HEN R Y FIE L DIN G

THE 0 R Y o F THE COM I C

A thesis submitted to the faculty of the GRADUATE SChOOL of the

UNIV~RSITY of - INN~SOTA

by DAGMAR DONEGHY • In partial fulfillment of the requirements for

~he degree of Master of Arts .

June 1916. RltPORT of Committee on Thesis

The undersigned, acting as a Committee of the Graduate School, have r ead the accompanying thesis submttted by SD.~ ..~ . .!! . .~.~ .... ~ for the degree of .~. .~ ...... ~.. ..~ ......

They approve it as a thesis meeting tho require- menta of the Grad ate School of t h e Un iv@raity of

:Minnesota, and recommend that it be accepted in

partial fulfillment of the r e quirements for the degree of .~~ ...a. .. ~...... - ...... -...... -:.::d.@. _.. -.. -~...... -...... -.... --~-.. '

_.... -_ ...... - ....- ..• _- ..... __ .-...... _ ... _.. _...... _......

...... __ ._ .. __ ...... __ ._ .. _.... _...... _._ ...... _..... _.- BIB L lOG RAP H Y.

Henry Fi elding :

Love i n Several 4asgues. London, ~n ith ~ lder & co., 1882. Th e l' empl e Heau. London, Smith Elder & Co. 1882. The Justice Caught in his Own Trap. London, Smith Elder & Co., 1882.

The ~odern Husband. London, ~mith Elder a co ., 1 882.

~~ he Debauch ees. London, Smith Elder & Co., 1882. Don Quixote in England . London, Smith Elder & Co., 1882.

'rhe Universal Gallan t. London, Smi th Elder ?r. Co., 1882.

The 'I/ edci ing Day . London , :::;w i th .l!; l de r c~ Co., 1882.

The Good-Natured Man . London. Smith Elder & Co., 1882. The Letter "lri ters or A New Way to Keep a 1/ife at Home ,

London, ~n ith ~ lder & co., 1882.

Miss ~ucy in Town. Lo t don, Smith Elder & Co., 1882.

The Lottery. Londo, Smith Elder & Co., 1882. Joseph Andrews. London, MacMil l an & Co., 1907. Jonathan iild. London, 'j: illiam r. eineman, 1903.

Tom Jones. London, MacMillan & Co., 1904.

I

.. Amelia. London, George Bell & Sons, 1905. Mi scellaneous 'Vri tings. vola. I, II and I I I. Lo ndon, vl illiam Heineman, 1903 . The Covent Garden Journal. New Haven , Yale University Press, 1915. Becker, Gustav: Don 'tuijote una Die Ene;l ishe Literatur .

Cervantes, ~ iguel de : .:J on Q,uixote de la 'lanchaj lJ ew York, J. M. Dent & Sons, 1913.

cro s S, ','! il'bur L. : The DeVe1$!I29Jemt o f the English .n ovel; New York, The d ac.n il1an c omp any, 1911.

Hie1dine; ~nglish ~ en of Letters Series, London, 1889.

Godden, G. ~ .: Henry Fielding, A Memoir; London. Sampson, Low Ma rston & Company, 1910.

Ha zli tt, ',: lll iam: Engli sll .ti u.llori s ts of the ~ i ghteen th Century.

Richardson, Samuel: Pamela; London, J. M. Dent & Sons, 1914.

III HENRY FIE L DIN G

THE 0 R Y o F THE COM I C

An examination of the work of Henry Fielding is here presented with the purpose of indicating Fielding's theory of the comic as he sets it forth in his various critical writings, and as it is exe~plified in his methods of producing the comic effect in plot, setting, chGracterization and dialogue . 'nth this end in view, the plays and novels of Fielding are discussed with rega rd to plo~ , setting, characterization and dia­ logue; and the journals of Fielding are considered in so far as they contribute to his theory of the comic. PA R T I

THE PLAYS OF HENRY FIELDI NG CONSIDERED WITH REGARD TO PLOT, SETTING, CHARACTERIZATION AND DIALOGUE. 1 ,----

CHAPTER I

The comedies of Henry Fielding considered with regard to plot, setting , <.:lw r a cteriza:t ion an a. di a,logue.

Th e dramatic works of Fielding consist 0 1' comedies after the styl e of Congreve, farces and burlesques. Th e co medies a.fter the style of Congreve are Love in Several

I Mas ques(1728), The TemEie Beau(1730), lhe Coff ee-House Pplitician.

or The Justice Caught in His Own Tran(1730), The Mosern Husband(1731

Th e Debauchees(1732), Don Q~ixote. in Engl and(1733), The Universa l %allanj(1734 ), The Wedding Da.Y(1742), and The \lood-Na tured. Man(1750)

d Love in Several Ma sques(1728 ), Fielding's first play, has all

the chara cteristics ,of the comedy of manners. ~he plot, f ollowing the model s et uy Viych erley and Congreve, is a love intrigue f ur­

thered by an a rtf ul maid serva.nt, in which the YOWlg lovers out-wi t the pompo us gua r di an ; t Le wife under a mask of affected virtue

coz ens her concei ted t~ usb and wh o i s ade up of f olly, avarice and

i l-ored surliness of temper; and My Lady ulatchless out-generals th em all and proves h er superior sense oy bestowing her hand upon the country squire 'ltisell1ore. who had been the jest of the London fops . This deception of a censorious guardian and duping of a stupid hustanQ were comedy situations which had been by Fi elding' s day so frequently used that they had become purely conventional . The intri guing s ervant with the forged letter had 10 g been a de-

ice co~non to aid comedy plo~, a d co edy since the days o! Ether­ euge h au attempteJ to be nothing but a reflection of the artifi c i al society 01' the day and had had no serious purpose nol' i tentness of mind. The plo t of .Love in Several ;.:asques. e loying these habitual comedy shirts, could harely ra11 to ce conventional. me ­ cl1anical, and artiriclal, since it evinced no ori ~' inali ty 1n comic device . T e set t i g of Love in Several lJia sg,ue2-,is in the London famil­ iar to the people of fashion, Hyde ¥ark, 8t. James , and the ~ all .

I ts scenes exhi oi t the modes and at ti tudes or t'ash1 ona cle soc i ety. an ' its a . 0 sphere i s tllc1. t of the ga y and de 0 '1· ir vor l d long famil­ i a r on the En ~ lish stage in the comedy of manners . he characters in Love in Sev , ral ..vl.asque.s are ill- de ... ined types . Sir ¥ositive Trap is a old precise < i ght who bores

ev ~r)one witll tedious accoults or tne genealogy or the Traps . Fi el(Ung attempts to .nake the cha racter humorous by t. e comedY ex­ pedient of the repetition or words or set phrases, hence Sir ¥OSl-

-2-- tive' s reiterated oath "by t h e ri ght hand of t he Traps". The af- f ecta t i on of LaJ.y T.!' ap adds t the laughter of t h e play uy its hypocritical cant about a virtue which she does not possess. How- ever • . h er cnaracter .l i k e Sir 1-' ositive's remains shadowy and is typ- ical r a ther than indi v idual. Sven my La dy '.1a tchless who 81lI1ong the worner C!lCl. r ac t ers of t h e play h8. s ·the greatest r ossi blli ties of be­ ing made into an individual character, has only a superf icial de- lineation. In ~le per s on of Wisemore t h ere is a suggestion that Fielding will some day b reak away from traditions. Tl1e beaux were t h e heroes of the day. and in all come dies conquer t ney must by t . eir s periority or dress and address . Wisemore is not a beau ; he is a queer bundle of rusticity; yet he wins the Lady :::.a tchless.

However, this original situation with its ~ ore truly comic poten- tialities is merel y sketched . The na~es Slr Apish Simple and Lord

Fo~nal sufricien tly de scrib e the characters to fuich they a p ply~and ill ustra te the p oint t hat Fl elcling' s comedy char acters had as yet a ll the rigidity of the abstract . The dialogue of Love in Several ..ia sques adopts t ne comic point of view i its trea,t,nen t of love and aarriage as li ght sub j ects of jest. The dialogue on the whole is sprightly with occasional ~ verbal sports typical of Fielding. ' alvil 'l. nd s:. eri t al chc:l.!fing the vain boastrul Ra ttle spea" as foLLOWS :

-3'- ~alvil . 3 0 ? but you should be ashamed of boasting of affairs wi til 1 a (11 es, whom it is known you .1ever spoke to • .Jeri t al. Tnere y ou are too hard on 11im, for Rattle ha s affairs .

Rattle . A d with women of rank •

•ii: al vil e 01· very high rank , i f their quality be as high as their lodgings are . (1)

The Te.uple .l:leau( 1730) w~s Fi elding t s next production . It, too, showed ~itLle ori €i Jality in comic resource. The plot of the

Te.!lple -.Eeau hinges u \) 011 tl e g .. y young gallant imposing upon the opulent Old father . ln the violation of rule or the upsetting of authori ty there is always sOluething co. ic, provideu the act of law­ lessl ess or tIle over-turning of the superior powe!' is n ot of a +Y"~

'1 i Co l:1a t ur e • l.ence comedy has always favored the case of the son in his efforts to relax the paternal leading strings. A father duped by a son was a conventional cOlledy "ituation. The setting of The Temple .l:leau is in the fa Jiliar fashionable Lon on of the time,-::>t. James .park, Th e chambers in the Temple , and the houses of the rich. Its at.tiOSphel·e lS lig. t a1 d f rivolous with love a J :.arriage f ur nisning tne su ~ ject and Jest of the comedy . The characters in The Temple Ee,tu bear such names as Slr Avarice

-4- (l). Love in Severa~ 2nsques . Act 1. Scene 4. Peuan t, who s e WH ole li! e and conv e rsation runs upon thE.. one top ic galn ; ioung Pedan t, h is son, \vho with much l(l,bour at t' e University and wi thout any g enius had Lnp roved h imsel.! in to a learn ed blo ck­ hea d; young Wild ing who spent h i s ti~e and mon ey in f esti vity ; and t e Lady ucy l'edEl. n t and t ile .Lady Gl'ct vely . These c h ~ r ac ters have little individua lity, and derive their onolY c o 'Ui c f orce from the acstract vice or vIrtue tney e. DOcty .

The dia l o gue of lne Te Ltlple }jea u i s f l a t wi th li t tle :o i quancy or point.

Tl'ie Co1'f' ee-House 1'oli ticiall. or t 11 e Justice uauP'11t in HIS Own

TracE (1730 ) d erives t h e c :l.ll edy of its plo t from t ' e over-reaching o f the unprinc i ple d old Justice who has t he t ·;.b les cleverly turned upon him. As 'n t h e t -a pre cedi n g pla rs some one i 1 authority is out-witted, but t h e comic element is p roportionately greater ~ s t he Justice, a pa rt of t he gover nnent or t h e na tion, i s to be held in

J oe awe t la i s a stern parent or a gr~~bling husband . Tne con- ventions of t h e plo t a re t , e i n triguing serval1 t, t Ile !,air of young lovEr s sepa r ated by fat e, a ll ira te parent who demana.s t 11a t hi 6 60n- i -la w ill e a fortu e . This l a st "iffi culty is solved t y inherit- ance, f) unCQ .... ') e :tce f' COi edy • ~:h e beau, that nero o f the conventional come dy , !nus t ever co tend agai nst angry f athers and the lack or a fortune , Put t n e s e two obsta cles are

-b- always overcome by a rich marriage or 8.n unlo Jked for inher i tanc e . TIl. e ending of t -L1 e "p lot wi tn IS Ab ella "refunded [jy the sea" is in t he roman tic vein, a.nd Rambl~s ref orma tion may ", ell fall under Fielding's own criticism of t h e comedy of the day. nOur modern authors of comedy have fallen almost universa lly into t he error here hinted at ; their h eroes g e ne ra~lY are no torious rogues , and tileir !lerOLles abandoned j a e s, during the firs t f our acts; but in the fiftn, t fle for me r b ecome v ery wo rthy gentlemen, and the l a tter woae of irtue and discretion; n or is t h e writer often so ~ ind as to gi v e h i mself t h e least trou ble to reconcile or to account for t his mons trous change and incongruity. Tn ere is, ind eed , no other reason to be assigned for it, t han because t h e play is draw ing to a c Jnclusioh; as if it were no less natural in a rogue to repent in the last act of a play, t han in the last act 01 nis lire; wh ich we p erceive t o be generally tne c a se a t Ty ourn , a place which mi ght indeed close t he scene of some comedies wi th lfiuch propriety, as the heroes in these a re commonly eminent for those very t a lents which not onl r cr ~ ng ~en t o the gallows, out enable t ~ e ~ to make a n hero~c f i gure Wflen they are t here." (:1.).

Tne setting of Tne ~o !": ee - Huuse ~olitician is shifted from fashionable res orts to tne streets of Lu naon at night and the house

01 t he Constacle. Tni8 choice 01 settin~ gives grea ter f reedom

or broad strokes of comedy tnau t h e co' ventional d rawl n~ r ooms and

-6- (1) . Tom Jones. Boo - v I I I . Cna p. 1 . pp3?3- 4 . pO lite throughI a res O! the forego l ng p ~ays. There are at least wo cnaracters in Tne l'O! ! P.P.-l{lI ltSe .t'olitician that are original, or at least not conventi onal. .LIle are t he Coffee- house politician and Jus t ice Squee zum. 1n the I irst, ?ield- ing begins to maKe a stuay, very imp erlect It is true, of the comic ari sing from one trait of character t aking possession o[ an indivi- dual and de stroying tha t organic balance of his personality which keeps hllfl i n normal relation --i tn the war ~ a. and hi s f ell ows. The Co! fee-house politician is so ob ses sed wi th hisspeculaotions on foreign relations, t n e infornati Jn about which he obt a ins Irom the newspapers ana Ca ll ee-houses, t hat rle hots n o ti:Tl e t o t hink about the disappeara nce of his daughter. He is particula rly haunted by the idea t hat the E!l g ~isll a re in l mm i nent uange,,· 0.1.° hav ing t n e Turks land on their shore.

II ever tell me of my daughter," excla i llls .t'olitic, ":ny country is dearer to me t han a t '..l.s a no. daughtt:!rs; shoul d t ne TurKS come amo g us, wn at. would lJ ecome of our dau ghters t hen?-----Give me leave, sir, only to let you a little into the present state of

Tur~ey. ____ Give ,e leave, slr, onlY to show you how it i~ possible f or t ri e Grand S1 gnior to f i nd an ingress in to Europe. Suppose, sir, this spot I stand on to be TurKel--tlen nere is Hungary--very ell, here is France, and here is England.------(l).

And so, in a manner highly diverting, PO.1.itic goes OIL to eJ\ -

-7- (1) Coffee-House Politician . Act 2 . Scene 11 . plain the p ossible periloQs man oeuvers or t he Tur ~s . Arter POJ.i-

tic .has fini shed his h arrangue, uort' hy reInarks, " wha t an enthusi ~ sm

rllUst it have arrlvea to, 1.0 1ll

u.augilter ! Tile gl'ee-test 1 C'lrt of ankind l e,ooul' unaer OHe ael.irium

01' anotllu'; and. Don Q,ui}:ote lift'ered fr)d tIle rest "lit 11 n'ness

Lut tne species of it. The covetous, t he pro d i g~ l, the supersti-

tious , tile lib rtine ana ~he coffeEhouse politician, are all quixoteE

in tneir several ways"(l), -- a speeCh which i s sugge s tive of" Field- ine's later study ot .t'3.r S0t1 Adacns .

The a It-witted ma ster like the out-witted husband is a comic

flgure tnat excites but l ittle pity. Justice ;:, queezurn \vl th his "protecting lll-houses, s nack ing fees, and his whole train of rogue­

ri es" ( 2 ), is such a seasoneu old vi 11... i n t hat it is a source of' de- l i gnt to see his who le o.lfice turned topsy-turvey, a nd h imself

duped by eV t;ryone. rilis character is :nore t tlan a SK etch OI a type, as, for exa.nple, is the cha r a cter of Sir Positive Trap or Sir Apish Si.nple, This t yp e or t he repro bate Justice has a tendency to be- Come indi viduali zed, to take on personali ty wi th "the spin,H e shanks tIle weasel face, and t he crane : s neCK" of .; ustice t> queezu .l , a II 't Wl nered old ~ay-pole" to whom his vices clung anu !luttered as tIe ta~tered rt Dons or a ~ay-tEee alter the fete is over. I n this ch'uact er, to.)r there is felt tn.e deeper !late of' satire, and the aut arts e 'l l'dent· t th lsgus at t e "golaen sand that too often clog e

_1;'_ (J.). COllee-hous e .t'Olitician. Act 2 . Scene 12. 2 ) • ~o r lee~nouse ~Olitlcian . .t\ct 2 . ;:,cene 3. \~ neels of justicet (1) The dialogue ill Tne COIl ee-House PO.l. i ti c i an llloves aloi1g wi th anirnatiol-l, t.hough it is not re.,ar.kC'ible lor sall-ies of wit. A typ- ical bit of dialogue occurs between Da oble and ~olitic in act five, the nUillor of whicil results f rom .p olitic's repeated "Huj'J.! Hun!!", at

.i.labo1es: account OI lorei f7 allalrs, and his Iinal relieved excla,a-

Dabble. (reading from the fl ewspaper). u'.: eantLne, we are well as­ sured that time will bring them a ll to light." Politic . Hu,n! HU.l! Dabble. "Marseilles, January the 18th. Th e affairs in regard to Italy continue still in the same uncertain cO

Dabble. .t And ev~ry hing seems tending to a rupture----lr1 eantime we expect the return of a courier from Vienna, lilo , it is generally expected will bring news of ~'t ge neral naci f ication . fI POlitic . All is well again! (2).

-\)- (1) Coffee-House Politician. Act 5 . Scene 5 (2) Coff ee-House Polltician . Act 5 . Scene 3. In connection with Fielding's attempt in the Coffe e -House

Pol itician a t a study of t he quixotic char ~ ct ~r in comedy there is to b e cun oidered the comedy Don Quixote in En gl.:1. nd, f irst produced in 173 , but begun in 1728 . "This comedy", Fielding writes in the preface to t h e play, "was b egun at Leyden in the year 1728; and after it n~d been sk etched out into a few loose scenes, was thrown by and no more thought of. It was originally writ for ~y private amusemen t; as it would have be-en little les s than quixotism itself to nope any other f r .l its from attempting characters wherein the inimitable uervants had so far excelled. Tr-, e impossibility of go- ing b eyond, and the extreme d iff iculty of keeping pace with him, were suff icient to di ffuse despair into a very adventurous author.

"I soon discovered, too. that my too sm~ll experience in, and little knowledge of t h e world, had led me into an error . I soo. found it inf lnitely ~ re difficult th~n I had imagined to vary the scene, and give my l<:n i ght an onportunity of displaying himself in a different manner from that wherein he appears in the romance.

Human nature i s everywhere the s ~n e; and the modes and habits of particular nations do not change it enough, suf ficiently to dis­ tinguisn a QUi xote in Englan u. f rolTI a Q,ui xote in Spain." (1). The plot of Don Q,ui Aote in 'En gla!1d hinges lpon a love intrigue

etweenJor et he~, tIle dau ~' hter of ~ i r 7homa s JJ oveland, and -;;'Iairlove,

(1). Don Quixote in England. 'Preface. a prepossing but penniless young gal l ant. Dorethea is a b out to be forced into a marriage with t h e disgusting uu t rich Squire Badger, wh en Don Q,uixote :n istaking t h e inn f or a castle, the l:tndlord f or a most accursed giant, and Do rethea for a beautif ul imprisoned prin- cess i n sore distress fat the aid of a knight errant, bears down upon the inn and its in.na tes. And so the comedy goes on in the true quixotic vein; Don Q,uixote, t he butt of all, ev er pursuing hi s chi meras which wi th t '"n e str.:mge incongrui ty of life, .qre the things wh ich in t he enu preven t t 11 e selfish father from marrying his daughter to a boor, and have a ch~stening -nd elevating effect upon tne earth- bound people ho look wonderingly on, and r1.re f orced to confess tha t the kli ght is not so ,Gad as e seelned. l'he setting of Don Qu i xote at an En glish country inn gives an opportu ity f or bringing in a greater variety of comic types than any setting yet chosen by Fielding for his comedies, and his appre­ ciation of the value of a country i nn as a setting f or comedy is later evidenced ~y his repeated use of it in his novels .

The characters, Don Q,uixote, Sancho, .'Jorothea, a nd Jezebel a re c ervantesian . lI'airlove is the onnventional lover a f the comedy of manners, and Squire Badger the booby, thick- headed , guzzling country squire was a type familiar in comedy, as was t . at of the ob­ s tinate, self ish fatner, Sir Thomas Loveland .

-J. - 'he hU;nor of the dialogue is after the ,:'!anner of Cervantes,

For example, the cook comes in dragging Sanclb.o by the ear.

~. Ay, nlaster, no wonder you have complained so lo!"' g of / mi ssing you r vi tual s; for all t h e time we were out in the yard thi s

rogue ha s been stuffing his guts in the pantry. Hay. he has not

only done tha t, but everything he could no t eat he has cr~~me J into

that gre8.t s8.ck there, wh ich he calls his wallet .

Don Q,uixote . Thou scoundrel to the name of a squirrel! ~il t thou eterll ally bring shame on thy master by these li ttle pilfering ri cks?

Sancho. Nay, nay, you have no reason to talk, good master of ,~ ine; the receiver's as bad as the thief; and you have been glRd, ,let me tell you, after so ne of your adventures, to see the inside

of the wallet, as well as 1 . "1n t a pox! a re these your kni ght

errantry tricks, to lea e ~our friends in the 1 rch?

Don Q,uixote. Slave Caitiff ! (1)

The Modern Husband(1731) has for its plot the ~holesome e~~ple of tne ruin of a husband who keeps htnse1f at the expeDse of his

wife's nonor . As such the plot is not comic, for the expos re and disgrace of the husoand, :t.r. [odern, is not brought about by a con­

certed sCI1eme to out-wi t or tri ck him, but follows naturally from

(1). Don Q,ui xo te in England . ct 3. Scene 14. the demand in huma,n nature tha :::, vice be eventually exposed and punished . This is a serious drama with a def ini t e pur nose of l ashing the corruption of the day under the guise of comedy. The setting of the play is in the drawing-rooms of fashionable England .

Tne characters of the play a1 e largely t h e conventional types of the comedy of the day,-- Mrs. Modern, t h e f ashionkble woman of loose virtue, the Lady Cha rlotte Gayvit remi niscent of 3 elantha in Marriag' e a l"a Mod e, with her visits and gossip, and whims ical a f ­ fecta tionsj CaptaIn Bellamant and Ga;ywi t , the usual i nof 1'e11si ve lovers . In the character of the de ~ auched and vicious Lord Richl~,

Fielding scourges the profli gate noble,more fi ~ ted to be the keeper of a 1 evee in Hewga te than to b e a Lord of the ':'1 a tion. commenting upon Lord Richly's levee, Captain Merit remarks, "What an abundance of poor wretches go to the f eeding of the vanity 0:1" tha t leviathan-- on e great r ogue". ( 1 ) . And Mr. l odern who sells his wife, is fit- ~U'fl-)- " ~ ted only to grace tne levee of the v ewgate. Fielding does not treat the subj ect of this play as a .j es t .

For t hat reason the hum or and wi t of the pla y depend Hore U"T"on the dialogue than the situation . Th ere are occasional verbal sports in the dialogue, 8S f or e:xa!'!lple the reply of :rs. f. odern to Lord Richly .

-J., J - {I}. The Modern Husband. Act 1 . Scene 8 . Lord Ri chly . Well, .iadam, you ha"\i e drawn a mas t del i @,h tful sketch of life.

Mrs. ~ odern. Then it is Rtill life; for I dare swear there never were such people breathing . (1)

But for tne most part, t h e dialoeue h8 S the sharper sting of s a tire. Mrs. Bellama n t. Like enough; for reU gion a nd comul on sense ". re in a fair way to be .a nished out of the world together.

Lord Richly. Let them go, e~adt

Mr. Eel.Larnant . This is, 1 believe, t he only age that hath scorned a pretense to religion. Lord Ricly. Then it is the only age that hath scorned hypocrisy. ¥ r. Bellamant . Ratner, that hypocrisy i s t he only hypocri sy it ants. You shall have knovm a rascal set up for honour-a fool for wit- and your profes sed dear bosom f riend, who , though he ral-

10 111' in weal th, would r e f use y ou ten g ineas to preserve you from ruin, shall lose a hundred times that sum at cards to ruin your wi f e . (2).

The Universal Gallant or The Diff erent Husbands(1734 ) has its plot Lased upon the situation arising in tne marital afrairs of a jealous, suspicious husband with his wi f e who affects a urudisn vir-

" 14- (1). The Modern Husband. Act 4. Scene 6.

(2). The Modern Husband. Act 2 . Scene~. tue, and the over credulous, unsuspecting husband who se wife as- , swnes a frankness and honesty of action that places her in her husband's estimation beyond suspicion. The jealous husband, Sir

Simon Raffler, who flatters himself that he has not a spark of jealousy in his disposition, has a virtuous wife, but he is forever miserablejsuspecting her of an intrigue with some gallant . The blind husband, Colonel Raffler, is deceived in his ife, but his days are passed in peace because he trusts her, and consid e rs himself a man who would have the most jealous disposition d id h e have any occasion to show it. Sir Simon Raffler. Sir, you injure ne, i f you call me jealous;

I have not a grain or j Lalousy within me. I am not indeed so foolishly blind as you are.

Colonel Raff ler . And you injure me, if you think I am not jealous; I am allover jealousy, and 11" there was but the least occasion to sho' it---. (1) This bit of dialo gue illustrates the situation of the two hus­ bands, the comedy of whiCh arises from the fact that both men de~i eeive themselves. The setting of the play is ~ i ke the preceding , in tne homes f the Iashionaole world . The at~osphere 01 the p lay is ga y, ith l ove and. ;narriage treated 1 i e:htly as subj ects of j e s t a nd ! aney.

- 15- The dialogue is not remarkable for its wit nor does it have the snarp sd tire of the ~ odern Husband .

In The Debauchees, O!' tile Jesuit Caught(1732) the comedy of the plot arises from the clever out-witting or a licentious priest. Getting the better of authori ty, or the relaxin (" of discipline al- ways app eals to numanitY,as ludicrous, wnether it be t h e authority of a churchman , an officer of the law, a parent or a husba.nd that is out-done. Lne setting of Th e Debauchees is in the apartments of a conven- tional home . The dialogue is humorous and s 8tiric leveled a t the impositions of the church on superstitions people. Old Jourdain. I " 11 give my es ta tes to- the church, It 11 f ound monasteries, I 'll build abbeys .

Father ~a rtin. All will not do, ten thousand ma sses z ~ ill not del iver you . Old Jourdain. Wa s ever such a mis t rable wretch?

Father Martin . Thou hast sins enou ~h to damn thy ,hole familY· Old Jourdain. Oh , speak some comtort to me; I'iil':.. no penance expiate my crime? (1)

Father ~artin. It is too grievous for a single penance; so go settle your estate on the church, and send your dauehter b a nunnery

-16- ( 1 ) • The Debauchees . Act 1. ~ cene 10 . her prayers wi l l avail more tnan yours. And thus the supersti tion of t h e father is i mp osed on i n order to inveigle h is daughter into the nunnery.

The Wedding Day (174j) is the first comedy Fielding wr ote a fter the publicati :}n of Joseph Andrews, and. it mi ght be e :x:pected tha t .

he would bring for~ard something mo re varied Rnd ingeni ou s in the way of co~e dy than in his other plays; but it is not so ; -J'he Wedding lJay has no particular comic Qri t ioality.

Its pl ot dep ends upon :he out-witting of t wo fathers, ·~ r. s ted- fast and Nt r. Mutable, who have determined to make a marria.ge be-

tween unwilling children. Th e indisposition of t h e two f~ thers

complicates the situatio!1, since ..1 r. ~~ut ab le is as various as his na'!le indica tes, and as "" r. Stedt"as t is fixed.

