glad," replied Johnson, with a smile,
A
he thanks God for anything."-Boswell's Life of Johnson. Hawkins inserts
two notes which are said to have passed on the occasion, but these are fictitious.
(C
U 2
292
[1751.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
expense."-"How is that?" said Millar, "I would keep
one myself on those terms."-"You shall go halves with
me, if you will, Millar," answered the facetious magistrate.
'You know that I send a good many prisoners to gaol in
hackney-coaches, and if I were to let my own coach do that
business, I might pay for the job in shillings and eight-
pences to Newgate, Bridewell, and Clerkenwell. What
think you?" Millar looked very grave, shook his head,
and said with great solemnity that he thought it very
unbecoming a magistrate to make his coach a carriage for
rogues, highwaymen, and pickpockets. At this observation,
Fielding burst into a loud laugh, and triumphantly ex-
claimed, "I thought so!" The friend immediately gave up
the dispute, and they passed to the business of the day,
without any suspicion on the part of the bookseller that he
had been made the subject of an experiment.
"Amelia” was dedicated by Fielding to his generous
friend, Ralph Allen,' from whom he had more than once
received pecuniary assistance and valuable counsel. The
novel, he observed, was "sincerely designed to promote the
cause of virtue, and to expose some of the most glaring evils,
as well public as private, which then infested the country.
. The best man," he continues, "is the properest
patron of such an attempt. This, I believe, will be readily
granted; nor will the public voice, I think, be now divided
to whom they will give that appellation. Should a letter,
indeed, be thus inscribed, DETUR OPTIMO, there are few
persons who would think it wanted any other direction."
Strong as these expressions may appear, they flowed from
the heart of the writer, and, if applicable to any human
being, they may fairly be taken to have been so to the
noble-minded personage to whom they were addressed.
It has been observed that in his former novels Fielding
sketched many of the characters from life; and the heroine
(1) This gentleman is said to have once sent him a present of 200 guineas,
before he had any personal knowledge of him.
ET. 44.]
AMELIA.
293
(C
of his last work of fiction is undoubtedly copied from an
original. In the loving, gentle, and true-hearted Amelia,
he has transmitted to posterity a portrait of his first wife,
over whose early grave he had shed so many bitter tears.
Henry Fielding," says Lady Mary Wortley Montague,
"has given a true picture of himself and his first wife in
the character of Mr. and Mrs. Booth, some compliments to
his own figure excepted; and I am persuaded several of
the incidents he mentions are real matters of fact.” Among
these "matters of fact" may be noticed the accident by
which Amelia's nose was deprived of its original symmetry,—
a misfortune which, with the same circumstances of aggra-
vation, occurred to Mrs. Fielding.¹
The tradition that Fielding intended Amelia as an affec-
tionate tribute to the memory of his first wife, imparts
an additional interest to the character. Years had not
obliterated from his mind the solace he had received from
her society in his day of adversity; the sacrifices she had
made for him, and the sufferings she had undergone. The
highest intellects have never disdained "to humble them-
selves at the shrine of departed excellence;" and in this
charming portrait it is reasonable to believe that Fielding
attempted to satisfy the yearnings of an atoning love, which
followed its object beyond the grave. In depicting under
such circumstances the model wife, he has by no means con-
fined himself to the novel-writer's ordinary track: Amelia
is not only the most lovable of women, but she possesses
withal a fund of good sense rarely bestowed on the heroines
of fiction. It is observable, however, that the gentle and
(1) “Amelia, even to her noselessness," Richardson writes, "is again his first
wife."-Correspondence, vol. iv. "The injury," says Booth, relating his history
to Miss Matthews, "done to her beauty by the overturning of a chaise, by
which, as you well remember, her lovely nose was beat all to pieces, gave me an
assurance that the woman who had been so much adored for the charms of her
person, deserved a much higher adoration to be paid to her mind; for that she
was in the latter respect infinitely more superior to the rest of her sex than she
had ever been in the former."-Amelia, book ii. chap. 1.
(2) Washington Irving's "Life of Goldsmith.”
294
[1751.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
yielding qualities of the sex predominate over intellectual
strength. Amelia is all the woman. Her virtues shine
forth with the greatest lustre when engaged in her house-
hold occupations, or in imparting to her children those
lessons of religion which are best learned from a mother's
lips. "This admirable woman," says the novelist, "never
let a day pass without instructing her children in some
lesson of religion and morality; by which means she had,
in their tender minds, so strongly annexed the ideas of fear
and shame to every idea of evil of which they were suscep-
tible, that it must require great pains and length of habit
to separate them." Instead of repining at poverty, how
cleverly does the unromantic heroine accommodate herself to
circumstances! Like a wise and true woman, she takes
care that her husband's house shall always wear a cheerful
and alluring aspect. During his absence, with the assist-
ance of a little girl, who was their only servant, she managed,
we are told, to dress her dinner; "and she had likewise.
dressed herself as neat as any lady who had a regular set of
servants could have done." And thus, in humble lodgings,
with poverty at the door, the wife rises superior to fortune,
and preserves the husband from despair. She takes as much
pleasure, it is said again, in cooking "as a fine lady gene-
rally enjoys in dressing herself for a ball." It is by these
minute touches that Fielding brings before us the "perfect
woman" whose memory he so fondly idolised. Some of
these scenes of poverty, illumined by the smiles, and
softened by the careful contrivances of a wife, doubtless
had their parallel in the incidents of his own life, and such
experiences have given an air of Defoe-like truthfulness to
the narrative.
ram
The compunctious visitings of conscience, by which the
unworthy Booth is occasionally harassed, tend still further
to remind us of "the expiatory spirit" in which this story
seems to have been penned. Could he have met his wife's
caresses without a pang of self-reproach, how great had
ÆT. 44.]
AMELIA.
295
been his happiness! "The behaviour of Amelia," we are
told, "would have made him completely happy, in defiance
of all adverse circumstances, had it not been for those bitter
ingredients which he himself had thrown into his cup; and
which prevented him from truly relishing his Amelia's
sweetness, by reminding him how unworthy he was of this
excellent creature." True, indeed, is the observation of
Tom Jones to Sophia :-"The delicacy of your sex cannot
comprehend the grossness of ours." But there are moments
when that gross nature is made to feel, and to feel deeply,
its own unworthiness-when affectionate tenderness recalls
the wanderer to the path of duty; and past irregularities
are bitterly repented of, without a glance of complaint or
word of reproach from the injured object.
Whilst in the composition of his last novel Fielding was
principally actuated by a desire to do honour to the memory
of a being he had so fondly loved, he had also another
object in view-namely, that referred to in the dedication
to Mr. Allen-the exposure of many public and private
evils which then infested the country. Among those evils,
the worst and most deadly were those connected with the
administration of the criminal law, and the punishment of
crime. The prisons were hotbeds of moral and physical
pestilence, nurseries of immorality, and hideous temples of
disease. No Howard, it will be remembered, had yet set
out on his "voyage of Christian benevolence;"¹
nor had
any Romilly laboured with unselfish devotion and unshrink-
ing courage to remove the cruelties and inconsistencies
which sullied the penal code of England. The captive was
yet unvisited; the horrors of the prison-house not yet
exposed. No apostle of humanity had selected "the lot in
which was to be found the least of that which selfish human
nature covets, the most of what it shrinks from; nor had
any Christian legislator raised his voice against the odious
practices of whipping women in the public streets, hanging
(2) Jeremy Bentham.
"2
(1) Burke.
296
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1751.
them for shoplifting, or burning them for coining. Within
the walls of a prison wealth could purchase luxurious indul-
gence, whilst innocent poverty incurred the perils of star-
vation. The condemned highwayman merrily caroused up
to the last moment of his existence, and was accommodated
with the lightest irons, and enabled to "die like a gentle-
man;" whilst the poor rogue, without friends or money,
was left to perish with cold or fever-saving the jailer, the
judge, and the hangman, a world of trouble by dying out
of the way. Instead of the decency, order, and discipline,
which ought to be the characteristics of a place of punish-
ment, the jails of those days exhibited every form of ram-
pant vice and squalid wretchedness. The loud laugh of
hardened villany, the song of the reveller, the wicked oath
and obscene jest, mingled with the groans of the suffering
and the supplicating cries of the distressed. In such a
pandemonium every virtuous impulse withered and perished;
penitence was a thing unknown,-for, instead of feeling
remorse, the criminal boasted of his misdeeds, and was
respected in proportion to their atrocity.
The evils which were thus permitted to disgrace the
administration of the law, reacted upon society at large
with a retributive justice as natural as it was terrible. The
pestilence which was nurtured in the jail, as well as the
immorality and crime generated there, extended beyond its
gloomy precincts. The educated jail-bird was a terror to
the Community, whilst the jail-fever was recognised as
one of the most fearful scourges in the catalogue of disease.
In the year 1750 it raged in Newgate to such an extent,
that, at the Old Bailey Sessions, one of the judges (Mr.
Justice Abney), an alderman, and many jurymen and wit-
nesses, were numbered amongst its victims; and from that
time up to this day it has been usual to place sweet-smel-
ling herbs in the prisoner's dock, to prevent infection.
Some personal peril was, in truth, formerly incurred in the
administration of the law. In 1730, Chief Baron Pengelly
ÆT. 44.]
AMELIA.
297
and Serjeant Shippen were killed by the jail-fever, whilst
attending the Dorsetshire Assizes, held at Blandford; and
the High-Sheriff for Somersetshire perished during the
same circuit from the same cause.
.
The jail scenes depicted in "Amelia" may be referred to
as valuable and faithful sketches of prison-life in these dark
days of criminal jurisprudence. The spectacles which are
stated to have met the eye of Booth, during his incarcera-
tion, were then common enough: the street robbers, who
were certain of being hanged the next session, "enjoying
themselves very merrily over a bottle of wine and a pipe of
tobacco;" the daughter supporting the head of a dying
father, who had been committed for stealing a loaf; the
wounded soldier, who had been tried for stealing three
herrings, and acquitted, but was still detained for his fees.¹
Such scenes as these, though they occur in a work of fiction,
were matters of everyday occurrence in Fielding's time.
His experience as a magistrate had familiarised him with
the secrets of the prison-house, and it was with a sincere
desire of being useful to his country that he exposed them
in their proper colours.
The enlightened views of Fielding upon political matters
are fully displayed in his last novel. Some of the "ad-
ministrative reformers" of our own eventful times will be
surprised to see how completely he has anticipated many
of the views which are at length becoming fashionable. In
Dr. Harrison's interview with the nobleman whom he
solicits to use his interest with a minister for obtaining
Booth's promotion, most of the sentiments enunciated
by the doctor would be loudly cheered at any public meet-
ing in these days. The peer having observed that "the
conduct of politicians is not formed upon the principles of
religion," his suitor makes these observations:-
*
-
"I am sorry for it; but I will talk to them then of honour and
honesty. Now to deny a man the preferment which he merits,
(1) Amelia, book i. chap. 4.
298
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1751.
and to give it to another man who doth not merit it, is a manifest act
of injustice; and is consequently both inconsistent with honour and
honesty. Nor is it only an act of injustice to the man himself, but to
the public, for whose good principally all public offices are, or ought
to be, instituted. Now this good can never be completed nor obtained
but by employing all persons according to their capacities. Wherever
true merit is liable to be superseded by favour and partiality, and
men are intrusted with offices, without any regard to capacity or
integrity, the affairs of that state will always be in a deplorable
situation. Such, as Livy tells us, was the state of Capua, a little
before its final destruction. . . . . But, my lord, there is another mischief
which attends this kind of injustice-and that is, it hath a manifest
tendency to destroy all virtue and all ability among the people, by
taking away all that encouragement and incentive which should pro-
mote emulation, and cause men to aim at excelling in any art, science,
or profession. Nor can anything, my lord, contribute more to render
a nation contemptible among its neighbours; for what opinion can
other countries have of the councils, or what terror can they conceive
of the arms, of such people? And it was chiefly owing to the avoiding
of this error that Oliver Cromwell carried the reputation of England
higher than it ever was in any other time.'
"And do you really think, doctor,' cries the nobleman, 'that any
minister could support himself in this country upon such principles
as you recommend? Do you think he would be able to baffle an
opposition, unless he should oblige his friends by conferring places,
often contrary to his own inclination and his own opinions?'
"Yes, really do I,' cries the doctor. Indeed, if a minister is
resolved to make good his confession in the Liturgy, by leaving undone
all those things which he ought to have done, and by doing all those
things which he ought not to have done, such a minister, I grant, will
be obliged to baffle opposition, as you are pleased to term it, by these
arts; for as Shakspere somewhere says--
Things ill begun, strengthen themselves by ill.
But if, on the contrary, he will please to consider the true interest
of his country, and that only in great and national points; if he will
engage his country in neither alliances or quarrels, but where it is
really interested; if he will raise no money but what is wanted, nor
employ any civil or military officers but what are useful, and place in
these employments men of the highest integrity, and of the greatest
abilities; if he will employ some few of his hours to advance our
trade, and some few more to regulate our domestic government; if
he would do this, my lord, I will answer for it he shall either have
no opposition to baffle, or he shall baffle it by a fair appeal to his
ÆT. 44.]
299
AMELIA.
999
conduct. Such a minister may, in the language of the law, put
himself on his country when he pleases, and he shall come off with
honour and applause.'
"Amelia" was but coldly received. Regular novel-
readers were displeased with its didactic tone, and com-
plained of the want of entertaining incidents. As a work
of art, it is certainly manifestly inferior to "Tom Jones,”
and it has none of the rich humour of "Joseph Andrews."
On the whole, the criticism of Arthur Murphy is exceedingly
just and accurate :-" Amelia," he says, "which succeeded
"Tom Jones' in about four years, has indeed the marks
of genius, but of a genius beginning to fall into decay.
The author's invention in this performance does not appear
to have lost its fertility; his judgment, too, seems as strong
as ever; but the warmth of imagination is abated; and in
his landscapes, or his scenes of life, Mr. Fielding is no
longer the colourist he was before. And yet 'Amelia'
holds the same proportion to 'Tom Jones' that 'The
Odyssey' of Homer bears, in the estimation of Longinus,
to The Iliad.' A fine vein of morality runs through the
whole; many of the situations are affecting and tender;
the sentiments are delicate; and, upon the whole, it is
'The Odyssey,' the moral and pathetic work, of Henry
Fielding."3
Some of the readers of "Amelia," it is true, formed a
different estimate of its merits. Dr. Johnson spoke of it as
the only book, within human recollection, of which, being
published in the morning, a new edition was called for
before night. This sudden, or apparently sudden sale,
was owing, however, in all probability, to the ruse of the
publisher, which has been already described. The great
moralist, in spite of his antipathy to Fielding, was charmed
with "Amelia." So delighted was he with it, that he read
•
•
(1) Amelia, book xi. chap. 2.
(2) This is of course a mistake. The interval between the publication of the
two novels was about two years and nine months.
(3) Essay on the Life and Genius of Fielding.
I
1
300
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1751.
it through, without pausing, from beginning to end. The
unexceptionable morality of the tale, and the feminine grace
of the heroine, extorted his enthusiastic approbation. Nor
did he stand alone amongst his contemporaries in this
opinion: for in "The Gentleman's Magazine" for January,
1752, there is a letter, signed "Criticulus," containing the
following flattering observations on the work :-" Though
this novel," says the writer, "has its imperfections, yet
some of the characters are handled in so masterly a manner
-virtue and vice meet with their due rewards—and it
abounds with such noble reflections on the follies and vices,
the perfections and imperfections of human nature—that
he must be both a bad and ill-natured reader who is not by
it agreeably entertained, instructed, and improved."
On the other hand, Richardson, who could never be pre-
vailed on even to read "Tom Jones," obstinately refused to
see the slightest merit in "Amelia." If Fielding's former
novels were dissolute and scurrilous, this last production
was absolutely dull. The author of "Grandison" and "Cla-
rissa Harlowe" waded through the first volume, but found
no encouragement to proceed further! Who can forbear a
smile when reading the following lines, addressed by this
most self-sufficient of mortals to one of his female admirers
and correspondents ?" Will I leave you to Captain Booth ?
Captain Booth, madam, has done his business. Mr. Field-
ing has over-written himself, or rather under-written; and
in his own journal seems ashamed of his last piece, and has
promised that the same muse shall write no more for him.¹
(1) Alluding to a paragraph in Fielding's "Covent Garden Journal"-the
periodical noticed in the next chapter, where the following proceedings are stated
to have taken place before the Court of Criticism :-" At the Court of Criticism
Amelia is set to the bar, and after many things have been alleged against her by
Counsellor Town, &c. .... a grave man being permitted to speak, relates that he
is her father, that she was his favourite child, that he had taken great pains in
her education; and though he does not think her free from faults, yet she does
not deserve the rancour with which she has been treated by the public; that he
does not attempt a defence, but, as a compromise, declares that he will trouble
ÆT. 44.]
301.
AMELIA.
The piece, in short, is as dead as if it had been published
forty years ago, as to sale. You guess I have not read
'Amelia?' Indeed I have read but the first volume."
the world no more with any children of his by the same muse.”—The Gentle-
man's Magazine, 1752.
In a letter to Mr. Edwards, Richardson writes in the following equally
charitable vein :-" Mr. Fielding met with the disapprobation you foresaw he
would meet with of his 'Amelia.' He is, in every paper he publishes, under the
title of The Common Garden,' contributing to his own overthrow. He has
been overmatched in his own way by people whom he had despised, and whom
he thought he had vogue enough-from the success his spurious brat 'Tom
Jones' so unaccountably met with--to write down, but who have turned his own
artillery against him, and beat him out of the field, and made him even poorly
in his Court of Criticism give up his 'Amelia,' and promise to write no more on
the like subject."-Richardson's Life and Correspondence, vol. iii.
It is hardly necessary to multiply examples of Richardson's ill-nature and
injustice to Fielding's literary merits; but the following extract from another
of his letters proves how keenly he felt the ridicule thrown upon "Pamela" by
"Joseph Andrews:"-" So long as the world will receive, Mr. Fielding will
write. Have you seen a list of his performances? Nothing but a shorter life
than I wish him can hinder him from writing himself out of date. The
'Pamela,' which he abused in his 'Shamela,' taught him to write to please. Before
his 'Joseph Andrews' (hints and names, taken from that story, with a lewd
and ungenerous engraftment), the poor man wrote without being read, except
when his 'Pasquin,' &c., roused party attention and the legislature at the
same time.
But to have done for the present with this fashionable
author."—Correspondence, vol. iv. The "Shamela" alluded to by Richardson
was a collection of letters in ridicule of "Pamela," which there is no ground
for attributing to Fielding. "An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela
Andrews. Necessary to be had in all Families. 1741."
Mrs. Donnellan, one of Richardson's correspondents, thus compassionately
writes of "Amelia :"-" Poor Fielding! I believed he designed to be good, but
did not know how, and in the attempt lost his genius-low humour.'
2)
302
[1752.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
CC
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE COVENT GARDEN JOURNAL."-ATTACKS OF HILL AND
SMOLLETT.
[1752.]
.
ALTHOUGH the great novelist had published his last
novel, his literary career was not yet closed. Scarcely
had "Amelia" issued from the press, when his active mind
commenced another laborious undertaking. At the close
of the year 1751, he designed a new periodical publication,
to be conducted by himself, and supported principally, if
not entirely, by his own pen. The scheme was a bold one,
and its success very dubious. All Fielding's friends had
long marked his declining health; his tall and vigorous
frame was bowed by weakness and disease; the duties of
his office alone occasionally overtasked his strength. It
is certainly, therefore, most characteristic of his active and
enterprising spirit that he should have projected, at such
a period, a publication which would be a constant tax
upon his time and energies. The professional newspaper-
writer knows what it is to prepare an article, or perform
an allotted task from day to day, or from week to week;
and it is notorious that there are few men who can satis-
factorily unite such duties with any other occupation.
How, then, could Fielding hope to keep his journal alive
for any length of time? Already he had known many,
many days and nights of agony, which had totally incapa-
citated him from labour, and every year which was added
to his life increased his infirmities. Of this he must have
been well aware, but he would not give way. His spirit
was daunted by no obstacles, nor was it to be vanquished
ÆT. 45.]
THE COVENT GARDEN JOURNAL.
303
even by pain and disease. A resolution once taken by
such a man was not easily abandoned.
That he was eminently qualified to become the most
successful essayist and censor of the age no one can doubt.
His contributions to "The Champion," "The True
Patriot," and "The Jacobite's Journal," though written
for bread, and not reputation, had found hosts of admirers.
Since the period when these were produced, his style had
been improved by the practice of composition till it had
attained the very perfection of ease and polish. His expe-
rience had been also enlarged by converse with men and
books, and by a keen observation of human manners.
With such qualifications, had health and opportunity per-
mitted, he might have attained a rank in English period-
ical literature second only, and perhaps equal, to Addison
and Steele. He evidently thought that his strength lay in
this kind of writing, and an author is generally a shrewd
judge of his own powers.
The first number of his new periodical was published on
the 4th of January, 1752, under the title of "The Covent
Garden Journal, by Sir Alexander Drawcansir, Knight,
Censor of Great Britain." The object of the publication
was indicated by the editor's assumed style and title, and
was further explained in an opening address, in which
Fielding, according to his custom, expressed his contempt
for contemporary periodical critics, and threw down the
gauntlet to all the scribblers of the age. "As to my brother
authors," he observes, "who, like mere mechanics, are
envious and jealous of a rival in their trade, to silence their
jealousies and fears, I declare that it is not my intention
to encroach on the business now carried on by them, nor
to deal in any of those wares which they at present vend
to the public." As a significant token of his design, in
another part of the paper he published what he called “An
introduction to a journal of the present paper-war between
304
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752.
the forces under Sir Alexander Drawcansir, and the army
of Grub Street."
The declaration of war was soon followed by active
hostilities. Before the paper was a month old, its editor
was busily engaged in exchanging shots with an opponent,
who was a practised as well as unscrupulous hand in per-
sonal warfare. This opponent was the literary Proteus,
Dr., afterwards Sir John Hill, who shared with Orator
Henley the dubious honour of being the most notorious
man of his age. Hill was originally an apothecary, but
abandoning his business for the stage, he produced a few
bad farces at the Haymarket, in which he appeared as an
actor. This attempt gave rise to Garrick's well-known
epigram upon him :-
"For physic and farces
His equal there scarce is;
His farces are physic,
His physic a farce is."
Having been hissed off the stage, he betook himself with
industry to the study of medicine and natural history; and
many works on these subjects, displaying considerable
information and research, proceeded from his pen. As a
consequence of his scientific labours, and armed with the
cheap honours of a Scotch degree, he obtained a large
practice as a physician, and was enabled to launch out into
extravagances which increased his notoriety, and showed
the shallowness of his character. At every place of amuse-
ment, and at every ball or assembly to which he could
obtain access, he made his appearance dressed in the
height of fashion; offending many by the insolent airs
which he assumed, and collecting scandalous stories, which
he afterwards retailed, and turned to profitable account in
a crop of licentious novels, of which the names are now
1
(1) Amongst them were "The Adventures of Loveill," "The History of Lady
Frail," and "The Adventures of George Edwards, a Creole."