Tn e setting is in t~e home of Stedtast and the lodging of Mi llamour. Th e cnar ac ters of 1i l l aaour, t ne de ,onair beau of a thousand loves, witn t n'=l. t of young ,.utable whose chief deli eh t is in pre- tending to an a cquaint ance with Lords whom he has never seen, a re sprightly, but types familial' on the English stage since the time

of ~ycherley a d Congreve. r. Stedfast and ' ~ r. ~utahle a re hU"1l- orous by reason of their two dominant characteristics, rigi dity ani pliabillty.

-1'1-

-- .~ I'. "utA.ble . All men, "ll r. s ted:tast, are not so firm in their resolutions as you are. ;lr. Stedtast. More shame for them, sir! I am now in the f i ftieth year of my age, and never broke on e resolution in ny life yet.

ur. ::t.utable. Good lack! I a~ some years older than Yl)u are , and never J!lade a resolu ion in lily l ife yet.{l)

Charlotte is the conventional daughter sincerely in love. Clar­

inda is the usual gay <. om an :n3. r:ti ed to a ~an whom she does no t love . The dialogue of the play is both comic and satirical. .!r.

Stedfastts unalterable ill furnishes the following di~loeue. Mr. Stedfast. As for that, you nay be very easy; so you a re married today, I care not what hour. Charlotte. Why lioday, sir?

:;:r. Stedfast. Because I have reso)[ved it, '1lH-dadl . Sharlotte. On e day sure would illake no dif r erence.

~ r. Stedfast. Mada~ , I have said it. Charlotte. Let me intercede for a short reprieve . .l!r . Stedfast. I am fixed. Charlotte. Consider, my hole happiness is at the stake. r. Stedfast . If the happiness of the world as at the stake, I would flot alter my resolution. {2}.

(1) The Debauchees . Act 3.~J~~e 6 .

(2) V ed ~ i ng Day . Act 2. Scene 11. 1he 6i lly fopp i shnes '" of young ::;iu t able appears in t h e foll o7! i ng dialogue.

Young ~utabl e. H~ , hd, ha t This is very merry, very f acetious fai th, agad, ,: illamour, i f I did not know t hat liea rtf ort "< eeps the

'b est co:npa ly, I should t hink im envious . 'Hllamour . I r a ther think his ambition lies quite t he other way ; for I have seen him wfllking a thigh ,:a l l wi th fellows in a dirty shirt, and a wig unpowdered.

Yewg 11utable. Auh ! what a coupl e of d istL ~ru i sh i n €" qualifica - tion s 11 e chose to apTl ea r in the ··.·1.11 '''i tht

Heartfort. An d t h e Hlan h e me ns happens to have quali l' ic!1.ti f)ns very selaom s een in the :all or anywhere else. Young Mutable. Ay. pr'ythee, what are t he se? Heartfort. Virtue and good sense. rL).

The Fathers or The Goo d- natured ,:an(17bO) is one 0: the l 3. test comedies written by ~iel d i ng , and m~y l ike ~ on ~ ui x ote in I n gl~nd represent l a r gely early dramatic ma terial made over. lt was not produced until after his death. Th e plot of t h e play is designed to i llustrate the efr ect of a parent' 8 good-nature an l indulgence on his children , in co mp ~ r~son

Iwith t Il e severity :.nd niggardlines of anoth e r .

- 19- (1 ) Tile ed ~ i l1g Day. Ac t 3. Sc ene 1. J.'h e set ting 0 f t h e play is in a c onvel ti,JJlal Lr nd on home.

The comic cna r a cters in the play a~ e ·rs. j': oncoar, t ,h e spoiled

wife I'{ho lacks discipline, ~3 quire Kennel, out of place in the en­ viron ent of the town, and his son, young Kennel. who suff.ers .. sli ghtly f rom affectations gained in his tour of the world, and Sir George Boncour, a crusty old bachelor with a .,himsical sort of

good-na ture. ir. ~ oncOur's excessive indulgence becomes comic in

contra st with r. Valence's extre~e stinginess and ri gor.

The dialogue of the play ob tains its chief comic e ~ fects from

the verbal duel between husband and wife . 'B"or exalpple, ~: rs. "' on­

court tne pampered wife who h~s gr own peevish and quarrelso~e under her lusband 's lax rule remarks :

Mrs. Boncour. How! Have I a coach at my com.nand? You keep

one, indeed, l; ut I am sure I have no command over it. ru: r. Boncour. Why. Indeed you wrong me .

Ji rs. BoncOllr. ';ih;>' , h3.ve you not lent it thi '3 very no rning i th- out my knowledge?

Mr. Boncour. MY dear, I thought the cha riot would h~ ve served. l.rs . Boncour. How can th

... 20-

= ~ rs. Boncour. Well, and sup ~ ose that I find but one of the ladies at nome , mus t I drag a heavy coach allover town? ...... (To the s t rvant) Tell the fellow he need not go to my cousin at all . ~~ ow, ;ay dear, y ou may have your choic and I nope you will be easy. ra rs. Boncour . Easy! yes; I have a great deal of reason to be easy, truly; now your relations, i f they have not the coach Will lay the whole bla:lle upon me; sure, never was so unf ort lRate a " rea- ture as I am! .•...•. no, let the:n have bo th, and then they will be satisfied; I dare 8fty 1 shall i nd a co a ch among :n~ acquaintance, though you deny me y ours. (1) There are some verbal sports in the dialogue occasioned by the rusticity of Sir Gregory Kennel ~ ho rema r~s in regard to his son's travel s, tha tIthe has fn ade the tower 0 f };urope. " (2)

Summary.

From the foregoing brief anaiysis of Fieldin~'s comedies it is to be Been t~at he used in six of his comedies tne nlot device of ou t - wi t ting someOIl e in autho ri ty, tDe se e r e g lardian, an obstinate parent, an arm of the l ~w , a d a prieot of the church. in three cone ies ne uses t e plot o f the come i y of character, or the humo r

- 1- ( 1 ) . \ c t 1. ::;c ene 1 . (2) • The F .tners. Act 3. Scene 2. of the situation arising from the conflict of two opposite traits of character displayed by the two pri cipals. And in one, tLe plot in itself is :lO t comic at all, t'or it arises i'rom the just exposure of a vill~in though he is neither out-witted nor duped. For the settin of his comedies Fielding ha.s chosen in six instances th e homes of tile rich or the resorts of fashionable London . One comedy has its setting a.t 8,n English country inn, and another ina police court of the eighteenth century. Some of the characters ln lis comedies are ridiculous f rom a mild f orm o:f affectation or van i ty, and a canting hypocrisy that seeks to cover up vice . Others are comic f rom one characteristic (mildly vicious, inoffensive, or very good in its way) dominating the personality to the exclusion of others. The country squire as a type is used several times, and made ludicrous both from his boorishness and his being placed in an unwonted enVlronment. The most obvious means used by Fielding to create comic uia­ logue are (1) love and marriage treated as subjects of jest and fancy , (2) a combination of l aughter with the attitude at' serious attack Which produces the S ' l tiri c dialogue, (:3) repeti tions of ords and phrases, puns, affectations and peculiarities of speech. CHAPTER II

The comic elements in the farces of Henry Fielding considered with regard to plot, setting, characterization and dialogue .

Besides the comedies discussed in the preceding chapter,

Fielding wrote the ollowing 1arces: A New Way to ~e~B a Wife at

~(1731), The Lottery (1731), The Virgin Unmasked(1734), and Miss Lucy in To\vn(1742), a sequel to the last rtamed farce. A New Way to Keeg a Wife at Home consists of three acts, and its plot resolves itself briefly into this: two husbands, Mr . Softly and Mr. Wisdom, hit upon the novel scheme of keeping their wives at home by sending them anonymous letters, threatening to murder them in their chairs the first time they go abrof.ld unless they place twenty guineas under a stone. Mrs. Softly frustrates her bUsba nd's design by go ing abroad all the more in a spirit of bravado, and Mrs. Wisdom, relieved of her husband's company, \V:ho knows she is s8fe at home, is free to c13rry on at home all the in­ trigues she desires. The setting is in the homes of Mr. Wisdom and Mr. Softly, and in a London Street.

The characters, 1 ra. fisdom and furs. Softly, are those of tts conventional society women always engaged in an intrigue with some gallant. • Wisdom and I r. Softly are co~rnon-place husbands with NO particular comic traits. Rakel is the usual g!~ y young blade.

Jack Commons, the unwelcome nephew, com~up to London for one last fling before fl e goes down into the country to take holy orders, by reason of h is blunders and apparently unsuitable calling, ~s very comic ",L .

~he uialogue is satirical, hwnorous, and in the scenes between Rakel and Risque is after the manner of Cervantes.

Rakel. (Speaking to Co~nons). But, prithee, what hath brought you to town?

Commons. My ovm inclinations chiefly. I resolved to t ake one swing in the charming pgins of iniquity; so I am come to t ake my leave of this delicious lewd place, •.••• To spend one happy month in the joys of wine and women, and then sneak down into the country, and go into orders. Rakel. Ha, ha, hat And hast thou the impudence to pretend to a call? Commons . Ay, sir, the usual call; I have the p ' omise of a good livlng . Lookee, Captain, my call of piety is much the Bsmo as yours of honour. You will light , and I shall pray, l or much the same reasons, I assure you.

Rakel. If thy gown do th not rob thee 0 1' sinceri ty, tnou wilt have one virtue under it at least.

Co~ons. Ay, ay, sincerity is all tha t can be expected; that is the chief difference among men . All men have sins ; but some - - 24--

= hide them. Vice is as natural to us as our skins, and both would equally appear, if we had ueither clothes nor hypocrisy to cover them. (1) In the following oit of dialogue, Fielding has Commons remark humorously in regard to Tom Thumb: Commons. Pox ' of preaching.t' Will you go to steal an act or two of the new tragedy? Rakel. Not 1--- I go to no tragedy------but the tragedy of Tom Th Ul1\b • Commons. The tragedy of Tom Thumbt what the devil is that? Rakel. \Vhy, sir, it is a tragedy that makes me laugh; and if your sermons will do as much, I shall be glad to make one of your aUdience. (2) The replies of Risque to his master Rakel are reminiscent of Sancho. Risque. This affair, sir, m y end in a blanketing, and tha t is a danger I never love to run with an empty stomach. Rakel. Sirrah; if I were to be tossed myself I would wish to be as empty as possible; but thou art such an epicure, thou art con- tinually thinking on thj belly. Risque. The reason of that is very plain, sir; for I am contin- uaJ.ly hungry. ihilst I followed your honour's heels as a soldier I expected no better f [l re; out since I have een pro oted to the

"'25~ (1) A New Way to Keep a Wife at Home . Actl. Scene 2. (2 ) A New Way to Keep a Wife at Home . Act.l. Scene 2. office of pimp, I ought to live in another manner. Would it not vex a man to the heart to run about gnawing his nails like a starved skeleton, and see every day so many plump breth eren of the same profession riding in their coaches? Rakel. Bring me but an answer to my wish,and then----- Risque. Don't promise me, sir---- for then I shall be sure of having nothing .----- If you were but as like a great man in your riches as you are in your promises, I should dine oftener by two or three days of a week than I do Now. (1)

The Lottery(l73l) is a farce of one act with three scenes with songs. In a word its plot is this: Miss Chloe from the country comes to town to create a sensa tion and make a rich mAtch on the strength of ten thousand pounds she is to receive from a lottery ticket. She marries a bogus lord who , in his turn, has married her i'or the fortune he thinks she has. The setting is a t the Lottery Office and in the 1" ine lodgings Chloe has taken in Pall Mall. Among the cha racters Lovemore is the convention 1, constant lover; Jack Stocks, the alse Lord, is the conventional comedy dandy; and Chloe is the unsophisticated country maiden already familiar on the English stage f rom Wycherley's Country V/ife. The dialogue is both satirical and in the eXAggerated manner of farce. -26- (1) A New Way to Keep a Wife at Home. Act 1. Scene 1. Jack Stock~. Oht ravishing! exquisite1 ecstacy1 joyt trans- port! miseryt flamest icet How shall I thank this goodness that undoes me1 Chloe. Undoes you, my lord1

Jack Stocks. Oh, madam t there is ~ hidden pOison in those eyes for which nature has no antidote. Chloe. Ala s, my lord1 I am YOlmg and ignorant------(though you shall f' ind I have enough sense to make a good market) aside (1). In the same scene Chloe exclaims disdainfully to Lovemore, Chloe. Sir, I know you not. Lovemore. Know no t me t And is this the fellow for whom I am unknown! this powder puff! Have you surrendered to him in one week what I have been ages in soliciting. Jack Stocks. Harkye, sir,---- whoever you are, I would not have ·you think because I am a bear, l:! nd a lord tna t I won't fight . Lovemore. A 10rd1 Oh! there it is1 the charms are in the title.--What else can you see in this walking perfume shop that Is this ure vi ue, and the virtue, th t you heve been thundering in my ea.rs? Sd,t'l.tht I am distracted! tha.t ever a woman should be proof against the arts of mankind, and fall a sacrifice to a monkey . (2).

~ Virgin Unmasked (1734), is a one act farce with songs.

-27- ) The Lotterz Act 1. Scene 2. )The Lottery. Actl. Scene 2. Its plot: an old man has kept his daughter secure from any know­ ledge of the world; he decides to marry her to one of her cousins wh om she may choose f rom among the su itors selected by him; but

the da.ughter, displaying an unguessed cunnin~ , deceives her father and marries t he footman, the man of her own choice. Like the

foregoing farce. tilis plot, too, is similar to a comedy of ~ycher­ ley, 'fhe Gentleman Dancing Master. The setting of the farce is in a London i.orne . The characters aretypica,l or! the comedy of manners-- t h e clever young girl, the grUL~py old father . the absurd or affected suitors, and the handsome, f'avored and deserving lover. This las t cha rac- ter, Mr . Thomas, the f ootman, in his elegant appearance and sensi­ ble bearing has mqny traits in co~ - on with Joseph Andrews. The dialogue is not very sprightly or witty, out in some places it is ~ildly sa tiric. At the end of the play Mr. Thomas, justifying his marriage to

Lucy says to her father, Go~dwill: Mr. Thomas. Your daughter has married a man of some learning, and one who nas seen a little of the world, and who by h is love of her, and obedience to you. rill tr r to deserve your favors. As for my having worn a livery, let that not grieve you; as I have lived in a great family , I have seen that no nne is respected for what he is, but for what he has ; the world pays no regard to any- thing at present but mo ney; and if rIr;f own industry should add to your fortune, so as to entitle any of my posterity to gr andeur, it will be no reaSDn against ~king my son, or grandsDn, a lord, that his father, or grandfather was a f ootman. (1)

Miss Lucy in Town is also a farce of one act. As a sequel to The VirAin Unmasked, it continues the adventures Df Mr. Thomas and his lady aftertheir marriage. Mr . Thoma s and Lucy come to LDndon to see the sights. They fall into the hands of a notorioas bawd, Mrs. Midnight, who preys upon the unsoP4istication and silly vanity of Lucy.

The setting is in ~rs . Midnight 's home. Of the characters, Lucy suggests Wycherley's Country Wife, and Zorobaoel, the rich tradesman who seeks to hide his iniquity, is not unlike Gripe in

Love in a Vlood. My Lord Bawble is the typical dissipated beau.

Mr. Thomas maintains the worth of his character indicated in ~ Virgin Unmasked, by challenging my Lord and takinR his wife oack to the country. Parts of the dialogue ;.;; re very comic by reason of their por- trayal of two incongruous elements, as f or example, r s . ~idnight's remarks upon the Kennington sermon. 1!rs . Midnight. We ought all to be ashamed of our sins. o my Lord, my Lord, had you but heard that excellent sermon on Ken­ nington common it would have made you ashamed~ I 8J1l sure it had so -29 (1) The Virgin Unmasked. Act 1. Scene 1. good an eff'ect upon me I shall be ashamed 01' my sins as long as I live. Lord Bawble . Why don't you leave them off then, and lay dOVID your h ouse?

Mrs. Midnight . Alas, I can't, I can't; I was bred up in the

way; but I repent heartily; I repent every hour of my life, and I hope will make amends . (1) The last speech of Goodwill, Lucy' s father, is in undisguised moralizing vein. Goodwill. Henceforth, I will blOW no degree, no difference between men, but what the standards of honor and virtue create; the noblest birth wit.tlOut these is but splendid ini'amy; and a footman with these qualities, is a man of honour. (2).

Summary.

The comedy of the plot of these larces arises in every instance from the clever out-witting or dupery of some one in authority. Their setting is in the London Stre ets, or an English home. Their characters are the usual types found in the comedy of manners. The di logue is satirical, farcical and in imitation of the manner of Cervantes, as for example, the dialogues between Rakel and Risque.

...30 .... (1) Miss Lucy in Town. Act 1. Scene 1. (2) Ibid. Act 1. Scene 1. CHAP TER III

·J.'he burl esque plays of Henry Fi elding considered wi th regard to

plot, setting, characterization and dialog~e .

Th e burlesque plays of Henry Fielding are Th e Author's 1;' a~ce (1729), Tam Thumb(173l), The Covent Garden Tragedy(1736), The Grub Streep Opera (1731), Pasguin(1736), The Historical Hegister{1736), Eurydice( 1 "'7:56), Eurydic e Hi saed, or A Word to the 'i se (17 36), and

Tumble-Down ~1ck or Phaeton in the Suds (1744).

The Author's Farce with a Puppet Snow Galled t he ~ leasure of the -Tovm is a burl esque on as!) i ring young authors and t h e produc ti on oID a play. The play within the p~ay or The Author's Farce is after th manner of Lucian and t he J ) ialo~e s of the Dead . The pl~ t of t he Author's Farce is very briefly t nus: Luckles s , the poet, t k es his

play to manager ~arplay f or rehearsal. It is ref used . He then t akes it to the rival t hea tre which produces it merely to discomfit

~arplay. Luckless' play is t e puppet show, The Pleqsures of the -To\m . I n it charon is seen f errying a poet across t h e styx to the Court of the Q,ueen of Nonsense, where are as ·· embled the spiri ts of Don 'l' ragedl0, .,ion sieur }'ant :nine, ir Farcial Comic, 1Jr. Orator, Signio Operq and Mrs . Novel.

rhe ending of the Author's Farce i s a parody on the rom~ ntic and unnatural ending of the heroic tragedy. Arter the performance of

- 31'" the play of Luckless, The PleR, sures of the Town, there rushes in a

mes ~l en g er frolil the 1(ingdom of l:l ant3Jn who informs Luckless that his fatner is none other than the illustrious king of Bantam, and it is

no longer necessary for him to write plays for a livin ~ ,

BantLLTI ite, the faithful servitor, explains Luckles ~ ' fortune thus

Bantamite ••....• I was your tutor in your earliest days , sent

by your f a ther, his present ~ ajesty Francis IV, King of Bantam, to s now you the world. "': e arrived at London; whe.l one day among other frolics, our snip's crew, shooting the bridge, t he boat overset, and

all of ou-,- com pany, I and your royal self were only saved by swimming

to Hillings ' gate ; but though I saved my life, I lost fo r some time my senses, and you, as I then fea red, f orever . "/hen 1 recovered,

after a long fruitless search for my royal master, I set sail for

~ant a m, bu twas dri yen by t ('t e :v in .:8 on far di stan t CO R S ts, qnd wand -

ered several years, till at last, I arrived a ce more at ~ an tam.---

Guess how I was received-- The King ordered me to be im~ risone d or life. At last SO Ille l ucky chance brou::-ht thi ther a merchqnt, ho of ere t is jewel as a uresent to the Y. ing of natan .

Luckles d. Ha! 1 t is t ne s a:ne ' hic wa ,,: tied :1 on my ar , '''hich py good l ick I preserved from every ather accident, till '~ ant ~f money fa rc ed Ine to pawn it. (1)

/ The setting of the play is in the lodeines a: ~ uckles s an behind

~he scenes of the theatre.

~ ~ne characters are burlesques. Lu cklesG, theyaung poet, is

-32 '1' ( 1) • The ~uthor'sFarce. Act. 3, Scene 1. I is sai d in some instances to be an e.x.ag 'L era ted ortrai t of Fi elding' I self, and some vf the distresse3 h e experienced i n his work as a playwright . (1).

« rlever tell me", exclai ms the irate landlady, ~ r s . ~oney- wo od

to t il e nand- pressed .Luc:'t~less , "of Y()llr play, and yolll!I' play. 1 tell

you I must be paid. I would no ~ ore depend on a benef it ni ght of ar unac ted play, than I would on a ' benefit-ticket in an undrawn lottery Could I have guessed that I had a poet in my house! Could I have

~ l ooked for a poet under laced clothes!" (2).

And again, cO lltinuing h ' r tirade against .L uckless 8.mi his love

f or her daughter, Ha rriot, she says, "But, as you happen to have no~ , thing to say to her . I sup oose you "ould have settled al l your

castles in the a ir. Oh! I wish you had lived in one of them instea~

of IllY house . Well, I am resolved, when you a re Bone Rway ( hieh 1

heartily nope will be very soonO Itll hang ver ~y door in great red letters, tNo LOd gings f or Poets' . Sure n e er was such a guest as you have been . 1 y floor is all spoiled with ink, my windows \ ith verses, and my door has been almost beat down witp duns .

The stage nanagers or tIle day are amusin~ l y b ,l<:en off in the cha racters of iarplay 0en ior and :,lar play Junior.

Luckless. I hav'e a tragedy f or your house, _~r. Ma rplay.

illarplay Jr. Ha! If you will send it to me, I il l give you my opinion of it; and if I can make any alterations in it that will be for its advantage, 1 will do it freely.

(1) • Godden, Henry Fielding. p. 36. ( 2 ) • The Authorts Farce . Act 1, Scene 1. Wi t:nore. Alterations, sir?

Jlarplay, Jr . Yes, 3ir,. alterations---l will maintain it, let a

play be n ever so good, wi thout al tera ti on sit will do nothing ...•

Alack-a-day! Was you to see t h e plays when they are broul2'ht to us,

, a parcel of crude undi gested stufL ~r e are the persons, sir, who

lick them into f orm, that .fi old them into sha e.-- The poet mi~ht

m~ke tfle ?lay indeed! he c olou~ an mi gnt a s well be sa i d to make the p i c ture, or t h e weaver the Co a t; my f a ther and I, sir, are a

couple of poetical tailor ro ; when a play is brought us we clJn~ider it

as a t a ilor does his coat; we cut it, sir, we cut it; and let me tel

you ',' e have the exact measure 0 1." t ile town; we 1{1iO'.V no t" f it their tas te. (1).

1he publishers of tfle day are burlesqued in Bookwei ght, and

his assistants, Dash, Q.uibble, and Blotpage.

Bookweight . Fie u pon it, g entlemenl '.'.'hat not at your pens?

Do you consi d er, .• r. Q.uibble, that it is a fortnight since your lett II" to a f riend in the country wa', publ i shed" Is it not '1. i ~h time for I

an answer to come out? At this rate ~efore your ans er is printed

your letter will be for got ••.• "ell, ...;lr. Da sh, have you d~ne tha t murder yet? .. Let me have the ghost fi nished by this day sen'night.

Dash. What sort of a IZhost woul ":' ro u h~v e t is'? h e last

was a pale one.

1:ookwei n t. ~ hen let this be a bloody one . (2) -34- (1 ). The Author's Farce. Act 1, Scene 6.

(2) • Ibid. Act 2, Scene 4. Eh e dialogue is farcical ~n d s ~ tiric; for example, the dialogue

between the poet on the bank of the ri ~ er s tyx and the cargo of i ghosts is in the vein of exagger. ..,. ted farce. Poet. Ha '. Don Tragedio, your most obedient servant . Sir

Farcial! lJr. orator! 1 am 11eartlly glad to see you. lJ ea r ~ ig-

nior Opera! Monsieur ~ antomim e! Ah ! Mynheer Van-treble! Mrs. Novel in the shades too ! '::hat lucky distemper could have s ent so much goo d company thither? Don Tragedio. A tragedy occasioned me to die •.

Tha t perishi ng t he '-irst day, so did 1. ::; ir .b'acial comic. A pastoral sent me out 'Jf the world . .!..y life went in with a hiss; stap my vitals. Dr . Orator. A Mug -sletonian dog stabl ed me . Signior Opera • Claps un iversal , Applausea resounding;

... i sses can ~ O' ndi ng Attending my ong ;

~y sense drowned,

And I f ell

\Vhilst I was singing, ding, dang,

-~5,:; (1 ) . The Author's Farce. Ac ". Scene 1. Tom 1'humb(1731) is D. 'burlesque of the h froilc:. .. tragedy. This

Tragedy of Tragedies' was a proper sequel to the ~uke of Buckingham'f ' Rehearsal(1691), and a s such satirizes the absurdities of almost all the writers of tragedy since t he time of that piece.

~' he plot o t Tom Thumb is a burlesque of the theme of love and valour, as treated in heroic tragedy. It is briefly this: Tom Tnumb returns to the kingdom of Terra Incognita, a victorious hero from his wars with the €i dnts. He asks of 1:'>. ing Ar thur _iO reward

s P, ve the>.. to; ni s daughter Huncamunca. Q.ueen Dollallolla, rl6alous of Tom Thlilrnb' s love fo.c her daughter, inci tes t h e slightecl courti er Grizzle to stir up a revolution. Tom Thumb conquers Grizzle, but is / himself swallowed by a cow, and i n despcdr l.n ,l rage <1 1 1 the embers of t he co urt k ill off each other. The love scene4, rage, marriage bettle, the ghostly apparition, and bloody catastrophe are forcible imita tions of the rules obser ed by tragic writers. The unities to o, are strictly observed, so that the rebel_ion a nd its uppres siol

COnSlL'"nes only one hour and a h a,lf.

The setting, a burlesque of that of the heroic trage ~y, is at the court of Arthur, k ing of Te rra Incognita. The characters are burlesques o o!.· the conventional persons of th heroic tragedy. Tom i'humb curl esques tne t"l.ll, proud, .&' i ery, 0' er- sweeping heroJ upon the strength of whose arm 1alone depends the safet~ of the state . Any reward he scorns, but f i ghts only for his honor' sake. 'fo king Arthur £10 wishes to "h an,( .lim f")r .ds heroic s ervic s

- 36'" Tom Th Amb lo f tily replies:

" ';men 1 'ill not thanked a t all, I 'ill thanked enough. I've done my duty, and I'e done no more." (1) The only reward he deigns to seek is Huncamunca.s love.

"I ask no t ~ci ngdo "l s, I can conquer tho se ;

"f a. sk not no ney, mon ey I 've enough;

.J:;' or what I 've done and wnat I mean to do,

or g iants slain, and giants yet unbor n ,

":!hi (;h I will slay, --- it thi s be call ed a debt,

Take my receipt in full-- I ask but this,

'1' 0 sun myself in tmn camunca' s eyes. 1I ~2). Lord Grizzle, the slighted lover, vents thus his mighty passion at the news of the intended match between Tom Thumb and Huncamunca:

11 nor fate itself,

Shoul d it conspire with Thomas Thumb should cause it.

I'll swim t llrougrl seas; I'll ride upon the clouds;

I'll dig the earth; I'll blowout every fir~;

I'll rave; I'll rant; I'll rise; I'll rush; I'll r ~r;~.(3) .. .l.'he tr a.gedy ghost is burl esquEd in the a.pparition of aft" er Thu..'llb.

King. , Ti s ne, it is tne honest gaL'er Thumb.

Oh! Let me press thee in my eager " r ms ,

Thou Dest 0 ';: Enosts! t il0ll s omethln :. ethan gnost, ( 4 )

The dialogue Jf the play is b urlesque, rauch 01" its uproari ,) us ,

.,,/1 '­ Tom Thilnb. Act 1, Scene 3.

Ibid. Act 1, ::; cene 3.

lbid. 'c ct 3, 'jcene 2.