ÆT. 45.]
305
THE COVENT GARDEN JOURNAL.
only remembered. This infamous propensity soon made
him an object of suspicion and disgust. He was publicly
caned in Ranelagh Gardens by an Irish gentleman whom
he had libelled; and though he appeared at the fashionable
routs in magnificent apparel, it was a point of honour
amongst persons of quality to take no notice of him. The
Royal Society also refused to admit him as a member-a
refusal which he revenged in a long series of abusive
attacks. Notwithstanding the indignities heaped upon
him, and his thoroughly contemptible character, Dr. Hill
prospered in worldly circumstances. His activity and
industry were indeed marvellous. Though he spent so
much of his time in the amusements of the gay world, and
in frequenting places of entertainment, his pen was never
idle. Pamphlets, treatises, and novels, were issued forth
by him in quick succession, and in 1751 he commenced a
series of daily essays, called "The Inspector," originally
published in a newspaper. In these essays he attacked
many of his contemporaries with unparalleled scurrility;
and Fielding, in commencing his "Covent Garden Journal,"
undoubtedly regarded him as a nuisance which ought to be
abated.
Accordingly, in the second number of that periodical
the “Journal of the War" is continued; and in describing
the disposition of the contending forces, the following
attack is made upon Dr. Hill, in the strain of coarse
jocularity then so much in vogue:-"We marched," says
the general, "into Covent Garden, and presently ordered a
part of our army to file off to the right, and to sit down
before the Bedford Coffee-house. We doubt not but we
have many good friends in the garrison, and who are very
desirous to admit our forces; but as yet they dare not de-
clare themselves, being kept in awe by a strange mixed
monster, not much unlike the famous Chimera of old; for
while some of our reconnoiterers tell us that this monster
X
306
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752.
has the appearance of a lion,' others assure us that his
ears are much longer than those of that generous beast.
Be this as it will, as we are not yet prepared for an attack,
yesterday, about six in the evening, we blockheaded up the
said coffee-house."
To this banter Hill immediately replied in "The In-
spector," and thus artfully attempted to injure Fielding's
reputation as a man of honour and sincerity: "The author
of 'Amelia,"" he said, "whom I have only once seen, told
me, at that accidental meeting, he held the present set of
writers in the utmost contempt, and that, in his character
of Drawcansir, he should treat them in a most unmerciful
manner. He assured me, with great civility, that he had
always excepted me from the general censure; and after
honouring me with several encomiums, which as I neither
desired nor deserved I shall not repeat, told me he hoped
we should always be on good terms. He proceeded to
mention a conduct which would be, he said, useful to
both. This was the amusing our readers with a mock
fight; giving blows that would not hurt, and sharing the
advantage in silence. I hold the public in too great respect
to trifle with it in so disingenuous a manner, and hope I
shall always retain a better sense of the obligations I have
to it, than to return them with such an insolent deceit.
I told him that had he published his paper ever so long
without mentioning mine, it would never have appeared
from me that any such thing had an existence; but, as he
has made what he imagines a very formidable attack upon
me in his last paper, it may be understood as a concession
(1) Alluding to Hill's letter-box at the Bedford. “In July, 1713, a lion's
head, a proper emblem of knowledge and action, being all head and paws,' was
set up at Button's, in imitation of the celebrated lion at Venice, to receive
letters and papers for The Guardian.' . . . . The lion's head was removed to
the Shakspere Tavern, under the Piazza, and in 1751 was placed in the Bedford
Coffee-house adjoining, as the letter-box of The Inspector."-Timbs' Curiosities
of London.
ÆT. 45.]
307
THE COVENT GARDEN JOURNAL.
if I am silent. Whom I slighted as an associate,"
he adds, with characteristic insolence, "I cannot fear as
an adversary;" and he thus rather cleverly retorts on
Fielding's clumsy pun: "As to my head-quarters at the
Bedford, since it is his own legions that have invested the
place, I cannot quarrel with his particular orthography of
the word blockade."
The editor of "The Covent Garden Journal" was ready
with his rejoinder, and continuing "The Journal of the
War" in the same strain of coarse badinage, thus con-
temptuously assails his adversary: "It being reported to
the general that a hill must be levelled before the Bedford
Coffee-house could be taken, orders were given accord-
ingly; but this was afterwards found to be a mistake, a
second express assuring us that this HILL was only a little
paltry dunghill, and had long before been levelled with the
dust." In the same strain the satirist exposes the doctor's
intentional misrepresentation of the conversation referred
to in "The Inspector;" and it is obvious that Fielding
must have been not only an indiscreet, but a most reckless
personage, if he had made use of the language ascribed to
him by Hill at a mere casual meeting, when he well knew
the character of the man, and the use he would be likely
to make of any idle expression.¹
C
It is stated in "The Gentleman's Magazine" for
January, 1752, that "since this skirmish The Inspector'
has totally neglected his adversary, who has been opposed
in 'The Drury Lane Journal,' &c. . . . . and in a narra-
(1) Fielding's skirmishes with Hill are noticed in Disraeli's "Quarrels of
Authors," vol. ii.
(2) "Have at you all; or, the Drury Lane Journal. By Madam Roxana
Termagant. Address'd to Sir Alexander Draweansir, author of The Covent
Garden Journal,' continued every Thursday." This production was from the
pen of Bonnell Thornton. In the first number "Sir Alexander" is coarsely
abused, and described "as an old dealer in this sort of merchandize." Amongst
the contents of No. 5, there is "a new chapter in 'Amelia,' more witty than the
rest, if the reader has but sense enough to find out the humour." The drift
of the satire is to ridicule the domestic economy of the prudent Amelia, who;
1
X 2
308
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752.
tive concerning Habbakuk Hilding, supposed to be written
by the author of 'Peregrine Pickle,' and some other
pieces, in which he is treated with the utmost wantonness
of contempt; and as these productions," continues Mr.
Urban, "have had a quick sale, it may be inferred that
the laugh of the public is turned against him." These
comments furnish an instance, amongst many others, of
the ungenerous way in which Fielding was treated as a
public writer by this periodical. Cave's literary journey-
men regarded him undoubtedly with little favour; for it is
matter of observation that he never belonged to a clique or
côterie. He was a thoroughly independent writer, and
never took the trouble to conciliate an adversary, or to
ingratiate himself with the mob of scribblers who consti-
tuted the literary fraternity of the age.
The pamphlet here ascribed to Smollett, is a very dis-
creditable compound of scurrility and indecency. Its full
title is as follows:-" A Faithful Narrative of the Base and
Inhuman Arts that were lately practised upon the Brain
of Habbakuk Hilding, Justice, Dealer, and Chapman, who
now lies at his House in Covent Garden in a deplorable
state of Lunacy; a dreadful Monument of False Friend-
ship and Delusion. By Drawcansir Alexander, Fencing
Master and Philomath. 1752." In this pamphlet Lyttle-
ton and Fielding are attacked in the coarsest strain of
personal abuse. The greater portion of it, even were
it of any intrinsic interest, would be unfit for reproduc-
tion. But the following brief extract will convey some
notion of its style, and also of the line of attack adopted
by the pamphleteer:-"First, then," says Drawcansir
whilst sitting up with her children, is distressed by the return of Booth in a
state of intoxication, and with "his high-arched Roman nose, that heretofore
resembled the bridge of a fiddle" beaten to pieces. The allusion to the most
prominent feature in Fielding's face is very obvious. Several papers, called
"The Covent Garden Journal extraordinary," are included in this discredit-
able production, in which, for some reason or other, the author of "Tom Jones"
is treated with most unmerited contumely.
ÆT. 45.]
SMOLLETT AND FIELDING.
309
Alexander, "it will be necessary to premise that I have
for some time past lived on fast and friendly intercourse
with the above-named Hilding, being thereunto moved by
the report of divers substantial housekeepers in the neigh-
bourhood, who assured me that he had quitted all the
vicious and abandoned courses of his former life, and now
behaved in every respect like a sober subject and vigilant
magistrate; and although, during the term of our acquaint-
ance, I have known him break out into sundry irregula-
rities, both in life and conversation, I cannot help owning
that he was on the whole more calm and moderate than
one could well expect of a person so long accustomed to
riot, outrage, and all manner of profligacy.
""
It is a strange as well as a humiliating circumstance,
that Smollett should have ever written or spoken dis-
paragingly of Fielding. Such men ought not to have been
divided by any petty jealousy or party feeling. But it is
plain that Smollett's animosity towards his great contem-
porary delineator of English life arose from Fielding's
intimacy with Lyttleton and Garrick, both of whom were
objects of peculiar antipathy to the hot-headed Scotchman.
His aspirations after dramatic fame had been foiled, as
he believed, by the prejudices of the latter; whilst the
former eminent personage had disappointed him in his
expectations of patronage, and thus unwittingly converted
him into a personal enemy.¹ In the first edition of
Peregrine Pickle" (published in 1751), he inserted a
coarse and offensive caricature of Lyttleton, under the
(C
as
(1) In the preface to the tragedy of "The Regicide," Smollett says, that “
early as the year 1739, his tragedy was taken into the protection of one of those
little fellows who are sometimes called great men, and, like other orphans, it
was neglected accordingly." He afterwards adds, that "he actually discarded
his patron." This patron is understood to have been Lyttleton. And in the
pamphlet on "Habbakuk Hilding," that personage is represented as thus address-
ing Sir Gosling:-"Pray am not I the person who, in defiance to his own con-
science, hath been an humble and assiduous minister to your vanity and self-
conceit? Have I not been your bully in private conversations, representing you
as a mighty orator, profound statesman, immense scholar, critic, and wit?"
310
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752.
name of "Gosling Scrag," which he had afterwards the
good taste to cancel. A contemptuous reference was in
the same work made to Fielding (dictated principally, no
doubt, by this antipathy to his friend and patron), in the
following counsel to a young author:-"I advise Mr.
Spondy to give him the refusal of this same pastoral; who
knows but he may have the good fortune of being listed in
the number of his beef-eaters, in which case he may, in
process of time, be provided for in the Customs or the
Church; when he is inclined to marry his own cook-wench,
his gracious patron may condescend to give the bride away;
and may finally settle him, in his old age, as a trading
Westminster Justice."2
Smollett's attack on Fielding must also have been pro-
voked in some degree by the part which the latter had
taken as a journalist and politician. Whilst the one writer
was bewailing in verse the butcheries of Cumberland,³ and
the miseries inflicted on his country by a victorious soldiery,
the other was busily engaged in ridiculing and denouncing
the shattered faction which had dared rebellion, and
•
}
(1) In the character of Gosling Scrag, and in the pamphlet on "Hubbakuk
Hilding," Lyttleton's lank figure and spectral appearance furnish the principal
topics of ridicule. Horace Walpole has thus described these peculiarities, in his
racy and humorous vein: "Absurdity was predominant in Lyttleton's compo-
sition. With the figure of a spectre and the gesticulations of a puppet, he
talked through his nose, made declamations at a visit, and played at cards with
scraps of history or sentences of Pindar."-Memoirs of the Reign of George II.
"In 1741 there was printed for T. Cooper, at The Globe,' Pater Noster Row,
price 3d., a political caricature, called The Motion.'
Underneath it
were some lines written, among which were :-
"Who's dat who ride astride de poney,
So long, so lank, so lean, so bony?
Oh, he be de great orator, Little-toney.'
-Phillimore's Memoirs and Correspondence of Lyttleton, vol. i.
It will also be recollected that Dr. Johnson was in the habit of maintaining
that the character of the Respectable Hottentot, in Lord Chesterfield's Letters,
was intended for Lyttleton. The Respectable Hottentot, however, it is
notorious, was Johnson himself, though few of his associates would have dared
to tell him so.
•
(2) Peregrine Pickle. Edit. 1751, c. 102.
(3) The Tears of Scotland. By Smollett.
• ..
199
ÆT. 45.]
311
THE COVENT GARDEN JOURNAL.
incurred so signal a defeat. Party prejudice, therefore,
tended to confirm this unnatural alienation. On Fielding's
side, however, there existed no jealousy or antipathy
towards his great rival. He doubtless felt his power;
honoured his genius; and, making allowances for his
irritable temperament, never suffered himself to be provoked
into any personal attack on him. As for Smollett, it is
also fair to state, that in the preface to the second edition
of "Peregrine Pickle," he expressed his regret at the per-
sonalities—suggested by personal resentment-which had
found their way into the original impression. ¹
To return to "The Covent Garden Journal:” judged by
the standard of the newspaper-writing of the age, its occa-
sional essays on the topics of the day possess a very high
order of merit. In the fourth number (Tuesday, January
14th), there is an excellent specimen of the journalist's
talent for refined satire, in a "Modern Glossary," being a
collection of words in common use, with the meaning
alleged to be attached thereto by polite society. From
this glossary a few definitions are selected:-
Author. A laughing-stock. It means likewise a poor fellow, and
in general an object of contempt.
Coxcomb. A word of reproach, and yet, at the same time, sig-
nifying all that is most commendable.
(1) With regard to Fielding and Smollett, there was a remarkable similarity
in the incidents of their lives, as well as the character of their genius, which is
thus noticed by Sir W. Scott:-"Fielding and Smollett were both born in the
highest rank of society, both educated to learned professions, yet both obliged
to follow miscellaneous literature as the means of subsistence.
Both were
confined, during their lives, by the narrowness of their circumstances,-both
united a humorous cynicism with generosity and good nature,-both died of
the diseases incident to a sedentary life and to literary labour,-and both drew
their last breath in a foreign land, to which they both retreated under the
adverse circumstances of a decayed constitution and an exhausted fortune.
Their studies were no less similar than their lives. They both wrote for the
stage, and neither of them successfully; they both meddled in politics; they
both wrote travels, in which they showed that their good-humour was not
wasted under the sufferings of their disease; and, to conclude, they were both so
eminently successful as novelists, that no other English author of that class has
a right to be mentioned in the same breath with Fielding and Smollett."—Lives
of the Novelists.
2
312
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752.
Dulness. A word applied by all writers to the wit and humour
of others.
Fool. A complex idea, compounded of poverty, honesty, piety,
and simplicity.
Humour. Scandalous lies; tumbling and dancing on the rope.
Judge.
An old woman.
Justice.
Marriage. A kind of traffic carried on between the two sexes, in
which both are constantly endeavouring to cheat each other, and
both are commonly losers in the end.
Patriot. A candidate for a place at court.
Politics. The art of getting such a place.
Riches. The only thing upon earth that is really valuable or
desirable.
Rogue.
Rascal.
A man of a different party from yourself.
Taste. The present whim of the town, whatever it be.
Teazing. Advice; chiefly that of a husband.
Worth. Power; rank; wealth.
Wisdom. The art of acquiring all three.
In the twenty-third number (March 21st), there is a
brief history of the literary commonwealth, which may be
numbered amongst Fielding's happiest efforts in essay-
writing, and from which an extract will not be out of
place:
"In the reign of James I., the literary government was an aris-
tocracy; for I do not choose to give it the evil name of oligarchy,
though it consisted only of four; namely, Master William Shaks-
pere, Master Benjamin Jonson, Master John Fletcher, and Master
Francis Beaumont. This quadrumvirate, as they introduced a new
form of government, thought proper, according to Machiavel's
advice, to introduce new names; they therefore called themselves
the wits,—a name which hath been affected since by the reigning
monarchs in this empire.
"The last of this quadrumvirate enjoyed the government alone
during his life; after which the troubles that shortly after ensued
involved this lesser commonwealth in all the confusion and ruin of
the greater; nor can anything be found of it with sufficient certainty,
till the wits in the reign of Charles II., after many struggles among
themselves for superiority, at last agreed to elect John Dryden to be
their king.
"This King John had a very long reign, though a very unquiet
one; for there were several pretenders to the throne of wit in his
ÆT. 45.]
313
THE COVENT GARDEN JOURNAL.
time, who formed very considerable parties against him, and gave
him great uneasiness, of which his successor has made mention in
the following lines:—
"Pride, folly, malice, against Dryden rose,
In various shapes of parsons, critics, beaux.'
Besides which, his finances were in such disorder, that it is affirmed
his treasury was more than once entirely empty.
“He died, nevertheless, in a good old age, possessed of the king-
dom of wit, and was succeeded by King Alexander, surnamed Pope.
"This prince enjoyed the crown many years, and is thought to
have stretched the prerogative much further than his predecessor;
he is said to have been extremely jealous of the affections of his
subjects, and to have employed various spies, by whom, if he was
informed of the least suggestion against his title, he never failed of
branding the accused person with the word Dunce on his forehead in
broad letters, after which the unhappy culprit was obliged to lay
down his pen for ever, for no bookseller would venture to print a
word that he wrote.
"He did indeed put a total restraint on the liberty of the press :
for no person durst read anything that was writ without his licence
and approbation; and this licence he granted only to four during
his reign; namely, to the celebrated Dr. Swift, to the ingenious
Dr. Young, to Dr. Arbuthnot, and one Mr. Gay, four of his principal
courtiers and favourites."
در
After the first few numbers of the paper had been issued,
"The Journal of the War' was discontinued, and a
"Court of Criticism," similar to that which had been
held in "The Jacobite Journal," was substituted for it.
In this court a more moderate tone was adopted by the
censor. Some of Fielding's contemporaries nevertheless
stigmatised the periodical as vulgar and abusive. Richard-
son, indeed, insisted on calling it "The Common Garden
Journal;" a remarkable instance of his pertinacious.
malignity, especially as the following handsome compli-
ment was paid him in the tenth number of the journal:
Pleasantry (as the ingenious author of Clarissa' says s of a
story) should be only the vehicle of instruction; and thus
romances themselves, as well as epic poems, may become
1
6
(1) See p. 301 (note).
314
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752.
worthy the perusal of the greatest of men." A better
proof could not be adduced of Fielding's tolerant and
magnanimous disposition.
"The Covent Garden Journal" lived on till the close of
the year 1752, when ill-health, and the press of other oc-
cupation, compelled the editor to discontinue it. A selec-
tion from it, consisting of twenty-six numbers, is contained
in Murphy's edition of Fielding's Works: and on its dis-
continuance, that gentleman commenced (October 21st,
1752) "The Gray's-Inn Journal," in which he waged an
active warfare with his friend's antagonist, Sir John Hill,
and other writers of the same stamp.2
1
(1) In November, 1752, the Covent Garden journalist espoused with some
warmth, and with abundance of coarse humour, the cause of Woodward, the
comedian, who had been attacked by Hill in "The Inspector." Whilst on the
stage, the actor had an apple thrown at him by a gentleman in one of the boxes,
which outrage he resented in words which the assailant attempted to construe
into a challenge. In reply to Hill's attacks, there was published "a letter from
Henry Woodward, comedian, the meanest of all characters, to Dr. John Hill, the
greatest of all characters;" "of which," says The Gentleman's Magazine, "three
editions were printed in a few days, and in which there is perhaps as high a
strain of humour as is anywhere to be found." It is not improbable that this
letter was from the pen of Fielding.
(2) "Periodicals were the fashion of that day. They were the means of those
rapid returns of that perpetual interchange of bargain and sale, so fondly cared
for by the present arbiters of literature; and were now, universally, the
favourite channel of literary speculation. Scarcely a week passed in which a
new magazine or paper did not start into life, to perish or survive, as might be.
Even Fielding had turned from his 'Jonathan Wild the Great' to his
'Jacobite's Journal' and 'True Patriot;' and from his 'Tom Jones' and 'Amelia'
sought refuge in 'The Covent-Garden Journal.' We have the names of fifty-
five papers of the date of a few years before this (1757), regularly published
every week."-Forster's Life of Goldsmith. 2nd edit. vol. i.
GY
"The Covent Garden Journal" was sold at 3d. each number, which was con-
sidered a high price for such publications. In his introductory address, Fielding
says that the circumstance of the price of his paper being by half, or at least
a third part, higher than any others might quiet the apprehensions of rival
journalists. The enhanced price was on account, not merely of the quantity of
matter it contained, but also of its superior paper and print. See "Gentleman's
Magazine" for January, 1752, where a very full description is given of the con-
tents and character of Fielding's paper.
ÆT. 45-46.]
315
JUSTICE BUSINESS.
CHAPTER XXIV.
JUSTICE BUSINESS.-CASE OF ELIZABETH CANNING.
[1752-1753.]
WHILST engaged in the production of "The Covent
Garden Journal," Fielding did not neglect the duties of
his office. As the shades of evening closed over his
career, his mind lost none of its activity, albeit his body
was racked with pain, and the hour of his departure, as he
knew full well, was drawing nigh. Though his state of
health alarmed all his friends, he dragged himself, with
heroic resolution, from his publisher's office to the justice-
room; and even, when confined to a sick-chamber, busied
himself with schemes of public utility, or employed his pen
in composition.
As a "Westminster Justice," it curiously enough fell to
his lot to carry out with vigour the provisions of the
Theatrical Licensing Act, which his own dramatic produc-
tions were said to have provoked. A person named Ken-
rick-notorious for an infamous libel on Garrick-had
written a coarse dramatic satire called "Fun," in which
he attacked several prominent public characters of the
day, amongst whom were Fielding himself and his adver-
sary Hill. This piece was performed, contrary to the act
of parliament, in an unlicensed room at the Castle Tavern,
in Paternoster Row. Information having been given to
Justice Fielding of the circumstance, he repaired to the
tavern with a body of constables, and spoiled Kenrick's
fun, by arresting the actors and audience on the first night
of the performance.¹ Experiments of this kind were not of
unfrequent occurrence at this period. "The Gentleman's
(1) Dibdin's History of the Stage, vol. v.
316
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752-53.
Magazine" for April, 1752, relates a similar interference
with an illegitimate dramatic performance of less celebrity
and importance than Kenrick's :-"On advice that a set
of barber's apprentices, journeymen staymakers, maid-ser-
vants, &c., had taken a large room at the Black Horse, in
the Strand, to act the tragedy of 'The Orphan,' Justice
Fielding issued his warrant to Mr. Welch, high constable,¹
who apprehended the actors, and conducted them through
the streets in their tragedy dresses before the justice, who,
out of compassion to their youth, only bound them over
to their good behaviour."
A curious French romance of the old régime was also
brought before Fielding's notice, whilst officiating as a
justice at Bow Street, in April, 1752.
"Application was made to Justice Fielding under the
following circumstances:-Monsieur Bertin, Marquis de
Frateaux, of Bordeaux, on some family quarrel had been
formerly conveyed from France to Spain by some of his re-
lations, where he was afterwards imprisoned, but escaped by
the assistance of Count Marcillac, his cousin. About three
years afterwards he visited England, and lodged privately
at one Mrs. Giles', of Mary-le-bone, till the 27th [March],
when late at night he was arrested by one Alexander
Blasdale, a Marshelsea-court officer, who had with him as
a follower an Italian, a person known to the Marquis,
upon whose appearance the latter started and exclaimed,
'I am a dead man!' and refused to go with the officer.