R. C v v, OI.;t::l1t:: .::-. -\h.'l.lAS6- o ~~, ...... c:.-t.:~""~ ~tuvt ~~~~~ to1L~ k.....~~. fun coming from , Huncamunca is so described: "A country dance of joy is in your iace, yo ur eyes spit f ire, you r cheeks f row red as beef". (l) . The last sce,le is one 0 f -:; he ex...l1IJ1ple s of tne -,; urlesqued dialogue ana ~uation of tragedy. Noodle ha s just brought the news of 1'0m Thumb t s death, and the Q,ueen in a rage speaks,

queen. Not so much in a swoon , but 1 have still

~ tren gth ~o rewa rd t h e mess nger of ill news. (kills Noodle) .

Noodle . Oh! I am slain. Cleora. My lover 's killed, I will revenge hi m so. (kills the Q,u een).

Huncamull ca. iiJ,y mama killed! vile murderess, be''Vare . (kills "leora).

Doo dle . This for an old grudge to thy heart. (kills Huncarnunca) .

King. Ha l murderess, vile, take th ~ t . (kille lusta cha).

And t a e t~ou this . (kill s himself and falls) So when the child whom urse from danger guards,

Sends for Jack f or mustard with a pac~ of cards, Kihg, Q.ueens, andkna ves, throw one another down,

"" ill the whole p c,<: l ies s ca ttered un d o'ert[lrown;

So all our pack u pon the floor is cast, And all I - oast is---tha t I fall last . (2).

(1 ) • Tom Thumb . Act 2, ocene 4.

(2~. Ibid. Act. 3, Scene 10. The Grub otreet Opera( 173l) is a bur l esque of l i f e among the

s ervants of an Engltsh Country squire. Its plot is briefly thus:

Lady Apshinkin, fearing that her son , _I aster O'wen, ,'jay marry -one of the servi ng mai ds, dete-xmines to marry them all off to t h e men eer- vants. However, ~aster Owen and Parson Puzzletext ~etermine to fru _ tra te her design, and write false l etters to 0 £ti s sa , t~e waiting woman, and \iarj ery, tne .housemaid, and to Ro bin the butler, and

'Pilliam, the coachman, whi ch cause a compli ca ti ')n of the si tua ti on~ un til the who 1 e is di scovered and brought home to l'arson }' uzzlet ert) since of the entire hou s ehold he a lone can read and write.

Tne setting is in nales on the c untry estate of ~ ir Owen Apishink in.

Parson Pllzzletext and "iaster Owen Ap i shinkin re the 1':1 1y trul y burl esque characters. ~he others, my l ady Apishinkin, Sir Owen, the maia s and foo tmen are characters after the manner of the ' r comedy 0t- tk.. d. '" '1.

I ~ is chie ly in the dialogue and s itua tion th ~ t tne t urlesque c:msists; fo r exa:nple, ·filliam quarrelLlg with RO bin, uursts forth: "': illiam. Sirrah, I'll make you repent that you evep quarreled with me.---I '11 tell ,ny '1las ter 0.: t.he two si l v er spoons you stole. I'LL discover yOU' tricks-- your selling of glasses and retending tne frost had cracked them-- and making ~a ster brew ~ ore beer than he needed, 'ind then giving ita ay to Jour o'm fa:n i l y; .... _ne n

- 40- there's your filling the plate, l.nd when it was foun d l ighter, pre­ tended that it wasted in cleaning ; and your bills f or tutty and rot- t en stone, when you used nothing but pODo r whiting. t) irrah, you

have been such a rogue that you ha ve st o~e above half my master's plate and spoiled the rest .

Susan . Fie upon't, . illiam, what have we to ~ ~ with " aster's losses'; He is rich and can a fford it.---Don't let us quarrel among

oursel~es---let us stand by on e another--- for, let ill e tell ' ou if matters ar to be too n i cely examined into, I ' m afraid it would go hard with us all---" ise servants always stick close to one another,

l i ke plums in a pudding t hat's overwe t t ed, says ' usan the coo~. (1)

l'he ~ oven t Garden Tragedy( 1731 ) continues the burl esque of the

heroic tragedy b egun in Tom Thumb . In the prol..4omen~ prefixed to the play Fielding presents mock critlcisms wh i ch are sa tirical shafts a t the stupidity and pedantry of the critics of hi 9 tlme . I n one of these ,r.ock cri ti cal notices taken from the Grub s treet Journal he

writes, It~ Govent Garden Tragedy; "ears s o· e r ea.t an analogy to the Tragedy of Tom Thumb, that it needs no t the a uthor's name to ,saure

us f rortl what quarter it had its original. 1I (2)

The plot of ~he covent Garden Tragedy very riefly s t a ted is

this. At the house of _A o t her Punchbowl, Captain ~ il k um , the bully of the place, a.nd .Lo vegirlo, t h e gay gallant ho always pays well,

Ai­ ( 1) • The Grub :treet ')pera. " ct 2, ce le 4. (2) • khe Covent Garden Tragedy . Proloaomeno. at the instigation of Stvrmandra, engage in a duel, which f ortunatel~

16 Hot diaastrous . Lovegi,rlo recover , -nd '" torfllA,nd rjlr 1!h!D in des- pair h8,d thought of" hangin her self, nangs her dres s in s tead, and re­ joins the company. The setting is at _: o ther Funch-cowl's 1'l[\ ce. The cha racters are burlesques, :other Tunchbowl of the vill ian-'

QUS bawd whO mo thers in her capacious ar IJ S '1,1 1 the London r" .kes and women of the street; Captain Bilkum is the bully burlesqued, stor- mandra and Kissillda, the women of the streets .

The dlalogue is uurl esque, _~ or eXaLllpl e, thi s scene between .;!liotb.er Pundhbowl ' and Leathersides.

~other Punchbowl/ Oh! Leatncrsides, wh~t me ans this n ewsful I look'? Leathersides. Through the Piaches as I took my way

To fetch a girl, 1 at a distance viewed Lovegirlo with great Captain Bilkwn fighting; Lovegirlo pushed, the captain parried, thus, Lovegirlo. pushed, he parried again.

Oft did ne push, ~nd oft was ~,rried aside . At length, the captain, wi th his body thus, Threw in a cursed thrust falconade .

'Twas there---On! dreadful honor t~ rel ~ te !

1 at a di st "l.n c e saw Lovegirlo fall , And look as if he cried--- tOh! Iamslain. t uallonojthe friend of Lovegirlo). Give me my f ri edd Thou most accursed bawd; Re s tore him to me drunlien as he \ a s . .l£re tny vile rts seduced him from the glass •

..L O tner Punchbo wI . Oh! that I could restore h i m--but alas! Or drunk or sober 'oulll ne 'er s ee him nore,

Unless you see his ghost-- his ghost p~rh8ps,

!Y~a y have escaped from captain Bilku:ll' s sword. (1 .

Pas quin, A D ra~atic Satire on the Time~, (1736), is a political and social burlesque. Its plot i s ~e 1 i n iscent of the Author's

!~ in a -8 much as the first three acts a e a rehearsal of' Trap­ wit' s comedy, The Election, and the last two a rehearsa l of Pustian 'e tragedy, The Life a nd Death of Common Senae. ~ The Election is n01 only a l!urlesque o f t h e conventional rules and wit-traps 01" comedy, but is also, a political pasquinade on civic dishonesty. Fustian's tragedy is a burlesque of the conventional tragedy, and also, a

satire on the professional stupidities of the age. La~, Physic, and Reli gion are the loyal adherents of the ~ueen of Ignorance and join with her to destroy ~ueen Common Sense. The setting of Pasquin is behind the scenes of the theab'e. The characters Trapwit and Fustian are burlesques of authors,

Sneerwell burlesques the critics. Of the ch<'l. ract ers in th e comedy, The Election, Colonel Promise, Sir Henry Fox-cha. se, and Sq ire Tanka d

-43- (1 ) • The Covent Garden Tragedy. Act 2, Scenes 10-11. are caricatures of the types of candidates who come up at a politic~~ election. The Mayor is susceptible to the bi ~g est bribe in caah , and his wife and daughter are won by tht:: cq.ndida te who mHkes f'or them the most favorable social opportun i t ies .

In the tragedy Tne Life and Death of Com non Sense there is 0 attempt at characterization. Law. Physic, etc .• are burlesque types in general of the nrofes sions. The dialogue is turlesque and satiric.

Prompt er- . Mr. Fustian. we must defer ~e rehearsal of your tragedy. for the gentleman who plays t h e first ghost ,is Jot yet up; and when he is. he has got such a Churchyard cough, he will not be heard to the middle of the pit. Player. I wish you could cut the ghost out. sir; for I am terribly afraid he'll be damned if you don't. l'T o ~ustian. cut him out, sir! man in 'n gland can act a ghost like him ; sir, he vms born for a -ghost. (1) In rehearsil/!: t Ol e comedy. The Election, Trapwi t remdrks :

Trapwit • You. :M r., tha.t act .. y 'Lord, rib€: a little .11Jre openly, .if you please, 0 the audieilc€ ~'ill .Lost t .ce joke, and it is I one of the st )nge s t in ly whol e play. Lord Place. Si r, I ca m ot po s5i bly do it better at the table. Trapwit. Then eet all uP. and come for ard to the front of th~ stage; ... e.nd yo u. my Lord and colonel. com e to one enu and bribe away with right and left.

(1). Pasquin. Act 1. Scene 1. -44- Fustian. Is thi8 wit, Mr. Trapwit? Trapwit. Yes, sir, it is wit; 8.nd such wit a s will run all over the kingdom ..... Gentlemen, are you all bribed? Omues. All.

Fust ia.!!,. I s there no thing but bribery in ti1i s play of yours, Mr. Trapwi t?

Trapwit. Sir, this play is an exact representa tion of nature.{

The Historical Reglster(1736) has much the same bent as Pasquir:

The design of the play may be gathered from the speech of~edley.

M edle~ •...•. Why, s ir, my desig.l is to ridicule the vi c ious anc~ foolish customs of the age, ala that in a :~u. ir manner, ri thout r ear, favour, or ill - nature, cwd witrout scurril ity, i-ll-m:tnners, or common-place. I hope to ex: )se t Ie rei eninl' foIl i es i such a ffian · ner that men shall laugh thems elves out ot' them beloTe they feel that they are touched. (2). And the follies of the day ridiculed) are pOll tics, r ashionable society, ~ h e auctions, and the altel'ations of S l ' pes .- eaJ. e. r ne set t ing is at the play nouse. The characters ane urlesque&; .:r . .. edley of the playwri@"ht, Mr. SawVii t of the criti c . The Politicians and Ladies are general and abstract caricatures of t h e po l iticia s a cl fashiona. Ie women 0 the day. But Mr. Hen, tne auctioneer, is a more individualized - -45- (1) . Pas qui!! • Act II. Scene I I.

( 2) . ~ ~istorical Register. Act 1, Scene 1. caricature. The dialogue is burlesque and satirical, as the following scene from the auction illustrates. He ll . Lot three. Three erains of modesty; come, la.dies, con- sider how sca.rce thi s valuabl e commo dity is.

Mrs. Screen. Yes, and out of fashion , t 0J , ~r. Hen.

~. I aSle your pardon, madam , it is true.French, I assure you and never changes colour on any account •.. ' ~at, nobody bid--- well, lay Modesty aside. --- Lot four. One bottle of courage for- merly in the posses sion of Lieutenant-Colonel Ezekiel Pipkin, citi-

zen, a lderman anu tallow-chcl.TIdler. 1 Officer. Is the bottle whole? Is there no crack in it? .. Damn me, I don't want it; but a IIlan can't have too much courage.--

Three shill ings for it. (l). The custom of altering Shapespea re is ridiculed in t h e follow-

ing di<'!,logue between Ground-Ivy and ApolJlo. Ground-Ivz. What are you doing here? Apollo. I am castirg the parts in the tragedy ot· King John. Gound-1vl' Then you a r e casti~ the p rts in a tragedy that won 't do.

~oll? • How, sir? Was it not rit Len y S akespeare, and was not Snakespeare one of' the greatest geniuses that ever Jived?

------.~ ------46--. ------~------~ (1) • The Historical Register. Act 2, Scene 2. Ground-Ivy. No, sir. Snakespeare wa s a pretty fellow, and sa.id some things which only want a little of my licking to do well enough ; King John, as now writ, will not do---but a wo r d in your ear, I will make him do. (1)

Eurydicel1736) is a burlesque 01" the :nytn 01" Orpheus and Eurydice. The point of view of the Grecian myth is reversed, and

Eurydice is represented as being unwilling to leave Hades, and so she tricks Orpheus into looking back in order tha t she may return

to Pluto's realm. ~ hen on the banks of the s tyx she cal ~ s out that she is drowned . Orpheus looks back . However, he thinks that thei may elude Proserpine and begs Eurydice to hurry . To which she re- I plies briskly, "No, I promised to return the mom ent you looked back and a woman of honor must keep her promise though it be to leave her hus band . !- (2). The setting is at the playhouse, and the setting within the

setting on the banks of the styx and at the Court 0 1 Plut o.

The characters are ~urlesques 01" Orpheus, Eurydic~, Pluto, Proserpine, the Cirtic a!d the Author.

The dialogue is farci e~. and i n the scenes in Hades and on the

banks of' the Styx is after the m~ . nner of Lucian in the l)ialo F

E.,f the_Dead; for exaIn T;l le:

Eurydice. "' ell, sir, and so I rous t take a. trip i th you to

...47'" ( 1 ) • ~he Historical Register. Act 3, Scene 1. (2) • Eurydice. Act 1, Scene 3. = the other world. How was it possible y -:u could come hi ther to fetch me back when I was dea d, who had so often wished me here when alive? Orpheus. They were only the sudden blasts of passion. P eside! as i s tne common fate of mortals, I never knew m happiness till I lost it.

Euryd~. And was you really concerned for me?

Orpheus. Yes, my dear, and I think you wa.s so for me; your tears at our parting gave me sufficient assurance.

Eurydic,e. H~,h9. , hal I was afr~dd of dyin ::.- , chi Id, tha t a all. Upon my ·-·ord, my dear, parting with thee was all the little com f ort I had.

Orphe~s. Did you desire it, then? Eurydice . Most heartily, upon my word . I seldom prayed for anything else.

Orpheus. Wny, did we i at live comfortably together?

Eurydi ce. Oh, very co.llfortably . after the Golden Fleece1 II

Orpheu.s. .N ay, if you come to that, did you not run 8. ay f rom me, and stay a t Th ebes by yourself a whole inter! (1)

Word to the -·-i s~J} 736). has f or its plot I Eurydice Hissed, or A . .,l-w"'c,,". the damnation of Eurydice th.£.. f lat dramatic acti:m ~ nad made it fall at Drury Lane.

(1) • Eurydice,. Act 1, Scene 2 . . So far a s action is concerned the plot as little or n one . It con~ sists of one short scene) the setting of which i s on the stage and outside the playhouse . It consi s ts of tne conversation b etween

Spatter, a writer of tragedies,Sourwit, a critic, Zi l lage , a writer

01' :t'arces, actors, and too gentle1l1en . Their d is cour ~ e turns upon plays and the public .

Of the characters, PillLage, the wri ter whose farce is hissed, may be t aken as a burlesque of Fielding hose Eurydice had suffered a l ike , at Drury Lane . spatter a. nd Sourwit A. r e caricatures. The dialogue is burl esque and in it Fielding takes off his ovm play.

;j d Gentleman. Oh, Friend s , all 's last; Eurydice is damn ed. ---~=;..;. 2d Gentleman. Ha ! Damned ! A few short moments past I came

From the pit-door, and heard a loud a~ l Ruse. 3Q Gentleman . 'Tis true, at first the pit seemed greatly pleased, And loud applauses through the ellclles runt ,

Eu t as the pIa l. b egan to oped .. ore, (A shallow plot) the claps less frequent rew, Till by degrees a gentle h iss arose; Thi s by a cat call from the Rl J ery

Was qui ekly seconded; then f·ollowe i claps,

And 't wi~t l Olg claps an ni s bes did succeed ---.------.------~------stern contention •.•. Sudden there i ssued forth a horrid dram , And from another rushed two gallons forth;

The au0.iellce, !:t.S it we re contagious air, All caught it, hallooed, catcalleu., hissed and groaned. (1)

Tumbl~y.m D12k, or Phaeton in the Suds( I ?66} burlesques the myth of Phaeton and Apollo. It is interoSl"u.a. with comic interludes of liarlequin ancl ColUJllbine . The play is presenteu. as a rehearsal

of Mr. Fustian's tragedy which is acted for the ap~roval of Sneer­ well and achIne . .i'he setting of trle play is at the ,layhouse. The characters are Clymene, a Grecian oyster-wench, Phoebus

Apollo wh o is introdmced in the character of a w tchman ~ith a lanthornJ representing his chariot, and young Ph::tt;t otl )a lazy, loung­ ing rascal.

The di D.l o gue i 0 burlesque and a rter the manner of Lu c ian in Th,e ::J ialogues of the Cods . Jupiter. Hari(ye, you Pho e cus, vlili you t ake your l'1nthorn and

set OUt, sir, or no? For by the st~ At I'll put so aebody else in Your place, if you do . n o t; I will no t have the world left in dark­

ness, because you are out of humour. you Phoebus . Haye I !lO t reason to be out of humour, 1hen have destroyed my favorite child?

- -BC- 1. (1). Eurydice Hissed; or, A Word to the :'1 s- e • Act I, Scene - Jupiter. 'Twas your own fault; why did ;) ()ll trust him with your lanthorn? I Phoebus. I had prolnised by the Styx, an oath which you know . was not in my power to break.

Jupiter. I shall dispute with you here no longer; so either t ake up your lant.!lorn, and :ni nd your Lusiness, or I'll dispose of

it to somebody else. I would not have you think I want suns, for there were wo very fine ones that shone together at Drury Lane

play-house; I myself sa. 'I 'em, for I was in the same entertainment. (1)

Sumrtlary.

In The Author's Farce, Pasquin, The Historica~gister, :F;ury­ di::e, and TUUlble-dow Dick the basis of the plot is the . oek rehear-

sal of a play. Variety i s given to these burle quee ~ ~ the nature of the pl.ays rehearHed, 4-1though these primarily vary only in b eing eitner a burlesque of tne rules of comedy, as in'The Election' (Pasquin)~ra burlesque of the rules of Tragedy, as in the'Life and

Deatn of COffilI1on Se se' (Pasquin), or . '(4 burlesque of t classic myt •

1E.m Tnumb and The Co ent (-~ arde n T r ~.€,edy have as their b c;, sis t e re- i currin ~ theme of the burlesque of the tragic absurdities. -The Grub Street Opera, however, strik es a new note in its t urlesque of ser-va t-life.

The setting of Pasquin, The Historical Register, Eurldice,

------~~v .-. ~------'------. (1). Ttwble- down Dick, or Phaeton in the Suds. .l~ e t 1, Se ene 1. Eurydice Hissed, and Tumble-down Dick is the play-house; that of

Tom Thuml:.,.1:.I.l ~~!. ra Incogni ta, and The Covent Garden Trage.sx. that of the underworld. The setting of the Grub s treet Oper! is on an English Coun t ry esta te. The chara cters in all the burlesques plays of Fielding are drawn according to the methods of burlesque exaggeration. Th ey are typical and not individual. The dialogue of t h e burlesques is, on the wh ole, that of exaggerated speech, verbal sports, and pointed hut burlesque satire

- 52- PAR T II

THE NOVELS OF HENRY FIELDING CONSIDERED WITH REGARD TO PLOT, SETTING, CHARACTE_IZATION

Ai D DI ALOGUE .

:: .i ,

CHAPTER I

The Author's Preface to Joseph Andrews.

Before teking up the discussion of Joseph Andrews (1742) ,

Fielding's first novel , the Author's Prefo,ce to tha.t book requires \ a brief eXRIIlinetion , since it comprises an exposition of the comic romance wl lich he intended this ,1 0vel to De, and some of his princi- pal assumptions of what constituted the comic.

The plot, chs,racterization, and diction of tl e cowic romance.) Fielding defines thus :

"A comic romance is a c.;Oll.lC epic poem in prose; differing from comedy as tne se ious epic from 'tragedy; i n its Action being , .ore extended and comprehensiwe; containing a much larger circle of inci- dents, and introducing a. greater variety of characters. It differe from the serious romance in its fable and action, in thi~: that as in the one 'these are grave end solemn, R O in the other they are light and ridiculous. "It differs in its chAracters by introducing persons of inf er- ior ranK, end consequently of inferior manners, hereas the grave romance sets tne highest before us." (1). In its sentiments ana diction the comic romance "preserves the ludicrous instead of the sublime." "I t link." continues Field- -.. -53 (1) • Joseph Andrews. ' he Author's Preface. pp . XXX . ( st. Edmnnds 'diti on de Luxe, 1902.) ing, "burlesque itself may be sometimes ~ dmitted ; of which many instances will occur in this work, as in the description of the

ba.ttles, and some other places, not necessary to Ile pointed out

to th e c lassics.l reader, for whoee en terta.irunent trlO se pe.rodies or burlesque imi ta.tions are{chiefly calculated." "But though we ]lave sometimes admitted this in our diction, we ha.ve carefully excluded it from our sentiments and characters; for there it is never properly introduced, unless in writings of the burlesque .L

And burlesque writing Fielding defines a.s ever being the "exhi- oition of what is monstrous and unnatural, wne 'C our del i gh t, if we examine it, arises i"rom the f.urprising aosurdity, as in appropriating the manners of the ilighest to the lowest, or ~ converso" (2) In order {- "t\" illustrate his opinion of burlesque Fielding dra.ws J an exemple from the Ita.lia.n Caricatura, whose eim, he declares, "is to exhibit monsters not men ; and nll distortions and exaggerAtions whetever 8~e within its proper province. "Now , whe.t caricature is in painting, burlesque is in writing." (3) , The cClmic, however, Fielding i'llsists, should be "a just i itatio of na.ture, " (4) for life ev rywhere lurnishe en accurate observer wi th .:the ridicu-lous." And tlis term 'ridiculous' Bl d 'truly ridi- culoue' Fielding uses as equivalent to the \ord comic.

v-z: (1) • Joseph J,ndrews. The Author's Preface. p. XXX , (St. lild onds Ed ition de Luxe, 1902) (2) • Ibid. p • .xJUCI (3) • Ibid. Pp. XXXlI.XXXIII.

(4) • Ibid. p. XXXI. The "only true source of the ridiculous , " Fielding asserts, "is affectation , " (1) , snd "affectation arises from one of two causes, vanity or hypocrisy; or as vanity puts us on affecting false che.racters, in order to purchase applause; so hypocri sy scts

U8 on an endeavor to avoid CBnsure by concealing our vices under an appearance of thelir opposite virtues. "From the discovery of tilis a,ffecta tion arises the ridiculous

which always striKes t h e' reeder wi th surprise aLld pleasure; and the.

in a h igher and stronger degree when the affectation arises from j hypocrisy, than when from vanlty; for to discover anyone to be the eX0 ct reverse of what he affects , is more surprising, and consequeni - ly more ridiculous, than to find him a little deficient in the qua­ lity he desires tbe reputation or . (2) . " ow , f rom affecte tion on y, tIle ul i sfortunes and calami ties of life, or the imperfectiolls of nature, may become the objects of

ridicule . Pruely h e hath a very ill- framed min~ who can look on uglines s, infirmi ty , or poverty, as ridiculous in themselves •• • • Much less ere natural imperfections the objec t of derision; but

when ugliness' eims at t.he applause ot' bef1 uty, or 11-'mene~ endeavors

to display agility, it is then that these unfortunate circumst ances~ 1 which t first I. oved our compassion, tend ol l y t.o raise our mirth . (~ "Great vices are the proper objects of our detestation, smaller faults , o ~ our pity; out affectation appears to me the only true I -00- (1) • Joseph i~ndrews . Author' s Preface . P . MXIV.

(2) • Ivid. p . 'XX];V .

(3) . I bid. p . ).JCXVI; source of the ridiculous. It (1) •

These comme nts of .l!ielding's on the comic romance and the baeis of the coraic, prepare very defini tely the way for an appreciation of Fielding 's work as a comic novelist ; and indicate his possible lines 01" development e.s {3 comic a rtist. \Vh ether or j ~o t };lielding followed up the two ma.in principles of the comic h ere set l'orth; i. that a ffectation is t h e only true soure.t-cf the ricliculous, B.nd th:;, t '" Pl-\ '~~'l.., ~~(I ~'1 the comic a rtist should above all others a ccuratelYvbe seen by an examine tion of his succeeding 1i tera,ry productions.

-5'- (1) • Joseph Andrews. Author's PrefRce. p. :~ II. CHAPTER II

Joseph AndrewB considered with regard to plot, setting,

ch aracter~zation and dialogue.

In accordance with Fielding's intention, Joseph Andr~(1742) in form is a comic romance. It is a series of adventures in high and low life , divided into books having mock heroic introductions, and diversified by episodes. Its action is extended a nd compre- hensive, containing a l arge series of incidents>introducing a great variety of characters, and its fable is neither grave nor solemn, but light and ridiculous. The plot of Joseph AndrewB as a comic romance may be thus briefly stated. Joseph Andrews after being dismissed from my Lady Booby's service in London, started out to travel on f oot to the Booby country est ~ te)s'nce he wished to see h is sweetheart , Fanny, who lived in the same parish where stood the Booby estate. He had gone but a 11ttle way/when he was attacked, beRten by rob- bers )and left for dead on the side of the r08d. A stage coach passing by, bore him to Mrs . Towouse's inn, ', here he was put to bed to recover from his bruises. Here.,.>he IIlet his friend Mr. brp. am UJtA.ck k ~ ~!. cJu. ~ ) Adams who was traveling to Lo ndon to sell some sermons and having v- no other object in journeYlng to London, decided to return with Joseph to his own parish. So Parson Adams with his crabstick and Joseph wi th his li ttle piece of gold sallied f orth. ish aps one after another before t l. em. Now it was Joseph held in custody for payment 1'or the oats Parson Adams' horse had eaten, or it was Parso Adams who had lost his way . On the road Parson Adams rescued Fanny from the hands or a ruft ian. For Fanny having heard of Joseph's misfortunes had gathered to gether her belongings and started out to find him. So Joseph, Fanny, and Parson Admns con- tinue their adventures by the way, chief among which was Adams' visit a t the home of the Squire. They finally arri~e s fely at the Booby country est9te.

In the narrative occur two or three lon~ episodes, one of Leonora, or the unfortunate jilt, related by iss Gre.ve-Birs as the p rty travel in the coach; and another, the history of the life of Mr. Wilson, narratedoy Mr . Wilson to Parson Adams, Joseph and Fal1ny . Such a story dealing with life on the road and interspersed with episodes certainly 1'alls in the category of the comiC romance as it had oeen used by Scarron in hie Ro ~an Comique and Cervantes in Don Q,uixote . Though Fielding states in his title page that Joseph Andrews is written in imitation of the manner of Cervantes) there are many writers, Hazlitt among others, who have professed to be unable to find even the sligll test resemblance to Cervantes in the w ole book.