Mrs. Giles then sent for the Rev. Nicholas Probart, to
whom Blasdale showed the writ, which Mr. Probart per-
suaded the Marquis to obey, and to go with the officer to
his house, whither one M. Dubois accompanied him, in-
tending to stay there till the next morning. But the
Marquis and his friend had not been together more than
half-an-hour, when the Italian follower acquainted M.
Dubois that a person wanted him, and on his going to see
(1) See pp. 336, 337 (note).
ÆT. 45-46.]
JUSTICE BUSINESS.
317
who it was, he only found the bailiff, who roughly told
him he should not pass the night there, and turned him
out of doors. On his return, the next morning, with some
other friends, they were told by the servant that the
Marquis was gone from thence with several gentlemen,
and that the bailiff was out of town. A warrant was
accordingly granted by the justice, on a supposition of
murder, and application made to the Lord Chief Justice
for a habeas corpus, as well as to the Secretary of State,
to prevent the unfortunate gentleman from being carried
out of the kingdom. All, however, was to no purpose, as
advice was afterwards received of the Marquis' arrival in
France, when the gates of Calais were opened for his
admission after the usual hour, and he was from thence
carried to his father's house at Paris, and soon after
removed, by order of the court, to the Bastile, to prevent
any private attempts on his life. The officer who arrested
him escaped out of the kingdom.""
At this time the public mind was much agitated by the
trial and condemnation of Miss Blandy, for the murder of
her father at Henley-on-Thames. The interesting parri-
cide was young and handsome, and there were circum-
stances in her case peculiarly calculated to excite the
morbid interest of sensation-seekers. Her execution at
Oxford, on the 6th of April, 1752, was attended by a large
concourse of spectators, and minute details concerning the
dress she wore, and her demeanour on her trial, in prison,
and on the scaffold, were published in all the newspapers,
and most greedily devoured. Several assassinations of a
2
(1) Gentleman's Magazine, April, 1752.
(2) "About nine she came out of her chamber [on her way to execution],
dress'd extremely neat, in a black bombasine short sack and petticoat, with her
arms and hands tied with black paduasoy ribbons."-Gentleman's Magazine.
Horace Walpole thus speaks of Miss Blandy's fate, in a letter to Sir H.
Mann (May 18th, 1752): "Miss Blandy died with a coolness and courage
that is astonishing, and denying the fact, which has made a kind of party in
her favour; as if a woman who would not stick at a parricide would scruple at
a lie! We have made a law for immediate execution on conviction of murder;
318
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752-53.
hideous character occurred about the same period, and
murder was then uppermost in the public mind. To im-
prove the occasion by pointing out how certainly the
Divine wrath overtakes the destroyer of human life,
Fielding's ready pen was engaged in the composition of a
pamphlet intended for temporary circulation. This pam-
phlet, which was often advertised in "The Covent Garden
Journal," was entitled, "Examples of the Interposition of
Providence in the Detection and Punishment of Murder;
with an Introduction and Conclusion." It has never been
reprinted.
At the close of the year, and after the discontinuance of
his journal, Fielding was busily engaged in maturing a
scheme for the better administration of the laws relating
to the poor. The amount of pauperism in the metropolis,
and the increasing number of "sturdy beggars,” had been
continually brought before his notice whilst officiating as
an acting magistrate. After much consideration of the
subject, in January, 1753, he submitted a proposal to the
public, which he was sanguine enough to believe would
meet the existing evil. His proposal contemplated nothing
less than the repeal of the Act of Elizabeth, and an entire
reconstruction of the poor laws. After an introduction-
in which he pointed out the expediency of compelling all
the members of a state to contribute to its necessities in
due proportion, the rich according to their means, the
(6
it will appear extraordinary to me if it have any effect, for I can't help believing
that the terrible part of death must be the preparation for it." In a previous
letter (March, 1752) he thus speaks of Miss Blandy's crime, and another atrocious
murder which was occupying attention at this period :- There are two wretched
women that just now are much talked of, a Miss Jefferies and a Miss Blandy;
the one condemned for murdering her uncle, the other her father. Both these
stories have horrid circumstances, the first having been debauched by her uncle;
the other had so tender a parent, that his whole concern, while he was expiring,
and knew her for his murderess, was to save her life."
(1) A Proposal for making an Effectual Provision for the Poor, for amending
their Morals, and rendering them useful to Society; with a Plan of the build-
ings proposed, and their elevations. By Mr. Fielding. Dedicated to the Right
Hon. Henry Pelham, Esq.
ET. 45-46.]
JUSTICE BUSINESS.
319
C
poor by their labour-he proceeded, under fifty-nine heads,
or articles, to provide for the erection, regulation, and
government of a county workhouse, with a house of cor-
rection adjoining to, or incorporated with it. The articles
provide for the moral and religious instruction, as well as
the proper employment, of the workhouse inmates; and
also for the prevention of vagrancy, then a monstrous evil.
Under the latter head, there is a very stringent proposi-
tion, namely, that no poor person shall travel above six
miles from home, without a pass from the magistrate, or
the minister or churchwardens of his parish. The proposal
was accompanied by a plan of a building for the reception
and reformation of the pauperism of the metropolis, cal-
culated to hold 3000 men and 2000 women, and to be
called the Country House. Such were the main features
of Fielding's scheme, which was received, it is said, with
marked approval by the most eminent members of his own
profession, and by many Christian philanthropists. "The
Gentleman's Magazine," in examining the details of the
proposal,-notwithstanding the unfavourable disposition of
the conductors towards him,-admitted that it could not
fail to give every one a high idea "of his present temper,
manners, and ability." That some reformation was neces-
sary-whether his own plan was a practicable one or not-
was forcibly pointed out by the energetic magistrate the
amount of abject misery, and unrelieved, uncomplaining
poverty which existed in the metropolis being described
by him in the following pathetic terms: "If," said he,
66
we were to make a progress through the outskirts of the
town, and look into the habitations of the poor, we should
there behold such pictures of human misery as must move
the compassion of every heart that deserves the name of
human; whole families in want of every necessary of life,
oppressed with hunger, cold, nakedness, and filth, and
with diseases, the certain consequence of all these." To
afford relief to this wide-spread wretchedness, and to pro-
IN
320
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752-53.
+
vide an asylum for the houseless poor who then swarmed
in the streets, was a project worthy of an enlightened mind
and a generous heart.
About this time Fielding also took an active part in
unravelling the details of one of the strangest cases which
have ever occupied the attention of the criminal tribunals
of this country. The case alluded to is that of Elizabeth
Canning, an illiterate servant girl, whose name has gone
down to posterity as the inventor of a story which puzzled
the heads of the most ingenious lawyers, and amused the
English public for above a twelvemonth. "Elizabeth
Canning, Mary Squires the gipsy, and Miss Blandy,"
writes some one quoted by Southey, in The Doctor, "were
such universal topics in 1752 [1753?], that you would
have supposed it the business of mankind to talk only
of them." Literary partizans arrayed themselves on
different sides of the question, and expended much ink
in writing on behalf of Canning or against her. Large
sums of money were subscribed to maintain her pleasantly
and comfortably in Newgate, and a majority of the London
aldermen declared in her favour, and even after her convic-
tion attempted to obtain for her a nominal punishment.
Such successful fraud would lead us to infer that Canning
was a girl of considerable natural ability, with a strong
talent for circumstantial story-telling. But, to say the
truth, her story was somewhat clumsy in its details, and
we can scarcely imagine how it came to be believed in,
and most enthusiastically believed in too, by such a man
as Henry Fielding.
The tale was as follows:-In the month of January,
1753, Elizabeth Canning disappeared from her master's
service for about eight-and-twenty days; and she accounted
for her absence, on her return in a piteous plight to her
mother's house, by stating that, on the night of the 1st of
January, she had been seized by two men in Moorfields,
who robbed her, tied her hands behind her, and struck her
ET. 45-46.]
CASE OF ELIZABETH CANNING.
321
a blow on the head which rendered her insensible. On
regaining her senses, she found herself on the high road,
with the two men who had robbed her, and who dragged
her to a house kept by a woman named Wells, at Enfield,
about eleven or twelve miles from Moorfields. Here she
saw Mary Squires the gipsy, who treated her after the
following extraordinary fashion. Finding that she would
not comply with her infamous solicitations, this woman
cut off her stays, and forced her into a room, or a kind
of hayloft, where there was a fireplace, but no bed nor
bedstead, nothing but hay to lie on, a pitcher almost full
of water, and about twenty-four pieces of bread, to the
amount of a quartern loaf on the whole. Here she re-
mained, according to her statement, from the morning of
the 2nd of January till the afternoon of Monday the 29th,
seeing no human creature all the time, except once, when
some one peeped at her through a crack in the door. On
Friday, the 26th, she had eaten all the bread, and on the
29th she had drunk all the water; after which she made
her escape by breaking down a board which was nailed up
at the inside of the window, and so was enabled to open it
and jump down on the ground. She had previously never
attempted to escape, nor had it entered into her head to
do so.
Such were the principal portions of the marvellous story
told by Elizabeth Canning, to account for her mysterious
disappearance. But it is remarkable that on her first
account of her imprisonment she said nothing about the
twenty-four pieces of bread. This embellishment of her
story appeared in her subsequent information sworn before.
Fielding, to which we shall presently refer. Her first
statement was, that there were four or five pieces of bread,
and some water, on which she lived till she made her
escape. As she professed to describe the house in which
she had been confined, and its situation, a warrant was
granted by one of the London aldermen, on the 31st Jan-
Y
322
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752-53.
uary, for the apprehension of the person by whom it was
tenanted-a woman named Wells. Armed with this
warrant, Canning, accompanied by her master and some
friends, proceeded to the place in question, where, with
some hesitation, she identified the room in which she had
been confined, although, in many important particulars, it
differed from her previous description; and there was no
lock on the door, or any appearance of one having been
there. She also pointed out Mary Squires, who was a poor
old gipsy woman (and who, when the party arrived at
Wells' house, was unconcernedly smoking her pipe at the
fire), as the person who had robbed her. The miserable
creature immediately started up, and, after a stupid gaze of
astonishment, exposed her hideous face, which till then was
almost covered with a cloth, and exclaimed, "I rob you!
take care what you say; if you have once seen my face you
cannot mistake it, for God never made such another.”
She added, without the least hesitation, that, at the time.
the alleged robbery was committed, she was above one
hundred miles off in Dorsetshire.¹
After the apprehension of Wells and Squires, Elizabeth
Canning attended to swear her information before Fielding.
Her case had by this time excited great public interest,
and the justice had been privately consulted upon it. A
Mr. Salt, who had been engaged as a solicitor on Canning's
behalf, had previously taken Fielding's opinion on the best
mode of bringing the offenders to justice, and of framing an
indictment against them ;² and at that gentleman's request
he reluctantly consented to allow Canning to swear her in-
formation before him. Accordingly, on the 7th February,
the information was sworn, as proved on the trial of Can-
ning by Mr. Brogden, Fielding's clerk. The justice had
(1) State Trials, vol. xix. p. 309.
(2) The "trading justices" were not at this period prevented from practising,
and it was not till 1790 that they were paid a fixed salary, and prohibited from
taking professional fees.
ÆT. 45-46.] CASE OF ELIZABETH CANNING.
323
previously issued his warrant to apprehend all persons who
should be found at Wells' house, as disorderly persons; and
thereupon two women, named Hall and Natus, who had
been lodging there for some time, were secured and brought
before him. "Before he had seen Hall," says a writer in
The Gentleman's Magazine, "he was informed she would
confess the whole. He found her trembling and in tears;
he endeavoured to soothe and comfort her, assuring her
that if she would tell the truth he would protect her. She
desired some time to recover from her fright, which was
granted, and a chair was ordered her; and after some time
he began to examine her, and continued to do it in the
kindest manner, till she had been guilty of so many con-
tradictions and prevarications, that he told her he would
leave her to stand or fall by the evidence against her, and
advised Mr. Salt to prosecute her as a felon; upon which
she begged to be heard once more, and said she would tell
the whole truth, accounting for her unwillingness to do it
from her fears of the gipsy and Wells." After this singular
scene, Hall corroborated Canning's story in every important
particular! Squires and Wells were soon afterwards tried
at the Old Bailey for felony, and, on the testimony of
Canning and Hall, were convicted, and received sentence
of death.
Many grave reflections are caused by a perusal of these
proceedings. The poor ugly old gipsy woman, Mary Squires
—unpitied, unprotected, and the object of public indigna-
tion—had no alternative but to surrender herself to her
fate. The evidence by which her innocence could have
been made manifest was in existence, but she had no means
of producing it in a satisfactory form, and the law afforded
her no facility for doing so. On the subsequent trial of
her accuser Canning, for wilful and corrupt perjury, a perfect
alibi, as it is technically called, was established for her at
the expense of the crown; on her own trial she was help-
less, and deprived of the opportunity of making a proper
Y 2
324
[1752-53.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
G
defence. The injustice from which she suffered in this
respect must appear to every reflecting person a stain on
the administration of our criminal law, and it is a stain
which has not yet been removed. Whilst, on the part of
the prosecution, the attendance of necessary witnesses is
secured by payment of their reasonable expenses, not a
farthing is allowed to the witnesses who are produced to
establish a prisoner's innocence. This is surely not even-
handed justice; and it is incumbent on law reformers and
the legislature to remedy this serious defect. Many inno-
cent persons, like Mary Squires, have been made the
victims of invented stories; and such conspiracies are
commonly defeated by evidence which the poor and help-
less are unable to procure. Three witnesses, indeed, at-
tended on the part of Squires, who proved that she was
at Abbotsbury, in Dorsetshire, in the month of January,
1753; and one of these swore that she had lodged in his
house from the 1st to the 9th. But their evidence was
wholly discredited, and they were committed for perjury.
Had the unfortunate creature possessed the means, she
could, however, have produced an overwhelming amount
of testimony to corroborate them; and on the subsequent
trial of Canning, her accuser, above thirty witnesses were
produced by the crown to establish her complete innocence,
and the absolute impossibility of her having been at Wells'
house at the time of the alleged robbery and outrage.
Susannah Wells, the other prisoner, and the tenant of the
house, was defended by counsel; but the state of the law
at that period did not permit an advocate to address the
jury on behalf of his client in cases of felony; all that he
was allowed to do was to cross-examine the witnesses, and
he had no opportunity, therefore, of forcibly exposing their
contradictions or the improbability of their story. Added
to all this, public prejudice ran high against the unfortu-
nate accused. The minds of the jurymen had been pre-
possessed against them by inflammatory statements in the
ET. 45-46.]
CASE OF ELIZABETH CANNING.
325
public newspapers, and an infuriated mob loaded them with
execrations on their way to Newgate, and clamoured for
their conviction. But the Lord Mayor, Sir Crisp Gas-
coyne, having learned that Hall had afterwards retracted
the evidence she gave on the trial, with praiseworthy
humanity forwarded a memorial to the king, soliciting a
respite, and thus their lives were saved.
In the course of Canning's trial for wilful and corrupt.
perjury, which took place in the month of April, 1754,
Fielding's conduct in the examination of Hall did not escape
observation. From the account of that examination, as
quoted from "The Gentleman's Magazine," it is question-
able whether, in his anxiety to secure the conviction of the
presumed offenders, he did not display more of the zeal of
the partizan than the impartiality of the magistrate. It
may, indeed, be urged in his favour that he was deceived.
by the demeanour of Hall, and that he attributed her hesi-
tation and prevarications to her fear of the vengeance of
Wells and Squires. But it was complained of him, and
with great justice, that, instead of taking her confession.
vivá voce, he allowed her to be sent out of the room with
Canning's solicitor, when her evidence was reduced to
writing, and was two hours in preparation. " After this,"
said Mr. Willes, the prosecuting counsel against Canning,
"what mighty wonder is there that, when she came into
the justice's presence again, she should repeat her lesson
without the least hesitation?"
After a very lengthened trial, Elizabeth Canning was
convicted, and sentenced to seven years' transportation-
the highest punishment to which her offence was liable by
law, and certainly not adequate to its enormity. Many
of the aldermen, however, although the falsity of her
story was proved beyond a doubt, strenuously advocated a
milder punishment, eight of them voting for six months'
imprisonment.
During the whole of the year 1753, the controversy
326
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1752-53.
respecting the truth of Canning's story raged with extra-
ordinary violence. The tranquillity of many households
was disturbed-husbands differing from their wives,
brothers from their sisters, children from their parents.
Pamphlet after pamphlet issued from the press upon the
all-absorbing question; and the little, lying servant-girl
enjoyed the monstrous satisfaction of having set the whole
country in a commotion. Fielding defended the opinion
which he had originally formed as a lawyer, in a pamphlet
distinguished by the moderation of its tone.¹
1 He was
replied to by his indefatigable adversary, and the most
active controversialist of the age, Sir John Hill, who, to do
him justice, had, with some acuteness, taken the opposite
side of the question from the very first. It is remarkable,
however, that these old opponents displayed by no means
the same amount of virulence and exasperation as many of
the other combatants who engaged in this ridiculous but
memorable paper war.
As to Canning, she persisted to her death's day in main-
taining the truth of her story. Though great interest was
exerted to procure a reversal of her sentence, it was carried
into execution, and she was shipped to the plantations,
never to return. She died at Weathersfield, in Connecticut,
on the 22nd July, 1773; and the record of her death in
"The Gentleman's Magazine" for that year is accompanied
by the observation, "that notwithstanding the many strange
circumstances of her story, none is so strange as that it
should not be discovered in so many years where she had
concealed herself during the time she had invariably declared
she was at the house of Mother Wells.'
913
(1) A clear State of the Case of Elizabeth Canning. By H. Fielding, Esq.
Published in March, 1753.
(2) The Story of Elizabeth Canning considered. By Dr. Hill. 1753.
(3) Canning's address to the court, when called up to receive judgment, seems
to amount to a qualified admission of her guilt. "Then Elizabeth Canning
addressed the court with the following speech, in a low voice :— That she hoped
they would be favourable to her; that she had no intent of swearing the gipsy's
ÆT. 45-46.]
FIELDING'S ACTIVITY AS A MAGISTRATE.
327
M
The activity which Fielding displayed during the inves-
tigation of Canning's case subjected him to many ill-
natured comments. As a magistrate, perhaps, the only
fault that could be found in him was that he was too active.
His energy of character was not in the least degree abated
by declining health and frequent attacks of bodily pain.
Whenever work was to be done he was at his post; and the
duties of the Westminster justice were then of a perilous
and troublesome kind. Besides his attendance at Bow
Street, his personal presence was often required in the
vigorous execution of the laws. When desperate offenders
were to be tracked, early and late, he was ready to give
assistance and advice, and to head the officers of the law in
any important movement. Some notion may be formed of
the duties actually performed by Fielding, in the contempo-
rary accounts of the police transactions of the period. On
Tuesday, the 6th March, 1753, an attempt of his to arrest.
some highwaymen in a gaming-house is thus recorded:
"About four this morning, Justice Fielding having intelli-
gence that some highwaymen were to be at the masquerade,
went into the gaming-room with the officers upon guard,
and obliged all the company to unmask, and give an
life away; and that what had been done was only defending herself; and desired
to be considered as unfortunate."-State Trials, vol. xix. 673.
Mr. Serjeant Davy's reply in this case is the longest reported speech of that
acute and eloquent advocate, and is well worth perusal. The address of the
Recorder (W. Moreton, Esq.), in passing sentence, is also dignified and appro-
priate. "It is with horror," he said, addressing the prisoner-a girl under
twenty! "I look back, and think of the evidence you gave at the trial of Mary
Squires, whom you knew to be destitute and friendless, and therefore fixed upon her
as a proper object to make a sacrifice of, at the dreadful expense of a false oath; this
you preferred to the making a plain discovery to those who had a right to know
where you really were those twenty-eight days of your pretended confinement
at Wells'; and in this you were encouraged to persist, as well by that misapplied
charity, which was bountifully given you in compassion to your supposed suffer-
ing, as by the advice of your mistaken friends, whom you had deluded and
deceived into a belief of the truth of what you had falsely sworn."-State
Trials, vol. xix. 673.
A person
is said to have left Canning a legacy of £500; and during her passage
to New England, Smollett relates that she was liberally supplied with every
necessary, and secured "
an agreeable reception" in her place of exile.
328
[1752-53.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
account of themselves. It's supposed these fellows had
notice of his coming before he could get up stairs, and so
made off in the crowd, for none of them were taken.
There had been deep gaming that night, and a plentiful
circulation of bad guineas."1
Such duties as these required both a clear head and an
intrepid heart. For a dainty littérateur it would not have
been a very congenial occupation; but a strong, healthy-
minded writer like Fielding engaged as readily in the task
of arresting highwaymen and suppressing disturbances as
in supporting by the pen, when need arose, the cause of
law and order.
(1) The Gentleman's Magazine, March, 1753.
ÆT. 46-47.] LAST EFFORTS IN THE PUBLIC SERVICE. 329
CHAPTER XXV.
LAST EFFORTS IN THE PUBLIC SERVICE.-VOYAGE TO LISBON.
[1753-1754.]
Ir now only remains for the biographer to present a few
of the last melancholy incidents in the life of Henry
Fielding, as they have been communicated by his own pen.¹
In the beginning of August, 1753, having placed himself
under the care of "Mr. Ranby, the king's premier serjeant-
surgeon, " he was ordered to Bath, to try the effect of the
waters. On this journey he was preparing to depart, when
important business detained him in town. This delay was
productive of serious injury to his already shattered con-
stitution. Repose at this period was most essential; for
the duties of his office had been for some time more than
usually severe; and he tells us that "he was almost
fatigued to death with several long examinations, relating
to five different murders, all committed within the space
of a week, by different gangs of street robbers." The
public had been much alarmed by these outrages, and the
government had determined upon vigorous measures. At
such a period, an active magistrate like Fielding could not
be spared, and a message was dispatched to him by the
Duke of Newcastle, requesting an interview. Thus ap-
pealed to, notwithstanding his failing health, he obeyed
the summons, and cheerfully set to work to prepare a plan
for the suppression of street robberies, which met with
the duke's approbation; and an order on the Treasury
was given him for a sufficient sum to carry it into execu-
tion. The scheme was eminently successful; and though
(1) See "The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon" and the Introduction, from
which the materials for this aud the following chapter are principally taken.
330
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1753-54.
((
the Bath journey was delayed beyond the time when it
was likely to prove beneficial, Fielding had the satisfaction.
of breaking up the most desperate gang of ruffians that
had ever infested the metropolis. Though his health
was now reduced to the last extremity," he continued
"to act with the utmost vigour against these villains; in
examining whom, and in taking the depositions against
them, he often spent whole days, nay, sometimes whole
nights, especially when there was any difficulty in pro-
curing sufficient evidence to convict them.”