-59- "\ In regard to Fielding and Cervantes, Hazlitt writes, "There is little to warrant that Fielding wa s an imitator of Ce1'Vantes, ex- cept his olm decl;,i ration of such an intention in the ti tie page of Joseph Andrews, and the romentic turn of the character of Parson Adams (th e only rom::tntic cha racter in his works) and the proverbial humour of Partridge, which is kept up only for a few pages." (1) Howeve r, a close scrutiny of the scenes and actions reveals a

similarity to Don Quixo~, perhaps not evident at first, since in the construction of Joseph Andrews Fielding succeeded in the at- j I tempt in whi ch he f a iled in Don Q.uixote in England (f); nWtlely that of being able to va ry the scene and give his lero ani opportunity of displaying himself in a different manner from that wherein he

appears in the romance of Cervantes, so th t a ~uixote in England

would have something sufficient to distinguish him from a ~uixote in Spain. In addi tion to the i'act that Joseph Andrews and Don Quixili are both tales of life on the road, there are many particular-

scenes in the first " L. ich oear a resemblance to ones in Don ~uixote and which have caught above all the spirit of Cervantes. Before examining tnese separate scenes, owever. there is one sentence in the Author's Preface to Don Quixote that, save f or a

difference in the manr er of the wording, is almost an e ~ act replica of one of Fielding's cardinal pohnts in his t h eory of the comic.

n -GC- (1) Hazlitt. English Humorists . pp.112 (Ed. E. Phys. (2) See Part I, Chapter 1. pp12. "Nothing but pure. nature is your bUsiness", says the certain friend to Cervontes, "her you must consult, and the closer you can imi .. tate, your picture is the better."(l) "So," wri tes Fi elding, "in the t ormer (referring to t Il e c.Q.mic in cOl.apari son wi th the burlesque) we should ever confine ourselves

strictly to nature, f"rom the just imi tation 01" which will flow all the pleasure we can this way convey to a sensible reader." (2)

A character! tic scene of Don ~uixote and Joseph Andrews is to have the personages of the story breathlessly listening to one of the episodic romances which occur throughout both books, therecit ..

al of whi ch is interrupted by a. rcr:u:trk 01." Don Q,uixote or Parsn Ad ms, correcting some grrurunatical error on the part of the narrat-

or. For example, in Don Q,uixote, book 1 chapter 3, the goatherd rela tes to ton Quixote the sad tale of the shepherd Chrysostom. "And no,",," continued the goatherd, "I will tell you such a thing you never hecrd the Like ih your born days, and may not chance to hear of such a nother while you breathe, thoughyou were to l ive as

long ')!': long as Sarnah." "Say Sarah, It cried Don Q,uixote, -:no hated to hear him blunder thus. (1) In Joseph Andrews Miss Graveairs telll ng the story of Leonora,

seys: "He was indeed chFl rmed wi th her person, ana. WB s, on inquiry,

'- so well pleased 'Il i th the circwnstflnces of li er H tIler (fpr he him­

self, not with~tending all hi8 finery, ~es not quite ~o rich as a

-60'" (1) Don Quixotp, Vol. 1, Book 1 Chap.3. pp. 70 £v ~ ry n. ed.) ...

.; Croesus or an Attalus.) .. At talus" says Mr . Adams."(l) In connecti0n with these scenes it is interesting to notice

a reference in Joseph Andrews to the story 01' the shepherd Chry- sostorn, tnough it occurs in one of the chapters of prefatory mater- ial which is in no way directly connected with the story. "Now with Us biographers," writes Fielding, " the case is different;

the facts we deliver maybe relied upon, though we often mist : ~kt the e.ge and country wherein they he.ppened; for, though it ms.y be worth the examino'Gion of critics, whether the shepherd Chrysostom, who as Cervantes inr'orms us, died for love of the i'air Marcella, who hated him, was ever in Spain, will anyone doubt but that such a silly fellow hath really existed?"(2) Another scene in keeping with the spirit of ooth romance is thE following, Don Q.uixo.t.e, Vol. 1, Bo ok III , chap. 5. "While our

benighted travelers went on dolefully in the dark, the knigh~ery hW1gry, and the squire very sharp set, wllat should they sec moving . towards them but e great number of lights, tilat appeared like so many wandering stars. At this strange apparition, down ank

Sancho~s heart at once and even Don ~uixote himself was not without

some symptoms of surprise . , -- They soon perceived that the li~hts made directly tow;:lrds Ulem , and the nearer tIley came, the oig;1: er

they appeared .. "Woe t s me ," quoth Sancho, "should. til i s happen to be another adventure of r':hosts" •••••.

-6']- I (1) Joseph Andrews. Vol. 1, Book 2. Chap . 4, pp. 151. (2 ) Ibid. Vol. 2, Book III, Chap. 1 , pp. 34. · . With that t.rley rode 1:' little out of the way, and gazing earnest­

ly a t the lights, they soon discovered e. great number of persons

all in wh ite ••.• Tlds disma.l spectacle, at such a time of night, in

the midst of such a vast solitude, wa. s ehough to have shipwrecked

tile courage of a stouter squire than Sancho, and even of his master had he been any other than Don Q,uixote; but as hi s imagine tiol1

straight suggested to him, that til is wes one of those adventures of

whi ch he had so often read in bo oks of the chi ve.lry etc •••••• II (1) j In Joseph Andrews this scene occurs, "The sky was 80 clouded

tha t no t a s te.r appea.red. I t was indeed, a.ccording to 11il ton, darkness visible •.•••. Adams sat at some distance from the lovers

and, being unwilling to disturb t il em, applied h imself to medi tati.on

in which he had not spent much time bei'ore he discovered 8 light at

some distance which seemed epproa.ch ing towards hi il . lie imme d iatel~

hailed it; but to his sorrow and surprise,it stopped f or a moment

a.nd then di seppeared. He then cell ed to Joseph, asking 1. im, "If he had not seen tle light?" Joseph answered "he ha.d lt . -- "And did you mark how it vanished?" returned he ; "though I am not afraid of

ghosts, I do not absolutely disbelieve them."

:2 "He then entered into a meditat.dlon on those unsuostant1al being~~ which was soon interrupted oy several voices, which he tr:'OUg!lt al­ most at his eloow, thouc...h in fact they were not so extremel y near.

~l) Don Quixote, Vol. 1, Boo1P~I, Cha.p. 5, pp. 120-1. However, he could hear them agree on the 1,lUrder of anyone they met ; and after a little heardone of them say, "he hnd .l

since tIlat day fortnight . 1I

tlAdams i'ell on his knees, and committed,himself to tlle care of Providence •••• Upon this the voices ceased for a moment, aad then

one of them called out, IID __ n you, VI l a is th ere?" To which Adams wa s prudent enough to make no reply; and of a sudden he observed, half a dozen lights, which seemed to rise all at once l'rom the ground, a nd ~ dvance briskly towards him. This he immediately con- eluded to be an apparition; nd now beginning to conceive that the voices we r e of the sprue kind , he ca lled out, "In the name of the L--d, what wouldst thou hnve?" (1 )

Since Doth Don ~uixote and Joseph Andrews are t , les of adven­ ture of life on the road, no scene is more frequently repeated tHan tilat of the inn brawl, occasioned either by Don ~uixotets or P rson

Adams' well intentioned ~fforts to assist the injured, or by their failure to pay the reckoning, since the former had no preceaent in the books of knight- errantry he had read tnat a constable ever made a knight pay a reckontng for lodging in his castle; (2) and to

Don ~uixote gll inns were castles. As for Parson Adams he would gladly have paid his reckoning had he ad the money, out thi ~ was general y lacking, end his belief in christian ch?rity so great that he could suppose no innkeeper really capaole of exacting it. -:, 6-1 - (1) .To seph Andrews. Vol. II, Chap. 2, pp. 42-43. (2 ) Don Quixote • . Vol. 1, Bo ok IV, Chap. 17, Pp. 379. Don Q.uixote's mad attempts a. t deeds of chiva lry r esulting in a

gen eral f i ght, and .his f a ilure to pay the recknoing ~r~ illustra.ted

by the scene depicted in chapters t wo and three of Book one, vol-

une two. The scene is too long to q~ote; this, however, is its

ending , "Sir Knight," answered the innkeeper, with an austere

gravity, "I shall not need your assistDnce to revenge any wrong

tha t may IJ8 ve been offered to my person; t· or I would have you

understa nd, t he t I am able to do myself justice, wnenever any man

presumes to d o me ~ rong ; therefore all t r. e satisfaction I desire is

that you will pay your reckon ing for hOrS€T meat and man's meat,

and a ll your expenses in my lnn." "Bowt" cried Don Q,uixote, "is

thi s a n inn?" •..•. Upon my l'l onor I took it for a cas tle, but if it

be an inn, and not El ca.stle, all I have to say is, tnat you must

excu~e me from paying anything; :t"or I would by no Irle pns bresk t h e

laws wr. i ch we knights- errant are bound to observe." (2) "Our travelers," wri tes Fielding of Parson Adams, Joseph and

Fanny, wh o had just let t an ,inn where much dis t urbance had been occasioned on account of t h elr inabili ty to pay tileir reckon ing ,

"had wa lked p. bout two miles from that inn, l/hich they had more rea f on to have mistaken f or a ca stle than Don Q,uixotc ever ad 8ny

of those in vm ich he sojourned, seeing they had met with such dif­

ficulty in excaping out of its walls, w',en t h ey ce le to a. parish,

and beh eld a. sign of· invi tation hanglng out." (2) And when the travelers hed I Dished t eir stay at tnis new inn, Adams said to the

innKeeper: "But what vexes me most , is wet he h r.? th dec yea. us into

(1) Ibid. Vol. Yf:--Book 1, Cha,p.- 3, pp . 108. -h~ - (2) .To-S.e()h Andrewl'l Vol?' Rnnk 2 ~htm 1F, nn lfl running up a long debt with you, va ich we are not able to pay, for we have no money about us, end, what is worse, live at such a dis-

t 2. nce, tha.t i f you should trust us, I am afr~id you wou'ld lose your money f or want of our f inding any convenience of sending itll. (:1. ) • In Don Quixote , Book two, Cha,pters tn irty "to fifty-eight are concerned with the adventures of Don Q,ulxote and Sancho at the castle of the Duke , who wi t h h is Duchess' ~elight in putting upon the knight all sorts of pranks Wh l Ch his frenzy for the deeds of knight-errantry prevents him from discovering. One of these was the mock pageant of sages, enchanters, nnd nymphs surrounding a fichh""9 Dulcinea who abused the fate wh ich had thus disfigured her misu ~ d , chopped end changed. (2) The adventure of Countess Trifeldi, of Wooden Peg the .swift, Altisidora and a whole train of minor practical joke" f'urnish amusement f'or the Duke and his ot- tend ~ nts, ~uri ng Don Q,u ixote's stay at the castle. A para.llel set of rude jests ere perpetrated by the fun-loving w~t.4 suire, upon Pa rson Adams,the. inoffensive disposition of .,~ own y heart made [lim slow in di scovering. These occur in Volume t ;o , Book three, chapter seven, w ich Fielding entitles a cene of roast­ ing, very nicely adapted to the present taste and times." Parson Adams suf-ers one indignity after anotner fr t the h' nde of' the playel - 5(; - (1) I~id, Vol. 2, Book II, Cha». 16, pp. 24-5. (2) Don Quixote. Vol. 2, Book II, Chap . XXV, pp. 229-235. the poet , the naliO-pay officer and the broken-down dencing master. He is tbe butt of all 'their jests, soup is spilled upon him, h is cha ir is whisked out from under him, and he is inveigled into mounting a mock t h rone froIn wrlich he was to lead the company in a

religiQUs disserta~ion . But no sooner did Parson Adems mount the throne than he was plunged into a. tub ot water underneath. (1) The foregoing examples sufficiently indice.te Fielding's success

in the construction of Joseph Andrews as a comic romance ~ f the manner of Cervantes. There is, however, another a spect of the plo , of Joseph Apdrewl!., and this is its form considered a s a burlesque

of Richardson t s Pamelp, a.l though Fielding maintains in hi s prefa ce

that Joseph jUlftrews is not a burlesque. "But~ writes Fielding, " though we have sometimes admitted this (referring to burlesque) in our diction, ve have carefully excluded it from our sentiments and chara cters; for there it is never properly introduced, unless in writings of the burlesque .Kind, which this is ot intended to

be. 11 (2) In spite of this assertion, the plot of Joseph Andrew% vd:ewed from one aspect is clearly s parody of Pamela. Joseph Andrews, the footman,is depicted as the brother of the virtuous Pamela, the youngscrving-woman of Richardson's novel, ~h o after victoriously resisting all tle a ttempts made oy her master to seduce h er, ultim­ ately is rewarded by marriage wlth nim.

- o~ - (1) Josen! Andrews. Vol. II, Book III, Chap 7, pp. 115-126. (2) Joseph And;ews. Author's Preface, p. XYJa . "The authentic history with which I now present the publ ic," says Fielding in beginning his novel, "is an instance of the great go od t he t book (meaning Pamela) is likely to do , e,nd of the pre­ valence of example which I have just observed; since it will appear that it was by keeping the excell. ent pattern of his sister's vir­ tues before his eyes tha.t Mr • .Joseph Andrews wa. s chiefly ena.bled to preserve his purity in the midst of such greet temptations." (1)

The plot of .Joseph Andrews as a burlesque of Pamela runs briefl~

t hus: .Joseph Andrews is pursued by the unwelcome solicitations of j h is mistress, the Lady Booby, but as his sister Pamela had done he

resists the attentions of the Lady Booby, ~nd succeeds in keeping ,\ \N D \J Let \\r."" b"~"\ t 1 tf;cl. Wd"',,-k\')~, ?~ clfo.t""So "I t;.. ~o~~ pi , inta ct his characteristic of male cha sti ty. \/WOUlcl you- r inclina- tions not be all on i'ire rather by such a f avour?" "Ma.dam," said .Joseph, "if they were. I hope I should be a ole to II controul them, without suf fering them to get the better of my virtuE~ ot from the inimi table pencil of my friend Hoga.rth could you rec- eive such an iden of surprise as would have entered in at your eyes ha d they beheld the Lady Booby when those la t words issued out f rom the lips of .Joseph. "Your virtue!" seid the Lady, recovering aft t- It' a silence of two minutes; "I shall never surv iv it. Your virtu!t" (2) As Pamela esce,pes f rom the h ome of h er persecutor and i s still

Pursued. so .Joseph is dismissed from Lady Booby's service and sent

- 6 - (1) Ibid, Book It Chap. 1. pp . 3-4. (2) .Joseph Andrews. Book I, Chap. 8, pp . 39-40. away without a character. It is at this juncture (chapter X) that t h e plot of Joseph Andrews ceases to be a parody on Pamela and becomes a comic roma.nce of adventures by the we.y . But the burles que of Richardson's plot is again revived at the end of the story, wh ere all the chara.cters, even Pamela herself and her gre- cious husband, a re gathered together again. The Ls.dy Boobt y con- tinues h er persecution of Joseph, endea.voring to prevent his mar­ riage with Fanny. fot only is the ending of Joseph Andrews a burlesque of Rich­ ardson's Pamela, but it is a.lso a burlesque after the rna.nner of Tom Thumb on the romantic extravagancies of the heroic dr ama . For insta.nce, Joseph whom circumstances we re about to make the brothe r

of ~anny--a situa tion f requen tly found in the h eroi c drama(l) -­ unbuttoned his coa1; and "discihosed as fine a stra\berry as ever gr ew in a gardin," thus confirming the peddlar' s story and proving

himself to be not .the son of G~fer and ~mmer Andrews. A straw­ berry bir thmark was an old device of iden ification in the heroic

tragedy. Indeed, the entire last scene of Joseph A ndr~ws with all

t h e characters marshalled at Boo by Hall is ~ burlesque of the favor­ ite type of ancient drama. , tllat of r ecogni tion and revolution (2),

and into thi~is brought the additional sug t~ estion of a. burlesque of

_ ~ich a rdsonts Pamela. '-70- (1). Dryden. Spanish Friar.

(2) . Cross . Development 01 the nglish ,j.~ovel . pp 44. From the foregoing exa.rnples, it is evident that Fielding fol­ lowed only in part his thelilry of the comic in regprd to plot as set 1'orth in the Preface to .Joseph Andrews . As a comic romance in th e manner of Cervantes, Fielding adheres to his theory of the • comic as stated in the Preface to .Joseph Andre~~, but in making it a parody of Richa.rdson's Pamela Fielding followed the practice wh ich he had used in Tom Thumb, Pasquin, and the rest of his burlesque plots.

As the setting of Don ~u ixote is on the hi ~hways and oyways and in the inns a.nd the castles of Spain, SO that of .JosePh Andrews is along the English roads, the h .. nes ana i"ootpaths of the country side) and in the Engli s1'1 inns and llouses of the country quirefl. It is a new setting with Fielding. Only t wo of his plays, Don QUixotefn England from among his comedies, and the Grub street Opera from among his burlesques have a setting at e.ll similar, > the action of Don Quixote in England taking place at an English country inn and that of the Grub street Opera at the home of an English country squire. The a.tmosphere of .Joseph Andrew,S breathes e aifferent spiri t from that of Fielding's comedies or Durlesques. The fundamental rela tionships of life--love, marriage, and religion re not treated lightly as subjects of jest and f ancy. !he rustic love of .Joseph lmdrews and Fanny by virtue of its truth and sincerity not only

- 'fl- commands respect but takes on ideal beauty. Parson Adams' simple

and pure trust in the goodness of the Lord and the honor and virt~ of mankind is never itself ridiculed. It is rather Parson Trull- iber's hypocritical but very ef fective religion ror getting along in the world; amassing property)ana aoqtixing the respect of one's neighborR, that is laughed to scorn. In depicting the comic in character in Joseph Andrews,Fielding shows four influences which may be described a s characters after,

(1) the methods of the comic dramatists of the school of Congreve, { (2) the burlesque, (3) the manner of Cervantes, ~nd (4) those de­ rived from Fielding's own observation of the ludicrous in human nature, or the methods of the naturalist. In the first group are my Lady Booby and Madame Qlip-s1ap.

IllY Lady Booby is the 1igb t, fa~h ionable, intriguing wonwn of fash­ ionable life, bent on pursuing s man who reject her address . To

a certain extent she has her parallel in my Lady Flippant in ~IYc er­ ley's Love in 8 \'Iood and may be likened to Illy a.dy Plyant in Con- greve's Double Dealer. The situation between Lady Booby and Joeepl in its fundamental aspect was a typica one of the comedy of manners--the woman of gay society enga.ging in an amour merely to enliven the tedium of the day. Madame Slip-slop, the Lady Booby's serving woman, a mixture of servility, impertinence, hypocrisy and sensu lity that could not be

-'(~- •

surpa. ssed, h a s many points in common with Mrs . Midnight in Field­ ing's burlesque 'fhe Cnnvent Garden TreSjed;r::. But as a serV8,nt-type

Mrs . Slip- slap shows a finer distinction of ch ~ racterization than had been apparent in the conventional maid serva.nts of' the comedy of manners . The success of Mrs . Slip-8lop s a comedy Ch ~ racter has been well proved by Sheridan, a.nd Dicken~ , f or Mrs . Malaprop • and SeA.r~y Gamp h1Jve many slip-slapian characterist~cs. Mrs . Mal- apropts' nice derangement of her epitaphs' is not more amUsing thsn Slip-sl p who took pleasure in discoursing with Parson Adams on tbe essence(or, as she was then pleased to term it, the incense) of matter, (1), nor than in her unsuccessful advances to JOseph An­ drews when she complained of her "passion being resulted and treat .. cd v.ithironing."(2) . Beau Didapper who appears in the latter part of the story to distress Fanny with his attentions and further the Lady Boob)tts scheme to prevent the marriage of Joseph and Fanny, is the type of the conventional would-be wit and silly man of Iashion found in the comedies of Etheredge, Wycherley, nd Congreve. His greetest likeness wi th these would- be Vii ts is wi th llonsieurJ in 'fycherley's

Gentleman Dancing Master. He is thus described: "~r. Didapper, or beau Didapper, wa~ B young gentleman of about four foot five in- che~in height. He wore h is own hair, though the scarcity of it

- '/:5- (1) • Joseph Andrews. Book I, Chap. 4, p. 13. (2). Ibid, Book I, Chap. 6, p . 26. ------

might have given him sufficient excuse for a periwig. His face was thin and pale; the shape of his body ll nd legs none of the best for he .flad very narrow shoulders and no calf; and hi s gai t might more properly be called hopping than walking. The qua,lifications

of h is mind. were well adapted to his person. VIe sh~ll handle them first negatively. He was not entirely ignorant, for he could t a lk a little French Bud sing two or three Italian songs; he had l ived too much in the world to be bashful, and too much a t caur

to be proud; he seemed not much inclined to avarice f or he was pro- f fuse in his expenses,' ; nor had he all the features of Prodigal i ty, for he never gave a shilling; no hater of women , i'or he always dangled a.fter them; yet so little subject to lust, that he had, &nong those who kne'w him best. the character of grea t modera.tion in his pleasures; no drinker of wine ; nor so addicted to passion but

that a hot word or two :t"rom an adversary me.de him immediate y cool. I (1 Joseph Andrews himself, although conceived in one light as

the male ingenu and as such a burlesque counterpart 01" Pamela,

the n~ive girl, has his probotype in the character of ur. Thomas the :footman, in Fielding! s fa.rce The Virgin Unmasked and its sequel Miss Lucy' in Town. Mr. Thomas, the young, well-set, self-respect- ing and engaging footman of the Virgin Unmasked presents the same favorable contrast with the absurd and affected suitors who seek -74- (1) • J 0 seEh Andrews • Vol. II, Book IY, Chap. 9, pp. 220-21. t he hand of Ides Lucy; and in the sequel, Miss Lucy in Town. Mr.

~homas does not want t he cudgel-playing characteristics of Joseph Andrews, wh ich he uses in defense of h imself a,nd of Lucy. Viewed from one aspect Fanny too is a conventional dramatic type. In eve17 comedy or i·arce written by Fielding ;Ohere is to ~ found at least one female character. young . beautiful, sincere. pur. in mind and body and free f rom a f fecta.tion. As characters they generally playa minor part, but t h ey are always a stable conventioI of the love intrigue. This is true not only of Fielding 's comedief but of those 0 1· the comedy of manners as well. For example in The Double Dealer Cynthia is such a oharacter, B.nd Ali thea in -The Country Wife belongs to the s ~une type, t h ough her additional wit and esprit make her a. more resourceful individua l than Cynthia. However, in the crea tion of Joseph Andrews and Lady Booby. Fielding employed not only the methods of the comic dr ama tist but those of the burlesque B.rtist a·s well. But they all'e the burlesque methods of parody r a ther than of caricature. In the beginning of the n ovel Joseph Andrews is represented a s the brother of Pamela Andrews who s e virtue was then so famous.and it was by keeping the excellent pattern 01 his sister's virtues bef ore his eyes tha t he wa s enabled to preserve his puri ty in the !aidst of such grea t temp- tation:: . Lady Booby is ~e aunt of Mr. Booby; and h er designs against the virtue of Joseph traves ty the situation between r. Booby and Pamela. In chapter eight, book one. Joseph Andrews - 7b .... refuses to yield to the importWli ties 01' the Lady Booby, h o, piqued, twits hin with his virtue. "And ca.n a boy,lI exclaims Lady Booby, Ma stripling, have the conridence to talk of his virtue?1I

"Madam, II says Joseph, "that boy is tile brother of Pamela, and would be ashamed that the chastity of his family, wh ich is preserv­ ed in her, should be stained in him." (1). Both Pamela a.nd Joseph conscious of their digni ty a.nd self-

respect P S servants , put their masterond mistress in their right place. "Well, may I forget," cries Pamela, "1bhat I am your ser- vant, when you forget what belongs to a master ••.•• You have lessened the distance that fortune has made between us, by demean-

ing yourself, to De so free to ~ poor servant." (2) The Lady

Booby speaking to Joseph about the fo~ i1i8rities to Which l adies have admitted t eir footmen "asks, UTel1 me therefore , Joseph, if I should admi t you to such 1'reedom, what would you t h inA of me? . Tell me freely." "Madam," said Joseph, "1 should thinK your 1 dyship condescena- ed a great der l oelow yourself." (3) Gaffer and Gammer Andrews, the poor but honest parents of Pame­ la ~nose utilitarian virtue appeared disgusting to FieldingJsre ps,roa.ied in the latter ci1apters of Joseph Andrews. Richardson had endeflvored to make these poor) but h onest peasants) examples of

-76- ( 1) . Joseph Andrews. Vo l . 1, Book 1, Chap. 8, pp. 40 - ~ l. (2). Pamela. Vol. 1, Letter XI, pp. 13, EverymBn Ed .

(3). Joseph Andrews. Vol. 1. Book I , Chap. 8. p. 39. a noble disinterested virtue. Fielding saw that the virtue of

Gaffer Andrews was that of a comical, ~~r,old fellow who was h onest because self-interest dem:" nded it, a.nd not because his mi nd had been nourished upon the elevated unselfish principles of a Platonic philosophy.

Joseph Andrews as a parody of Pamela is dispensed with ~ost a s soon a.s the story as a comi c roma.nce is tak . up. When the burlesque of the novel Pamela. is resumed, the pa rouy of the charac­ ter of Pamela is renewed in the person of Pamela herself, who with j a gracious condescension in one of so elevated a position patronize the assembled company_ Fielding has made Pamela an inimitable ex­ ample of' the self-satisfied snobbery of a little person 0 smug and na.rrow virtue suddenly attained to gre ~ t e inence. It is Pamela chiming in with ner husband Mr. Booby, wno urges Joseph not to marry Fanny. "Brother," said Pamela, "Mr. Booby advises you as a friend; and no doubt my papa and mFrua will be of his opinion, and will have grea.t reason to be angry with you for destroying what his goodness hath done, and throwing down our 'emily again, after he ha th r aised it. It would become you better. bro~her,to pray for the assistance of gra ce against such n passion than to indulge it." "sure, Sister, you are not in earnest;" said Joseph, III am sure SIle is your equal, at least" .. "She ~ 1 Y equal, 11 answered

Pamela, "but I am no .L0nger Pamela Andrews; I am no\ tIl lS gentle­ man t s lady, a rlQ , a,s such am above her •.• I hope I sl all never behave

-77 .... , wi th B.n unbecoming pride; out a.t the same t ime. I shall a.lways en­ deavor to know myself , end questi n not the assistance of gr8.ce to that purpose." (1).

Mr . T> -. of Pamela is paredied in Mr. Booby who deigns as a 4\

matter of protection for his own superior and aristocratic positio~ to counsel Joseph aga.inst marrying such an inferior person as Fanny "You will excuse me therefore, ol1'other, if my concern t"or your in- terest makes me mention. Wllat may be, .perhaps, disagreeable to you to hee r; but I must insist upon it thnt, if you hQve any value f or my alliance or my f riendship, You will decllne any thoughts of en- gaging f urther with a girl who is, as you a re a rela tion of mine,

so much beneath you •••• I own, indeed, the ~ irl is handsome; out beauty alone is a poor ingredient, and will make but an uncomtorta- ble marriage ••• You will iind her equal in these among herl sup- eriors on a footing wi th yourself; at least I sha.ll t ake ca re they shall shortly be so, unless you prevent me oy degra ding yourself with such a match , a ma tch I have hardly patience to think of, and which ould break the hearts of your parents, W 0 now rejoice in thE expectation of seeing you make a igure in the ... orld. It (2).

In fact there could De no more lau¢lable a picture t han ~his burlesque of Pamela and her gracious" Lord, whose snobbery is such a logical outgrowth of tne middle-class morality of Richardson's herOine. There is only one person in the entire company able to • ....78 ... - (l). Joseph Andrews. Vol . II, Book IV, chap. 7, pp. 204-5

(2). Joseph P~drews. Vol. II, Book IV, Chap. 7, P. 203. to cope with the overwe ening vani ty and self-co.mplacency of Pamela

t'l nd 1:r. Booby. This is Parson Adams who publicly rebuKed ~r . Boo y and PamelA for l aughing in church. In the production o£ the foregoing characters, Mr. Booby, Pamela, Gaffer and Gammer Andrews, and to a certain extent, Joseph, Fielding employed the same burlesque method which he had used in Tom Thumb , Pasquin, The Historical Register and others of h is bur­

lesque plays; and u~ is was parody or mimicry of rules of dramatic j structure , election systems , or soci~l customs, and the c aract~rs ... lere Itlimi c exhioitions, as for example the Pamela appearing in Joseph Andrews is a mimicry of Richardson's herolne , and Tom Thumb apes t h e heroes of tragedy. The influence of Cervantes on Field- ing was to school him' to a more subtle Du rlesque, a burlesque that sharply defined itself from parody or mimicry, and took up the art

of caric a ture ~ so individualizing and refining the cha racter depicted that it cea sed to present itself to the mlnd as broad cartoon seen through a t a glance, out as an intricate, h i ghly developed individual)all of Wli ose various charecteristics have one dominant

1 t ~ e 01 trend which govern cl aracter to the exclusion the others:; and so proauce~ a ourlesque or L c r ic ~ ture. Cervantes naa pro- duced in the chnracter o ~ Lon Quixote an overchnrged coric ture of the ideals of chivalry a d had shown in it the incongruity of those idea s and ideals with the lacts of life. Don Quixote by the

-'1 c.. - loftiness and puri ty of his ideals commands respect, 'but he produce a laugh of derision because his ideals are ineffective and produc- - tive of no result save di se,ster and general di scomfort. Parson Adams designed by Fielding to represent a character of perfect truth and simplicity, living himself in a world of ideal virtue and goodness, was as little acquainted with the actual char­

acters of men as Don ~uixote with the realm of natural phenomena.

As the imagination of the latter transformed windmills into giants; so Parson Adams invested all lIlen wi th nis own virtues, and he was

as l oth to recognize vil l~~ny in a human being as Don ~uixote was to admit that the oarber' s basin was not Mambrino's helmet . Field- ing 's cQnception, however, of the quixotic character, or the man of impossible ideals, has one striking difference i'rom that of Cervan­

tes. Don ~uixote in his misguided frenzy to redress injured wrong

creates only confusion and disaster. He always ~kes the situatiol

worse than it was before. For example, Don ~uixote liberates the boy Andrew i'rom the orutal countryman who was flogging Him, only to clap spurs to Rosinante and leave the boy to worse treatment

than before; and Andrew meeting Don ~ui xote some Ionths later oit- terly berated the knight. "All you ha.ve said is true enough,1I answered Andrew, "but the business did not end after that manner you and I hoped it would." "How?" se id the knight, "has not the pee sant pa.id yoU?"

- 00- "Ay, he has paid me with a vengeance," said the boy, "for no

sooner was your beck turned, but he tied me ag3.in ~o the same tree and lashed me so cursedly that I looked like st. Bartholomew flead ali ve. • • •• And now I may thanK you f or this, for had you rid on your journey and neither meddled nor made, seeing nobody sent for

you, end it was none of your business, m~ master, perhaps, had been

satisfied with giving .me ten or twe~ty lashes, sad after that would have paid me what he owed me; but you was so huffy, 8nd called him so many names that it made him mad, and so he vented all. his spite

against you mn my poor back, 8S soon as yours was turned, insomuch

that I fear I shall never be my own man again. 1I (1)

Another striking instance of Don ~uixotets calwnitous interfer­ ence was the freeing of the galley sla ves (2), one of whom, Gines de Passamonte returned the benefit of the knight by stealing Dapple. ~ (3)

Parson Adams like Don ~uixote, aids distressed innocence and seeks to redress wrongs. But the difference between the two lies in the outcome of their efforts. fuen Parson Adams brandishes his crab-stick in behalf of the weak ~nd oppressed)the result is salu- tary, and constructive, actual good is accomplished. For example, he frees Fanny from the hands of the ruffian who had attacked her. (4). His opposition to the Lady Booby in behalf of Joseph and Fanny is effective, and at the home of the fun-loving squire, Adams -A .. (1) Don g.uixote. Vol. 1, Book IV, pp. 224-5. ¢hap. IV. (2 ) Ibid. Vol. 1, Book III, Chap. VIII. p. 144.

(3) Ibid. Vol. 1, Book IV, Chap. II..l, p. .Q~- 246. (4) Joseph Andrews, Vol. 1, Book II, Chap. IX, !lp. 197-8. fists and crab-stick are brought into requisition to punish his unmannerly host.

There is then this difference between Cerv~mtes and Pielding in the conception of the ~uixotic character; the ideals of Parson

Adaills, as far removed as Don ~uixotes from the actual facts of life are nevertheless constructive and make for the happiness of man~ kind. Those of Don Quixote are the same as those of Parson Adams- high, ideals of truth, honor, virtue and a utopia,n state-- but ih the application of them to the facts of life,harm and destructionfS the result. However, this dif ference but emphasizes the other likenesses between Don ~uixote and Parson Adams and indicates th8t Fielding was endeavoring to produce a burlesque character after the manner of Cervantea. As Don ~uixote thought himself the greatest knight- errant in the world, so Mr . Abraha!!l Adams believed IfAischoolmaster the greatest character in the world and himself the greatest of all sChool-masters; neither of which points he would have given up to

Alexander the Great at the head of his army.lf(l). Like Don ~UixotE;

Parson Adams is too, at once ridiculous ana respe~table. lie is to be laughed at and a~ired in the same breath. "His athletic prow- ess, his readiness to use his 'ist or his crab-stick, to resent in- sult and protect the weak; his absence of mind, his learnlng tlnged with pedantry, his unconscious vanity respecting his sermons, his _ e>.a .... (1). Joseph Andrews. Vol. 11, Book III, Clap. 5, p. 99. , ------,~-

scholarship and his pedagogic abili ty mixed wi th an unaffected humility; his hatred of vice. his excellent heart, his liberality.

h~ightened by his povert1~1)combine to make Parson Adams an exqui- site quixotian compound of manliness. weakness, goodness and ab- surdity. As Fielding describes him, Ifhe was generous, friendly and brave to an excess but simplicity was, his characteristic. He did not apprehend any such passion a s malice or envy to exist in

ma.nkind . 1I (2) Both Don Quixote and Parson Adams were seeking to mould things on an idea of their own, instead of moulding their ideas on things. They sought before them what they were thinking of, instead of thin1-

ing of what they ~aw. They both employ the logic of the comic.

Once the illusion has been created all situations develop logicall~ Don QUixote establishes in his mind the illusion of knight-errantry Parson Adams believed in the goodness and virtue of mankind. Evil was to him only a term which he did not know howto find in mankind

and when confronted with it he sought to evade a recognition of it.

Th erefore in respect to character drawing Parson Adams maintain~ himself as a distinct type. He embodies a dominant characteristic

or a leading passion. so that ~is single attrioute becomes the man, and necessarily run6 to caricature. There is another respect in which Parson Adams is a character type after the manner of Do n Quixote. Don Quixote is a character

- ~.:> - (1). Lawrence. Life of Henrx Fielding.

(2) • Joseph Andre~s. Vol. 1, ~ ook 1, Chap. 1, p.9.

.\ J in which the serious and comic elements interpenetrate each other. By the close alliance of the sympatha; . N'i th the comic both Don Q,uixote Dnd Parson Adams are t Ken out of the caass of cold carica­ tures, a t which from a superior vantage point we can only laugh. The absurdities of their characters enriched by sympathy, direct our observation to the more serious realities of life . They force us to look below the surface and glimpse the hidden incongruitie~ and deeper discords wh ich exist between the idea and the f a ct. j In addition to Parson Adams there are m~nor characters in Jose~l

Andrews who bear a pa r allel to 0 thers in Don Quixot,e. When Fi eld­ ing gave Joseph Andrews to Adame as a companion, he no doubt had Sancho, though very weakly, in mind. "In this rela tionship; the place of Joseph in Joseph Andrews as a comic romance is justified; he is very necessary to Parson Adams who had to have in his wander- ihgs an attentive listener to his moral disserta tions. As Sancho on like occasions, Joseph heard with enthUsiasm the discourses of Parson Adams; as the Spanish Farmer, he also allowed himself some­ times to let fall a remark which plainly indicated that the Parson had endeavored in vain to lift the ordina ry man to his visionary, idea listic standpoint, or like Sanch o, 11 e recalled the Visionary Parson, "lith a malllter-of-fact word to 'the reali ties of life . The

-84-

1 I true spirit of Sancho shows itself in Joseph who ever hangs with enthusiasm and approbation on the word of his master, but in tine of need forgets all good advice ana begins to murmur and complain when he is admonished by Adams to trust in the Lord." (1) The serving-maid MaritKmes is a less important though not to be .> - ) forgotten character in Don Quixot'e. She was a slatternly, easy going, good-na tured dowdy who rub-oed the bruises of the knight and bestowed favors on Sancho. (2). Betty, the chamber-maid in Mrs. Tow-wouse' inn, has many resemblances to . arit6mes. She was a good-natured creature, untidy, sluttish, and like aritomes, "her constitution was composed of those warm ingredients which, though the purity of courts or nunneries might have happily controuled the were by no means able to endure the ticklish situation of a chamber maid at an inn; who is daily liable to the solicitations of lovers of all complexions; to the dangerous atidresses of fine gentlemen of the army, who sometimes are obliged to reside with them a Whole year together; and above all, are exposed to the caresses of foot- men, stage-coachmen, and drawers; all of whom employ the whole ar- tillery of kissing, flattering, bribing, and every other weapon whi is to be found in the whole armoury of love, against them." (3). Of the characters in Jose-ph Andrews derived from Fielding's observations of men rather than having their origin in a literary -ee- (1 ) Becker. Don Quixote und Die Engli:he Literatur. p. 143. } (2) • Don Quixote. Vol. 1, Book III, Chap 2, pp. 96-102.

(3). Joseph Andrew~. Vol. 1, Book 1, Chap. 18, pp. 112-116. inspiration, there is first of all Parson Trulliber who, according to Murphy, was Fielding's first tutor--Mr. Oliver of Motcombe.(l}. The affectation of religion, and his hypocritical self-deception are the basis of the ludicrous in Parson Trulliber, with the addi- tional broad fun of burlesque suggested by his appearance. "Par- son Ad runs came to the house of Parson Trulliber, wh om he f ound

stript into his waist-coat, with an apron on and a pail in his hand " just COlde f rom serv ing hi s hogs; for Mr. Trull i ber was a parson on Sundays, but 11 the other six might more properly be called a farJiler. He occupied a small piece of land of h is own, besides which he rented a considerable deal more. His wife milked his cows managed h is da iry, and f ollowed the markets with butter and wggs. The hogs fell chiefly to his care, wh ich he carefully waited on at

h o~e, and attended to fairs; on which occasion he was liable to many jokes, h is own size being, with much ale, rendered little in- fer10r to tha t of the bea sts he sold. He was indeed one of the largest men you ~uld 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 wa s loud and hoarse, and his accents extremely broad. To complete the whole, he had a stateliness in his gait, when he walked, not unl i ke that of

- 86- (1). Austin Dobson, Fielding. p. 83.

I a goose, only he stalked slower." (1). jln the opening ch,apter of Book III, Joseph Andrews, Fielding declares "once for all that he ' describes not Men, but Manners; not an Individual but a Species," although he admits that his character are taken from life. , In his Preface he reiterates this profession

a.dding that in copying from na~ure, he has "used the utmost care to obscure the persons by such different circWlVStances, degrees, and colours, that it will be impossible to guess at them with any degree of certainty." Nevertheless--as in Hogarth's case-- nei ther his protests nor his skill have prevented some of thnse identifica­ tions Which are so seductive to the curious; and it is generally be lieved,--indeed it wa s expressly stated by Richardson and others-­

that the pro~otype ot Parson Adams was a friend of Fielding, the Reverend William Young. Like Adams, he was a scholar and devoted to Aeschylus; he resembled him, too, in his trick of snapping his fingers and his habitual absence of mind. Of this latter peculiar- ity it is related that on one occasion, when a chaplain in Larl­ borough's wars, he strolled abstractedly into the enemy's lines with his beloved Aeschylus in his hand. His peace~ble intentions were so unmistakable that he was instantly released, and politely directed to his regiment. Once, too, it is said, on being charged by a gentleman with sitting for the pDrtrait of Adams he offered to knock the speaker down, thereby supplying additional proof o~ the

(1). Joseph Andrews. Vol. II, Book II. Chap. 14, pp.1-2.

\

~ truth of the allegation." (1) "Another tradition connects Mr. Peter Pounce with the scrivner and usurer Peter Walter, whom Pope had satirised, and wh om Hogarth is thought to have introduced into Plate 1, of Marriage a la Mode. His sister lived at Salisbury; and he himself had an estate a t

stalb~idge Park, which was close to East S%our. From references to Walter in the Champion for laay 31, 1740, as well as in the Esaal on Conversation, it is claar that Fielding knew him personally and Qisliked him." (2)

In addition to these Characters which the popular mind has en~ deavored to trace to originals there are numerous minor characters ~ in the novels, wnich it would be reasonable to presume were taken from Fieldingts own observation of men irrespective of suggestions from any literary source . Mrs . Tow-wouse is one of these, though there is in her portrayal) as in that of Parson Trulliber) a hint of the burlesque exaggeration. "And indeed," writes Fielding, "if Mrs . Tow-wouse had given no utterance to the sweetness of her temper nature had taken such pains in her countenance, that Hogarth him­ self never gave more expression to a picture. " Her person was short, thin and crooked. Her forehead pro- jected in the middle, and thence descended in a declivity to the top of he~ nose, which was sharp and red, and would hove hung over her

- 8~- (1). Austin Dobson, Fielding. p. 83.

(2) Austin Dobson, F~elding. p. 83. lips, had not na ture turned up the end of it. Her lips were two

bits of skin, whi ~ h composed her cheeks, stood two bones, that al- mos t hid a pa ir of swall red eyes. Aad to this a voice most wond- erfully adapted to the sentiments it was to convey, being both loud and hoarse."(l) Then there is the postillion y,rh o flashes i'or an insta.nt along the way of the story, and in his contrast with the other members in the stage-coach l ights them up so clearly that his character im- presses one as a bit of reality, transferred from life to the pages f of Fielding." .•••• and it is more than possible ••• Poor Joseph ••• mUst have perished, unless the postillion (a led who hath been sinc transported for robbing a hen-roost) had voluntarily stript off a great coat, his only garment, at the same time swearing a great oath (for which he was J:ebuked by the passengers) that .ne would rather ride in his ~Lirt all his life than suffer a fellow-creature to lie in so miserable a condition." (2) Mrs . Grave-airs, the several inn-keepers, the gentleman liberal of promises, t e two young country-squires and the h ost of other ch~ racters overtaken on the way, have a brief but realistic por­ trayal which their very traneitorinesB in the story makes possible their being more naturalistic than other more important chara cters wh o a re heightened by the burlesque or the comic art.

(1). Joseph Andre~~, Book I. C~ap. 14, p. 75. (2) • Ibid. Book I, Chap. 10, p. 61. The dialogue of Joseph Andrews is as various as the characters.

'\'\~,~ It is satiric, burlesque, and has occasionally the light and ease v of the dialogue of high comedy. ~ne of the subtlest satiric dia- logues is that between Lady Booby and Joseph, where the former ex-

claims, "Your virtue!-- intolerable con~idencet Have you the assurance to pretend, that when a lady demeans herself to throw aside the rules of decency, in order to honour you with the highest

favor in her p~~er, your virtue should resist her inclination? That, when she had conquered her own virtue, she should find an obstruction in yours?" " "Madam," said Joseph, " I can't see wh, her having no virtue should be a reason against my having any; or why, because I am a

man, or because I am poor, my virtue must be subservient ~c her pleasures." "I am out of patience," cries the lady; "did ever mortal hear of a man's virtue?" (1). The colloquy between Parson Adams and Parson Truliiber is also distinguished by a fine satiric touch; however, it does not involve the so skillful inversion of positions as that between Lady Booby a.nd Joseph. "As soon as their breakfast was ended, Adams began in the :t'ol- lowing manner: "I think, sir, it is high time to inform you of the bUsiness of my embassy. I am a traveler and am passing this way in

(1). Joseph Andreww. Vol. I, Book I, Chap. 8, p. 40. company viith two young people, a l ed and a damsel. my parishioners, towards my own cure; we stopt at a house of hospitality in the

parish, where they directed me to you as having the cure. 1I II Thoug] I am but a curate," says Trulliber, til believe I am as warm as the vicar himself, or perhaps the rector of the next parish too; I be­ l ieve I could auy t h em both." "Sir," cries Adams, "I rejoice therea t. Now, sir, my bUsiness is that '\¥'e are by various accidentl stript .of our money, and a,re not able to pay our reckoning, being' seven shillings . 1 therefore request you to assist me with the loan of those seven shillings, and also seven shillings more, which peradventure, I si.all return to you; but, if not I am convinced you will joyfully embrace such an opportunity of laying up a treasure ir a better place than any this world affords." •••••••.••• Suppose wha t you will , you never can nor will suppose anyting

equal to the a stoni shment which seized 011 Trulli ber, as 'soon as

Adams had ended his speech , Awhile he rolled h is eyes in si~ence; sometimes surveying Adams, then his wife; then casting them on the ground, then lifting them up to heaven. At last he burst forth in the f ollowing accents : "Sir, I believe 1 know where to lay up my l ittle treasure as well as another, I thank G---, if I am not so warm as some, I am content; that is a blessing greater than riches; and he to whom that is given need ask no more. To be content with a ittle is greater than to possess the world; whioh a man may pos­ sess without being so. Lay up my treasure! What matters where a man's treasure is who se [Ieart is in the script,.Y'4is? There is the treasure of a Christian." At these words the water ran from Adams ' eyes; and catching Trul1iber by the hand in a rapture, "Brother," says he, IIheaven bless the accident by which I came to see yout

I would have walk~d many a mile to have communed with you; and, be­ lieve me, I will shortly pay you a second visit; but my friends, I f ancy, by this time wonder at my stay; so let me have the money inli"nedia tely." Trulliber then put on a stern look, and cried out, "Thou dost not intend ItG rob me? " •••• fourteen s!lillings indeed! I won't give you a farthing." (1) Much of the dialogue is in the exaggera ted vein of burlesque. Parson Adams is arraigned before the Justice and his manuscript of Aeschylus taken from him on the supposition that it was a plot a- gainst the government written in ciphers, or else had b en stolen. "Wha.t did the rascal mean by 1I11s Aeschylus?" says the justice. "Pooh," answered the doctor, with a contemptu"" ous grin, lido you think that fellow knows a,nything of this book? Aeschylus! Ho t hbt I see now What it is-- a manuscript of one of the fathers . I know So nobleman who would give a great deal of money for sU,c a piece of antiquity. Aye, aye, question and answer. The beginning is the catechi'sm in Greek. Aye , aye, Pollaki toi; what's your nam I "Aye, what's your name?" says the justice to Adams; who answered "It is eschy:bus , and I will maintain it."-- "Oh! it is," says the justice, "make r. eschylus his mittimus. I will teach you to banter me wi th a f alse name." (2) • .... ~2 ... (1). Joseph Andrews. Vol. II, Book II, Chap. 14, pp. 7-8. (2) • Ibid. Vol. I, Book II, Chap. 11, pp. 215-16. The following dialogue between Slip-al p and her mistress, two of the characters evidently built according to the methods of the comic-dramatist, contains the favorite scandal motive of tne dia- logue of the comedy of manners. "She (Lady Booby) had no sooner retired to her chamber than she a sked Slip-sl p, 'Vlliat she thought of this wonderful creature(Pamel her nephew had married?" "Madam?" said Slip-slap, not yet suf- ficiently understanding what answer she \vas to make. "I ask you" answered the lady, "what you think of the dowdy, W niece, I think J I am to call her?" Slip-slap, wanting ne further hint cegan to pull her to pieces, and so ~iserably defa ced her, that it would hav been impossible for ang one to have known the person. The lady gave h er all the I3 ssistance she Gould, and ended ith saying, "I think Slip-sl p, you have done her justice; but yet, ba d a s she is, she is an angel compared to t h is Fanny." Slip-slop then ell on Fanny,.. ' o:n she ha cked a nd h ewed in the like barbarous manner, con- cluding with an observation tha t there was al aye so ething 1n t es low-life creatures w ich must eternally extin ish he from t.eir ., betters. "Real y, t1 said t ile l ady, "I t!llnk t ere is one exception to your rule; I am certain you may css o I mean." .. ot I, upon y wort , madam," said Slip-slap. "I mean a young 1'ello sure you are the dullest wretcg," said the lady. .. 0 la! I am indeed. Yes, truly, madam, he is an accession, answered Slip-slap

\lAy, is he not, Slip-slap?" returned the lady. "Is he not so

- 93 - 1.,.,

genteel that a prince might, wi thout a blush, acknowledge him for his son?" ••••• liTo be sure, Ma'am," sa.ys Slip-slap . "But as he is,lI answered the lady, "if he had a thousand more good qualities, it must render

a woman of fashion ~ contemptible even to be suspected of thinking of him; yes, I should despise myself i'or such a thought." "To be sure, ma'am," sa.ys Slip-s18p.

"And why to be sure?" replied the l ady; "thou art always on~'s echo. Is he not more worthy of affection than a dirty country clown, though born of a family as old as tpe flood? It is a tyranny of custom, a tyranny we must comply wi th; f'or we people of fashion are the sla.ves of custom." "Marry, come up!" said Slip-slap, who now Knew well which party to take. "If I was a woman of your l adyship's fortune and quality I would be a sla.ve to nobody." "Me," said the lady, "I am speaking :hf a young lady of fashion who had seen nothing of the world, should happen to like such a fellow.- me, indeed! I hope thou dost not imagine------" tlNo, ma'am, t o be sure," cries Slip-s1 p.

"No t what no?1I cried the lady. "Thou art always ready to answer before thou hast heard me. So far I must nl10w he is a chl:3rming f ellow. Me, ind edt No, Slip-sl$p, all thoughts of men are over with me. I have lost a husband who-- but if I should re- flect I should run mad." (1)

-94-- (1) • Joseph Andrews. Vol. II, Book IV, Chap. 5, pp. 193-5.

J .) $ Summary.

Fielding achieves the comic in the plot of Joseph Andrews by making it Doth a comic romance and a ourlesque of Pamela. In his

comic technique of plot, it is the comic romance WhlCh is the new element in construction. Burlesque he had used before.

The setting of Jose~h Andrews on the highroad and in the midst of low life, is one with the exception of two very minor and partia ) instances (Don ~uixote in ,England and The Grub street Opera), which is new in Fielding's work. The characters in Joseph Andrews are constructed by four dis­ tinct methoas: (1), characters created according to the technique of the comedy of manners, (2) characters which are parodies of thes in Pamela. (3) characters burlesqued after the manner of Cervantes, (4) and those which ar e imitations of nature . The greater number and most important characters are created according to the first and second methods. The dialogue of Joseph Andrews is burlesque, satiric and comic wi th many of the remarks of Parson Adams and some of t e rel)lies of Joseph in imitation of the dialogue of Cervantes.

- .;5 - CHAPTER III

Jonathan ·Wi}.Si cdnsidered wi th regard to plot, setting, charac­ terization and dialogue.

The plot of Jonath~m Wild briefly stated is tl1at of the pro- gress of e rogue to the gallows. In the preface to the miscellan- ies Fielding explains the purpose of the book thus: "I come now to the third and last volume, which conta.ins the history of Jonathan Wild, And here it will not, I apprehend, be necessary to acquaint my reader that my desi ~n is not to enter the lists with that excel­ lent rdstorian, who from authentic papers and records, etc., hath already given so satisfactory an account of the life and actiohs of this great man. I have not indeed the ~east intention to depre- ciotethe ~eracity and impartiality of that history; nor do I pre­ tend to any of these lights, not having to my knowledge ever seen a single paper relating to my hero, save some snort memoirs, which about the time of his death were published in certain chronicles called newspapers, the authority of WhlCh hath been sometimes ques­ tioned, and in the Ordinary of Newgate his a.ccount, which generelly contains a more particular relation of what the heroew are to suffer in the next world, than of what they did in this.

liTo confess the truth, my nal1 r tive is rather of such actions - u6- - which he might have performed or would, or should have performed than whe.t he really did; v.nd may , in reali ty, as well sui t any other such great man, as the person himself whose name it bears. II (1)

The form of the story is that of H biographice.l romance, begin- ning i',rl th an account of the illustrious ancestry , immediate parents end birth of Jonathan Wild, r. ho came honestly by his dexterity in picking pockets, oeing a descend4nt of Langfenger, or Longfinger, Wi ld, who flourished in the reign of Henry III. The education of the hero is next touched upon. At school Jona.than Wild distinguish ed himself by those t a lents which l a ter in life made him so eminent. "But though Master Wild was not esteemed the readiest of making his exercise, he was universally allowed to be the most dexterous et stealing it of 811' his schoolfellows, being never detected in such furtive compositions, Dor indeed in any other such exercitetions of his great talents, vmich all inclined the S&me way, but once, when he he.d l a id violent he.nds on a bo ok celled Gradus ad ParlUJ,Ssupl, i. E It

A S,tep Towards Pa£llfl ssus J on which account his master, Vlho was am man of most Ylonderf ul Vii t and sagaci ty is said to have told h L.j, he wished it might not prove in the event Gradus ad Patibulum, i.e.,

A step towards the Gall'ows'! (2) A brief initiation into the rogueries of London under the hands of the Count La Ruse, vnd a stay in America of eight years are the ------.-----~.------'--- £7- (Vol. II, Leslie Stephen Ed .) (1 ) Preface . Miscellanies.. p. 320. (2) Jonathan Wild. Chap. III, pp. 9-10. ensuing steps in the Li t e of Jonathan Wild, who returns from the colonies ri nd by his ingeniousness and natural greatness of characte

becomes the director of a gang of rogues, for as a great n~n, Wild had his bUsinesD done by oth ers and Kept himself behind the curtain as much as possible. By the aid of his confederates Wild ruins his trusting school friend, Heartfree , and would have come off suc­ cessfully in the adventure had not Blueskin, a disgruntled member of the gang stuck a Knife into V/ild who was now brought to the attention of the Law, imprisoned, tried and hung. This brief account of the form of Jonathan Wild cannot give an a,dequ8.te notion of the extreme precision wi th which Fielding devel- ops the progress of Vild to the gallows. There is not ab irrele- vent detail in the entire book. Every incident &nd every comment of the author bear directly upon t he character of Vild and his des- tined end at Tyburn. The story of Mrs. Heartfree'e adventures is the only incident whtOh becomes in any way episodic, yet t .is is bound very closely to the narra tive, since it is the deus ex machina

by wh ich the jewels stolen by the count, a member of the g~ng, are returned, and \Vi l d is ultime.tely condemned. It is a concentrated) compact plot, with none of the loose narrative elements of the comic romance.