So successful were Fielding's last labours in the public
service, that the dark nights of November and December,
1753, passed away without a single murder or robbery in
the public streets of London-an exemption of unparalleled
occurrence at that period. This work accomplished, his
race was run, his career of usefulness at an end. Three
deadly enemies-a jaundice, a dropsy, and an asthma-
struggled for a mastery over his wasted frame, “now so
entirely emaciated, that it had lost all its muscular flesh.”
His was no longer what was termed “
a Bath case;
"" and
though he had for many weeks cherished the design of
visiting that health-restoring city, he was at length reluc-
tantly compelled to give up the lodgings that he had taken
there, and to regard his case as desperate. In this
melancholy hour he began, with pardonable vanity, to
rank himself "with those heroes who, of old times, became
voluntary sacrifices to the good of the public." Like an-
other Curtius, he had leaped into the yawning gulf which
1
(1) "I had delayed my Bath journey for some time, contrary to the repeated
advice of my physical acquaintance, and to the ardent desire of my warmest
friends, though my distemper was now turned to a deep jaundice; in which
case the Bath waters are generally imputed to be almost infallible. But I had
the most earnest desire of demolishing this gang of villains and cutthroats,
which I was sure of accomplishing the moment I was enabled to pay a fellow
who had undertaken, for a small sum, to betray them into the hands of a set of
thief-takers, whom I had enlisted into the service,-all men of known and
approved fidelity and intrepidity.”—Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon. Intro-
duction.
ÆT. 46-47.] LAST EFFORTS IN THE PUBLIC SERVICE. 331
threatened his country's safety; but not for the sake of
that country alone. It is no discredit to him to say that
he had another motive for self-sacrifice besides that of
patriotism. His circumstances had never been prosperous,
and the ordinary gains of his office had been always
insufficient to support his wife and family. If death, as
he had long apprehended, should seize him at his post,
they would be left destitute,—for he had never been able to
make a provision for them. He accordingly gladly seized
the opportunity of making the public his debtor, in the
hope that the debt would be remembered when he was
gone, and that the children of so zealous and faithful a
public servant would not be left beggared, as well as father-
less, to the mercies of a cold world. It was this feeling.
which stimulated him to exertion as he stood on the verge.
of the grave, and supported him in the agonies of a mortal
sickness.¹
The winter of 1753-54 was unusually severe, and proved
fatal to numerous valetudinarians. Many of those who,
in Fielding's own words, "might have gasped through two
or three mild winters more," were released from their
sufferings during the terrible six weeks which succeeded
(1) In the Introduction to "The Voyage," after enumerating the ordinary
gains of his office (as already quoted, p. 235), Fielding adds:-"I rejoiced,
therefore, greatly in seeing an opportunity, as I apprehended, of gaining such
merit in the eyes of the public, that, if my life were the sacrifice to it, my
friends might think they did a popular act in putting my family beyond the
reach of necessity, which I myself began to despair of doing. And though I
disclaim all pretence to that Spartan or Roman patriotism, which loved the
public so well that it was always ready to become a voluntary sacrifice to the
public good, I do solemnly declare I have that love to my family. . . . . To say
the truth, the public never act more wisely than when they act most liberally
in the distribution of their rewards; and here the good they receive is often
more to be considered than the motive from which they receive it. Example
alone is the end of all public rewards and punishments. Laws never inflict
disgrace in resentment, nor confer honour from gratitude. For it is very hard,
my lord,' said a convicted felon at the bar to the late excellent Judge Burnet,
to hang a poor man for stealing a horse.'-'You are not to be hanged,'
answered my ever honoured and beloved friend, 'for stealing a horse; but you
are to be hanged that horses may not be stolen.'"
33.2
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1753-54.
Christmas. To the surprise of his friends, however, as
well as to his own, the novelist survived this bitter season,
and in February, 1754, he returned to town, but in a
most deplorable condition. He was now placed under the
care of Dr. Ward, by whose advice he submitted to the
operation of tapping. The immediate effects of this ope-
ration were not very encouraging. For two days he was
believed to be in the agonies of death: but he at last
began slowly to mend, and to draw his feet, as he expresses
it, out of the grave.
In the month of May, he was able
to remove to a small cottage which he had taken at Ealing,
in Middlesex, "in the best air," he says, "in the whole
kingdom, and far superior to that of Kensington Gravel-
pits; for the gravel is here much wider and deeper, the
place higher, and more open to the south, whilst it is
guarded from the north winds by a ridge of hills, and from
the smells and smoke of London by its distance."
At this period, he was induced to try the virtues of one
of those much-vaunted specifics which are in every age.
forced upon public attention as adapted to the cure of all
forms of disease. Few such specifics have been honoured
with a wider renown than tar-water, as recommended by
Bishop Berkeley in his well-known treatise. Many years
previously Fielding had read the bishop's work, and in
his present desperate condition, upon a hint given him by
the "inimitable and shamefully-distressed author of The
Female Quixote,' "2 he was induced to give this treatise a
1
(1) "Philosophical Reflections and Enquiries concerning the Virtues of Tar-
Water." In a letter to Mann (May, 1744), Horace Walpole gives the following
account of the introduction of this remedy :-"We are now mad about tar-
water, on the publication of a book that I will send you, written by Dr. Berkeley,
Bishop of Cloyne. The book contains every subject, from tar-water to the
Trinity however, all the women read-and understand it no more than if it
were intelligible. A man came into an apothecary's shop the other day-
'Do you sell tar-water?'-'Tar-water!' replied the apothecary, 'why I sell
nothing else.'"
66
(2) “The shamefully-distressed author of The Female Quixote" was Mrs.
Arabella Lennox, of whom Mr. Forster speaks as a very ingenious, deserving,
and not very fortunate woman, who wrote the clever novel of 'The Female
ÆT. 46-74.]
333
FAILING HEALTH.
re-perusal, and to make a trial of the panacea it recom-
mended. He dosed himself every morning and evening
with half-a-pint of tar-water-no very pleasant beverage!
--and though the medicine failed to relieve him from his
dropsical symptoms, its effects were on the whole satis-
factory. In the meanwhile, he looked forward to the
approach of summer with hope and confidence.
"But
this chance"-he thus wrote with his dying hand-" began
daily to lessen. I saw the summer mouldering away, or
rather, indeed, the year passing away, without intending
to bring on any summer at all. In the whole month of
May the sun scarce appeared three times; so that the
early fruits came to the fulness of their growth, and to
some appearance of ripeness, without acquiring any real
maturity; having wanted the heat of the sun to soften
and meliorate their juices. I saw the dropsy gaining,
rather than losing ground; the distance growing still
shorter between the tappings. I saw the asthma likewise
beginning again to become more troublesome. I saw the
Midsummer quarter drawing towards a close! so that I
conceived, if the Michaelmas quarter should steal off in
the same manner as it was in my opinion very much to be
apprehended it would, I should be delivered up to the
attacks of winter before I recruited my forces, so as to be
anywise able to withstand them."
Thus situated, he resolved to try the effect of a warmer
climate. He cherished the hope-the last hope of many
a despairing invalid-that the soft breezes of the sunny
south might revive his exhausted energies, and arrest the
ravages of disease. But, alas! the hope was in vain. The
journey had been too long delayed to be of any use to him ;
Quixote,' and a somewhat silly book about Shakspere, to which Johnson, a
great friend of hers, was suspected to have contributed."-Life and Times of
Goldsmith, vol. ii.
Her maiden name was Ramsay, and she was a native of North America. She
married in England a gentleman connected with some public office; and
necessity compelled her to turn authoress by profession.
334
[53-1754.
LIFE OF FIELDING.
the lamp of life was well-nigh extinguished when he
embarked on it; and in seeking a foreign clime, he
embraced the melancholy certainty of yielding up his
breath in a land of strangers.
Aix, in Provence, was the first place thought of; but
the difficulty, toil, and expense of the land-journey were
considered insurmountable obstacles, and Lisbon
Lisbon was
selected instead. A trading craft bound thither was soon
found; the arrangements for the voyage were made,
and, accompanied by his wife and eldest daughter, who
faithfully attended him to the last, the great English
novelist bade farewell for ever to the busy towns and green
fields of merry England. In the journal which he kept on
the voyage, and which he continued up to the period of
his arrival in Lisbon, he thus describes the melancholy
scene of his departure :—
"Wednesday, June 26th, 1754.-On this day the most
melancholy sun I had ever beheld arose, and found me
awake at my house at Fordhook. . . . . At twelve precisely
my coach was at the door, which was no sooner told me
than I kissed my children round, and went into it with
some resolution. My wife, who behaved more like a
heroine and philosopher, though at the same time the
tenderest mother in the world, and my eldest daughter,
followed me; some friends went with us, and others here
took their leave; and I heard my behaviour applauded,
with many murmurs and praises, to which I knew I had
no title; as all other such philosophers may, if they have
any modesty, confess on the like occasions."
As he was carried into the boat¹ which was to convey
(1) "To go on board the ship, it was necessary first to go into a boat; a
matter of no small difficulty, as I had no use of my limbs, and was to be carried
by men, who, though sufficiently strong for their burden, were, like Archimedes,
puzzled to find a steady footing. However, by the assistance of my friend
Mr. Welch, whom I never think or speak of but with love and esteem [see
p. 337, note], I conquered this difficulty, as 1 did afterwards that of ascending
the ship, into which I was hoisted with more ease by a chair lifted with
pullies."-Voyage to Lisbon.
→
T. 46-47.]
VOYAGE TO LISBON.
335
him to the vessel, his helpless and hopeless condition is
thus graphically described :-"I think upon my entrance
into the boat, I presented a spectacle of the highest horror.
The total loss of limbs was apparent to all who saw me,
and my face contained marks of a most diseased state, if
not of death itself. Indeed, so ghastly was my counten-
ance, that timorous women with child had abstained from
my house for fear of the ill consequences of looking at me.
In this condition I ran the gauntlope (so, I think, I may
justly call it) through rows of sailors and watermen, few of
whom failed of paying their compliments to me by all
manner of insults and jests on my misery. No man who
knew me will think I conceived any personal resentment
at this behaviour; but it was a lively picture of that cruelty
and inhumanity in the nature of men which I have often
contemplated with concern, and which leads the mind into
a train of very uncomfortable and melancholy thoughts."
The sea-captain, into whose custody the novelist was
committed, was a curious specimen of that well-known
species, the nautical despot; and his portrait has been thus.
handed down to posterity by the pen which sketched a
Partridge and a Western:-"The particular tyrant, whose
fortune it was to stow us on board, laid a farther claim to
this appellation [that of captain] than the bare commander
of a vehicle of conveyance. He had been the captain of a
privateer, which he chose to call being in the king's service,
and thence derived a right of hoisting the military orna-
ment of a cockade over the button of his hat. He likewise
wore a sword of no ordinary length by his side, with which
he swaggered in his cabin among the wretches, his pas-
sengers, whom he had stowed in cupboards on each side.
He was a person of very singular character. He had taken
it into his head that he was a gentleman, from those very
reasons that proved he was not one; and to show himself a
fine gentleman, by a behaviour which seemed to insinuate he
had never seen one. He was, moreover, a man of gallantry;
336
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1753-54.
at the age of seventy, he had the finicalness of Sir Courtly
Nice, with the roughness of Surly; and while he was
deaf himself, had a voice capable of deafening all others."
Before the voyage was over, Fielding found reason, how-
ever, to alter the unfavourable opinion with which he had
at first regarded the old captain. But of this in its place.
All who would wish to form a notion of the delays and
discomforts of a sea-voyage, before the introduction of
steam power, should peruse with attention Fielding's
Journal. As the vessel slowly drifted down the river, the
passengers found, however, many agreeable objects to relieve
the tedium of the journey. The noble ships which sailed
by them reminded the novelist of the maritime superiority
of his country, and occasioned some landsman's reflections
thereon at which Smollett would have smiled; whilst the
scenery of the Kentish coast drew from him an expression
of surprise, that only "two or three gentlemen's houses,
and those of very moderate account," should have pre-
sented themselves between Greenwich and Gravesend,
where such hosts of villas crowded the river's banks from
Chelsea to Shepperton, "where the narrower channel affords
not half so noble a prospect, and where the continual
succession of the small craft (like the frequent repetition of
all things which have nothing in them great, beautiful, or
admirable) tire the eye, and give us distaste and aversion
instead of pleasure." In the same garrulous strain, the
sick man records the sufferings of his wife from a "raging
tooth" (which is subjected to the inspection of a Gravesend
operator), and the unmannerly conduct of a Custom-House
officer¹ attached to that port, whose behaviour led to a
•
tt
(1) " Monday, July 1.-This day Mr. Welch took his leave of me after
dinner, as did a young lady of her sister, who was proceeding with my wife to
Lisbon.
Soon after their departure, our cabin, where my wife and I
were sitting together, was visited by two ruffians, whose appearance greatly
corresponded with that of the sheriff's, or rather the knight-marshal's,
bailiffs. One of these especially, who seemed to affect a more than ordinary
degree of rudeness and insolence, came in without any kind of ceremony, with
a broad gold lace on his hat, which was cocked with much military fierceness
•
-
ZET. 46-47.]
337
VOYAGE TO LISBON.
train of moral reflection more edifying than entertaining.
From Gravesend the vessel made its way, without any
incident which called for remark, to Deal, off which place
it was detained some days by contrary winds. Released at
length, it proceeded slowly up the Channel as far as the
Isle of Wight, where the passengers were doomed to sustain
a longer delay. From the 11th of July to the 23rd, they
remained at Ryde, the wind being adverse all the time.
Here the travellers were exposed to every variety of extor-
tion and discomfort. Having taken up their abode ashore
in a small hostelry, they were victimised by the landlady,
a Mrs. Francis, of whom the novelist has drawn the fol-
lowing unattractive portrait, in revenge for her exactions :
"She was a short squab woman; her head was closely
joined to her shoulders, where it was fixed somewhat awry;
G
on his head. An inkhorn at his button-hole, and some papers in his hand,
sufficiently assured me what he was, and I asked him if he and his companion
were not Custom-House officers; he answered, with sufficient dignity, that they
were, as an information which he seemed to conclude would strike the hearer
with awe,
and suppress all further inquiry; but, on the contrary, I proceeded
to ask of what rank he was in the Custom-House, and received an answer from
his companion (as I remember) that the gentleman was a riding-surveyor. I
replied that he might be a riding-surveyor, but could be no gentleman; for
that none who had any title to that denomination would break into the
presence of a lady without any apology, or even moving his hat. He then took
his covering from his head, and laid it on the table, saying, he asked pardon,
and blamed the mate, who should, he said, have informed him if any persons of
distinction were below. I told him he might guess by our appearance (which,
perhaps, was rather more than could be said with the strictest adherence to
truth) that he was before a gentleman and lady, which should teach him to be
very civil in his behaviour, though we should not happen to be of that number
whom the world calls people of fashion and distinction."- Voyage to Lisbon.
Mr. Saunders Welch succeeded Fielding as a justice of the peace. Dr. Johnson,
according to Boswell, maintained with him a long and intimate friendship, and
when the justice, like his predecessor, was driven by failing health to try the
experiment of a more genial climate, the doctor wrote him an affectionate letter,
instinct with good feeling. It is plain that his office was not considered by the
author of "The Rambler" disreputable or unimportant.
"Johnson," says
Boswell, "who had an eager and unceasing curiosity to know human life in all
its variety, told me that he attended Mr. Welch in his office for a whole winter,
to hear the examination of the culprits, but that he found an almost uniform
tenor of misfortune, wretchedness, and profligacy."-Boswell's Life of Johnson.
Mr. Welch was also the intimate friend of Hogarth.
Z
338
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1753-54.
every feature of her countenance was sharp and pointed;
her face was furrowed with the smallpox; and her com-
plexion, which seemed to be able to turn milk into curds,
not a little resembled in colour such milk as had already
undergone that operation. She appeared indeed to have
many symptoms of a deep jaundice in her looks; but the
strength and firmness of her voice overbalanced them all :
the tone of this was a sharp treble at a distance, for I
seldom heard it on the same floor, but was usually waked
with it in the morning, and entertained with it almost
continually through the whole day." The vixenish disposi-
tion and insolent demeanour of this woman evidently made
a strong impression upon him, and he was not a little
pleased to be released from her system of extortion, which
every day became more intolerable. "If her bills were
remonstrated against," he says, "she was offended with
the tacit censure of her fair dealing; if they were not, she
seemed to regard it as a tacit sarcasm on her folly, which
might have set down larger prices with the same success.
On this latter hint she did indeed improve; for she daily
raised some of her articles. A pennyworth of fire was
to-day rated at a shilling, to-morrow at eighteen pence;
and if she dressed us two dishes for two shillings on the
Saturday, we paid half-a-crown for the cookery of one on
the Sunday; and whenever she was paid, she never left
the room without lamenting the small amount of her bill,
saying, she knew not how it was that others got their
money by gentlefolks, but for her part she had not the art
of it!""
C
*
GİR
The most admirable feature of this curious Journal is
the hearty, honest spirit of cheerfulness which pervades it.
There are in it no useless repinings, no sickening com-
plaints of the ill-usage of the world or the slights of for-
tune. An evident desire to make the best of everything
had taken complete possession of the poor, infirm, dropsical,
dying man. He could even jest at sufferings and infirmi-
ÆT. 46–47.]
339
VOYAGE TO LISBON.
ties, from which the strongest of us would have recoiled
with dismay. "In this last sketch," says Murphy, "he
puts us in mind of a person under sentence of death jesting
on the scaffold." But this is certainly not a fair com-
parison. His cheerfulness is not forced or unnatural; it
was the habit of his mind, which neither pain, nor weak-
ness, nor sorrow, could subdue or change. Though death
had marked him for its own, why should he make others
miserable? Why not preserve as long as he could that
merry countenance which had carried pleasure into every
circle, and lightened the cares of those who were dearest
to him on earth? He was no trifler, be it remembered
for a becoming seriousness occasionally pervaded his last
meditations: but that his natural manner never forsook
him-that he was the gay, light-hearted humourist to the
last-is to us a pleasant subject for reflection. Better, in
the final hours which must come to all of us, the cheer-
fulness of a Fielding, than the gloom and despondency of
a Swift!
1
Above all, it is gratifying to observe how grateful he
was for the attentions lavished on him by his devoted
wife and child. The smallest kindnesses were not thrown
away upon him; and those more considerable offerings of
feminine devotedness, which involved self-sacrifice and
personal discomfort, were fully appreciated. His second
wife, whatever her origin, must have been a true woman;
and he does not forget to speak of her as one "who, be-
(1) One of Richardson's correspondents makes the following absurd and
illiberal remarks on Fielding's Journal:-"I have lately read over with much
indignation Fielding's last piece, called his 'Voyage to Lisbon.' That a man
who had led such a life as he had should trifle in that manner, when immediate
death was before his eyes, is amazing. From this book I am confirmed in what
his other works had fully persuaded me of, that, with all his parade and pre-
tences to virtuous and human affections, the fellow had no heart. And so-his
knell is knolled." This precious piece of criticism is from the pen of Mr.
Edwards of Turrick, Bucks, author of "The Canons of Criticism," and other
long since forgotten works. Mrs. Barbauld says, that though "his letters are
not brilliant, he seems to have been a very good, pious, and kind-hearted man!”
-Richardson's Life and Correspondence.
ܕ
z 2
340
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1753-54.
sides discharging excellently well her own and all the ten-
der offices becoming the female character, besides being a
faithful friend, an amiable companion, and a tender nurse,
could likewise supply the wants of a decrepid husband."
And afterwards, in a gale of wind, when the anxiety of
the captain communicated alarm to the passengers, the
novelist concludes his comments on the occurrence by ob-
serving that, in the event of accidents, his "dear wife and
child were both too good and too gentle to be trusted to
the power of any man he knew.”
Thus, after so many miseries and mischances, retaining
the priceless treasure of a happy and contented mind-
cheerful in spite of bodily anguish and the gloomiest
apprehensions-displaying to the last the tenderest care
and most considerate regard for the dear objects clinging,
like tendrils, to him for support the bold and battered
Voyager, who had contended so bravely with the storms of
life, and in so many tempests buffeted back its fiercest
waves, drifted on towards the haven of Eternal Rest.¹
(1) It may be proper here to state that, before he left England, Fielding
prepared for the press a new edition of "Jonathan Wild," originally published
in his "Miscellanies." In the "Advertisement from the publisher to the
reader,” allusion is made to the personal attacks of which the author was so
often the object. As this "Advertisement" has not been reprinted, it is here
given in its original form :-"The following pages are the corrected edition of
a Book which was first published in the year. 1743. That any personal applica-
tion could have ever been possibly drawn from them, will surprize all who are
not deeply versed in the black Art (for so it seems most properly to be called)
of deciphering Men's Meaning when couched in obscure, ambiguous, or allegorical
expressions: This Art hath been exercised more than once on the Author of our
little Book, who hath contracted a considerable Degree of Odium from having
had the Scurrility of others imputed to him. The Truth is, as a very corrupt
state of morals is here represented, the scene seems very properly to have been
laid in Newgate: Nor do I see any Reason for introducing any allegory at all;
unless we will agree that there are, without those Walls, some other Bodies of
Men of worse Morals than those within; and who have, consequently, a Right to
change Places with its present Inhabitants. To such persons, if any such there
be, I would particularly recommend the perusal of the third chapter of the
fourth Book of the following History, and more particularly still the speech of
the Grave Man in pages 195 and 196 of that Book.”—Life of Jonathan Wild.
A new edition, with considerable corrections and additions, by Henry Fielding,
Esq. Millar. 1754.
ÆT. 47.]
341
VOYAGE TO LISBON.
CHAPTER XXVI.
VOYAGE TO LISBON CONTINUED.-ARRIVAL THERE, AND DEATH.
[1754.]
FIELDING'S passage to Lisbon proved a perilous and
tiresome one, even for that time of day. Vexed by his
long detention off Ryde, the captain weighed anchor in a
dudgeon, determined to make headway, from whatever
quarter of the compass the wind might blow. After the
gale referred to in the last chapter, he was glad enough,
however, to find shelter and security in Torbay, where
the novelist once more gazed on the coast of Devonshire,
and took advantage of his detention to purchase two hogs-
heads of cyder as a present for some friends, and another
hogshead to take with him to Lisbon. "I purchased,"
writes the garrulous traveller, "three hogsheads for five
pounds ten shillings, all which I should have scarce thought
worth mentioning, had I not believed it might be of equal
service to the honest farmer who sold it me—and who is by
the neighbouring gentlemen reputed to deal in the very
best-and to the reader, who, from ignorance of the means.
of providing better for himself, swallows at a dearer rate
the juice of Middlesex turnip, instead of that vinum
pomona which Mr. Giles Leverance, of Cheeshurst, near
Dartmouth, in Devon, will, at the price of forty shillings
per hogshead, send in double casks to any part of the
world." It is doubtful whether "the honest farmer”
duly appreciated this flattering notice, which, whilst it
performed during his lifetime the duty of an advertisement,
has likewise handed down his name to a remote posterity.
Master Leverance's excellent cyder was not the only
342
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
creature-comfort which solaced the travellers during their
detention on the coast of Devon. An acquaintanceship
was here formed with the John-dorée, an inhabitant of the
deep justly prized by the natives of the west. Having
tasted this dainty, the novelist received, with little sur-
prise, the information that his friend Quin, the epicure
and actor, "whose distinguishing tooth had been so justly
celebrated, had lately visited Plymouth, and had done
those honours to the dorée which are so justly due to it
from that sect of modern philosophers who, with Sir
Epicure Mammon, or Sir Epicure Quin, their head, seem
more to delight in a fishpond than in a garden, as the
old Epicureans are said to have done. Unfortunately,"
he adds, "for the fishmongers of London, the dorée re-
sides only in those seas; for could any of this company
but convey one to the temple of luxury under the Piazza,
where Macklin, the high-priest, daily serves up his rich
offerings to that goddess, great would be the reward of
that fishmonger, in blessings poured down upon him from
the goddess, as great would his merit be towards the
high-priest, who could never be thought to overrate such
valuable incense."
"
The temple of luxury under the Piazza" (Covent
Garden) referred to by Fielding, was the singular specula-
tion of that singular genius, Charles Macklin, the actor
and dramatist, and in 1754 the talk of the town. In the
previous December this eccentric personage had taken
leave of the stage, though in "the full vigour of his fame
and constitution ;" and in his parting address had hinted
that he had a scheme in view from which he expected to
derive both profit and reputation:
1
"Since then for reasons I the stage give o'er,
And for your sakes write tragedies no more,
Some other schemes of course possess my brain,—
For he who once has eat must eat again :
(1) Macklin's Memoirs. 1804.
ÆT. 47.]
343
THE BRITISH INQUISITION.
And lest this lank, this melancholy phiz,
Should grow more lank, more dismal than it is,
A scheme I have in hand will make you stare :—
Though off the stage I still must be the player;
Still I must follow this theatric plan,
Exert my comic powers, draw all I can,
And to each guest appear a different man."
The adventurous actor's scheme had at least novelty to
recommend it. He proposed to unite an ordinary, over
which he was to preside in the character of host, with a
lecture-hall and school of oratory, called "The British In-
quisition," in which he was to fill the post of teacher and
lecturer. On the 11th March, 1754, he commenced opera-
tions by opening a public ordinary, as the first step in
the development of his scheme. All the arrangements
were here on the most liberal scale, and excluded every
chance of profit. For the sum of three shillings the guests
were supplied with a luxurious dinner, including wine,
"port, claret, or whatever liquor they preferred." A
numerous staff of servants was engaged by the liberal host,
with whom he communicated by signs, so that the com-
pany should not be disturbed by unseemly chattering,—an
attention which the epicure Quin particularly commended.
Once in Foote's presence, however, at the Bedford, where
this practice had been warmly praised, Macklin, in the
pride of his heart, made a statement which drew upon
him one of the wit's most telling sarcasms. "Sir," said
Macklin to his eulogist, "I knew it would do. And where
do you think I picked up this hint? Well, sir, I'll tell
you: I picked it up from no less a man than James Duke
of York, who you know, sir, first invented signals for the
fleet."" Very àpropos, indeed," exclaimed Foote (who
was lying in wait for the self-satisfied actor), “and good
poetical justice; as from the fleet they were taken-so to
the Fleet both master and signals are likely to return!
*
درو
J
(1) Macklin's Memoirs.
(2) Macklin's Memoirs, 1804. A very minute account of these curious public
entertainments is given in this work, from the recollection of a literary gentle-
?
344
LIFE OF FIELDING,
[1754.
In the course of the year 1754, Macklin completed his
scheme by opening "The British Inquisition," when he
delivered himself of some heavy discourses on eloquence.
and the drama. But the friends who had applauded his
dinners refused to pay the same compliment to the lectures.
The wits indeed attended, but only to turn the lecturer
into ridicule, whose gravity formed a strange contrast to
the titterings and even open laughter of the audience. Poor
Macklin could not deceive himself long as to the recep-
tion which his discourses met with; but he attributed the
jocularity of his auditors entirely to the envious machina-
tions of Foote, whose skill in raising a laugh he knew full
well. As he could not exclude the humourist from the
lecture-hall, he resolved one night to administer to him
an open rebuke. Before he began his lecture, therefore,
hearing a buzz in the room, and observing Foote talking
and laughing to a select circle, he assumed his gravest
theatrical manner, and in a tone of stern authority ex-
claimed, "Well, sir, you seem to be very merry there; but
do you know what I am going to say now?"-"No, sir,"
said Foote; "pray do you?" This retort was irresistible,
man then living. "Dinner being announced," it is said, "by public advertise-
ment to be ready at four o'clock, just as the clock had struck that hour, a large
tavern bell, which he had affixed to the top of the house, gave notice of its
approach. This bell continued ringing for about five minutes: the dinner was
then ordered to be dished, and in ten minutes afterwards it was set upon the
table; after which the outer room door was ordered to be shut, and no other
guest admitted. Macklin himself always brought in the first dish, dressed in a
full suit of clothes, &c., with a napkin slung across his left arm. When he
placed the dish on the table he made a low bow, and retired a few paces back
towards the sideboard, which was laid out in very superb style. . . . . Two of
his principal waiters stood beside him, and one, two, or three more, as occasion
required.
Thus was dinner entirely served up, and attended to, on the
side of the house, all in dumb show. When dinner was over, and the bottles
and glasses all laid upon the table, Macklin, quitting his former situation,
walked gravely up to the front of the table, and hoped that all things were
found agreeable;' after which he passed the bell-rope round the back of the
chair of the person who happened to sit at the head of the table, and making a
low bow at the door, retired. The company generally consisted of wits,
authors, players, Templars, and lounging-men of the town."
(1) Macklin's Memoirs.
•
•
•
·
ET. 47.]
345
VOYAGE TO LISBON.
and Macklin was so annoyed that he refused to proceed
till called on by the unanimous voice of the audience, who,
out of compassion, laughed no more that evening.¹
His speculation in every respect proved as unfortunate
as might have been expected. The simple-minded schemer
was cheated by his tradesmen, and robbed by his servants,
till failure stared him in the face. In the first winter
of its existence, "The British Inquisition" closed its doors;
and in "The London Gazette" of January 25th, 1755,
Macklin appeared in the list of bankrupts, described as
"a vintner, coffee-man, and chapman."
That Fielding was ever a guest at his old friend's
ordinary, which he has described as "the temple of
luxury," seems improbable, when the state of his health,
in 1754, previous to his departure for Lisbon, is taken into
consideration. But it is also clear that if he could have
contrived to have dragged himself thither, no living man
would have so fully enjoyed the lively society assembled
there. Macklin himself was a study for any humourist:
with great natural talents, he was inordinately vain,
somewhat shallow, ill-educated, and extremely fond of dis-
coursing on subjects of which he was profoundly ignorant.
A more amusing or self-sufficient egotist never existed;
with all his weaknesses and absurdities, in some matters.
he displayed great shrewdness and acuteness; and could
rattle out an abundance of lively anecdotes, which made
him one of the most entertaining of companions.
From his rapturous comments on the perfections of the
John-dorée, Fielding proceeds in his journal (with that
taste for digression which was so natural to him) to dilate
on the subject of fish in general as an article of food.
After remarking on the wonderful fecundity of the tenants
(1) The lectures of "The British Inquisition" are said to have been delivered
in Pewterer's Hall, Lime Street. "The hall was formerly let for lectures, and
here Macklin, the actor, commenced his 'school of oratory and criticism,'
lecturing in full dress, but to be laughed at by Foote and other wits of the day."
-Timbs' Curiosities of London.
346
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
of the deep, he adds, "What then ought in general to be
so plentiful, what so cheap as fish? What then so pro-
perly the food of the poor? So in many places they are,
and so might they always be in great cities, which are
always situated near the sea, or on the conflux of large
rivers. How comes it then, to look no further abroad for
instances, that in our city of London the case is so far
otherwise, that, except that of sprats, there is not one poor
palate in a hundred that knows the taste of fish?" For
this state of things, in a strain of mingled humour and
earnestness, the following remedy is suggested. "And
first," he says, "I humbly submit the absolute necessity of
immediately hanging all the fishmongers within the bills of
mortality; and however it might have been some time ago
the opinion of mild and temporising men, that the evil
complained of might be removed by gentler methods, I
suppose at this day there are none who do not see the
impossibility of using such with any effect. Cuncta prius
tentanda might have been formerly urged with some plausi-
bility, but cuncta prius tentata may now be replied: for
surely, if a few monopolising fishmongers could defeat that
excellent scheme of the Westminster market (to the erect-
ing which so many justices of the peace, as well as other
wise and learned men, did so vehemently apply themselves,
that they might be truly said not only to have laid the
whole strength of their heads, but of their shoulders too, to
the business), it would be a vain endeavour for any other
body of men to attempt to remove so stubborn a nuisance.”
Such was the justice's "short way with fishmongers,"
very effectual, no doubt, if only practicable.
Having regaled himself "gloriously" with that dainty
viand, the dorée, and whilst he was "washing it down with
some good claret," (even in the midst of pain and sickness
what a keen zest for bodily enjoyment the man had!)
Fielding's temper was grievously ruffled by the presence of
the captain's factotum, who proceeded to execute an order
ET. 47.]
347
VOYAGE TO LISBON.
with which he had been entrusted-to bottle half a hogs-
head of small beer in the cabin occupied by the passengers.
This was not to be borne. By menaces and expostulations
the man was compelled to retreat; but the master soon
afterwards made his appearance, and roughly asked why
his commands had not been obeyed. "I answered him,"
said Fielding, "very mildly, that I had prevented his man
from doing it, as it was at an inconvenient time to me, and,
as in his absence, at least, I esteemed the cabin to be my
own. 'Your cabin,' repeated he many times (with an
oath), 'no, 'tis my cabin! . . . . I will show the world I am
a commander, and nobody but I! Did you think I sold
you the command of my ship for that pitiful thirty pounds?
I wish I had not seen you nor your thirty pounds aboard
of her.'"
The storm was now at its height, and the
novelist, being resolved to quit the ship, gave orders, in a
low voice, to have a hoy sent from Dartmouth to convey
him ashore. "In the same tone," he adds, "I likewise
threatened the captain with that which, he afterwards said,
he feared more than any rock or quicksand. . . . . The most
distant sound of law thus frightened a man who had often,
I am convinced, heard numbers of cannon roar around him
with intrepidity. Nor did he sooner see the hoy approach-
ing the vessel than he did run down again into the cabin;
and, his rage being perfectly subsided, he tumbled on his
knees, and a little too abjectly implored for mercy. I did
not suffer a brave man, and an old man, to remain a mo-
ment in this posture; but I immediately forgave him."
.
Always the same! impulsive, frank, open-hearted Harry
Fielding! "To speak truth, I forgave him," he adds,
"from a motive which would make men much more for-
giving, if they were much wiser than they are; because it
was convenient for me so to do." Yet, in spite of this
self-disparaging remark, who can fail to trace in this con-
siderate treatment of "the brave old captain" marks of
that generous, noble nature which had won the affectionate
348
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
attachment of troops of friends? After this incident he
softened towards the veteran, and immediately jotted down
another sketch of his character, to prove that under the
rough husk which had at first excited his dislike there was
a kernel of genuine human kindness: "To say truth (he
writes), notwithstanding the strict rigour with which he
preserved the dignity of his station, and the hasty im-
patience with which he resented any affront to his person
or orders-disobedience to which he could in no instance
brook in any person on board-he was one of the best-
natured fellows alive. He acted the part of a father to his
sailors; he expressed great tenderness for any of them
when ill, and never suffered any the least work of super-
erogation to go unrewarded by a glass of gin. He even
extended his humanity, if I may so call it, to animals, and
even his cats and kittens ad large shares in his affections.
. Nay, he carried his fondness even to inanimate
objects, of which we have above set down a pregnant.
example in his demonstration of love and tenderness
towards his boats and ship. He spoke of a ship which he
had commanded formerly, and which was long since no
more (which he had called the Princess of Brazil), as a
widower of a deceased wife. This ship, after having fol-
lowed the honest business of carrying goods and passengers
for hire many years, did at last take to evil courses, and
turn privateer, in which service, to use his own words, she
received many dreadful wounds, which he himself had felt
as if they had been his own." And, in the same tone of
respect and regard, he afterwards describes "the good cap-
tain" reading prayers on deck, "with an audible voice, and
with but one mistake of a lion for Elias."
In the famous Bay of Biscay-having at length left
behind them the shores of England-the travellers ex-
perienced a "rolling," which rendered futile all attempts
to devour a not very tempting dinner. "Every utensil in our
cabin," says the novelist, "rolled up and down, as we should
ÆT. 47.]
DEATH.
349
have rolled ourselves, had not our chairs been fast lashed
to the floor. In this situation, with our tables likewise
fastened by ropes, the captain and myself took our meals
with some difficulty, and swallowed a little of our broth,—
for we spilt much the greater part. The remainder of our
dinner being an old, lean, tame duck, roasted, I regretted
but little the loss of, my teeth not being good enough to
have chewed it." This was the last incident-save a sight
of one of those glorious moonlight scenes peculiar to a
calm in southern latitudes--which called for notice in the
Journal; and at length the white churches and convents
of Lisbon greeted the gaze of the travellers. Having feasted
their eyes on these objects for a period much longer than
was agreeable to them, an order to land was at last obtained.
As soon as the official forms permitted, the sick man was
hoisted into the boat, and carried on shore. So ended the
voyage; and the Journal closes with the following words:
About seven in the evening I got into a chaise on
shore, and was driven through the nastiest city in the
world, though, at the same time, one of the most populous,
to a kind of coffee-house, which is very pleasantly situated
on the brow of a hill, about a mile from the city, and hath
a very fine prospect of the river Tajo, from Lisbon to the
sea. Here we regaled ourselves with a good supper, for
which we were as well charged as if the bill had been made
on the Bath road, between Newbury and London."
Within two months after these words were written, the
hand that traced them was cold in death. Fielding arrived
at Lisbon about the middle of August; and on the 8th of
October, 1754, he expired, without a groan, in the forty-
eighth year of his age. During the last few weeks of his
existence he was free from pain. His originally strong
constitution, having long battled vigorously against disease,
at last gave up the struggle, and submitted at discretion.
(1) "Compared to these, the pageantry of theatres, or splendour of courts, are
sights almost below the regard of children."-Voyage to Lisbon.
350
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
After this, his sufferings almost entirely ceased. The
breezes of the south could not, indeed, re-invigorate the
wasted frame, or restore to health the shattered valetudi-
narian, but they breathed gratefully on his sick-bed, and
smoothed his passage to the grave. His death was, on the
whole, a happy one. His wife and child watched over him
with womanly care and affectionate solicitude, anticipated
every want, and cheered him with pleasant converse. Un-
disturbed by racking pain, in full possession of the faculties
of hearing, speech, and sight, with an unclouded intellect,
and a mind well-prepared, he calmly beheld the approach of
Death, marked his upraised dart, and yielded without a
shudder.
Thus perished, in a foreign land, one of the most tho-
roughly English writers of whom England can boast. Sad
and strange it seems that not a foot of English ground
should have been vouchsafed to cover his remains; and
strange also, that after his body was committed to the grave,
the first attempt to pay a tribute to his memory, and to
mark his last resting-place with a fitting memorial, pro-
ceeded from a foreigner! The Chevalier de Meyrionnet,
French consul at Lisbon, wrote an epitaph on Fielding,
soon after his decease, in the French language, and pro-
posed, at his own expense, to erect a monument to him.
Such a proposal from a foreigner naturally excited a spirit
of emulation amongst the numerous countrymen of the
novelist residing in Lisbon. A monument¹ was accord-
(1) This tomb is thus described by Sir Nathaniel Wraxall:—
If I could not discover the place of Camoen's interment, I at last found out
the grave and tombstone of the author of 'Tom Jones.' Fielding, who termi-
nated his life, as is well-known, at Lisbon, in 1754, of a complication of dis-
orders, at little more than forty-seven years of age, lies buried in the cemetery
appropriated to the English factory. I visited his grave, which was already
nearly concealed by weeds and nettles. Though he did not suffer the extremity
of distress under which Camoen and Cervantes terminated their lives, yet his
extravagance-a quality so commonly characteristic of men distinguished by
talents-embittered the evening of his days."-Wraxall's Memoirs of my own
Time, vol. i. 1818.
ET. 47.]
FIELDING'S BURIAL-PLACE.
351
ingly placed, at the cost of the English factory, over the
spot where all that was mortal of the author of so many
imperishable creations has long since crumbled into dust.
This tomb having fallen into decay, was replaced, in 1830,
by a more appropriate memorial, which bears the follow-
ing inscription:—
1
" HENRICUS FIELDING
LUGET BRITANNIA GREMIO NON DATUM
FOVERE NATUM."
The personal appearance of the great novelist has been
thus described by his friend, Mr. Arthur Murphy :2.
(1) Fielding's last resting-place is thus described in one of the best of travel-
ler's guide-books:- "The English burial-ground, termed by the Portuguese
Os cyprestes, is situated on the hill of the Estrella, above Buenos Ayres. It was
allowed to be formed during the last century by the Portuguese government, on
condition of being called the hospital of the English factory. A building bear-
ing that name was erected near the entrance, which now serves as a dwelling-
house for the chaplain. . . . . The ground is divided by straight walks, inter-
secting each other at right angles; they are bordered by lofty cypresses, round
which scarlet geraniums climb to the height of ten or fifteen feet. Many of
the tombs are shaded by the Judas-tree, and other flowering shrubs.
this cemetery was interred the celebrated novelist, Henry Fielding.
English had long been reproached for allowing the grave of their distinguished
countryman to remain without any memorial. It was not till 1830 that, by the
exertions of the late Rev. Christopher Neville, at that time British chaplain, a
subscription was set on foot, and the present sarcophagus erected. It is situated
about the centre of the cemetery."-Handbook for Travellers to Portugal.
Murray.
In
The
A celebrated traveller also thus writes of Fielding's foreign grave:-
"Let travellers devote one entire morning to inspecting the Arcos and the Mai
das agoas, after which they may repair to the English church and cemetery
-Père la Chaise in miniature-where, if they be of England, they may well be
excused if they kiss the cold tomb, as I did, of the author of 'Amelia,' the
most singular genius which their island ever produced, whose works it has long
been the fashion to abuse in public, and to read in secret. In the same cemetery
rest the mortal remains of Doddridge, another English author, of a different
stamp, but justly admired and esteemed."-Borrow's Bible in Spain, vol. i.
chap. 1. 1843.
P
•
-
(2) Arthur Murphy, the editor of Fielding's works, and author of the Essay
on his Life and Genius, was a native of Cork—a city which still contains, it is
said, a large crop of Murphys. At the age of twenty-one he made his appear-
ance in London, and soon attached himself to literature and the drama, although
originally intended for mercantile pursuits. With Fielding the young Irishman
soon picked up an intimacy, and on the cessation of "The Covent Garden
Journal," he produced a paper on the same plan, which lived till October, 1754.
352
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
Henry Fielding was in stature rather rising above six
feet; his frame of body large and remarkably robust, till
the gout had broken the vigour of his constitution." His
features were marked and striking, so much so, that a
portrait of him was painted by his friend Hogarth from
memory, with the assistance of a profile which had been
cut in paper with a pair of scissors by a lady. Though he
was singularly handsome in his youth, in his later years it
appears, from his own account, that his gouty and dropsical
figure was anything but agreeable to behold. But his
cheerfulness and good temper rendered him to the last a
delightful companion, and endeared him to his family and
friends. "It is wonderful to think," observes a great
living humourist, "of the pains and misery which the man
suffered; the pressure of want, illness, remorse, which he
endured; and that the writer was neither malignant nor
melancholy, his views of truth never warped, and his gene-
rous human kindness never surrendered.' 21
،،
The most prominent trait in Fielding's disposition was
his hearty relish for existence,—a relish which the passages
After this, he devoted himself to the stage, and made his appearance as an
actor, in the character of Othello. Like most other dramatists, he however
failed to distinguish himself as an actor. Ultimately he attached himself to the
law, though refused admittance as a student by three inns-the Middle and
Inner Temple, and Gray's-Inn, on the sole grounds of his having appeared on the
stage—an instance of illiberality by no means pleasant to record. Churchill
(who seems to have cherished an illiberal antipathy to Murphy) thus alludes
to this incident in "The Rosciad: ".
"Twice (cursed remembrance), twice I strove to gain
Admittance 'mongst the law-instructed train,
Who in the Temple and Gray's-Inn prepare
For clients' wretched feet the legal snare:
Dead to those arts which polish and refine,
Deaf to all worth, because that worth was mine,
Twice did those blockheads startle at my name,
And foul rejection gave me up to shame."
Lincoln's-Inn at length opened its doors to the man of letters, and Murphy's
life was subsequently dignified and prosperous. He was a commissioner of
bankrupts at Guildhall, wrote many tragedies and comedies, and died at a ripe
old age in 1805.
(1) Thackeray's Lectures on the English Humourists. 1853.
ÆT. 47.]
REGRET AT HIS DEATH.
353
cited from his Journal show was unabated by disease and the
near prospect of death. He possessed an exquisite temper-
ament of the sanguine order; abundant energy, constant
activity, and a marvellous capacity for enjoyment. These
personal traits, which imparted to his writings unparalleled
force and spirit, have been admirably described by his
kinswoman, Lady Mary. "I am sorry," says this lively
and philosophic lady, in a letter dated 1755, "for Henry
Fielding's death; not only as I shall read no more of his
writings, but I believe that he lost more than others, as no
man enjoyed life more than he did, though few had less
reason to do so, the highest of his preferment being raking
in the lowest sinks of vice and misery. I should think
a nobler and less nauseous employment to be one of the
staff-officers that conduct the nocturnal wedding.
His happy constitution (even when he had with great
pains half demolished it) made him forget every evil when
he was before a venison pasty, or over a flask of champagne;
and I am persuaded he has known more happy moments
than any prince on earth. His natural spirits gave him.
rapture with his cookmaid, and cheerfulness when he was
starving in a garret. There was a similitude between his
character and that of Sir Richard Steele. He [Fielding]
had the advantage in learning, and, in my opinion, in
genius; they both agreed in wanting money, in spite of
all their friends, and would have wanted it if their here-
ditary lands had been as extensive as their imaginations:
yet each of them was so formed for happiness it is a pity
he was not immortal.”
Fielding's death was regretted by mourners more earnest
in their sorrow than Lady Mary. In the cynical verses
which he wrote on his own anticipated death, Swift singled
out three of his literary associates who would receive the
intelligence with different degrees of regret :-
"Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay
A week, and Arbuthnot a day."