The setting of Jona;han~ ild is in London among the t h ieves and habitues of the underv/orld. The homes of rogues, gaming houses,

... 8- and l{ewga te I'orm the ba,akgrounil f>r its principal scenes. All of the characters in the story, with the exception of Heart free end his wife whose purpose in the narrative is thl3t of contres ') are rogues of varying degrees or ability, and the most o6nsummate

and f lawless of them all is Wild. So far ~s methods of character- ization are concerned in the presentation of the personality of Jona.than Wild , Fielding employs the same a rtistic technique (the.t of caricature) which he used in theoo.nstruction of the character of Parson Adams . As Fielding remarks in the Author's Preface to

Joseph Andrews, Adams was ~designed to be a character of perfect simplicity, "(1) , and every action and remark of Adams' carries out this intention. On the other hand , Jonathan Wi ld is a character of perfect duplicity. Parson Adams was the quintessence of truth, simplicity ad generosity; Jonathan Wild is the quintessence of

roguery. In the preface to the Miscellanies Fielding write~, in regard to the character of 'lild. "Roguery, and not a rogue, is my subject ••• I solemnly protest, I do by no means intend in the character of my hero to represent human nature in general."(2). The depraved aspect of human nature represented in Jonathan Vild is part±cular and belongs only to Wild and his gang. Cruelty lus't, avarice. rapd.ne, insolence, hypocri sy, fraud and treachery ere thei r only characteristics. Bound up with Fielding' s intention of depicting a rogue "par excellence" is the thesis that the"great-

(1). Anthor's Prefa.ce, Joseph Andrews. p. XXXVIII. Ed. De Luxe. (2). PrefEl.ce to MiscellanieJl. Pp. 320-1.

i ne13S of a vill~e.n does not very materially differ :from a.ny other

kind of greatness which is equally independent of goodness . 11 (1). Here e.gain may be found the similari ty in the construction of cha.racter between Jone.than Wild and Parson Adruns. Parson Adams was in every act and theught the representation of goodness . Wild

in every act and thought was a compendium of grea,tness. II But" , wri tes Fielding in the first chapter of Jonathan _Wild, "before we enter on this great Vlork we must endeavor to r emove some errore of opinion which mankind have , oy the disingenuity of writers, contrac- j ted r for these , f'rom t h eir fear of contra.dicting the obsolete and absurd doctrines of a set of simple fello g called in derision, sages or philosophers, have endeavored, as much a s possible, to confound the ideas of greatness and goodness; whereas no two things can possibly be more distinct from each other, for grea.tness con- sists in bringing all manner of mischief on mankind, and goodness ir removing it from them. It seems therefore very unlikely that the same person should posses s them both; and yet nothing is more usual with writers, who find many instances of greatness in tleir favoritE hero, than to make him a compliment of goodness into the ba rgain; and this without considering that by such means they destroy the great perfection called uniformity of character. In the histories of Alexander and Caesar we are frequently, and indeed impertinently, reminded of their benevolence and generosity, Pf their clemency and - _ f"\() _ (1). Austin Dobson. Fieading. 'p. 104. kindness. When the former had with lire and swo rd overrun a vast empire, ha d destroyed the lives of an immense number of innocent

wretches, had scattered ruin and desolation like a whirlwind, we ar~ told a,s an example of his clemency, that he did not cut the throat of e,n old woman , and ravish her daughters , but was content wi th

only undoing them. And w.hen~e mighty Caesar, with wonderful grea ~ ness of mI nd, had destroyed the liberties of l1is J&ountry, and wi th all of the means of fraud and force had placed himself at the head

of his equals, he d co~rupted and enslaved the greatest people whom ) the sun ever saw, we are reminded, as an evidence ot' his generosity of his largesses to his fO l lowers and tools, oy whose means he had accomplished his purpose and by whose e.ssistance he was to ef£blish it. "Now, who doth not see that such sneaking qualities as these are rather to be bewailed as imperfections than admired as ornament in these great men; rather obscuring their glory, and holding them

back in thei l' race to greatness, indeed unworthy the end i'or which

they seem to have come into the world, viz: of perpetrating vast and mighty mischief." (1), In order to show that Jonathan-Wild was a truly gre t man Field- ing summarizes his character thus: "We will no endeavor to draw the character of this great man; and, by bringing together tnose several features as it were of his mind ich l1e scattered up and down in this history, to present our readers with a pe rfect picture of gre tness. -&'00- (1). JonathanWi1d. Chap. 1, p. :3. "Jonathe,n Wild ha.d every qualifics,tion necessa,ry to :t"orm a grea

man. As ~ . his most powerful and predominating pa.ssion was ambition,

SO nature had with consummate p~opriety, adapted all his faculties to attaining those glorious ends to which passion directed him. H. was extremely ingenious in inventing designs, e.rtful in contriving the means to accomplisp: his purposes, e.nd resolute in executing the] ; for as the most exquisite cunning and most undaunted boldness qua­ lified him for any undertaking, so was he not r strained for any by any of those wea.knesses which desappoint the views of mean and j vulgar souls, a.nd which are comprehended in one general term of honesty..... He was entirely free from those low vices of modesty and good-nature, which, as he said, implied a total negation of

human greatness, and were the only quali~ies which absolutely rendel­ ed a man in aa.pable of making .. considerable !'igure in the Vlorld. his lust was inferior only to his ambition; but, as for what simple people call love, he knww not what it was. His avarice was immense but it was of the rapaCious, not of the te.aciou8 kind; his rapa­ ciousness was indeed so violent, that nothlng ever contented him

but t l e \wI ole; for, however considerable the~ a re which his coadjut­ ors allowed him of booty, he was restlecs in inventing means to make hiDlself master of the smallest pittance reservea by them. He

said laws were made lor the use of Prigs only, end to se~ure their property; they were never therefore more perverted than when their edge wa r. turned against these; but that this generally happened thru

.... 0

... - want of sufficient dexterity. The character which he most valued himself upon, and which he principally honored in others was that oj hypocri sy •••••. He laid down several maxims as the certain methodE of attaining greatness, to which in his own pursuit of it, he con-

stantlyadhered •••• by a constant and steady adherence to nlS

rules in conforming everything he did to them, ~ at last he was

in no danger of inadvertently going out of the way; d by these means he arrived at that degree of greetnes8 which few have equalled none, we may say, have excelled; for though it must be allowed that there heve been some I'ew heroes who have done greater mischiefs to nw,nkind, such as those who have betrayed the liberty of thei'r coun- try to others . or who have undermined end overpowered it themselves; or conquerors who have impoverished, pillaged. sacked, burnt and des troyed the countries nnd cities of their fel l ow-creatures, from no other provocation than that of glory, i.e., the tragic poet calls it, a privilege to kill ,

A strong temptation to do bravely i ~ l; yet, if we consider it in the light wherein actions are placed in

thi s line, Laetius est, quoties magno tici constat bonestum; ~en vie see our hero '\ i thout the lee stassi stance or pretense, setting himself at the head of a gang which he hed not any sh do of rip'..ht i · : to govern ; if we view him ~intaining bsolute power ana exerc slng tyranny over lawless crew, consider him etting up an open trade - 1C2 ... traae publicly, in defiance not only of the l.e.ws of his country bu of the common sense of his countrymen. if we see him first contriv- ing the robbery of others, and agun '. defrauding the very robber of that booty which they had ventured their necks to acquire, and which without any hazard, they might ha,ve retained, here sure he

must e,ppear edmirable, end we may challenge not only the truth of history, but almost the l.atitude of fiction ,to equal his glory. "Indeed, while greatness consists in power, pride , insolence and doing mischief to mankind--to speak out--while a great man and

a gree.t rogue ~ re synonymous terms, so long shall Wild stand un­ rivaled on the pinnacle of GREATNESS." (1). Thus in the character of Jonathan \'fi ld a s in that of Parson

Adams, ielding depicts an, individual of intricate character all 0 whose va.rious cha.racteristics have one dominant trend, Which govern the person to the exclusion of others; and so, .8. burlesque or a carica,ture is effected. For Jonathan {ild as portrayed by Fieldin there can be no sympathy. sympathy for roguery is unnatural, a man might as well eat himself as show a cow iseration for that vmich scruples not to destroy his property, his home, and himself. Hence Jonathan "ild is a bright, glittering, satirical caricature, which appeals only to the intellect of the reader. He is not shrouded in sentimental mists. Sir Walter Scott found fault with Jonathan Wild beoause"it presented a picture of complete vice, unre • '"'..l- 03'"' (1) • J ona than Wild. Chap. 10, pp. 201-205. lieved by anythIng of human feeling." (1). But when the intention

of the author is considered this should not a.ppea.r as a defect, but rather as an artistic perfection. For "Jom~ than Wild the Great" is

a prolonged satire upon the spurious eminence in which -~. benevol­ ence, honesty, charity, and the like have no part." (2). On the other hand, Parson Adams does provoke the deepest

sympathy, for truth, simplicity, and goodness are not in~ical to manKind, but are the things which make possible his social existenc and sympathy i'or the mishaps, great or small, into which these vir­ tues plunge the Parson, is the natural thing. In the delineation of the minor characters in Jonathan Wild Fielding uses the same method(that of caricature) as he does in the roouction of the character of the hero. Count La Ruse, Blueskin, ly blood , Mr . Snap, Miss Laetitia Snap (Mrs. "ilci) , Heartfree and Mrs . Heartfree, are burlesque exaggeretions. The lirst four burlesque some I'orm 01' roguery, the vount th.,t of card , sharping ) and Li vebl.ood and Blueskin ar C"~,-,,c",vill a,..\.n. s, m.hdy ~ i th the kni •

1 'ss Laetitia Snap is the feminine complement of ·ild, and in every respect worthy to ~e his wife . The Heartfrees are exaggerated portrai ts of simple, confiding persons, easy prey for such a man as \'Tild . In these satirical caricatures laughter enters as an expression of contempt, and assumes its most pungent form, ridicule or derisio

104'" 1 (1) • Austin Dobson. Fielding, P. 104. (2) • Ibid. p. 104. As a satirist Fielding controls his personal indignation by an art istic purpose , and gives such a presentation of his victims as wil excite in his readers the full laughter of contempt. Hence, the large license he takes in the employment of exe.ggeration and the devices ofoaricature and in the invention of degrading situations. The dialogue of the narrative is satirical, but in some instan- ces lightly comic. The following scene oetween Mr . Bagshot and Wild illustrates the usual satiric dialogue of the story. "Mr . Wild s.nd Mr . Bagshot went together to the tavern, where l.i.r . Bag­ shot (generously as he thought) offered to shGre the booty, and ha.ving divided the money into two unequal ileaps, and adding a gold­ en snuff-box to the lesser heap , he desired ~r . Wild to take his choice. "Mr. i:ld immediately conveyed the larger share of the ready into his pocket, ••• and then turning to his campanion asked with a serious countenance whether he intended to keep all that sum to himself~ Bagshot answered with some surprise that he thought Mr . Wild had no reason to complain; for it was surely i'air, at least on his , part, to content himself with an equal share 01' the uooty, who had taken the whole, Itl grant you took it, II replied Wild, "but pray, wh o proposed or counseled the taking it? Can you say that you have aone more than executed my SCheme? •• - 105- "Tha,t is very true," returned Bagshot, " •••• but did not I run the whole risk? .. end is not the l.aborer worthy of his hire?"

"Doubtless, II said Jonathe,n, "and your hire I shall not refuse

you, which is a~l that the laborer is entitled to or ever enjoys ••• Be advised therefore; deliver the whole booty to me , and trust to my bounty f or your reward." Mr . Bagshot was sometime silent and

looked like a man ~hunderstruck, but at last recovering from his surprise, ne thus began: ItIf you think,Mr. Wild, by the :t'orce of your arguments to get the money out of my pocket you are greatly mistaken, .•••• " At which words he laid his hand on his pistol. Wild perceiving the little success the great strength of his arguments h ed met with, ••• told Bagshot he vms only in jest •••• Bagshot replied in a rage, "D ___ n me , I don't llke such jests! I see you are a pitiful

rascal and a scoundre\ . II • Wild with a philosophy worthy of re t admiration turned , "As for your abuse, I have no regard for it; but to convince you I am not afraid of you, let us lay the bo cty on the table, end let the conqueror take it all." 'And ha.ving so seid, he dre out his shining hanger, :hose glit­ tering so daz;,.led the eyes of Bagshot that in a tone entirely al- I tered, he said, "No! He was contented lth wh t he had lready II t L!:)t it was miF:hty ridiculous for them to quarrel among the selves" and as lor a jest ne coula t ... ke a J est as ell as not.her •• " -- ild, ho had wonderful knac of discovering and applying to the pasuions of men, beginning lOW to lav a little 1nsight into hie friend, •••• cried out in a loud voice, "that he had bullied him into drs ing hie han er, i nd Slnce it was out, ho would not put it up without satisfa.ction." "Vhat sati efaction would you have," an ered the other.

"Your money or your blood, If said :ild. "Why, .Look ye, ild," id Bagshot, "if you ant to Anow a little of my pa.rt, since I KnO you to oe a . n of honor , I don't care if I lend you; ..• " .ild, o often declcred t at e looked upon borrowing to oe as ood a ay of t in as any, and a. o calldd it, tho genteele t kind 0 neaking-bud e, tting up his hanger, and ana ing is lriend oy the nand, told i~ e had it the nail on the head. It (1).

The scene bet een ild d the Ordlnary of e t lS in ~ I.e pirit of pure co edy. . h t fly you to Jonath n. Fai th I a 0 c t r t 11 mi dod . ottl of in"}f

Ordinnry. I drink 0 .ine it. thoi t.

Jonathan. It iR your ouelno~ to dri i .. the ic ed ord r

o amend t .. e • Ordinc. I de pair of It, co • co i over to e de il

o i ready to recoive you. 7- Jons.than .ild. Chs.p VIII, P 25-28. Jonatha,n. You are more unmerciful to me than the judge, doctor., He reconunended mv.. soul to heaven...... But let us t ake a bottle of wine to Cheer our spirits.

Ordinar~. Why wine? Let me tell you, Mr. ~fild, there iF! nothi~ so deceitful a.s the spirits given us by wine. If you must drink let us have a bowl of punCh--. Jona than. (having called for e. bowl). I ask your pardon, doctor; I should have remembered that punch wa s your favorite

liquor. II (1).

Swnmary.

In its form t he plot of Jonathe.n Wild is not comic. It is nei-' thet a burlesque nor a comic r omance, but a biographical novel in

wh~ch every incident conduces to the main design, that of depicting the progress of a rogue to the gallows.

The setting with its principal scenes at ~ewgate presents a backgroung of disorder which is in itself comic • The characters are satirical caricatures. • nd the la ugh ter aroused by them lies in the point of view from which these people reg8rd the world. "Laws are made i'or prigs," excl ims Jonathan

Wild. The so.tiric reversal of the normal ri~ .~"'.w of social life is the source of tile ridiculous in the Cho.racters.~ltfectation ls the only true source of the ridiculous is an assertion not car ried ,/ out by Fielding in Jonathan Wild. Neither Vi1d, t e ~ount, nor

- 109- (1) • Jonathan !ild. Chap . XIII, pp. 193-4. Miss Laeti tie. Snap are comic :t'rom affectation or hypocri sy, but from their brazen impudence which justifies their roguery to themselves.

The dialogue maintains the inverted and burlesque 1~ ."t~1v'~~ held in the chzracter of Wild, that the world was made :t"or rogues.

It is sa tiric , but relieved by an occasional scene wherein the dialogue is c omic, rather than burlesque or satiric; for example, the scene betweEm the Ordinary of Newge.te and Jonatha.n Wild, the comedy of which consists in the Ordine,ry's manoeuvres to induce Jonathan to buy him a glass of punch.

-J.uv- CHAPTlm IV

Tom Jones considered with reg~rd to plot, set tin , CI racter­ iza tion a nd ( ialogue.

In form the plot of Tom Jones conforms to lat 0 t e co io romance as defined by ffieldi g in the Autior's Preface to ~e It is a co ic e ic oem i prose, or ae ielding h _mself call it, " heroic , ni toric 1, prosaic oe." (2). Its action i exte ded ~ co prehe sive ; it contain 1 rge circle of incidents, nd introduces rent variety of ch r cter; d it f ole and ncti on are light and ridiculou . Of thi pecie of ri­ ti Fielding regarded im elf an "'" in ter ture rate. In th I'\ut or' Pref ce to e ref r

at 000.iC ft kind of ch do not o "'-' erto at te (3

ne refer s to 11 elf c founde of rovinc t

• d so t liocrty to e t 1 h ea . (

ar cteri t c co c ro

by C rve te • r o dve t re occ rri - to 't! e ro 0 e ro ce rn d

(1) • Pre ent he i P rt II, ~ p. 1, .P 1.

(2 ) Vol. I , 130 .r:: I I p. 120 .

(3) • Jose:oh Au or's Pr f ce o l X. (4) • Tom Jonc, • ;01. I, Boo I I , . 2, p • 7. from place to place, and as a rule, these a dventures were of the mock serious type. Fieldillg adopts this method with modifications. Joseph ; ..Andrews viewed from one aspect only is a comic romance, (1), and while Torn Jones brings into its action the serio-comic situatio

and a dventures by the way, yet "i t h s the a dvantf\ge of Don g.uixote

of a great superior p lan, tmd an interes.t more skillfull y sustained. The incidents which, in Cerva ntes, simply succeed ea.ch other like

the scenes in a panorama, are , in Tom Jo~, but parts of an organized and carefully-arranged progression towards a foreseen con- elusion. As the hero ;md heroine cross and recross each others . . , track, there is scarcely an episode which does not a. id in the moving' fODWard of the story. Little details rise lightly a nd na turally to the surface of the wlrrative, not more n oticeable a.t first than

the nost everyday occu~_ces, and a few pages I arther on beco~e of the greatest importance..... tklt\. the secret OI' Jones' birth is finally disclosed, we look back ruld discover a hundred little pre­

monitions whic~ escaped us at first, but which, read RY the light of our latest knowledge) a, s sume a fresh signi t icance.

~ At , the same time, it must be adlai tted that the overquoted and somewhat antiquated dictum of Coleridge, by which Tom Jones is grouped wi th the Alchemi 8.1 e.n d Oedinus Tyrannus, as one of the three most l)erfect plots in th e 'Worla , requires revision. It is impossible to a. ply the term "perfect" to a work which cont!3 ins such an inexplicable stumbling block as the Man of the Hills story." (2) -rti.. (1) ~ P~rt mI. ch ~pte r II. P. ~. (2). Austin Dobson. Fielding, Chap. V, Pp. 125-6. However, the plot of Tom 30nes is a much more nimble and wieldy bi of machinery than tha.t first made by Fmelding ,m wh ich to 18,ng the story of Joseph Andrews;

The setting of Tom 30nes's similar to that of JosePh Jilldrews , 1 with this difference,that there is a greater localization of scene in Tom J o.ne s • The adventures of Master Joseph Andrews and Mr. Abraham Adams took place in England, somewhere in the west on the

estate of Squire Booby, and at inns unknown. In Tom Jone~, Fieldine more carefully considers the problem of geography, and in part works it out. He describes the country seat of Squire AJ lworthy

as viewed from the terr ~ ce in early morning. (1) ~Ihe country seat of the 'Booby's is not thus particularized. One may easily follow Tom Jones in his journey thence through Gloucester, Upton , Stratfors

Dunstable , and st. Albans to Highgate , ~nd thence by Gray's Inn Road to the Bull and Gate Inn in Holborn, and on to his lodgings in Bond Street. {2}. In fact, in Tom Jones, Fielding arrives at a definite conclusion in regard to the setting best adapted for the

comic in situation and ch8racter. ~he comedies and burlesques of

Fielding had had their set~ing amidst the people of highlife and in the places frequented by them. Jonathan Wild, had its setting in Newgate. Joseph lilldrew~ and Tom Jones employ ~ b okground whicI includes all ranks from the upper. middle clas c down to the lowest hanger-on o ' the social order. The Squire and hi s im:nedia te family in both novels constitute only a. smull fraction of the characters

------~i~I~2------·------~~--· ------(1) • Cross. Development of the ~nglish Novel . pp . 46-7.

(2) • Ibid. p. 47. introduced, tile grea t e r part of w.tlich are drawn f'rom the lower ranks

of life. "But to let my reader in to a secre1t, II wri tea Fielding in Tom Jones, "this knowledge of upper life, thou;9',h very necessary for preMenting mistakes, is no very grest resource to a writer whos province is comedy, or t.J:'lat kind of novels which, like this I am writing , is of the comic class •••• I will ventuue to say the high­ est life is much the dullest, and a 'fords very little humour or entertainment. ~he various callings in lower spheres produce the great variety of humorous characters; whereas here , (high 111'e), except among the few who are engaged in the pursuit of ambition, an the fewer still who have a relish f or pleasure, all is vanity and servile imitation. Dressing and cards, eating and drinkihg, bowing a nd courtesying, make up the bUsiness of their lives." (1) As a novel of character, Tom Jones belongs to that class of nove S which is to present by a multitude of characters a complete picture (1)f human life. Fielding begins his character building in Somerset- shire with Squire Allworthy, Squire ~estern, Tom Jones, Young BlifiL

Sophia, a philosopher, e clergyman, - doctor, 8 hOUseKeeper, ana a gamekeeper. He starts Jones on a journey ~o London, introducing chance acquaintances by the way. In more hurried journeys Jones is followed by Sophia and Allwort~ and Western. VIh'Em Fielding gets them to London, he brings them into contact with the more highly see,soned men and women of the town, as represented by Lord

J~llamar and Lady Bellaston. The immense canvas, when filled, ... ::.1:3'" (1) • Tom J ones. Vol . II, Book XIV, Chap. 1, pp. 226-7. contains forty figures." (1). In the creation of these characters Fielding uses three methods, characters copied from nature , cha racters constructed after the manner of the comic dramatist, and characters in imitation of 6ervantea.

It is Fielding's great contention in TomJone~ and Joseph Andrews that "everytlhing is copied from the book oi nature." (2)

In Tom Jone~ , Book 1, Chapter 1, Fielding explains the pill of fare to De served in the ensuing volumes. "The provision,Miich we have here made is no other than ~~n Nature . Nor do I fear that my sensible reader, though most luxurious in his taste, will star~

cavil or be off ended, because I have named but one articlelythe tDrtoise-- as the alderman of Bristol, well learned in eating, knows by much experience--besides the csliposh and cal ipee, contains m~ different kinds of food; nor can the learned re8der be ignor nt, that in Human Nature, though here collected under one general name, is such prodigious variety that a cook will have sooner ~ one through all the several species of animal and vegetable :t"ood in the world, than an author will be ~ble to exhaust so extensive s subject •.••• Vie shall represent Humlln Nature at first to the keen ppetite of our reader in that more plain and simple manner in wh ich it is found in the country, and shall hereafter hash ana ragou~ it with all the high French and Italian seasoning of affectation and vice which

(1) CroBs, Develppment of the English Novel. p. 52. (2) • Joseph Andrews. Author's Preface. p. XXXVII.

.. courts Bnd cities afford." (1).

Again in Tom Jon~s wh en referring to the conservation of cha rac­ ter Fielding writes , "In the l ast place, the a ctions should be such as may not only be within the compa ss of human agency , and which hwnan agents may probably be suP!,osed tto do; but they §h:>ul'(Lbe likel

~J..or +Wl~ e very actors and ch a rocter~ s th emse lv es t 0 h ave per f orme d ; l or v;hat may be only wonderful and surprising in one man, may be- come improbable or indeed impossible when related of another . "This l a st requisite is what the dramatic critics call conserva- tion of chara cter; and it requires a very extraordinary degree of J judgment and I).l most exact knowledge of human nature." (2). Though it is possible t hat there is nothing r ound in any of the char a cters "which ha th never yet been seen in human nature" , yet Fielding's different methods of presenting them m ke it necessary to distinguish t h ose which may be s8id to be exact reproductions of actl.1s1. 1 characters, from t hose which are fictitious creations constructed after the manner of the cmic drama tist, or ac cording to the meth ods of burlesque chricature used by Cervantes. A charactor which l ays claim above all others to being an exact reproduction of' na ture is thr t of sophia Western, who, it is general ly conceded , is a representa tion of Fielding(a wife, Charlotte Crad- dock. (3) "Yet it is possible, my friend," writes Fielding , "that thou mayest have seen all these without belng able to f orm an exact idea of Sophia; for shefiiu. not exactly resemble any of them. She --- - :L 1S- (1) • Tom Jon~s, Vol. I, Book I, Chap. 1, pp. 2-3. (2) • Ibid. Vol. I, Book III, Chap. 5, p. 103. (3) • Austin Dobson. Fielding, Chpp. II, p. 39. was most Like the picture of Lady Rauelagh; and I have heard, more still to tIle f amous Duchess of Mazarine; but most of a.ll she resem­

bled one whose image never can depart from my breast, and wlom, if thou Qost remember, thou hast then, illy :friend, and adequa.te idea of Sophia."(l) And age,in, in reference to Sophia, Fielding writes, "But this being the intended her,oine of thi s work, a lady with whom we our­ selves are greatly in love, a.nd with whom m"'ny of our rea.ders will probably be in Love too before we pa rt, it is oy no means proper she should make her appearance at the end of a book." (2). Both of

these statements of the author, together with the invocation prefix~ ed to Book eight, and the fac t tha.t Sophia is the fi rs t flesh-and I blood heroine in English Literature arefndications that Sophia was a

successful imitation of n ~ ture. In Book eight, apostrophizing tha "Gentle Maid; bright love of f ame! Love bids Iler, f oretell e that

some tender 1 aid whose Grandmother is yet unborn, hereafter, when ur.- der the 'ieti tious name of Sophia she rea.ds the real orth which once existed in my Charlotte, shall, from her sympathetiC Breast, send 1'orth the heaving Sigh. II (3). Squire Western is anothe.l' ch;> racter whose vi tali ty is so great that he suggests a.n exact reproduction of nature. IIWhether the gen of his character be derived from Addison's ~Z Foxhunter or not, ii is certain that Fielding must have had superabundant material of hi!:

-~':6~ (1). Tom Jones, Book IV, Chap. 2, P. 123. (2) • Ibid. Book III, Chap. 10, p. 118; (3). Austin Dobson, Fielding, Chap. 5 , p. 128. ovm from which to model this thuroughly representative, end at the srune time completely mndividual character. (l) •••• f! "He is a Somer· set Squire , such as Fielding must have known, speaking a Southern dialect; he is humanized by a love for h is dauFAter, whom next to his hounds and his horses he esteems above all the world." (2) The character of Allworthy, according to Fielding's own state­

~ent was drawn from nature being a compound 01' Lord Lyttleton, to whom Tom Jones-_. was dedicated,and Ralph Allen, postmaster ot· Bath. ( ) Tom Jones himself is considered as naving no lees a .aodel than j the au thor [umself. In regard to Fielding's production of this character Austin Dobson says, "Remembering that he too had been young, anu reproducing, it may be. nis own experiences, he exhibits his youth a.s he ha d found hi111- a 'piebald miscellany, '--

"Bursts of great heart Bnd slips in S€~~U . re; II (4) Black George and Molly Seagrim bear too, the l ook of life.

However, in the deline13. ti on of the greater number 0.1" the :t orty figures which fill the canvas ofO To ,rones, Fielding employs a fur- ther development of the art of the comic dramatist. He would il- lustro.te by Iile:l ns of a large number of men and women taken Irora various spheres in life, tne manifestations of affectation as dark, ened by avarice. self-interest, deceit, or heartlessness, and as softened by justice, mercy , courtesy, or generosity. The resul.t is that the characters tend to beCOlae types. The younger Blifil is a Molieresque hypocrite . ($) Miss .Western wi th her diplomatic jargon,ner learning and know­ - 117- (1) • Tom Jo~~. Vol. II, Book XIII. p. 166.

(2) • Cross. Development of tne ...... ngl.ish Novel . p. 54. (3) • Austin Dobson,Fielding , P. 127, CroBs , 12,. E. N, p. 53. r..~,::;,::;", ..... Uo","" "'~';o''::;~'"'''' y\ 10t) (4) • Austin Dobson, Fieldin$, pp . 131-2. ledge of the court suggests a departure f'rotll Les Femmes Savant~, f\.. and her situation in the \ estern household is the old comedy one of

the d 1-~~4. experienced in the ways of the worlo., no. set to guard and guia.e 1..t4e un80phi sti ca ted heroine. -iss Bridget Allwort~y wi her pinched Horgarthi~face tends to become typical and a carica- ture. Her love of religious disputa.tion :finds its proj)otype in th cha racter of Lady A ,~ih I~ in The Gr~ street Oper~ . Lady Bellas ton, a character wh ich h r1s brought much cri tici 8m upon ]'ielding, wh even Coleridge f elt that Fielding nad not successfully k.h'~ the situation between fom Jones by nwking t he 7 f ormer too weak ~nd the 1 tter 00 ,' us}, of a fashionable de i - rep, (1) is, however, modeled directly f r om the comic dr matists. Lady

Wi&lfort in Congreve~ Way o ~ the ~orld is just such another ensu,l imperious, vicious 1':lshiona..\,b.e . Honour, tne waiting gentlewoman of Sophia, is called 'by Aus~in DoDson a ouddi g Slip-slop. he

l characteristics of ~ lust , servili t:>', sensuali ty und a ice ae- rangement of her epita~h s belong to Honour in a softened degree. Parson ThwacKUID, with his Antinomian doctrines, h is uigotry and his pedar?;ogic notions of justice; t.. nd Squ re, th~ philosopher,

ways easuring every act by e "unalterable Rule of Right and the eternal ],'i tnes"'l 01 T.tdngs," have tendency to become ab tr ct caricatures. The characters in Tom Jopeq wnich sho ~ influence of Cervante$ in their creation 3re quire A_lwort y, Tom Jo es, and above all, II

Partri~~e -1_6- - (1). Austin Dobson, Fielding, pp. 130- 3 . In the crea,:, i on of Don Quixote, Cervantes brought i 'orth a man

of f inely wrought chivalric idel3. ls which he could not fit to the material actuali ties around hi., •• Fielding, taking h is departure from Cervantes in the delineation of Parson Adams, produced a char·

acter 0 :( equa lly delicate and courageous a nature, but in whom there is no hint or :t"antasy. Don Quixote suffered 1rom a mental

aberration . ~his is a p~aee of the quixotic c~ aracter always eli- minated by Fielding ; although , a s in the case of Parson Adams, he has hi s cha rac tern'ftove in a,6 idel l and refined a worla of thought

as ever Don Quixote did. In Tom Jones Squire Allwort~y is an em~

bodiment 01' quixotic characteristics. \d th Il r s on Adams and Don

QUixote he possesses goodness of heart, and ., n-:: £.~~ of theln..>he be- - , comes comic, lough in a le sser aegree , in [l i s vibo.l.'uus enthusiasm to e t'fect tHat which is good and noble. For exarnp e, in referring to the ma,licious cOIIl!l1ents made on the occasion of r. Allworthy's clemency to Jenny, Fielding remarks, "The behavior of these people may appear impoli tic and ungrateful to the reader, ho ,.on iders

the power and benevolence ot lu- . Allworthy. But as to his power, it he exerted so much that he had tnereby disooliged 11 his neigh· " bors." (1)

Squire Allworthy , however, never suffers a los 0 1' aigni ty, ana :r' or thpt reason is not a hwnorous cnaracter, and in. thir- very gre t

respect Fielding has not followod the method 01' Cervantes in his

creation. -..1..1'.)- I (1) • Tom Jones.- Vol. I, Book I, Chap. 9, p. 27. J Tom Jones is also a qUlxotic ch8racter; although he is no 1001 as is Don Quixote. Gustav Becker in writing of Tom Jones as a quixotic character, says, "He is distinguished by a predominant characteristic, namely, his sensuality. The question is, whether

thi s method of producing the comi c can be ma.d e parallel to tha t

which in Don ~uixote reveals itself in phantastic undertakings.