A A
354
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
In like manner, it may be conjectured, that the account of
Fielding's death was received by three members of the intel-
lectual aristocracy of his time, to whom he had been closely
allied by bonds of personal friendship. The "grave and
godly" LYTTLETON meditated with serious and thoughtful
sorrow, which cast for many days a shade over his mind, on
the stormy life of him whose spirit was now released from the
toils and troubles of earth, and had "put on immortality."
As he mused on the loss of his friend, strange and confused
pictures of life, in all its varieties, must have been unfolded
to his memory:-The playing-grounds of Eton, fresh and
fair as the hopes and aspirations of happy boyhood; the
crowded green-room, echoing with the laugh he knew so
well; and then the roistering host, holding high his head
amongst the country squires, with a young fair creature by
his side, soon to be initiated into the miseries and squalid
wretchedness of London lodgings; then the Temple cham-
bers, with the briefless barrister expatiating on his pros-
pects of boundless wealth-prospects which a few short
months served to dissipate: alas! too, there is a view of the
sponging-house in the changing diorama, with a remorseful
inmate, who thankfully receives aid for the sake of weeping
wife at home: there too is a death-chamber, which brings
back to Lyttleton's mind the most sorrowful passage in his
own life-Poor Harry Fielding, he is now at rest with the
wife he loved so well! WILLIAM HOGARTH when he heard
the news turned from the easel, and paid the homage of a
tear to the memory of his brave and manly friend. He
was gone!—the inimitable delineator of the manners of the
age, who had been to letters what he-Hogarth-had
aspired to be to art—a genuine painter of human life; no
copyist of foreign schools, no wearer of cast-off clothes,
no weak sentimentalist; a straightforward, truth-telling,
right-thinking Englishman-a Briton to the backbone.
Honour to the manly heart which had beaten with such
high and kindly thoughts! DAVID GARRICK, too, received
ÆT. 47.]
355
SIR JOHN HAWKINS.
with an unusually thoughtful air the news of Harry
Fielding's death, and as he passed from the jests of the
theatre, forgot for a moment its mimetic triumphs in
presence of this sad reality.
Of the judgment passed by contemporaries on the de-
parted novelist, enough, perhaps, has been said in the course
of this narrative. Few of those whose good opinion was
worth having, failed, in the long run, to recognise his
merits. In addition to other authorities already cited,
Gray, the poet, the philologist Harris, and his friend Lyttle-
ton, were amongst his eulogists and admirers. The latter,
in his "Dialogues of the Dead," observed of his works that
they have “a true spirit of comedy and an exact represen-
tation of nature, with fine moral touches" -no mean
praise from so conscientious a writer. As a set-off to
these friendly criticisms, Sir John Hawkins levelled his
abuse at him in a characteristic strain of ignorance, inso-
lence, and vulgar conceit. After enumerating in his “Life
of Johnson" some of the inferior scribes who were once
dignified by the title of men of letters, he contemp-
tuously refers to the works of Fielding, Richardson, and
Smollett, classing them together, but abusing the former
with peculiar malignity :
2
:
"Besides these, there was another class of authors who
lived by writing, that require to be noticed the former
were in fact pensioners to the booksellers; these vended
their compositions when completed to those of that trade
(1) Dialogue between Plutarch and a Bookseller.
(2) Those eminent judges of English style, Blair and Beattie, have also
recorded their admiration of Fielding's great works. The former says, “Mr.
Fielding's novels are highly distinguished for their humour; a humour which,
if not of the most refined and delicate kind, is original and peculiar to himself.
The characters which he draws are lively and natural, and marked with the
strokes of a bold pencil. The general scope of his stories is favourable to
humanity and goodness of heart; and in 'Tom Jones,' his greatest work, the
artful conduct of the fable, and the subserviency of all the incidents to the
winding up of the whole, deserve much praise."-Blair's Lectures on Rhe-
toric, &c.
G
A A 2
356
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
who would give most for them. They were mostly books
of mere entertainment that were the subjects of this kind
of commerce, and were, and still are, distinguished by the
corrupt appellation of novels and romances. . At the
head of these we must for many reasons place Henry Field-
ing, one of the most motley of literary characters. This
man was, in his early life, a writer of comedies and farces,
very few of which are now remembered; after that, a
practising barrister with scarce any business; then an
anti-ministerial writer, and quickly after a creature of the
Duke of Newcastle, who gave him a nominal qualification
of £100 a year, and set him up as a trading justice, in
which disreputable station he died. He was the author of
a romance entitled 'The History of Joseph Andrews,' and
of another, 'The Foundling; or, the History of Tom Jones,'
a book seemingly intended to sap the foundation of that
morality which it is the duty of parents and all public
instructors to inculcate in the minds of young people, by
teaching that virtue upon principle is imposture, that
generous qualities alone constitute true worth, and that
a young man may love and be loved, and at the same time
associate with the loosest women.
He was the
inventor of that cant phrase, goodness of heart, which is
every day used as a substitute for probity, and means little
more than the virtue of a horse or a dog; in short, he has
done more towards corrupting the rising generation than
any writer we know of.”¹
•
(1) Life of Johnson, pp. 213, 214.
•
It is quite unnecessary to point out the misrepresenta-
tions which are crowded together in this summary of
Fielding's life, and in the observations on the tendency of
his writings. To most admirers of the novelist it will be
regarded, however, as rather a cheering fact than otherwise,
that such an opinion should have been formed of him by
the veritable Pecksniff of the age, whose solemn platitudes
ÆT. 47.]
THACKERAY ON FIELDING.
357
and pretentious ignorance by turns amused and bored the
literary magnates whose society he affected."
From the vulgar commonplaces of Hawkins, it is
pleasant to turn to the genial pages of a living writer for
a character of Fielding. With a thorough appreciation of
the excellences of the man, and with a large compassion
for his errors, Mr. Thackeray has given the following
exquisite portraiture of the subject of this biography :-
"I cannot offer, or hope to make a hero of Henry Fielding.
Why hide his faults? Why conceal his weaknesses in a
cloud of periphrasis? Why not show him, like as he is,
not robed in a marble toga, and draped and polished in a
heroic attitude, but with inked ruffles and claret stains on
his tarnished laced coat, and on his manly face the marks
of good fellowship, of illness, of kindness, of care, and wine :
stained as you see him, and worn by care and dissipation,
that man retains some of the most precious human qualities
and endowments. He has an admirable natural love of
truth, the keenest instinctive antipathy to hypocrisy, the
happiest satirical gift of laughing it to scorn. His wit is
wonderfully wise and detective: it flashes upon a rogue,
and lightens upon a rascal like a policeman's lantern. He
is one of the manliest and kindliest of human beings: in the
midst of all his imperfections, he respects female innocence
and infantine tenderness, as you would suppose such a great-
hearted, courageous soul would respect and care for them.
He could not be so brave, generous, truth-telling as he is,
were he not infinitely merciful, pitiful, and tender. He
will give any man his purse-he can't help kindness and
profusion. He may have low tastes, but not a mean mind :
he admires with all his heart good and virtuous men, stoops
(1) "Altogether his existence was a kind of a pompous, parsimonious, insig-
nificant drawl, cleverly ridiculed by one of the wits in an absurd epitaph
"Here lies Sir John Hawkins,
Without his shoes and stauckins.'
-Forster's Life and Times of Goldsmith, vol. i.
* 19
Madag
358
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754.
to no flattery, bears no rancour, disdains all disloyal acts,
does his public duty uprightly, is fondly loved by his
family, and dies at his work."1
(1) Lectures on the English Humourists. 1853. In "The Times" news-
paper of September 2nd, 1840, there appears a review of Fielding's Works
(Roscoe's edition), which there is no difficulty in affiliating on the author of
"Pendennis" and "The Newcomes.
The Newcomes." In this review will be found the germ
of the admirable sketch of Fielding in the "Humourists," together with many
of the lecturer's identical expressions.
1
1754-78.] COMMENT ON LORD BOLINGBROKE'S ESSAYS. 359
CHAPTER XXVII.
POSTHUMOUS
PUBLICATIONS.-COMMENT
BROKE'S ESSAYS.-THE FATHERS.
[1754-1778.]
SOON after Fielding's death was published his “Journal
of a Voyage to Lisbon," and to this was added a fragment
of a "Comment on Lord Bolingbroke's Essays," com-
menced during his last illness, and of which he never lived
to complete the first section. Mallet's edition of the
works of the "great St. John" had been published on the
6th of March, 1754,-a day also rendered memorable by
the death of Mr. Pelham, Chancellor of the Exchequer,
and brother to the Duke of Newcastle. It was this cir-
cumstance that drew from Garrick the ode which contains
the celebrated stanza:
ON LORD BOLING-
"The same sad morn to Church and State
(So for our sins 'twas fixed by fate)
A double shock was given:
Black as the regions of the north,
St. John's fell genius issued forth,
And Pelham's fled to heaven!"
(1) Notwithstanding this lofty eulogy, a very indifferent character is given
of Pelham by one of his contemporaries, "Leonidas" Glover, who has this
sketch of him in his Journal (published in 1814) "In March, 1754, Mr.
Henry Pelham died. He was originally an officer in the army, and a professed
gamester; of a narrow mind, low parts, of an affable disposition, and a plausible
cunning; false to Sir R. Walpole, who raised him, and ungrateful to the
Earl of Bath, who protected him. By long experience and attendance he
became considerable as a parliament man; and even when minister, divided his
time to the last between his office and the club of gamesters at White's." [Of
this club Horace Walpole tells the following story:-" They have put in the
papers a good story made on White's: a man dropped down dead at the door,
was carried in: the club immediately made bets whether he was dead or not,
and when they were going to bleed him, the wagerers for his death interfered,
and said it would affect the fairness of the bet."] Mr. Glover-an eminent
London merchant, and in 1739 the most popular man in the city -- was
M
:-
360
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754-78.
Still better known is the comment of Johnson on this
celebrated edition of Bolingbroke, when the name of the
sceptical philosopher was mentioned in conversation :
Sir, he was a scoundrel and a coward; a scoundrel for
charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality; a
coward, because he had no resolution to fire it off himself,
but left half-a-crown to a beggarly Scotchman to draw
the trigger after his death."1
Horace Walpole characteristically announced to his
correspondent, Mr. Bentley, the appearance of this re-
nowned work. "Lord Bolingbroke is come forth in five
pompous quartos, two and a half new, and most unorthodox.
Warburton is resolved to answer, and the bishops not to
answer him.” That which, according to Walpole, the
prelates of the Establishment were not inclined to under-
take, appeared to Fielding a labour worthy, if not easy, of
accomplishment. But when the book appeared he was
languishing in a sickness which threatened to prove
mortal. "I was at my worst," he says, in the introduction
of the Voyage to Lisbon, "on that memorable day when
CC
amongst the most remarkable of Fielding's contemporaries.
His patriotic
speeches on the breaking out of the Spanish war were once referred to as
models of eloquence, and in private life he was much esteemed. Unfor-
tunately his patriotism plunged him into difficulties, and in 1751 his com-
mercial reverses compelled him to become a candidate for the place of Cham-
berlain to the city of London; but he lost the election, and retired for a
time into private life. To him have been attributed the Letters of Junius
(An Inquiry, &c.); but the only important facts brought forward to support
the hypothesis were his intimacy with the family of Lord Temple, and his
known ability. His poem of "Leonidas" was once very popular; but it is
certainly not up to the standard of heroic or epic poetry. With reference both
to Glover and Thomson, Horace Walpole thus rather maliciously writes to Sir
H. Mann, in March, 1745 :—“I had rather have written the most absurd lines
in Lee, than 'Leonidas' or 'The Seasons;' as I had rather be put in the round-
house for a wrong-headed quarrel, than sup quietly at eight o'clock with my
grandmother." Fielding has the following quiet notice of Glover's epic in
"The Journey from this World to the Next:"—"The first spirit with whom
I entered into discourse was the famous Leonidas of Sparta. I acquainted him
with the honours which had been done him by a celebrated poet of our nation,
to which he answered, he was very much obliged to him."
(1) Boswell's Johnson.
1754-78.]
COMM
COMMENT ON LORD BOLINGBROKE'S ESSAYS.
361
the public lost Mr. Pelham." As soon as he began to
recover, his removal from England must have distracted
his attention, and as disease gained power over him, he
had less and less ability to discharge the task which he
had allotted to himself in the final hours of life.
.
That task was worthy of the last moments of a sincere
Christian-a title to which Fielding had an undoubted
claim. In all the tempests of his life, amid all his diffi-
culties and irregularities, his principles remained unshaken;
he was never known to speak lightly of the doctrines and
mysteries of Christianity; and in an unbelieving age he
claimed for himself the honour of being one of its most
uncompromising champions. That he should be eager to
do battle with the sceptical philosopher, and to assail him.
with his own weapons, was therefore natural enough. To
subject his opinions to a logical analysis, to point out the
danger and absurdity of his conclusions, and to expose his
fallacies, were motives sufficient to induce him, on the
verge of the grave, to seize once more the pen he had
wielded with such skill in other departments of literature.
Although, as already stated, he only lived to compose a
very brief portion of his work, and though that portion
was written during a mortal illness,-in the brief intervals
when he enjoyed a comparative freedom from pain,—the
fragment may challenge a comparison in force and vigour,
as well as in felicitous phraseology, with the best contro-
versial productions of the period. The scoffing scepticism
of the high-born and arrogant philosopher is, for instance,
finely dealt with in the following passage:-
"In short, we doubt not but to make it appear as a
fact beyond all contest, that his lordship was in jest through
the whole work which we have undertaken to examine.
1
(1) Murphy observes that Fielding had made preparations for this work
"of long extracts and arguments from the Fathers, and the most eminent
writers of controversy." The manuscript he speaks of "as still extant in the
hands of his brother, Sir John Fielding."-Essay on the Life and Genius
of Fielding.
362
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754-78.
If an inflamed zealot should, in his warmth, compare such
jesting to his in the Psalmist, or if a cooler disposition
should ask how it was possible to jest with matters of such
importance—I confess I have no defence against the accu-
sation, nor can give any satisfactory answer to the question.
To this indeed I could say, and it is all that I could say,
that my Lord Bolingbroke was a great genius, sent into
the world for great and astonishing purposes: that the
ends, as well as means of actions in such personages,
are above the comprehension of the vulgar. That his life
was one scene of the wonderful throughout. That, as the
temporal happiness, the civil liberties and properties of
Europe, were the game of his earliest youth, there could be
no sport so adequate to the entertainment of his advanced
age as the eternal and final happiness of all mankind.'
The last sentence in the fragment-probably the last
sentence which Fielding wrote-is also highly characte-
ristic of his acute and vigorous mind. "Surely," he says,
"it is better to decide in favour of possibility, and to lay
the foundations of morality too high, than to give it no
foundation at all."
در
Nearly a quarter of a century after his death, another
production of Henry Fielding's was ushered into the light
of day. This was his comedy of "The Fathers; or, the
Good-natured Man," already mentioned in these pages.¹
At Garrick's request, it will be remembered, he undertook,
in 1742, the revisal of this comedy, which had then been
written some time, but was induced by circumstances
to throw it aside, and to replace it by an earlier and
much inferior effort,-"The Wedding Day." The rejected
comedy subsequently found its way into the hands of
Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, in whose taste and judg-
ment Fielding had much confidence. Sir Charles was
subsequently appointed envoy-extraordinary to the Court
of Russia, and whether the manuscript travelled with
(1) See page 171.
1754-78.]
THE FATHERS.
363
him thither, or was left behind, is not known. He died in
Russia, and all trace of it was lost.
Fielding had frequently mentioned the lost comedy to
his family, and many inquiries respecting it were made.
during his lifetime and after his decease, of the different.
members of Sir Charles Williams' family. But they all
proved fruitless, and its existence was well-nigh forgotten,
when Mr. Johnes, M.P. for Cardigan, received one day a
present from a young friend of a tattered manuscript
play, with the comment that it " was a damned thing."
Mr. Johnes, however, having perused the comedy, felt
certain that it was the work of no ordinary hand. He
accordingly determined to obtain the opinion of Garrick
(the acknowledged arbiter and authority in all theatrical
questions) on the subject of its authorship, and instructed
a friend to wait on the great actor with the manuscript.
Directly Mr. Garrick cast his eye upon it, he exclaimed
with friendly rapture, "The lost sheep is found! This is
Harry Fielding's comedy!" Mr. Johnes at once restored
the "foundling" to the family of the author, and no time
was lost in bringing it on the stage for their benefit.¹
The long-lost play was brought out under the most favour-
able auspices. It was revised, and in some places re-touched
by Garrick, and also by the greatest dramatic writer of the
time, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, who had achieved an
early renown in the world of letters by his comedy of "The
Rivals" and the opera of "The Duenna," first acted in
1775, and "The School for Scandal," produced in 1777.
David Garrick, honourably mindful of the friendship which
had for many years subsisted between him and the author,
also contributed a prologue and epilogue. The former is
one of the best of such productions contributed, even by
Garrick, to the literature of the stage. From the lips of
the admirable actor by whom it was delivered (Mr. King),
it is known to have been singularly effective. An addi-
(1) See advertisement to "The Fathers: a Comedy."
364
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754-78.
tional interest is imparted to the composition from its
having been the last which Garrick wrote; whilst both the
topics, and their mode of treatment, give it more than a
temporary or ephemeral importance. It is therefore re-
printed in these pages.
"When from the world departs a son of fame,
His deeds or works embalm his precious name;
Yet not content, the public call for Art
To rescue from the tomb his mortal part;
Demand the painter's and the sculptor's hand,
To spread his mimic form throughout the land;
A form, perhaps, which living was neglected;
And when it could not feel respect, respected.
This night no bust or picture claims your praise;
Our claim's superior,-we the spirit raise:
From Time's dark store-house bring a long-lost play,
And drag it from oblivion into day.
But who the author? Need I name the wit
Whom Nature prompted as his genius writ?
Truth smiled on Fancy for each well-wrought story,
Where characters live, act, and stand before ye;
Suppose these characters, various as they are,-
The knave, the fool, the worthy, wise, and fair,—
For and against the author pleading at your bar.
First pleads TOM JONES,-grateful his heart and warm,-
'Brave, generous Britons, shield this play from harm:
My best friend wrote it; should it not succeed,
Though with my Sophy blest, my heart will bleed.'
Then from his face he wipes the manly tear;
'Courage, my master,' PARTRIDGE cries, don't fear:
Should Envy's serpents hiss, or Malice frown,
Though I'm a coward, zounds! I'll knock 'em down!'
Next sweet SOPHIA comes-she cannot speak—
Her wishes for the play o'erspread her cheek;
*
In ev'ry look her sentiments you read;
And more than eloquence her blushes plead.
Now BLIFIL bows,-with smiles his false heart gilding;
He was my foe-I beg you'll damn this Fielding.'
'Right!' THWACKUM roars,—' no mercy, sirs, I pray ;
Scourge the dead author through his orphan play.'
What words! (cries PARSON ADAMS) fie, fie! disown 'em;
Good Lord! de mortuis nil nisi bonum ;
1754-78.1
365
THE FATHERS.
If such are Christian teachers, who'll revere 'em?
An' thus they preach, the devil alone should hear 'em.'
Now SLIPSLOP enters. 'Tho' this scriv’ning vagrant
'Salted my virtue, which was ever flagrant,
Yet, like black 'Thello, I'd bear scorns and whips,
Slip into poverty to the very hips,
T'exult this play-may it decrease in favour,
And be its fame immoralized for ever!'
SQUIRE WESTERN, reeling, with October mellow,
Tallyho, boys!-Yoax, critics! hunt the fellow!
Damn 'un, these wits are varmint not worth breeding,
What good e'er came of writing and of reading?'
Next comes, brimful of spite and politics,
His sister WESTERN, and thus deeply speaks :—
'Wits are armed powers-like France attack the foe;
Negotiate till they sleep-then strike the blow!'
ALLWORTHY last pleads to your noblest passions-
'Ye generous leaders of the taste and fashions,
Departed genius left his orphan play
،
To your kind care-what the dead wills, obey:
O then respect the FATHER's fond bequest,
And make his widow smile, his spirit rest.'
A large audience assembled to witness the first per-
formance of the comedy, and it was received with great
applause.¹ But this applause, it may be, was mainly
intended for the author and the occasion. As for the play
itself, it belonged to, and reflected the manners of, a pre-
vious age,-nor could any adaptation or alteration, how-
ever skilful, have rendered it popular for any length of
time as a stock piece. It is true that it belonged to the
best period of Fielding's dramatic career,-when his pen
had been for some time practised in this kind of composi-
tion, and he had become ambitious of doing something
better than gratifying the momentary whim of the town.
It was written long subsequently to "The Wedding Day"
(which was one of his earliest attempts), but before "Pas-
quin” and the “Register," and he was himself particularly
pleased with the plan and plot. That it is altogether a
2
(1) Gentleman's Magazine, 1778.
(2) Preface to Miscellanies, 1743.
366
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754-78.
more perfect work than most of his comedies will be
conceded by critics, and so far it justifies the remark that
“he left off writing for the stage when he ought to have
begun." But it cannot be compared with the happier
efforts of Sheridan and Goldsmith. Although in his novels
so successful in keeping up the interest of his plot, Fielding
could not get through a play without suffering the excite-
ment to flag before the end; and he was not insensible of
this defect, for it is said to have been one of his favourite
toasts, "Confusion to the man who invented fifth acts."1
It may be added that "The Fathers" is one of the very
few English comedies which does not terminate in a
marriage.
Of those who were attracted to the representation of this
comedy, it is a fair supposition that a great majority were
moved by the potent spell which the authorship of "Tom
Jones" had cast over Fielding's name. Though, in the
brief space of forty years, the bulk of his dramatic writings
had been consigned to neglect, if not oblivion, his novels.
were perused with as keen a zest as when they first issued
from Andrew Millar's press. Of those who had known him
in life had grasped his hand, listened to his merry talk,
or been witnesses of his grievous sufferings-many had
(1) Mr. Harris (of Salisbury), the eminent critic and philologist, has com-
memorated this saying of Fielding, and also made the following observations
on his career :-"'Twas from a sense of this concluding jumble, this unnatural
huddling of events, that a witty friend of mine, who was himself a dramatic
writer, used pleasantly, though perhaps rather freely, to damn the man who
invented fifth acts. So said the celebrated Henry Fielding, who was a
respectable person both by education and birth. . . His 'Joseph Andrews'
and 'Tom Jones' may be called masterpieces in the comic epopée, which none
since have equalled, though multitudes have imitated, and which he was pecu-
liarly qualified to write in the manner he did, both from his life, his learning,
and his genius. Had his life been less irregular (for irregular it was, and spent
in a promiscuous intercourse with persons of all ranks), his pictures of human-
kind had neither been so various nor so natural. Had he possessed less of
literature, he could not have infused such a spirit of classical elegance. Had
his genius been less fertile in wit and humour, he could not have maintained
that uninterrupted pleasantry which never suffers the reader to feel fatigue.".
Philological Inquiries. By James Harris. Part I.
1754-78.]
367
THE FATHERS.
+
2
since passed with him that gloomy barrier, unde negant
redire quenquam.' Hogarth died just ten years after him,
in October, 1764, most deeply lamented. Lyttleton made
a truly Christian end in August, 1773.3 Of his contem-
poraries at the Bar there survived, however, some now
loaded with years and honours; amongst them his cousin,
Mr. Justice Gould, and Pratt, Earl of Camden. Of his
theatrical associates there still flourished, besides David
Garrick, the famous Charles Macklin, whose talents and
eccentricities were as yet little affected by the weight of
years; and, amongst the most remarkable of his younger
literary friends, there was Arthur Murphy, who between
1760 and the year in which "The Fathers" was produced,
had supplied the stage with many excellent comedies and
4
(1)
"Qui nunc it per iter tenebricosum,
Illuc, unde negant redire quenquam."-Catullus.
"C
(2) It is delightful to go back to those days, and, as it were, to hold converse
with such honoured shades. Hogarth's death, I have heard my father declare,
spread a general gloom. It was the subject of lamentation in every tavern ;
and all the social clubs were long accustomed to drink his memory. The sensi-
tive Sterne long missed his ingenious convive; and Garrick's sad countenance
rendered awhile the green-room dull."—Wine and Walnuts, vol. i.
(3) See Johnson's Lives of the Poets-Lyttleton.
(4) The vigour of Macklin's mind is shown in his comedy of "The Man
of the World," first performed at Covent Garden, in May, 1781; although
a sketch of it in three acts, under the title of "The True-born Scotchman," had
been previously produced in Ireland, in 1764. He was certainly born as early
as 1699, and some of his friends even asserted that the date of his birth was 1690.
(Macklin's Memoirs.)
The latter account is somewhat corroborated by the following characteristic
anecdote, which is given in his life, from his own narration :-" A party of Irish
gentlemen, who had come over to England in the long vacation, asked me to
sup with them. I did so, sir, and we all got very jolly together; insomuch,
that one was so drunk that I made a point of taking him on my back, and
carrying him down stairs, in order to be put into his chair. The next day the
gentleman waited on me; and, expressing his civilities, said he was sorry I
should take so much unnecessary trouble. Here, sir, I stopped him short, by
telling him, one reason I had for carrying him on my back was, that I carried
either his father or his grandfather the same way, fifty years ago, when he was
a student of the Middle Temple. Very true, sir,' said the other; 'I remember
my father often telling it as a family story: but you are mistaken a little in
point of genealogy-it was my great-grandfather that you did that kindness
for.' Macklin's performance of Sir Pertinax Mac Sycophant, in his own
}}
368
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754-78.
passable tragedies. Several old play-goers also remained,
who remembered the Great Mogul, with his "Pasquin
and "Register," and had heard the applause with which
those mordent satires were received by "opposition" audi-
ences. It was no wonder, therefore, that a brilliant com-
pany assembled to applaud the foundling-comedy; and it
is as little a matter of surprise-ill-adapted as it was to the
taste and spirit of the times—that its name soon disappeared
from the play-bills.¹
The part which Garrick had taken in bringing it on the
stage for the benefit of Fielding's family was, to say the
least, most commendable. But some misunderstanding
appears to have arisen between the manager and Sir John
Fielding-the half-brother of the novelist-respecting it,
for which it is difficult to account. Mr. Forster, in his
"Life and Times of Oliver Goldsmith," has quoted (in
a note) the following endorsement of Garrick's on one of
Sir John's "angriest letters: "—
"The beginning of my correspondence with Sir John
Fielding was thus:-His brother, the late Mr. Fielding,
was my particular friend; he had written a comedy, called
'The Good-natured Man,' which, being sent to his different
friends, was lost for twenty years. It luckily fell to my
lot to discover it. Had I found a mine of gold on my own
land it could not have given me more pleasure. I imme-
diately went to his brother, Sir John, and told him the
story of my discovery, and immediately, with all the warmth
imaginable, offered my services to prepare it for the stage.
He thanked me cordially, and we parted with mutual
expressions of kindness."
""
-
comedy, even when he had reached a very advanced age, is said to have been
"unequalled in the annals of the theatre." After his decease, the character
was played by George Frederick Cooke, so successfully that the best judges
admitted it to be equal to the original. More recently, the admirers of old
English comedy have been gratified by the admirable acting of Mr. Phelps in
the same part.
(1) The comedy was performed nine times.
1754-78.]
FIELDING'S FAMILY.
369
Thus far the endorsement; after which a portion of
Garrick's letter, "with which he met Sir John's most
petulant explosion," is given by Mr. Forster:-
"We will, if you please, not be the trumpeters of our
own virtues (as Shakspere says), but take care that the
innocent do not suffer by our mistakes. There shall be no
anathema denounced against them by me. If my thoughts
and alteration of the plan of 'The Good-natured Man' will
be of the least service to their welfare, I will go on with
my scribbling with pleasure; though my health is at
present so precarious¹ that I am really afraid to undertake
the whole (for much is wanted), lest the business should be
retarded by my leaving London or the kingdom. What
could you possibly mean by saying that the mischief to the
poor innocent family would not be so great as my anger
teaches me to believe? Surely these, Sir John, were the
dictates of your anger and not mine; and I will venture to
say that now it is passed you are sorry that you said it, as
barbarity is as great a stranger to my nature as falsehood
is to yours. If you have obliged and honoured me, I thank
you; that you never were in the way to be obliged by me
is certain, or I should certainly have done it. Some reci-
procal acts of kindness passed between your brother and me,
too trifling to be mentioned-but his praise is fame. You
might have guessed at my warmth to you and yours, by
the pleasure I had in the discovery of the lost treasure.
What you have said kindly, I will remember; what un-
kindly, I will forget. I will not say, farewell.
"D. GARRICK.'
""
Honourable indeed to Garrick was this regard for his
departed friend, and this care for the interest of those he
had left behind him. Twenty-four years had elapsed since
the great novelist's death, but the interval had not cooled
the ardour of his friendship. If the spirits of the dead
are cognisant of what passes on earth, what unutterable
(1) Garrick died a few months afterwards—viz., on the 20th January, 1779.
B B
少
​370
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754-78.
pleasure must Fielding have derived from the instances
of strong and lasting attachment displayed towards his
memory by his surviving friends!
The "innocent family," for whose welfare he had
breathed, on the verge of the grave, so many anxious.
prayers, found a generous protector in Mr. Ralph Allen,
his constant benefactor. The kindness of this most bene-
volent man to Fielding has been mentioned more than
once in these pages. It has been said that whilst engaged
in the composition of "Tom Jones," he lived for a con-
siderable time at Tiverton, in the neighbourhood of Prior
Park, and dined every day at Allen's table. Be this as it
(1) The description of Mr. Allworthy's house in "Tom Jones" is said to
have been intended for Prior Park :
:-"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 was now the middle of May, and the morning was remarkably serene,
when Mr. Allworthy walked forth on the terrace, when 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 up 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."-Tom Jones,
book i. c. 4.
•
•
Joseph Andrews also thus refers to the good deeds and celebrated mansion of
Allen "Some gentlemen of our cloth report charitable actions done by their
lords and masters; and I have heard Squire Pope, the great poet, at my lady's
table, tell stories of a man that lived at a place called Ross, and another at the
Bath, one Al-, Al—; I forget his name, but it is in the book of verses. This
gentleman hath built up a stately house, too, which the squire likes very
well; but his charity is seen further than his house, though it stands on a hill
ay, and brings him more honour too."-Joseph Andrews, book iii. c. 6.
Reference has been already made to Pope's intimacy with Allen; but it
should be here stated that Warburton-certainly one of the most remarkable
men of the age-was also often a guest at Prior Park, and ultimately marry-
ing Miss Tucker, Allen's niece, became possessed of the mansion described
in "Tom Jones.' In November, 1745, Warburton published a
"Sermon,
occasioned by the present unnatural rebellion, preached in Mr. Allen's chapel,
Prior Park." It is a circumstance of some interest, that the Bible used in Prior
Park, on this and other occasions, was that presented to Pope by Atterbury, at
their last interview in the Tower.-(Johnson's Lives of the Poets.) The personal
appearance of Mr. Allen and his wife are thus described by Derrick, a con-
""
1754-78.]
371
FIELDING'S FAMILY.
may, it is certain that he frequently received assistance
from him in his difficulties, and when death deprived his
widow and children of their protector, the generous patron
became “a father to the fatherless," superintended the
education of the children, and at his decease (which
occurred just ten years after the novelist left England)
bequeathed to the family an annuity of £100 a year.
Fielding's eldest son, William, was called to the Bar,
and became ultimately a police magistrate. Once, it is
said, when he appeared in the Court of King's Bench,
Lord Mansfield,—displaying a kind and generous sense of
the father's genius,-in his blandest tone and urbanest
manner called on him to support a rule in these words,
"Well, Tom Jones, what have you to say to this?" His
second son entered the Church, and resided at Canterbury.
Mrs. Sarah Fielding, the authoress of "David Simple,'
survived her brother many years. During the latter part
of her life she lived at Bath, much respected for her dis-
tinguished literary attainments. She translated Xenophon's
Memorabilia," and is the reputed authoress of "The
Cry," a dramatic novel in three volumes.¹ Her good sense
and amiable manners, no less than her acquirements
(which were in those days considered most remarkable
for a woman), caused her society to be much sought and
esteemed; and Dr. Hoadley has celebrated her perfections.
in the following eulogistic lines:-
CC
""
"Her unaffected manners, candid mind,
Her heart benevolent, and soul resigned;
Were more her praise than all she knew or thought,
Though Athens' wisdom to her sex she taught."
She died on the 6th of April, 1768, and was buried at
(1) In the "Biographie Universelle," it is quoted as "Les pleurs."
temporary :-"I have had an opportunity of visiting Mr. Allen. He is a very
grave, well-looking old man, plain in his dress, resembling that of a Quaker,
and courteous in his behaviour. I suppose he cannot be much under seventy.
His wife is low, with grey hair, of a very pleasing address, that prejudices you
much in her favour."
B B 2
372
LIFE OF FIELDING.
[1754-78.
Charlecombe, near Bath. Dr. Hoadley erected a monu-
ment to her memory, which bears, or bore, the following
inscription:"Esteemed and loved, near this place lies
Mrs. Sarah Fielding . . . . How worthy of a nobler monu-
ment! but her name will be written in the Book of Life!"
Fielding's half-brother, Sir John, acted as a London
police magistrate for many years. He was the author of
some works of a professional character,¹ and the enlightened
originator of many projects of public utility. He died at
Brompton, in 1780, having been knighted in 1761. In
the dedication of "The Fathers" to the Duke of Northum-
berland, he thus speaks of his lamented brother:-" The
author of this play was an upright, useful, and distin-
guished magistrate for the county of Middlesex; and by
his publications laid the foundation of many wholesome
laws for the support of good order and subordination in
this metropolis, the effects of which have been, and now
are, forcibly felt by the public. His social qualities made
his company highly entertaining. His genius, so univer-
sally admired, has afforded delight and instruction to
thousands. The memory of such a man calls for respect;
and to have that respect shown him by the great and
praiseworthy, must do him the highest honour."
The principal works of the novelist were collected and
published, in 1762, by Arthur Murphy, with the Essay
on the life and genius of the author prefixed thereto, of
which liberal use has been made in these pages. A com-
plete list of Fielding's writings (so far as they can be
ascertained) is, however, subjoined in an Appendix.
After the comments and opinions cited in the course of
this narrative, it is unnecessary to attempt a summary of
Fielding's merits and defects as a writer or a man.
As
for his human weaknesses, since, however much they might
occasion the regret, they never lessened the regard of such
(1) Among the manuscripts in the British Museum, there is also a Report on
the state of the Jews in London, by Sir John Fielding.
1754-78.]
373
LIFE OF FIELDING.
men as Lyttleton and Allen, it is not too much to expect
that they will meet with a lenient consideration at the
hands of all good men
66
M
Not so absolute in goodness
As to forget what human frailty is."
As an author, his glorious and genial fictions (still read
with delight by living thousands) have given him a perma-
nent place in literature, of which no changes in fashion or
feeling or modes of thought are likely to deprive him.
Faults they have,-and so had their author. An objection
may reasonably be taken to a passage here and there;
but, having regard to the whole scope and tenour of their
characters and conversation, it may be confidently stated.
that there were never found on earth honester, healthier,
wittier, and more agreeable companions than Tom Jones
and HARRY FIELDING.
A
APPENDIX.
A LIST OF FIELDING'S WORKS.
Those marked thus † are not included in Murphy's edition.
Love in Several Masques: a Comedy
† The Masquerade, inscribed to C-t H―d-gr. By
Lemuel Gulliver
The Temple Beau: a Comedy
The Author's Farce; with a puppet-show, called, “The
Pleasures of the Town"
+
•
•
•
The Coffee-house Politician; or, the Justice caught in
his own Trap: a Comedy
The Tragedy of Tragedies; or, the Life and Death of
Tom Thumb the Great
•
•
(Published afterwards with alterations, &c. 1731.)
The Letter Writers; or, a New Way to Keep a Wife at
Home: a Farce
•
The Universal Gallant; or, the Different Husbands
Pasquin a dramatic Satire on the Times
The Historical Register for the Year 1736
Eurydice a Farce
•
The Intriguing Chambermaid: a Comedy, in two acts
Don Quixote in England; a Comedy
An Old Man taught Wisdom; or, the Virgin Unmasked:
a Farce
•
1728
1728
1730
1730
The Grub Street Opera. By Scriblerus Secundus
The Lottery: a Farce .
The Modern Husband: a Comedy
The Covent Garden Tragedy.
The Debauchee; or, the Jesuit Caught
The Mock Doctor; or, the Dumb Lady Cured: a Comedy,
done from Molière
1732
The Miser: a Comedy, taken from Plautus and Molière. 1733
Deborah; or, a Wife for You All
1733
(Never printed. See p. 49.)
1730
1730
1731
1731
1731
1732
1732
1732
1733
1734
1735
1735
1736
1737
1737
376
APPENDIX.
Eurydice Hissed; or, a Word to the Wise
Tumble-down Dick, or, Phaeton in the Suds
†The Champion (a collection of Periodical Essays, written
in 1739 and 1740, with Ralph). Two vols. 12mo.
† True Greatness: an Epistle to George Dodington, Esq.. 17412
†The Vernoniad; done into English from the original
1741'
Greek of Homer
1741
The Crisis: a Sermon
humbly inscribed to the
Right Reverend the Bench of Bishops. By a Lover of
his Country .
•
•
(See page 145, note).
•
†The Opposition: a Vision.
The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and
his friend, Mr. Abraham Adams. Written in imita-
tion of the manner of Cervantes
+ Plutus, the God of Riches: a Comedy, from the Greek
of Aristophanes. By H. Fielding, Esq., and the Rev.
Mr. Young.
Miss Lucy in Town: a Sequel to The Virgin Unmasked.
† A Letter to a noble Lord, to whom it belongs, occasioned
by the Representation of a Farce, called "Miss Lucy in
Town
""
The Wedding Day: a Comedy
Miscellanies. By H. Fielding, Esq. Three vols.
Containing in vol. i.-
† Poems-Miscellaneous.
Essay on Conversation.
Essay on the Knowledge of the Characters of Men.
Essay on Nothing.3
1737
1737
1741 (?)
1741
1742
1742
1742
1742
1743
1743
Philosophical Transactions for the Year 1742-43.
Translation of the first Olynthiac of Demosthenes.
Dialogue between Alexander the Great and Diogenes the Cynic.
Interlude between Jupiter, Juno, and Mercury.
Vol. ii. contains-
A Journey from this World to the Next, and two plays (Miss
Lucy in Town, and the Wedding Day).
Vol. iii. contains-
The History of the Life of the late Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great.
Preface to "David Simple"
1744
(1) These Essays were afterwards republished with Fielding's name in 1766.
He continued to contribute to "The Champion" till June, 1741. See page 111.
(2) Reprinted in the Miscellanies.
(3) This essay is reprinted in Mr. Roscoe's edition of Fielding's Works. 1 vol.
8vo. 1841.
(4) Republished, "with additions and corrections," in 1754.
APPENDIX.
377
† Essays, &c., in "The True Patriot" (a selection only
published in Murphy's edition)
† The Jacobite Journal (two Essays only published by
Mr. Murphy)
Preface to "Familiar Letters between the principal Cha-
racters in David Simple"
† A proper Answer to a scurrilous Pamphlet, entitled,
"An Apology for the Conduct of a second-rate Mini-
ster." By the Editor of The Jacobite Journal
The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling
•
·
•
A Charge delivered to the Grand Jury of the Middlesex
Sessions, on Thursday, the 29th June, 1749
† A true State of the Case of Bosavern Penlez
•
•
An Inquiry into the Causes of the late Increase of
Robbers, &c.; with some Proposals for remedying this
growing Evil
•
Amelia
† The Covent Garden Journal (a selection from this paper
published in Murphy's edition)
•
•
•
1745-46
1747-48
1747
1747
1749
1749
1749
† Examples of the Interposition of Providence in the De-
tection and Punishment of Murder; with an Intro-
duction and Conclusion
† A Proposal for making an effectual Provision for the
Poor.....
By Mr. Fielding. Dedicated to the Right
Hon. Henry Pelham.
† A clear State of the Case of Elizabeth Canning
The Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon. By the late Henry
Fielding. With Fragment of a Comment on Lord
Bolingbroke's Essays
1755
The Fathers; or, the Good-natured Man: a Comedy. 1779
(First acted, 1778.)
1751
1751
1752
1752
1753
1753
With regard to Fielding's great novel, a few bibliographical notes
are appended. The first edition, as already stated (see page 250),
was published by Millar in six volumes 12mo., printed in a good
clear type. The most noticeable feature in this edition is a page of
errata, embracing only five volumes, most of which are not merely
corrections of unintentional errors which had crept into the text
during its progress through the press, but alterations by the author.
For example:-the contents of Book III. profess to describe what
took place from the time when the hero arrived at the age of four-
teen till he attained that of seventeen; but the author, having fixed
Sophia's age at the same period, saw the propriety of altering that
378
APPENDIX.
Τ
of Tom Jones to nineteen, remembering, in all probability, the wise
counsel of Shakspere's ducal lover in "Twelfth Night :"-
"Let still the woman take
An elder than herself; so wears she to him,
So sways she level in her husband's heart.
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,
Than women's are."
With respect to the foreign translations of " Tom Jones," in addi-
tion to the observations already made, the following particulars have
been communicated by a friend:-
"The Polish translation of 'Tom Jones' in the library of the British
Museum is far from either a close or a good one. All the introductory
chapters to the different books are mercilessly omitted, which is
perhaps of itself enough to show the bad taste of the translator.¹
Again, in a sort of preface to the fourth volume, there is a short
'advertisement' on the object and tendency of the novel, in which
the reader is considerately informed that in Tom Jones the author
intends to delineate a young man of good heart, but impetuous
passions, &c. &c. This advertisement,' however, is not from the
pen of the translator, Franciszek Zablocki, who, in the preface, states
that to compose anything so excellent was beyond his powers, and
who was perhaps indebted for it to his patron, Prince Czartoryski,
to whom he dedicates the translation, as having been made at his
suggestion. The book does not appear to have had much success.
Bentkowski, in his 'Historya Literatury Polskiey' (vol. i. p. 464),
says that what professes to be a second edition, published at Breslau,
in 1804, is in reality the same, with merely fresh title-pages, as the
edition which is in possession of the Museum, in four duodecimo
volumes, with the date of Warsaw, 1793.
"The Polish 'Tom Jones' was purchased for the British Museum
library at the time when a project was entertained of procuring the
whole set of foreign translations of some of our most distinguished
authors, such as Shakspere, Milton, &c., and in the case of very
voluminous writers, the whole set of translations of some one of their
most conspicuous productions. It was intended, for instance, to get
all of Tom Jones,' 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' 'The Antiquary,' and
'The Pickwick Papers.' It was thought that such a collection would
furnish an unusually interesting means of comparing the powers and
(1) Dr. Beattie also remarks, that "a certain French author, to render his
translation of "Tom Jones' more acceptable to his countrymen, and to clear it
of what he foolishly calls English phlegm, has greatly abridged that incompar-
able performance, and, in my opinion, expunged some of the finest passages."
APPENDIX.
379
copiousness of the different languages of Europe-some of them at
very different stages of their progress-and that it would also supply
very good materials for the history of the progress of English litera-
ture abroad. The execution of the idea was brought to a stand-still
by the general decrease in the resources of the library, but I now
hope it will be resumed at some not very remote period. It had
already been carried far enough to place on the Museum shelves an
array of translations of Shakspere into Swedish, Polish, Hungarian,
Italian, Russian, Frisian, German, &c., which will supply more than
one new page to future bibliographers.
To return to 'Tom Jones :'-Sopikov, in his 'Russian Biblio-
graphy' (in five volumes, published at St. Petersburg, in 1813—16),
mentions translations of many of the works of Fielding, but not one
of them direct from the original-all either from French or German.
The 'Tom Jones' by Kharlamov is from the French. An edition of
it, in four volumes, with plates, was published at St. Petersburg, in
1770-71; a second at Moscow, in 1787. There is no other transla-
tion mentioned in the subsequent catalogues of Smirdin and Olkhin.
This is somewhat surprising, as the Russians are remarkably fond of
English novels. I see by a new number of one of their periodicals
(The Otechestvennuiya Zapiski' for June, 1855), that in the midst.
of the desperate struggle before Sebastopol, the public of St. Peters-
burg was being amused with translations, given at full length in that
magazine, of Lever's 'Dodd Family Abroad,' and Ainsworth's 'Flitch
of Dunmow.'
"The Germans, as might be supposed, are rich in translations of
'Tom Jones,' but they do not seem to have been so early in the field
as might have been anticipated. Hirsching, in 1795 (Historisch-
literarisches Handbuch, vol. ii. p. 218), speaks of one that had ap-
peared about thirty years before, which is probably the same as that
of which Heinsius mentions an edition at Hamburg, in 1771. An
entirely new one, from the pen of Professor Schmit, was issued at
Nuremberg, in 1780. The merits of both appear to have been very
scanty, and they were completely superseded by that of J. J. Bode
(6 vols., Leipzig, 1786-88), which was for a length of time the stan-
dard version. A new one, by Lüdemann, formed part of Brock-
haus's 'Bibliothek classischer Romane,' about 1825; and another, by
Diezmann, of the 'Bibliothek der älteren Romandichter Englands,'
about 1840. It is worth remarking that 'Tom Jones' has been
reprinted at least three times in English in Germany: at Dresden,
in 1773; at Basel, in 1791; and at Marburg, in 1814-24. The last
of the three, in five volumes, has 'critical and explanatory notes,
and grammatical observations, by Karl F. C. Wagner.'