Without doubt; it is to oe recalled how Don ~uixote in ~he comedy

Do~ QUixote in Engla nd is lifted above the other members in the pla •

Here it was shown, tna ail so called xeasonable men, \ID9 were governed by some selfish motive which led them awry frow correct

unc.erstanding, in the same wa.y as Don Q,uixote, beCOIne ·to be esteeme

f ools ••.• 11 ,2 \.v otber vio r ds , Fi elding has ref lected upon every devia.tion from l oral· good as a men tal aberration. Thus in the Coffee-house Pa>litician, (Act two, scene twelve) he says, "The

greatest part of mankind 1 b our under one delirium nr other; end

Don Q,uixote differed f'rom the rest, n ot in madnes~ , but tne species of it. The covetous, the prodiga l, tne superstitious, the ~iber-

tines, end the coffee-house pollticien are 11 quixotes in tneir several vmys." Here is tle true rela t ion of Tom Jones to Don . Quixote. Tom Jones is e u on ~uixote, because he ella s hlmself to be controlled by his sensu~l emotions as Lon QUixote oy h is errone- OUs illusions. (1)

This anelo 'y 0 :[ r. Bec erls between Tom Jones en ];on uixote in regard to methods of chore.cterizotion, does not ~e cm t o be v ~ lid since Tom Jones is not an overchcrged pDDtr iture 0 1 a ill, n con-

X (l) • Becker. Don Qui~ote und Die Engli~che LiterAtur. trolled by sensuality, a,s for instance, Fa,rson Adams is of goodmess or Jona than \iild of roglllery. Tom Jones is capable of the most respectf ul passion for Sophia, and would not even ave.il himself of tljle opportunity "to squeeze the hand of his mistresR , though it was locked in his." (1) To say tha t Tom Jones was a cha racter domino.ted oy a single pa.ssmon to t h e exclusion 0 1 others, and especielly to make th r::, t cha r p cteristic sensuality , would,it seems, be undone by the entire The Coffee-housEe relationship exist ing between himse lf nd Sophia. j Poli ticia.n was turned away from the. -most vi t a l af fair8 of hi slife by his pe ssion for foreigh news . (2). The truth, simplici ty, nd goodness 0:1' Parson Adams control his actions on a.ll end, especiaJ..J..Y, important occasions. The roguery of Jonathan {ild is the JlOtive power oi' nis every action . The fan tnstic id e ~ls of knight-errantry urge Don Q,uixote to allhis actions create Duld ea and traasform her in to a lovely, pui ssant l a dy. Certainly if Fielding were following the same method ~ th t of cari­ cature and producing 8 cnRracter dominated cy sensuality, the Ilh g i­ cal result would have been i or this characteristic to have entered into t h e rele tions between Tom Jones end sophia, B.nd thereby l1ave destroyed the ldeal ized love existing between wem. This does not deny, llowever , that Tom Jones wes a sensual creature, out thi s trai was mixed v,i ttJ: and tempered uy other c w~ racteristics. In fact , ______----- ______. ______~------4------!3 j.- (1) • 'l'om J one...§.. Vol. 1, Book V, Chap. 7, p. 2 09 . P8rt I, Chap . 1, p . 8. (2) • The. Coffse-house Politici~ so far as Jaethocls at" characterization a r e concerned t h ere is little l' eserub l anc e bet ween TO '11 Jones and Don Quixote. In portraying Tom Jones Fi eldhg was employing the in ethods of a na turali s t am nnt those of a caricaturist. In Tom Jones he seeks to present an actual char

acter, nei ther good :'lO r bad, a II thau g h tless , giddy y outh, wi t h littl obriety in his manners, full of good health, good spirits , brave, generous, capable of ideal love and friendshi p and s ubj ect to no real meanness of c haracter, and render ed sensual because as a t h ought. les s, giddy youth /he had not yet learned to weigh and consider. Blifil is the cold sensualist who would sacrifice anyone to gratify a passion; and Blifi~ is palpably a caricat ure o~ a type.

Tom Jones, however, has quixotic te~dencies, the chief among which is his goodness of nea rt, :,11ich is the sour ce !) the greater part of hi s !TI i s,vhape. , Partridge, nowever, is a palpable study of Sancho. Vrnen Part- ridge app ears in the story as the squire of Tom Jones, he is intro­ duced as Hone of the pleasan test barbers that was ever recorded in history, the barber of Bagdad, or he in Don Q.uixote, not excen ted."t Like Sancho, he i a mixture of good-nat ure, l o ~ cunning, supersti­ tion and vanity, and his perpetual I' Infandum regina:' i :-ludicrously impressi ve and meaningless as Sancho learned proverbs. ~ P a rtridge first attaches himself to Tom Jones, believing the latter to be the son of squire Allworthy, and not knowing of the breach which ~~d the knapsack he f oll oWs as a second Sancho his occurred. ' ~ ith -- ~ JZ= (1). To~ Jones, Vol. 1, Book VIII , Ch ap . 4, p. 381. master . He has, moreover, further resemblances with this quixotia model. He is given to gossiping. He interrupts the history of th

~ an of the Hill (Book VIII, Chapter 11) with one of his 0 n. This

story which he relates as a p~ticular joke is told with the S8~e

clrcumlocution and considerat ion of 'ai lUte details as t hat of Sancho

( Don ~ui x ote, Vol. II, Chap . 31, p . 200) . ~ artridge is also

cowardly and faint -he arte ~ . He f all ,ws his master over the hill ,

rather than remain in the dark uy himself (Tom~~~---' Jones Book VIII , Cha 10). In the same manner Sancho prevents his master from going off

and leaving him. (Dop Quixote in England, Vol. VII, Chap. 20).

Partridge has rude and awkward manners . : s Sancho, ae a110 ~s nis joy fr ee expression, and turns a caper,( l'om Jones Bo ok xV, chap.

12, and Don g,ui xo te in .lmgland, Vol. 1, Chap. 30). Partridge does not understand the ideals of his master, indaed, he thinks his master a fool (Tom Jones, Book XII, Chap. 7). 'Vhile Tom .fanes is thinking of honor, love, et cetera. Partridge calculates material

profit. For example. in Book XII. Chap. 13, Tom Jones has f ound Imon ey which bel ) ngs to .:.1 iss '.;' estern; and he hurries off im 'lediately

to deliver it to her . Partridge, however, feels that his master could use it himself to good advantage in London. ~he coftduct of

Sancho is similar to it hell Don Q,u .. xtoe fin 5 the gal 0 :1' CarLienio

in the Sier.L'a MO.L'ena.(Don Quixote 1n .l!.;l1 g1 1. nd. 01. I, lJhap . o:! 3)

mhis sL ilRri ty of tllou,:, ht fina e 1 ts u;bterance in numerous parallels -133-- of expression which arise from Partridge's materialistic conceptions For example, Torn Jones in extasy says to .Partridge, " Vl ho knows, .part

Iridge, but tne loveliest creature in the univer ~ e ~ay have her eyes now fixed on that very moon which I behold at this instant'Z" ':I,.'here upon Partridge answers,"Very l ikely, sir, .... and if my eyes were fixed on a good sirloin of b eef , the de- il :night take t h e 'noon and her horns into the bargain." (1).

Much of the dialogue of Tom Jones is in the If:ei>n of lure comedy, j a s for Instanc e t he sc ene between ;::i qui re -, res tern and [li s si ster, (2) and the scene between Lady Bellaston and Lord ~el lama r which like so I many mn goth Josenh Andrews and Tom J0nes, is as if it had b ~ en take~ out of one of the comedieS of the day. lany of the scenes are burlesque and the dialogue takes on the same tinge ; f or i nstance, thE scene between ~a rtri dg e and h is wife, chapter four, in y, ich is en­ acted "one of the bloodiest battles ever recorded in domestic histor~~ (3). Much of the disco urse b etween Thwackum and Square on the natural beauty of virtue and the divine power of grace is satirical burlesque discourse. (4) As has been indicated Partri d~ e's dis- course is after the nanner 01 uon Quixote. 1n the whol e, i n its sentiments and dictiJD, rom Jones nreserves t h e l u di crous instead of the sublime, "a tenet of the COlic romance made by 11'ielding in the

~124- (1) • Becker, Don g.uijote und die EnSliscile Literatur. pp. 153-5.

(2) • Tom J ones. vol. 1, chap . 3, jjook \ .1.1 , pp . 300- 6. 01. 2 , lj ook ~ , cna ' . 2, 272-4. (3) • Ibid. Vol. I, Book II, Chap. 4, p. 57.

(4 ) Ibid. Vol. l, Book III, Chap . 3, pp . 93-5. ,p======~

Author 's Preface to Joseph Andrews . (1)

StlJ.IlUlary .

The plot of r om Jone! ~s a comic r oma nce c ,n t a ining s om e burl e9qu scenes and intr oducti0ns to chapters as does Joseph Andrews . But

on the whol~. it is !!lore firmly kn i t, together than that earlier novel, and shows an advance in dex erous use o f comic plot devices . Since TOIIt Jones lacks the element J f parody found in Joseph Anurews . I its Gomic atmosphere is .~ ore restrained, les s boisterous, and more

subtle. In character delineati0n it is evi dent th~ t ~ielding tends to

leave the method of caricature used in Joseph And~~ and Jonathan

Wild, and pursue the naturalistic method in the producti on of the I

principal cnaracters . In so uJing, he ~ dheres ~ re closely to his :~a::::~:no:o t::eC::::o:: :;a::: ::t:::l:::f::et:: J:::::y::d:;W .. I character, Fielding also e~ploys those of the comic dra~ati et and or l Cervantes. The setting of Tom Jones is tha .. of the comic romrl.nce--on the hi ghway s and in such places "mere ow 1 i f e is founar - hi ch 'i elding avers is to be preferred for novels of the cornie cl"i. ss . (2). The dialogue of' Tom Jones is burlesque and comic. ------~-~1~3~5~-~------(1) • Joseph Abdrewes, Part II, Chap . 1, p. 2 . (2). .i.' om Jones, Jjook JJ.V, Chap. 1, p.226-7. CHAPT R V

Amelia considered. ith regard to plot, setting, cn racterizatio , and dialogue .

" ':he various accidents whic be ... ell a very '''ortny cou .le after tneir uni ting in the holy ste!. te of rna trimony ill be the subj ect of

t Le follo dng hist..J ry, fI (1) is Fielding ' s first sentence in Amel:ta. a statement which an ounces that no el is to be a de arture in its main ituation from any otner book written by tne au nor. .T ose to a close af ter tne f h- ion 0 romantic come y, by a • Rrriage. This last a el of lelding. begins v he.l'e they en' and OIll by way of retro s ec tare e told 0: the courts.ip and elopement of Fo o h and Amelia . Indeed, the 1!lain sltuation, or tne plot of Amel a ,is t e fa orit ne of tne rna rn rea is . (2) It is not a comic romance, althou h 'its Rctinn 18 extended and i t cant ins a large circl of incid nt nd introd ces a grel ' t vari e ty of character ," (3), three r eq 1i 1 tes of tne c ID1C romance as defined by Fielding in tne Author ' s Pref ce to ~~ __ Andrews . e comic romance, iel in says, "dif ..: rs from th serious romance in its ~ab e n cti n, in thi , th t s ln the

ne these are grave and solemn, 0 in tether he re li ,t nd ... ( 1) . Amel l a . Book , Ch p . 1, . 3 . (2) • Cross. 6. (3) • Amelia. Part II, C lap . . 1 . ·

r:ildiculous."(l) The fable and a ction of Amelia, wh ile it has' not the h i gh seriousnes s of the herioe epic, l a ck s t h e l i ght and ridi­ culous purpose of the plot of Joseph Andr ews, which makes that novel a burl esque .• Jo s eph Andrews is fill.ed with broad comic scenes t he laughter of wh ich a rises largely from grotesque aberrations of dress , carriage, and, mmanners , and t he fa orite instrument ,) f its satire is parody. There Fielding is the artist of burlesque and caricature who aims at making himself understo .d by giving sp ecial prominence to peculiar characteri s tics both of situation and of persons. The mock- heroic predominates. In Jonathan Wil~ the main sit~ation or plot canl1 0t be !:-ia i d to be th t of a comic romance, ibr Jonathan

~ is singularly c O!lpact and unified in its design a t" aE epicting t h e progress of a ro ~ ue to the gal l ows . Howev er, thi s si. tua ti on is treated in a nock-her oic vein, and Fielding is still the bur- lesque artist and caricaturist. The plot of Tom Wones is th~ t of a comic romance and the mock-heroic element and t h e ro ick ing s scenes a l'e uppermost, al though t h e plot is lore comnact and cont'l,ins less burlesque than d Jes Joseph Andrews. I n all three of the f oregoing novels Fielding had combined laughter ith a certain at­ t itude of serious attack at the follies and v.bes of the times. But in all of them laughter pr.edominates, even in Jonathan ild which

.. i~a~ (1 ) Amelia. Part II, Chap. 1, pa 1 . becomes a satirical burlesque~ In Amelia burlesque disappears. Tne a cti tude of serious attac'-c is -"ore evident. ices and :rollies

are n o longer set before on e a s a diverting spectacle rith the em-

phasis placed on their l udicrous aspect . The stress is l ~ id upon tne malignity of vice. And so in its plot, tha. t of t h e trials and tribulatious which bef all a very worthy couple after their marriage Fi elding mak es a wholly new depa rture from hi s other wor k Amelia and Bo o th are di s covered i n t h e beginning of the story cast

upon London wi th only a lieutenant's hal f - pay for their i ncome. Booth has no busine'?·s a Lility whatever, and only the fac t that he is a tender husband to recommend him. The wretched f amily sink into poverty and squalor; the last guinea, jewels and dresses of Amel ia h R.ve gone to pay gambling debts, ald Booth as usual, is confined to the bailiff t s house, ",hen t h ey are rescued by Dr. Harri son, t h e deus ex ma china of the dr runa, and restored to their right f ul f or- tune, and all who have wronged them are duly punished . Had F1eld- I ing work ed out his situation to its logical conclusion; ha d he trans po~ ted Bo o t h to t h e ~l e s t I ndi es; had he turneu Am elia i th her cnildren into the s treets, or given her over as mis tress to Colonel

James-- all of which possibilities he sug ~ e s ts in t h e course of his storY,--h e would have anticipated the relentles d'b ~cl e of natur­ ali sm !l( 1) . Hence, Amelia is a serious oomedy , of domestic

(1) . Croas. Developwent of the Eng-Ii sh No vel. pp. 56- ? life. In the construction of Joseph Andrews , JOBathan ~ ~ld and Toal Thumb Fi elding observed the clas,sic tradi tion that comedy was an enemy of si gfts and tears. In Amelia, possibly influenced by the plays of Lill o and the general trend of the drama towards melodrama,

Fielding has introduced not mock, but real pathos, the reade~s sym­

pathetic tears are the natural ac~ompa n iment of many of its scenes. Such a one is that famous scene where Amelia is spreadinp f or the recreant who is losing his 'n oney at the King's Arms, the historic little supper of hashed mutton wh ich she has cooked ~i t h her own hands and denying herself a lass of whi te wine to save the pal try

sum of si:»:pence, "while h~r husl:and was' paying a debt of several guineas lncurred by the Ace of trwnp being in the hands of his ad- versary," a scene which it is impossi ule to read aloud i t hout a certain huskines s in the throat. ~ (1). Hence, Amelia with its pathos, tears and happy ending is a melo-dramatic novel . Another point in regard to its construction which distinguishes Amelia from Fielding's other novels is the f a ct that it may be considered as

"a one part piece, in which the rest of the dramatil5 persona~ are wholly subordinated to the central figure. Captain oot, the two

Colonels, Atkinson and his wife, Miss ~a thews, Dr . Harrison Trent, I the sha owy and maleficent " j '.(y Lord", a re all less a ctive on their own a ccount than energised and set in motion by elia. Round her they revolve; from her they obtain their imnulse and their orbit. (2(

(l~. Austin Dobson. (2) . Ihid, pp. 164-b. Characters. In Ameli~ Fielding's trend towards naturalism,

evidenced in Tom ;Tones particula,rly by he portrayal 0 f hi s principal characters, is marked; although he still uses the methlilds of the comic dramatist in character depiction, and the traces of the qul- xotic character are not altogether wanting. However, the burlesque caricature f ound in Joseph Andrews, Jonathan ','ild and in such a character as Partri dge in Tom Jones is wanting in A.aelia. Amelia, like Sophia restern is painted from Fielding's first wife . (l). Pity and compassion, however, are brought into tne portrait of Amelia who is t n e patient, forgiving wife with the visible saar' on her nose. Sophia steps UDon the stage surrounded by ro sy clouds of eloquence and there are no de-

fects to mar her b eauty. Sophia is a most charill ing ~ ir l , but the whole of Imglish fiction h <:<. s scarcely a more touching portrait than this heroic and immortal one of femi' ine goodness and forbearance than this of Amelia wno is ackno wledged by Lady Bute to be not more

~ eauti ful in mind or face than the ori ginal. Lady r ute was no stranger lito that belo'led first wife whose picture Fielc..ing drew in j his AJl lelia, .. here, asshe said, even -the glowing language he knew ho w to employ did not do more than jUBtice to the amiaule qualities

of the original." (2) ';'!he ther or not Fi elding deri ved the inspira t· on for the char-

acter of Captain ":illiam Booth from any indivitiu .1, is not known. Tnere is a sugf' estion, however, that in some respects ite may be ... .:.cc ... )Godden. Henry Fielding. p. 154. ): ) Ibid. p. 154. drawn from FiLelding himself ; for Lady : ary ":ortley l~ ontague insism that "several of t h e incidents mentioned a re real matters of fact," (1). And Austin Dobson states t hat many of the scenes are founded on personal recoll e ctions. There seems to " a have beea some con- troversy during that day in regard to Booth's being identi f ied with Fielding, f or there is a passage in Arthur Mu rphy's memoir which "s eems to have been pen!led wi th the e).pres s pur pose of 3.n ticipa ting

any too harsnly literal identi f ica tion of Booth wi Lh ~ iel d in g , sine

we a r e told of the latter tha though di $p ose ~ to gallantry by his

strong animal spirits, and the vivacity of his passions, he ~as re-

mar kable for tenderness and canst .ncy to h is wif e."(~).

,NO thing i s more i ndi ca ti e of Fi elding' s departure from the comic point of view held in his o ther novels than t he cha racters ~ ... of these two principals and circumstances in which they find them·

selves. Parson Adams, Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones are rendereJ l ucicrous by the situations into which they :1:'a ll. Aq important charae ters they sur.t'er a los s of digni ty, ellCoun ter rela ti ely smal

ro i sfortunes and mi sadven tures ". hi ch place the I in an awkw, .. r d and laugh able light. These a re all comic because there is an absence

of any grea t emotional expressi on , ~n J the situatiol s a re not dis-

astrouB. Captain William Booth, on the other hand, is n ever a

laug'nable figure . His personal dignity is n ever lost, l~ho u _ h he suffers nisfortunes and is in dire poverty, hieh awak en sympath~

... ~:3i .. 1) Ibid. p . 154. (2). Austin Dobson. :'i elding, pp. 155-6 . on the part of the reader but do ~ not move him to l aughter. The escapades of Tom Jones carry no di sastrous reaul ts for any save that j hero, who is such a strong , full- blooded and physically superior i person that he ~ 0uld be happy in any si tua ti on; and f or that reason

h~s mis-adventures are of no moment and theref ore funny . Booth is a pretty figure of a man but ineff icient. Tom Jones if put to ± co uld have made a living anywhere, Booth was only fitted to l ive on an inco ne derived from safe in estments with which he coulc. t1 0t tam-

per . To s~e Amelia and her children su:!" : er from t he ineffi ci ency of this best of husbands cannot be comic as it is treated by Field- ing. c onsequently, his principal male character, Booth, is not ludicrous, and neither is Amelia who is designed to represent all that is good and bea utiful in English womanhood. This departure of Fielding's from one of his accus t omed methoss of producing the comic, namely that of employing his utmost comic devices to make his principal character subtly ludicrous, may ac count f or the charge

of dullness brought against '~ elia by the general public, and of which Fielding complain s in the Covent Garden Journal.(l). In the character of <:: ergeant Atkinson ";ho s e awkward, bashful

and somewhat clu~sy e xterior conceal very noble qualities Fielding created a comic type that has had a long line of successors in Eng­ lish fictio!!, of whom ' ajor Dob Lin is tne most no t able. (2). ~lliethe or not Atkinson had his original in life is not known; but in the

_ ...... is .... (1) Covent Garden Journal. No.7 and 8.

(2) Gross . Henry Fielding. p . 258. I

crea tion of this character Fielding seems to have been following I one of his rules for the production of the comic. that of an exact copying of nature.

On the other hand. the cha~acters of J ustice Thrasher. ~ r . Bondman. _'i.l iss Mathews. :':rs. Benn et. Colon el Bath. Colonel James, Mrs. James and .. fiss Har l'is are mad e ludicrous by a selection and

arrangement of tra its of character ,"hich ha t. their rigin in some fo"rm of affectation. ranging from Mr s . Bennet's fl odest pride in her

superior learning to the deeply dyed hypocrisy of ~ iss Farris and the officers of justice. _'he comic elemen t in these characters varies wi th the mo ral complexion of the retense. so much so thC'l_ t

Justice Thrasher and _/~ r. Bondman ecome in t.hemsel yes ( enunciations I of the unjust methods of justice. and hence den icting t heir char- acters Fi elding lea ves the c ani c arti st b ehind '1.nd becomes the

sa tiri s t, scourging so c i ,d evil s 2nd dennu!lcin vice 's inimical

GO t h e interests of society . In describing Justice Thrasher Fielding writes, «I own. I .have bea, sOilletimes i Iclined to think

tha t thi S ofti ce 01' a justice of tlle peace requires Borne kno led e of the law; for this simple reason : because in every case hich comes before nim, I e i s to J udge ~nd act a ccording to law. Again, s t h ese l aw s a rc contained in a great va riety 0 books. the statutes Which relate to the office of a justice of peace mak.ing the:nselves at least t 0 large volumes in f olio; and that nart of his jurisdie- tion' nlch is found d n tne co~ on 1 bein lS ersed in ve

nunared olwnes, I c 1.0 t concel;e HOW thi s no' 1 0. e ho Id

ac qulre it out re ain and y t c rt in 1t i

nev r read one e ~l a le of tne m' ter . But he erfect yell n

stooa tnat undamental rincipal 0 tr n 1y 1 o 1n n 1n- etitutes ot tne 1earne ocnefoucaul t, hicn the ty self-

love 1 S so strong1' enforcea , .n n io r

ni self as tne centre of it;} • n ct 11 t In 8 tier

To s eal( tne tru p1 inly. t Ie JU tlce nev r lnaiffer .n n

cause but nen ne co Id get notn ng 0 I e1t r oth tn 3entiment t e scene t ln t of t e u tle

ree .l le aing' ear c ed;},

and tne re robate JUBtie S he B iliff Bo n i • n e r 1 n

n one ~.. t .0 d tr d . 2) e fl ree in et ve of 1 1 r 1 hat In nlS tre • rrl tu of d t on

r 1 a to eroo H rr

0

1 t • r

ia. II ero ir on #'

( ~ ) . 00 1, Ch p. 2, p . 6.

(2) • Ibi . p • '0 . 390; sentiments which she does not posses. Her reception at Booth and Azllelia on their return to England is thus descri bed. "We went hence to pay a visit to lHss Harris, whose receptio of us was, 1 think, truly ridi culous; a!lcl. as you know the lady, I wilL endeavor

to describe it particuLarLY. At our first arrivaL ~ e ~ er e ushered into a parlour, where e wer' e suftered to wait allHost an hour . At length the lady of the house appeared in deep mourning, with a face

if possible, .Hore dismal than l1er dre ~ s, in which, nowever, there

was every appearance 01' art, Her 1'eatures were indeed screwed up to

the very height of grief. \'v i th this f a ce and in a ill ost solemn gai tj

she approached A [ I elia, and coldly S9.l1utedl her. After which she made me a very distant formal courtesy, and we all sat down .tI(l)

Miss Mathews is a remarkable st~y of the appearance of the comic in a beautiful )interesting and intell igent young woman, lack­ ing in moral fibre, but not devoid of kindness of heart. She pre- , senta an admirable foil to Ameli~, It is not from a consc~us af- fecta ti on of some virtue whi ch she does no t possess that ',: i ss l~ a the is comic, nor is she ever in a ludicrous position on account of per­ sonal aWJ{wardness. It is Miss Mathewst menta1 1 £'~"",,~c{"'i"" 'vhich is comic, and this is betrayed by com ,ents made during B00tht s narratio to her of the events preceding and immediEttely following his marriag . Mrs . Bennet, an early blue-stocking,is ridiculous from her affectation of learning. ~~rs . west ern ln Tom l'ones presents a =.1.55- (1). Amelia. Book 1, Chap . 8, p. 34. (2). Ibid. Book 2, Chap. 8, p. 81 . c haracter ridiculous from t h e s am e aff ectation. However, ~'l rra. Bennet's 'nod e s t assump ti on of lear n i ng i s so subdued t h rt t it is only after r ep ea ted sugge s t ions about h er kno '.'Vl edge ·t ha. t one smiles q'-l iet ly when she underta1{ es to discourse with Dr. Barriso:l on th e classic "Oh char mi ng Homer!"said Mrs. Atk inson (Mrs. Bennet), fi how much a bove al l o t h e r writers!" "I a sk you r pa r do n, madam," said t h e doctor; "I forgot you

was a scholar; but indeed, I did not know you understood Greek as well a s La tin ." "I do not pretend", s a i d sh e, "to be a critic in t he Greek ; but I t h i nk l am abl e to read a l it tle of h omer, a t l ea st with the h elp of look ing no w and t h en in t o t h e Latin."(l).