"The catalogue of the Upsal Library mentions a Swedish translation
of 'Tom Jones,' published at Westeras, in 1765. It must be very
380
APPENDIX.
little known, for it is found neither in Hammarsköld's list of foreign
novels translated into Swedish, nor in Lénström's. No Danish
translation appears to exist. A Dutch one, in three volumes, pub-
lished at Amsterdam, is mentioned in Arrenberg's revision of
Abkoude's 'Naamregister van Nederduitsche Boeken,' but by some
mischance he does not specify the date. The edition is described as
the second, and it must of course have been issued before 1773, the
date of Arrenberg's publication.
"There is no mention of any Italian translation in the different
biographies of Fielding, which I have looked at in various Italian
cyclopædias and biographical dictionaries. The library of the
British Museum possesses one in Spanish. It is in four volumes,
published at Madrid, in 1796. The translator is Don Ignacio de
Ordejon, who informs us, in the preface, that he took it from the
French of M. Laplace. He also gives in the preface a short account
of the author, in which we are told, among other things, that
although living in an irreligious country and age, he was much
attached to religion, whose interests were always sacred in his eyes.""
،
In conclusion, it may be stated that, in English, two of Fielding's
novels (" Joseph Andrews" and "Amelia") have been illustrated by
the graphic and genial pencil of George Cruikshank, in Roscoe's
"Novelist's Library.”
1
INDEX.
ADAMS, Parson, character of, 155; original
of, 156; compared with the Vicar of
Wakefield, 156, n.; letters of, in The True
Patriot, 208, 211.
Addison, Joseph, introduced in Fielding's
Journey from this World to the Next, 187;
established The Freeholder in 1715, 205.
Allen, Ralph, 227, 252, 292, 370.
Allworthy, character of, 195, 252, 370, n.
Amelia, Fielding's novel of, 290-301.
Amherst, Nicholas, fate and character of,
129.
Andrews, Joseph. See JOSEPH ANDREWS.
Miss Sarah, Fielding's attachment
to, 67.
,
Arbuthnot, Dr., satirises Italian singers,
51, n.
Argyle, John, Duke of, 56.
Aristophanes, projected translation of, by
Fielding and Young, 157.
Arnall, a paid scribe of the Walpole govern-
ment, 92, n.
Aston, Tony, speech of, against the Licens-
ing Act, 55, N.
Authors, Case of, by Ralph, 113.
Author's Farce, dramatic satire, by Field-
ing, 21, 54.
Authorship in 1730, 27.
BALMERINO, Lord, 213, n., 215.
Banks, John, his Earl of Essex ridiculed in
Tom Thumb, 38.
Barnabas, Parson, disputes with Adams, in
Joseph Andrews, 161.
Barnard, Sir John, 55, n.
Bartholomew Fair, Fielding and Hyppes-
ley's booth at, 50.
Bath, the resort of barristers of Western
Circuit, 183, n.
projected journey to, by Fielding, 328.
Mrs. S. Fielding a resident at, 371.
Bedford, John, Duke of, 251, n.
Beggar's Opera, production and popularity
of, 17.
2
sequel to the, 93, n.
Berkeley, Bishop, Treatise on Tar-water,
332.
Blair, Hugh, his criticism on Fielding,
355, n.
Blandy, Miss, 317.
Boheme, Anthony (the actor), 72, n.
Bolingbroke, Henry St. John, first Vis-
count, 359.
Bolton, Duchess of (the original Polly
Peachum), 17.
Booth (in Amelia), his description of coun-
try life, &c., 77.
Bow Street, Fielding presides at, 239.
officers, 240.
Boyse, Samuel, his poem of the Deity, 125;
his abject poverty and miserable fate, 126.
Burnet, Mr. Justice, anecdote of, 331.
Byrom, John, his epilogue to Hurlothrumbo,
-22; account of that piece, 23, n.
Byron, Lord, affected by the ballad of
Hardyknute, 134, n.; opinion of Tom
Jones, 256.
CADIÈRE, Catherine, case of, 46.
Cambridge, Richard Owen, 280.
Camden, Earl of. See PRATT.
Canning, Elizabeth, case of, 320-326.
Capital punishments, 245.
Carey, Henry, 36.
Causidicade, The, 197, 227.
Cave, Edward, 126, 169, 191.
Celia, the poetical name of Miss Cradock, 69.
Cervantes, Fielding's early admiration of,
59; anecdote of, 85; imitated in Joseph
Andrews, 155.
Chamberlain, Lord, jurisdiction of, before
the Licensing Act, 93.
Champion, The, Fielding's paper of, 109-
136.
Charke, Mrs. (daughter of Colley Cibber),
a performer in The Historical Register,
&c., $7.
Charles I., tragedy of, by Havard, 99; cha-
racter of, by Lord Chesterfield, 99, n.
Chatham, Earl of. See PITT.
Chesterfield, Philip Earl of, 16, 61; speech
on the Licensing Act, 97-104, 99, n.,
104, n.
Chrononhotonthologos, burlesque, by Ca-
rey, 36.
Chrysipus, a paper on the, by Fielding, 185.
Churchill, Charles, 32, 53.
J
Cibber, Colley, 9; Fielding's early intimacy
with, 14; character of, 15, 64; satirised
in Pasquin and in Historical Register,
under the name of Ground-Ivy, 89; his
version of King John, 89, n.; improve-
ments of Shakspere, 91; attack upon
Fielding in his Apology, 120; mock-trial
of, by Fielding, 121; ridiculed in Joseph.
Andrews, 160; anecdote of, 179,
-, Theophilus, satirised under the
name of Pistol in Historical Register,
86, n.; imitates Fielding's Great Mogul's
Company, 107; satirised in The Cham
pion, 121.
-, Mrs., dispute with Mrs. Clive as to
the part of Polly Peachum, 86, n.
Clive, Mrs., 49, 53, 167.
Cock, the auctioneer, 87.
Cœlia; or, the Perjured Lover, prologue to,
by Fielding, 58, n.
Coffee-house Politician, comedy by Field-
ing, 32.
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, comparison of
Fielding and Richardson by, 162; re-
marks on the plot of Tom Jones, 257;
and on the morality of that novel, 261.
Compromise of 1742, 129.
Congreve, William, imitated by Fielding,
11, 12.
Conversation, essay on, 183.
Covent Garden in 1730-35, description of,
44, n.
Tragedy, burlesque by
Fielding, 44.
Theatre, erection of, 52.
Journal, 303-314.
Coverley, Sir Roger de, 161.
382
INDEX.
Cradock, Charlotte, Fielding's first wife, 69.
Craftsman, a sermon of Henley's from the,
26, n.
Amherst's connection with the,
129, n.
Crisis, the, a sermon ascribed to Fielding,
145.
Crowle, the barrister, anecdotes of, 150, n.
Culloden, battle of, 212.
Cumberland, Duke of, pursues the rebels
from Derby, 209; his severity to them,
213, n.
Cuzzoni, the singer, 51.
DAVID SIMPLE, preface to, by Fielding,
196-200.
ด
Davies, Tom, his remarks on Lillo, 131.
Davy, Serjeant, anecdotes of, 139; early
life, 140, n.; speech of, in the case of
Elizabeth Canning, 327, n.
Dawson, James, execution of, 214.
Debauchee; or, the Jesuit Caught, comedy
of the, 45.
Deborah; or, a Wife for You All, afterpiece
by Fielding, 49.
Deity, the, poem by Boyse, 125.
Demosthenes, first Olynthiac of, translated
by Fielding, 185.
Denbigh, Earls of, 2, 3.
Desmond, Earl of, 3.
Dodington, George Bubb, afterwards Lord
Melcombe, 144; his character by Ches-
terfield, 145.
Don Quixote in England, comedy of, 7, 59.
Drake, Nathaniel, account of The Cham-
pion by, 111; opinion of that periodical,
117.
Drury Lane Theatre deserted by the actors,
52.
Dryden, John, his Conquest of Granada,
&c., ridiculed in Tom Thumb, 37.
Dunciad, portrait of Orator Henley from
the, 26, n.
EALING, Fielding at, 332.
East Stour, Fielding's residence at, 72, 73, n.
Edwards, Mr., of Turrick, his criticism on
Fielding's Journal of a Voyage to Lis-
bon, 339, n.
Elmerick (tragedy by Lillo), production of,
132.
>
Erskine, James, speech on the multiplica-
tion of playhouses, 1734-35, 55, n.
Thomas Lord, 209, n.
Eton, Fielding's schoolfellows at, 4.
Eurydice, a farce, by Fielding, 105.
Hissed.
5
FARQUHAR, George, 10, 14, n.
Fashion, 205.
Fatal Curiosity, tragedy by Lillo, 131.
Fathers, the, comedy by Fielding, 171, 362.
Faustina, the singer, 51.
Feilding. See FIELDING.
Fenton, Miss.
Fielding family, 1-3.
See BOLTON, DUCHESS OF.
150.
Lieutenant-general, 7; his death,
Principal events of his
, Henry.
life:-
His birth (1707), 3.
Produces his first comedy (1728), 10.
First marriage and country life (1735),
67.
Becomes manager of the Great Mogul's
Company (1736), 80.
Fielding admitted a student of the Middle
Temple (1737), 108.
Contributes to The Champion (1739),
111.
Called to the Bar, and joins the West-
ern Circuit (1740), 137.
Publication of Joseph Andrews (1742),
151.
Produces a play for Garrick (1743),
168.
Publishes his Miscellanies-containing
the Journey from this World to the
Next, and the History of Jonathan
Wild (1743), 181.
Loses his first wife (1743), 193.
Publishes The True Patriot (1745), 205.
Second Marriage (1746 ?), 216.
Publishes The Jacobite Journal (1747),
221.
Appointed a justice of the peace for
Middlesex, &c. (1748), 231.
Publication of Tom Jones (1749), 250.
Elected Chairman of the Middlesex
Quarter-Sessions (1749), 268.
Serious illness (1749), 281.
Publishes Amelia (1751), 290.
The Covent Garden Journal
(1752), 302.
Last efforts in the public service (1753),
329.
Departure for Lisbon (1754), 334.
Death and burial (1754), 349.
"
Sir John, 273; his correspond-
ence with Garrick respecting the comedy
of The Fathers, 368; career as a magis-
trate, &c., 372.
,
Sarah, publishes David Simple,
196; her life and character, 371..
William, 371.
"
Fish and Fishmongers, Fielding's remarks
on, 345.
Fleetwood, the manager of Drury Lane,
171.
Foote, Samuel, his performances at the
Haymarket, 108, 269; anecdotes of, 343,
344.
Footmen, London, in 1735, 62–64.
Fordhook, Fielding's house at, 334.
Forster, John, comparison of the Vicar of
Wakefield and Parson Adams by, 156, n.
Fox, Henry, 5.
Francis, Mrs., Fielding's sketch of, 337.
Frederick, Prince of Wales, character of,
by Lord Hervey, 204.
Frost of 1739-40, 115.
GAMESTER (tragedy by Moore), production
of, 280.
Gaming, vice of, 270, 280, 328.
Garrick, David, epitaph on Havard, the
comedian, 99, n.; performs in The Mock
Doctor, 169; early intimacy with Field-
ing, 171; performs in The Wedding Day,
173; his parsimony, 175; Quin and Cib-
ber's opinion of, 179; his Hamlet de-
scribed in Tom Jones, 263-265; epigram
on Sir John Hill, 304; ode on the death
of Mr. Pelham, 359; superintends the pro-
duction of The Fathers, 363; prologue to
that comedy, 364; letter to Sir John
Fielding, 368.
Genest, Rev. John (of Bath), author of
Some Account of the English Stage,
168, n.
INDEX.
383
George II., character of, 203; his inhuman-
ity, 243.
Gibbon, Edward, his panegyric on Fielding,
1; opinion of Tom Jones, 256.
Giffard, the manager of the Lincoln's-Inn
Field's Theatre, 95.
Gin, Fielding's denunciation of, 285.
Glastonbury Waters, the, 288.
Glover, Richard (author of Leonidas), 359, n.
Golden Rump, The, 96.
Goldsmith, Oliver, quotation from his Life
of Beau Nash, 12, n.
Goodman's Fields, theatre at, 17.
Good-natured Man, comedy by Fielding,
171; afterwards called The Fathers, 362.
Gordon, Thomas, 72, n.
Gould, Mr. Justice, 3; character of, 141.
Great Mogul's Company, the, 81, 107, 108.
Ground-Ivy, Cibber ridiculed under that
name, 89.
Grub Street Opera, 41.
HAPSBURGH, Counts of, 1, 2.
Hardcastle, Ephraim, pseud.
(i. e. Pyne),
author of Wine and Walnuts, 17, n., &c.
Hardyknute, ballad of, 133.
Harper, the comedian, anecdote of, 52, n.
Harris, John, of Salisbury, 355, 366, n.
Harrison, Dr. (in Amelia), 77.
Havard, the comedian, his tragedy of
Charles I., 99; epitaph on, by Garrick,
II, n.
Hawkins, Sir John, his character of Field-
ing, 355; satirical epitaph on, 357, n.
Haymarket Theatre, Fielding's manage-
ment of the, 81; Foote's performances at,
108, 269.
Heidegger, Count, 15; anecdotes of, 16;
ridiculed in The Author's Farce, 26.
Henley, Orator, ridiculed in The Author's
Farce, 23; character and career of, 23-26;
sketch of in The Dunciad, 26, n.; becomes
a Jacobite, 211.
Henley, afterwards Lord Chancellor North-
ington. See NORTHINGTON.
Hervey, John Lord, Memoirs of the Reign
of George II., 97, n., 203, 204, n., 259, n.
Hickathrift, Thomas, history of, 38, n.
Highmore, lessee of Drury Lane, 52.
Hill, Aaron, 165.
Hill, Sir John, attacked by Fielding in the
Covent Garden Journal, 304-307; cha-
racter and career of, 304.
Hippesley, the comedian. See HYPPESLEY.
Historical Register for 1736, 86–94.
Hogarth, William, eulogised by Fielding in
The Champion, 134, 222, n.; allusion to
in Tom Jones, 265; his genius compared
with that of Fielding, 266; his picture of
Gin Lane, 286, n.; portrait of Fielding,
352; his regret at Fielding's death, 354;
death of, 367.
Hooke, Nathaniel, 166.
Hudibras, description of a justice of the
peace in, 232.
Hyppesley, John, the original Peachum,
33; booth with Fielding at Bartholomew
Fair, 50.
INTRIGUING Chambermaid, comedy by Field-
ing, 53.
JACOBITE Journal, The, 221-230.
Jacobitism at Oxford, 200, n.
Jail Fever, 296.
Johnson, Charles, the dramatist, 58, n.
Johnson, Dr. Samuel, is present at per-
formance of The Mock Doctor, 169; his
parliamentary reports in the Gentleman's
Magazine, 191; his criticism on Tom
Jones, 262; and on Amelia, 299.
Johnson, Samuel, author of Hurlothrumbo,
ridiculed in The Author's Farce, 21; his
character, 22, and n.
TOM
Jones, Tom. See Toм JONES.
Joseph Andrews, origin of, 151; anecdote
respecting, 164, n.
Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, 329-349.
Journey from this World to the Next, 119.
Julian, the Apostate, transmigration of, 187,
Junius, attack of, on the Duke of Bedford,
251, n.
Justices, trading, character and position of,
232-236.
Juvenal, sixth satire of, imitated by Field-
ing, 67.
KENNINGTON Common, execution of the
rebels at, 214.
Kenrick, 315.
Kilmarnock, Lord, 213, n., 215.
King and the Miller of Mansfield, 91.
LA HARPE on Tom Jones, 256.
Law, Satirical remarks on the study of, in
The Champion, 112.
Lear, Tate's version of, 91.
Letter-Writers, The (a farce by Fielding),
41.
Leyden, University of, 6.
Licensing Act, origin and nature of, and
debates on the, 95, 104.
Lillo, George, 130-133.
Lintot, the bookseller, 28, n.
Lottery, The, a farce, 41.
Lovegold, the miser, character of, 48.
Love in Several Masques, comedy of, 10—14.
Lisbon, Fielding's arrival at, 349; his burial-
place at, 350, 351, n.
Lun, John, theatrical name of Rich, 106, n.
Lyttleton, George, first Lord, 4, 56, 195, n.,
227, 231; Tom Jones dedicated to, 251,
262, n.; Fielding's letter to, on his second
marriage, 277; Smollett's attacks on, 309;
reflections on Fielding's decease, 354; his
death, 367.
MACKLIN, Charles, 33, n., 35, 105, 108,
173, 174, 175; his British Inquisition,
342-345; comedy of The Man of the
World, and anecdote of, 367, n.
M'Lean, the highwayman, 242.
Mansfield, Lord, anecdote of, 371.
Marlborough, Sarah Duchess of, 166.
Masquerade, The, a poem, 15.
Melcombe, Lord. See DODINGTON.
Meredith, Sir W., speech of, 246.
Meyrionnet, the Chevalier de, 350.
Millar, Andrew, the bookseller, 164, n.,
177, 290, 291.
Miller of Mansfield, by Dodsley, 91.
Misaubin, Dr. John, 47.
Miscellanies, Fielding's, 183.
Miser, The, comedy of, 48.
Miss Lucy in Town, 167.
Mock Doctor, 47, 170.
Modern Husband, comedy of, 41—44.
Mogul's Company. See GREAT MOGUL.
Molière, Fielding's admiration of, 47.
anecdote of, 101.
ว
Monboddo, Lord, criticism by, on Tom
Jones, 257.
384
INDEX.
2
Montague, Lady Mary Wortley, 13, 42, 43,
193, n., 217, 255, 293; character of Field-
ing by, 353.
Moore, Edward, author of The Gamester,
278-280.
Murphy, Arthur, 39, 110, 257, 275; criti-
cism on Amelia, 299; his portrait of Field-
ing, 351; sketch of his life and character,
351, n.
NORTHINGTON, Henley, Lord Chancellor, 138.
OLD ENGLAND, newspaper, 226, n.
Oldfield, Mrs., 9, 30.
Old Man taught Wisdom, 62.
Opposition, The, a vision, 145.
PAGE, Mr. Justice, 147-150.
Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded, 151.
Partridge at the playhouse, 263.
Pasquin, a dramatic satire, 82-86.
Penlez, Bosavern, case of, 281.
Phillips, Ambrose, 44; anecdote of, 233.
Pitt, William Earl of Chatham, 4, 5.
Polly, sequel to the Beggar's Opera, 93.
Poor, Fielding's scheme for improving the
laws relating to, 318, 319.
Pope, Alexander, 28, n., 151, 180.
Porcupinus Pelagius, pseud., 226.
Poulson, Justice, death of, 232, n.
Pounce, Peter, in Joseph Andrews, 158-160.
Pratt, Charles Earl of Camden, 137.
Pulteney, William, afterwards Earl of Bath,
97, n., 129, n., 159, n.
QUIN, the actor, 65, 179.
RAFTOR, Miss.
See CLIVE.
Ralph, James, 19; career and character of,
113, 122, 129.
Rich, the manager, 52.
Richard III., Cibber's version of, 91.
Richardson, Samuel, 152; compared with
Fielding, 153, 164, 199, n.; his animosity
to Fielding, 275; opinion of Amelia, 300,
313.
Richmond, Duke of, 56.
Robbers, increase of, pamphlet on, by
Fielding, 241, 284.
Rochester, Earl of, Anecdote of, 25.
Rolt, Richard, 130.
Roxburgh, Duke of, 56.
Ryder, Sir Dudley, 165.
SALISBURY, or New Sarum, 68.
Savage, Richard, 30.
Scott, Sir Walter, 133, 221, 258, 260.
Sessions practice, 145.
Sharpham Park, Fielding's birthplace, 3, 288.
Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 363.
Shuter, the actor, 48.
Smollett, Tobias, pamphlet on Fielding and
Lyttleton, 308; attacks them in Pere-
grine Pickle, 309, 310; compared with
Fielding by Scott, 311, n.
South, Dr. Robert, 118, 121, n.
Square, the philosopher, character of, 257.
Squeezum, Justice (in Coffee-house Poli-
tician), 32, 237, n.
Strange, Sir John, 198, n.
Strephon, Fielding's poetical name, 69.
Swift, Jonathan, 143; satirises Fielding, 182.
TEMPLE BEAU, comedy of the, 17-20.
Thackeray, W. M., his character of Field-
ing, 357, 358, n.
Thomson, Dr., 224, n., 233; attends on
Fielding, 282; character of, ib.
Thomson, James, author of The Seasons,
124, 164, n.
Thornton, Bonnell, 307, n.
Thrasher, Justice (in Amelia), 237.
Thwackum, character of, 257.
Tippling Act, 287.
Tom Jones, 250—267; dramatised in France,
258; moral tendency of, 259; Johnson's
opinion of, 262; foreign translations,
378-80.
Tom Thumb the Great, Fielding's bur-
lesque of, 35-38.
Townley, Mr., execution of, 214.
Tragedy of Tragedies. See ToмM THUMB.
Trott-plaid John, pseud., 222; epitaph on,
230, n.
True Greatness, poem of, 144.
True Patriot, Fielding's paper of the, 205-
216.
Trulliber, Parson, 161.
Tumble-down Dick, 106.
Twickenham, Fielding a resident at, 274, n.
VEIL, Sir Thomas de, 64; Manual for Bow
Street Justices by, 234, n.
Vernon, Admiral, 145.
Vernoniad, The, 145.
Vinegar Family, in The Champion, 111.
WALPOLE, Horace, 95, n., 163, n., 168, n.,
201, n., 204, n., 209, n., 211, n., 213, n.,
241, n., 242, 243, n.; sketch of Field-
ing's private life by, 271, 272, 273, 274,
279, 283, 286, 317, n.
Walpole, Sir Robert, 40; satirised by
Fielding, under the name of Quidam, 86,
159, n., 276, n.
Walter, Peter, 159.
Warton, Joseph, 200.
Warton, Thomas, 200.
Wedding Day, comedy of, the, 173.
Welch, Saunders, 316, 334, n., 337, n.
Welsh Opera, 41.
Western Circuit in 1740, 137.
Western, Sophia, 254.
, Squire, 253.
Whipping criminals, 245.
Whitehead, Paul, 233.
Wild, Jonathan, History of, 188–192.
Wilks, the actor, 14, 42, n.
Williams, Sir Charles Hanbury, 5, 144, N.,
159, n., 173, n., 279.
Wills, Paul, case of, 243.
Wine and Walnuts. See HARDCASTLE.
Winnington, Mr., 5; Fielding's pamphlet in
vindication of, 224; character of, by Ho-
race Walpole, 224, n.
Woodward, the comedian, 314, n.
Wraxall, Sir Nathaniel, description of
Fielding's burial-place by, 350, n.
Wycherley, William, 10.
YOUNG, William, original of Parson Adams,
156, 158, n.
THE END.
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