The ridiculous aspect of the cha r a cter of Major Bath is des- cribed by Booth . liThe ' ajar wa s a great dealer i n tne marvelous and was consta ntl y the littl e hero of his own tale; this made him very entertaining to Am elia, who, of a ll p erson s i n t h e world, hath I t h e trues t t.as t e and enj oymen L ot' the ridiculous; f or, whils t no one sooner d i scovers it in the char R. cter of another, n o one s-o well concea ls her knowledge of it r r 0m t h e ri diculou s p erson . 1 ~ 1 10l.1t h el p ill entio!llng a sentiment of hers on t hO l" S h eael , a s I think it doth ' h er grea t honour. ' I f I had t Il e sane ne£lect," said sh e, "f or I ridiculous people with the g ~ ner a lity of the world, I should rather think them the obj ects of tears than of laughter; but in rea l i ty, I have kno wn severa l who, in s erne par t s 0 r t h eir clla r a c tere have be en extremely ridiculous, i o thers lave be en a1 LO l! ether as a!.'li ~ bl e .

.A AI (!. .... - ..L ...... "" (I) Amelia. Book 10, C ap . 4, p . 469 . For instance," said she, "here is the Ma.j .6D, who tells us of many things he has never seen and of others which he hath never done , and both in the most extra.vagant excess; and yet how amiable is his be­ havior to his poor sister whom 1e hath not only brought over hither for her health, at his own expense, but is come Ito bear her company (1 )

I~rs. James. the unfortunate sister of Colonel Bath, encount­ ered in the early part of the story. is a ludicrous exampl e of a good, well-meaning woman made giddy by the sudden acqUisition of weal tho Her visit to ~tlelia's poor lodging is thus described. Amelia. "heard a illost violent thundering at the door and presently a f ter a rustling of silk upon her stair-case, at the same time I cried out pretty loud , 'Bless met What, am I to climb another pair of stairs?" Upon which Amelia, who well knew the voice, present- ly ran to . the do or, and ushered in Mrs . James most splendidly dressed, who Jut on as formal a countenance, and made as formal courtesy to her old friend as if she bad been her very distant ac qualim tanc e • fI ••••• Afterwards, Booth and Amelia "over a pint of

Wine. entertained themselves for P.. rrlile with tl e ridiculous behav­ iour of tkeir visitant. 1I (2) A further instance of the ridiculous behaviour of rs. James is evidenced by her remarks to Major Bath who prings her news of the supposed death of her husband, a loss of Which she woula truly have _ ... '7 7- (1) • Amelia. Book III, Chap . 8, p. 121-2.

(2) • Amelia. BookIV. Chap . 8, pp. 180-2/ been very glad. "Talk not to me of such comfort" r.e:plied the lady, "it is a loss I cannot survive." But why do I sit here lamenting , myself? I will go this instant and know the worst of my fate, if my trembling limbs will carry me to my coach •••• Bother I must

beg the favour of you to let your footman step to my mantua-n~ker; I am sure it is a miracle in my present condition how it came into my head •••• Heavens knows", says she , "now ,when I can wear brocad or wh ether ever I shall wear it." (1)

In this group of characters--Justice Thrasher, Mr . Bondme.n, etc ) it is evident that Fielding is using the methods of the comic drama- tist. They each illustrate some manifestation of affectation from the half-unconscious humbug to the artful imposter . They have a tendency to become types rather than individuals, although the mo re severe realism of the scenes of Amelia has a tendency to bring all the chara cters nearer actual life, so that even these typical char- acters are as a rule humanized by minor traits which tone down their , special peculiarity, and take away from them the too great rigidity of a. cha racter constructed to illustrate o'lly one cha.racteristic. The characters in Amelia which may be said to show the influence of Cervantes and of the ~uixotic ideal are Colonel Bath, Dr. Harri- son and Serge ~ nt Atkinso • Colonel Bath a a choracter has not only the affect9tion of bravery, but ~ s the novel progresses he live mo re and more in deeds of heroism. Duelling beoomes his obsession. He has fallen under a fixed idea, which determines ' is action on all -118 (1). Ibid. Book V, Chap. 8, pp. 236-7. occasions. He may justly fall under Fielding's own statement of the quixotic character, lithe greatest part of manking labour under one delirium or another; and Don Q,uixote differed from the rest not in madness , but the species of it. 1'he covetous, the prodigal, th superstitious, the libertine, and the coffee-house politician, are all quixotes in their several ways." (1). Colonel Bath, however, is a comparatively Wlimportant character. and hi sbombast courage t imaginary deeds of prowess, and duelling are not so intensely cari­ catured Go s is the utopian bent of mind of Parson Adams. Yet Colonel Bath in a lesser degree is a lUnner after the ideal, who stumbles over the reali ties, a child-like dreamer, for w10m life de- lights to lie in wait. Sergeant Atkinson in some respects is a variation of Sancho . With homely joy and simplicity he places himself in the service of

Captain Booth. He is naive, clumsy and concrete minded . To say. however , ~~at Sergeant Atkinson definitely fO~ill S a parallel with Sancho, as, for instance Partridge does, would be a far-fetched conclusion. As in Joseph J\ndre~s there is a suggestion th3t Joseph occupies towards Parson Adams the same relation that Sancho does to Don Q,uixote, so Atkinson may be said to occupy a similar one to

Captain Booth. But the similarity is not marked. Sergeant Atkin- son in all respects seems to be an original Fielding ch racter. Dr. Harrison as Squire Alwoxthy and Parson Adams, possesses

(1) • Coffee-House Politician. Act 2, Scene 12. superior intelligence, hi ,q;h ideals, and goodne ~ 3s of heart . To say, however, that Dr . Harrison is a character modeled upon Don Quix

ope as is Parson Adams, 'N ould not be true. i'here i '3 no art of I I caricature in the portrayal o f hlS ~har ~ cter. ~ here are no incon- gruous elements to be reconciled ei ther in his per<3on or in his men - tal attitude. Dr . Harrison wears goo d clothes and not only is, but

looks every inch a clerg~nan. Further~ore, he has a grasp upon the realities of l ife which Parson Adams had not. In fact, Dr . Harrisor becomes an example of the practical ideal ist rather than the imprac-

tical. tiquire Allworthy made nimsel . dislikea vy his 'oenevolence,

but lJ r. Harr'ison reaps only grati tude and accomplishes good in all

instances where he ended vors to do so . No hQ~iliatine situations attned his ministerial di gnity.

setting. The setting of Amelia is in Newgate, ne8p loi ings

and the sponging houses of London. There is no life on the road . S in Josenh Andrews and Tom Jones. Parts of the set ing are simi l ar ild to that ot Jonathan ild. However, tne se t ting of Jonathan -

is lilore or less exa ~gerated in order to T' r a fittin back- round for the caricature of tne hero; while th--- of Amelia ~~ m re re- strained . The tendency of characterization in Amelia is a'lay fr m the burlesque towar s naturalism, so too' ith its settin. , hieh is ahanged f r ,)ID that of the comic romance to that of tne re:1.11st1e ovel Yet t ne .d ewgate of "JIle J. ia is none 'tne l ess a forceful de iation than I

140 t he Newgate of Jonathan Wild. In fact, Newgate, the justice's ~ court, the J asquerades, and va~ all a s d escri bed in Amelia, become '" - greater denunciations of vice a s im~nical to the interests of eociet than any scenes of Jonathan Wild.

Dialogue. The dialogue of Amelia is naturalistic and satiric rather than comic or bur lesque. The following dialogue is more or l ess typical of the novel . It is very evident that it lacks the hearty lau hter found in the dialogue arrow Jones of Joseuh And rews and which is producedtrterein by the devi ces of burlesque and the

comic dialogue. "Talk not to me of dinners," cries Amelia; ",flY stomach is too

full already." "Nay, but dear madam," answered rs. Ellison, "let me beseech you , to go home wi th me . I do no t care," says she, hi spering, "to spe1

before some folks ."

"I have no secre~, ma.dam, in the orld, l' replied '.melia loud,

" Ihicn ?lould nat c JIttLlunica.te to this l a y, f or I shall always ac- knowledge the highest obligations to her f or the secrets she hath

imparted to 'ne." "Madam," said Mrs . Ellison, III do no t interfere i th obligations (1), and thus the conversation is carried on in much the same faah10 " II as that of ordinary life.

141 (1) • Amelia. nook vIII, p . 348. Although such a dialogue is typical of kllelia,it is not to be

suppo sed tha L Gllere is , 0 comi c dialoPue wh i eh '": ould properly be

termed such, in the novel. There are some very excellent examples

as for instance the colloquy between Colonel .James ~l.!Hl his L-~tly,

B OO K I I, Chapter 1, pages 500- 003 .. but they _:lake up rela ti velY~Very

little part of tne dialogue of A~elia.

I n ad. ui tion to tHis !laturalistic trend of the dialogue of Amelia there is evident a satirical element which enters into much of it. But the note of satire in Nnelia is no longer the robust, laughlilg burlesque satirn encountered in his burlesque

plays, (Jom Jones, Joseph Andrews) 0'( Jonathan \I ild. It is more restrained and obviously employed itn a defiDite aim of moral

correction . An illustration of thi ~ay be seen in the dialogue

in Newe;ate between the hhys.ter -'urphlt and ~ iss Mathews. Murphy having heard all the particulars, ..... snook hlS lead and s ai d, ItThere is but one clrcu:nst'tnee, .adAIIl, rhieh I ish

was out of the ca se; and that we must Dut out of i t ; I me~n the

carrying tne pelknife dr ~ml 'nto the room with rou; for th~ t seems to imply malic e prepensive, as we call it in the law; thi- cir­ ctLllstaoce, l.herefore, :nust il t qpne r a alnst yo 1; "'1d, if the

142 servant who was in the room observed this, he mu st be bought off at all hazards. All here you say are friends; ~he re fore 1 tell you openly, ~ou m~s t furnish me with money sufficient f or this purpose. ~a l ice is all we have to guard against. '

II I would not presume, sir, II cries Booth, "to inform you in the law; but I have heard, in case of stabbing, a man may be indicted upon the statute; and it is capital, though no malice appears. 1\ ••••• j "Then, sir, I will ell yotU, II said 'urphy, "if a man b e indicted contra f ormam statutis, as we say, no malice is necessary, ..... then what we have to guard against is having s truck the first 1Jlow. Pox on't, it is unlucky this (as done in a room; if it nad been in the street we could have had five or SlX wit­ ness to have proved ta€ first bla , Clle per "til n, 1 am afraid, we shall get one." "And do you thiLLk , sir," said Miss Mathews, "I ould sa e my life a t the expense of hiring another to perjure himself.?" "Ay, surely do I," cries fu rphy, IIfor wnere is tne fault, adml tting tllere is some f~ul t in perjury, a you call i t·t ..;.nd , to be sure, it i6 such a mat"ter as every man ould r ather wish to avoid than Hot; and yet, as it may be managed, tnere is 'lot so

143 tfiuch as some people are apt to ima~ine in it; for he need not

KISS1 • th e bOOK,' and then pray wher fs the perjury? But if the

crier is sharper than ordinnry," ~m t is it he kisses~ 1 sit

any thing but a bit 0 calf's ski!? I am sure a man must be a very bad Christian himself who would not do so much as that to save the life of any 8hristian \Vh tever." (l) .

Summary.

The plot of Amelia is the story of the vari us ~ccident

which befell a very rt~y couple after tleir uriting in the holy

state of matrimony. It is a novel of situatIon, nd a depart re from the OO1ic ro'll nee, or t e biogra f"' hic novel, tne two plot forms used by Fielding in Joseph An rews, Tom Jones, n Jonath n

.ild. _he burlesque ele~ent, -hic* IS 3 , cn a ~rt of the lot of Joseph Andre s, a d is evident in Tom .T nes nd ;:.J..::o:..:.n:.:::;..:.:.;.:::.:..:.-!.:..=.i.:::l~d ,

is altoget~er wanting in the ~lot of '~elia, and a ne ele~ent of patnos not found in either of t h e ot er t 0 enters in. For

144 ( 1 ) . Amelia. Book I, Cnap. 10, pp . 47-8. thi s reason, t ne plot of Amelia depa rts from t h e class ic inte;r­

pretation of tne ie, .~ dch eAcluded tile pat etic, a precept to

wh i ch J:i' i elding had adhered in hi s comedi es, f arces, burlesques

and other novels. The setting f Am elia, principall y in t h e ch eap lodging

houses of London and ~ ewgate nas a c ertain p a rallel in Jonathan Wild; although there is no evi dence of bur l esque exaggerati on i n

it, as t here is in Jonathan ~ ild. In this setting, no rever,

Fielding may be said to conform to nis theory o ~ t he comic setting, which he had used in Joseph Andrews, an d 'chich he states

defirlitely in To!.'l Jones, that is, "that t n e vario'ls c al ~ i nf-s i the l owe r snperes produce the great variety of humorous charac-

t e rs ." (1). In the delineation of chara cters in p~elia, Fielding uses three mettlO ' s; , f irst, chara cters drawn from nature; second, cnaracters constructed after tne manner of the comi c drrun tist; thiru, cha r a cters after t h e mann er of : ervantes. Th se de- , picted according to the first,or the methods of the naturalist,

are t ne most important. The dialogue of Amelia is principally nat ralistic, or a

a

145 {l}. Tom JOnes. reproduction of dialogue as it occurs in l i f e. There is also, to be found in it a very evident serious and restrained satiric

tendency_

J

------y------146 /

PART II!.

TW~ JOURNALS OF' HENRY :b'IELDI'NG COH SIDFF< ~D H1'H

REG.J1D 'L'O CRITICAL EX_R~~SSII)NS OJ:i' HIS ':L':iEORY 01<' 'l'J.E CU_.dU . PART III

A review of tHe Jouri als 0 n Henry Fielding wi th regd.::cd to critical expressions of his t neory of t h e comic.

The True Patriot, a weekly newspaper published every Tuesday

from 1745 to Ap ril 1'746, owed its publ ication to the l a ing of Charles Edward which furnished an opportunity f or Fielding to enter

the field of journ al is~ on t h e side of the goven~ent. All twenty

seven numbers of t h e oap er have a serious p ol itical intentJ l i ghtly

veiled with satin: wi.1ich varies from mild thru~ts , some hat whimsi-

cal and wholly i fl offen ~ i e, to satiric uu.r·lesque and irony . 1 These papers, nove Lr , f rom their very nature, make al~ o st no c on trl uuL ion to Fielding's method as a conllC a r'Cist, -l or do they I contain ally critical wtiti!1gs which reflect his theory of the comic. , The Jacobite'~ Journal of a similar nature with the True I

pa trio~ was publisned or Saturdays, bel! in ing :arch 12, 1748. I ts general plan consisted of an introductory essay rith paragra hs I of current news, of ten accom anied,. L.Y edi 'Corial comments, mi ecella-

neous a r t icles, a nd ad~ertisemen t s. (1) There ar e 0 111y t 0 aper ~· of the Jacobite's Jo urnal, numbers lb and J4. that a Le included in

the Henley edition of Fielding, nich contains all his {no n { r~t-

in@'s • It is to be suppo sed then, that t ne 0 ther copi es o !~ tne 147 ( 1 ) . Austin Dobson, Fielding. p. 161. Jacob,i te' s Journal a re ll ot in exi s tenc e, or else have not been ga til ered together for publica ti on . The t wo papers, numbe rs 15 and 16, I afford nothing co a cerning Fielding's t heory of the.comic. The Covent Garden Journal was published during eleven months, 1752, and want through seventy-two issues. In plan and general

appeatance it rese bled The True P~ t rioL a nd the J acobite 's Journal c011si stine; mainl,), of an in troductory e ssay, paragraphs of current

news, often a ccomp ani~d by pointed editorial comuent, miscellaneous

articles and advertisemeHts. TiLese essays of The ',ovent Garden j Journal contain, on t h e whole, a streafH of satire l"1hi(;h flows on almost without interruption. It is odly three of theIn , which a re I serious in entent, tha t make a direct co n tribution to Fielding's I

theory of the comic. These are number s 10, b a!!d 56, a.nd in these Fielding t akes up a serious discussion of his own t heory of wit and

humor. Tne first, number 10, co .1 t a i s a very definite statement o ..~ 'hall- Fielding considered the purpose of it and humor, or t he purpose of

the co.ni c. "\I{nen wi t a1 d humour, It wri tes ieldin" , "are introdO\ ceq f or such good pur poses, when the agreea11e is t lerlued i t h the

usef ul, then is the ~r lter said to ave succeeded i n every poi t.

'Pleasantry (as the ingenious author of Clatissa says 0 a tory) should be made only the Vehi cl e of Ins tructi on;' a nc.. tnus romances - themselves, a s ell as e i c po ems, .uay become or thy the peru!;al of

the greatest of men; OUl, when no moral, no lesso , no i nstr uction

148 is conveyed to the reader, where the Vvilole design of the comp ositior

is no mor~ than to make us laugh, t.he wri t er comes very near to the

character of a buffoon; and his admirers, i f an old 1..atin proverb be true, deserve no grea t compliments to be paid to their wisdom . "After what I have here aavanced, I cannot fairly, I think,

be represented a s aL1 enemy t o laughter, or to all "those kinds of

wri tings which a r e apt to promote it·. On the contrary, few men,

I believe, do _lore admire the works 0 1" those great ma sters wh o have sent their satire (if I may use the exp ression) laughi n p: into the J world. Such are the g rea t tri umve ra te, L'lcian , Cervantes and

Swift . These authors I sh~11 ever hold in the highest degree of

es teem; no t indeed for tha t wi t and ltUm our alone v ni ch they all so eminently pos bessed bu t ecaus e they all endeavored , with the utmost I force of their wit and humour, to e poee and extirpa te t ho se f oll ies and vices wnich chief ly pre ailed in t neir several countries." (1)

Paper number 55 is chiefly remarkable for I'l. definition of a cnaracter of flU t{lOUr, and theref or e serves to indicate certain ideas of 1ielding concerning the construct"on of the comic in character. "Here then we have anotflel: pret ty adequate notion of humour," writes Fi elding, \lwhi ch i s indeed no thing lfio re than a i 01 eDt ent or di s­

position of the mind &0 some uartic IBr r oint...... The ridi culous

is anneAed to the idea of hUIflour i n these t 0 WHYS, either by the manner or the degree in which it is exeL \.. ed.

(1) • Covent Garden JouDnal . :: 0 .. 10. 149 "By either of these the very best and worthiest disposition of the huma n , Il~nd ·may become ridiculous. Excess, says Horace, e en

1n the pursuit o~ " virtue, will lea6 a wi se and goo man into "f olly and vice • . -- so it will sUDject hLfl to _itii cule; for into this, saye the judicious Abbe' Bellegard e, a I1lan may tumble headlong with an e xcel ~ e n t understanding, and with the most laudable qualities . Piety, patriotism, loyalty, parental affection, etc., nave all af­ forded characters of humour for the stag e." (1) "By humour, then I suppose, 1S generally intended a violent im -, pulse of the mind, determining it to some peculiar point, by which a man becomes ridiculously distinguished fro~ all other men." (2) In the same paper, nUlnb e r 50, the remD.rks of -: 1 eldin on the manifest repuglancy betwe en humour and go ·.) d breeding, may be said

~ndire ' ctlY to conf irm tne as _ertion made in Tom Jon e~ that'the high­ est life is much the dullest', and Lhat the best comic set~ing is I that of low life.

"If tnere be aHY t U"lL iu what I ha e no !-i ai. n thing can more cleH. rly f ollOW tham tlle manifest re.J ugnancy bet e n l).uroour ana good br~eding . Tne latter being ~ne rt o ~ cond ctin yourself by certain common and general rules, by hich means, if they ere universally observed, the hole orld would ppe r (as all cour~ier~ actually do) to be, in their extern 1 behaviour at le~st. but one tile same person." (s) 150 _ o. 55 ( 1) . Covent Garden Journal.

( 2) • Covent Garden Journal . J.. o. 55. (:3 ) • I biC1 . :'io.55. Paper number 56 continues a discussion of the same subject, i.e

the repugnancy "tetween characters of humor and good breeding. liThe ambi tious, the covetous, the proud, the '\!3.in, the angry, the eebauche the glutt Jn, a re all lost in the characteL' of the well-bred man; or if nature should now and then peep forth, she withdraws in an in- stant, ana aoth not shew enough of her~elf to become ridiculous."(l)

These papers, numbers 10, b5, 56, aEe the only criti cal writ- lngs in tne Covent Garden Journat, or indeed in any of the journals, which make any definite contrit-..ution to Fieldingts theory of the comic. From these t h ree papers, .!:l Oi'eVer, there may e g1'l, ined three importa.nt p oints; 1, the purp ose of wit d.nd hUJJloUI', or laughter, or the comic, which is as set lorth in number 10.J to expo s e f ol.LY and ) vice; 2, C1. de!'inition and exp.lanati~n of the hu orous ch racter; anu 3, the statelnent tnaL Yt ell- bred people are .. ot ridiculous, Rond the -;: ositive C'. ssu .~D tioL whicll 0 e ust make from that that ill-man- nered people, \:hether so f'r-OlCl e ross ignora ce )f decoru:n or J.' rom

.\na from this .~ !'urtne co t ir'nati J or Field­ ill-n8 ture, ~ e so . / ing ts pre!'l.rence for a comic s etting lu 10 lite is neri -e ; since in the lower spheres no re i 1 ~ - bred people a re found thall in the higher .

( 1 ) • Covent Garden Journal. _.0 .56. 151 CONCLUSION.

It is apparent from the f oregoing study t hat Fielding's theory

of the comic as it is set f orth in his various critical writings,

and as it is exemplified in h is methods 01' producing the comic effec

in plot, setti~ , characterization , and dialogue, demands, f irst of ally tha t the comic wri ter confine himself to a just imi tution of na.ture. "And perhElps there is one rel'J son why a comic wri ter should of all others be the least excused for devieting fran nature, since it may not be always so easy for a serious poet to meet with the great and the admirable; but life everywhere furnishes an accurate observe r with the ridiculous . " (1) And the comic is thus distinguifA, ed from t~e burlesque by Fielding, "indeed, no two species of writ- I ing can dUfer more "idely than the comic and the ourlesque; t'or as I the latter is ever the exhibi tion of what is monstrous and unnatural , and where our delight, if we exanll ne it, ari ses rom the ~urpri sing absurdity, as in appropriating the manners of tne hi est to the lowert, or ~ converso; so in the 1'ormer we should ever con ... ine our- selves f" trictly to nature, from the just imitation of \":hieh ill flow all the plea sure we can thi s 'lay convey to a ensi ble reoderl1 ~

Upon this main theRis In regard to tne comic Ii 1elding bUilds a and theory for the plot , setting and eharaterization,oentiment, diction

p. )JOJ _ (1) • J 0 sew Andrews._ Author ' s PrefRee, (2) • Ibid. p. XXXI. of the comic novel . The Author's Preface to. Joseph Andrews is, however, the only place where Fielding mG.kes anything tha t may be ' termed a formal statement of his theQry. Plot. So far as the plot of the comic romance was concerned Fielding regarded .himself as an originator t at lee at in the Engli sh le.nguage.

In Tom Jones he refers to himsell I! S the flfounder of a new province

of writing , and SO at liberj;.y to make w at laws he pleases therein."

(a:). And in Joseph Andr~w.~ .he speaks of h . mselr as being concerned with altnew Kind of writting, which I do not remember to have seen hitherto attempted in our language." (2). And the rules laid down , for the plot of this new species of writing(the comic romance} are (1), its fable and action are light and ridiculous; 2, the nction is extended and comprehensive; 3, it must contain a 1 ,rge circle of

incidents and introduce e greet v riety 0 1 characters. (3).

The action should be such "as fA3.y not only COl .• e wi thin the com-

pass of hwne.n agenfy, end \7. ich um"' n agents may prooably be supposEd to do; but they should be likely :for the very actor and eilarocters

themselves to lave performed ••.• Thia last requisite is m ~ t the dramatic critics call conservation of char~cter; and it requires very extraordinary degree of judgment, ana a ost eXRct AnO ledge of human nature. II (4).

(1). Tom Jones. Yolo 1, Book II., Cha.p. 2 , • 47. (2). Joseph Andrews. Author' Preface. p. XXIX.

(3). Ibid. p. XXX. (4). Tom Jones. Yol • . I, Book VIII, Chapl 11, p. 373. Setting.

Low life was the setting chosen by Fielding i'or the comic back- ground. The well ordered conditions of h igher life by reason of their order and conventionali sm possessed e, rigidi ty and monotony which ]'ielding felt Etifled the comi c spiri t. liThe highest life is much the dullest end affords very li ttle humour or enterte.inment. The various callings in the lower sphere produce the great variety of humorous chara,cters." (1) (2).

Characters.

As e, basis for the comic in character, the first principleP-eid daVin by ];'ielding is, that affectation is th~ only true source of the ~ ridiculous. "Great vices are the proper obJects of our detestatlo~ srnGller :fBults of our pity; but affecta tion appears to me the only true source of the ridiculous . 1I "The only source of the true ridi- ~:3 ) culous (as it appeRrs to me) is affectation. But though it ariRes from one spring only , when we consider the infinite qtreams into which tni R on~ brsnches, we shall presently cepse to admire at the copious field it affords to an observer. 1I (4) It is very evident, however, tram the discussio.l in the Covent

Qarden Journ~ on the humourous character that Fielding recognized another principle as e basis ot the comic in character. In number

"150- (1).(2). Tom Jones. Vol. 2, Book 14, Cha.p . 1, pp. 226-7.

Covent Ga rden Journal~ No. 55.

(3) • .roseph Andrews. Uuthor's Pref~ce. p. XXXVII •

( 4) • Author's Preface • .~ AXXl~· ~V:~' ======~======~ fifty-five of the Q,ovent Gardep Journal Fielding defines humour as nothing more than a. particular bent of the Inind to some particular point. liThe ridiculous," he writes, "is always included in our notions of it, a,nd is annexed lbo it in these two ways, either by the

Ma.nner of the Degree in which it If'l exerted. "By either of these the very Dest and wor'thiest disposition of the human mind may become ridi culoua. Excess, says Horace, even in the pursuit of virtue, will lead a wise and good Ula n into folly and vice -- so will it SUDj ect Ii:lm to ridi cule; i'or in to ti i 8, says the judicious Abbe Bellegarde, a man may tumDle headlong with an excellent understAnding, B,nd wi th tne mos t laudable qur>li t ies. Piety, Patriotisnl, Loyalty, Parental affection, etc., have ell afforded characters of numour for the stage.

"By humour, t h en, I suppose is generally intended a violent impulse of the mind, determining it to some one peculi a r point, by which a man becomes ridiculously distinguished t ram other men ."(l).

sentiments.

The sentiments expressed i ll ~ritings 01' the comic class must preserve the ludicrous :lnstead of the subli e. ho ever , t.e elemeW of burlesque illUSt not enter into the ~ enti ments . (2).

-. c:;. 6- (1). Covent Garden Journal. No. 55. Author'E Preface. P.~. (2) • J.oVle ph Andrews. The diction of the comic admits of the burlesque, althoUgh this latter must be excluded from the sen"timents and chara cters. (1) These principles of comic writing stated by Fielding ore defi- nite, al t hough they ore meagre. This, however, i s to be expected since..1in the main, they are but occasi anal remarlCS made h ere and there in his va.rious wri tings.

The Au~:rlOr' s Preface to Joseph Andrews is Fielding's most elabora te statement in regard to his comic theory; yet this is but in the na.ture of an introducti0n to that novel, and concerns i tserf I mainly with a definition of the comic romance s distinguished from the serious romance. Fielding's practice of the comic ma y be in- ferred, n O\7ever, f rom h is wo rk, wl. ich evidences just h ow f .... he f ollowed t he theory which he informa.lly stated.

The pley~, comedies, Durlesques and farce show Henry Fielding as a comic writer after the school 01 Congreve, ~ith the plots of his comedies depending upon the clever out-,itting of someone in autnority l or u.eir main comic action . The setting is in n i gh life and among fumilior London scenes. Their characters ere drawn from thc t"ashionable, gay and i gher clH8 ses. They are made ridiculous by af : ectati on, ~hich tLrough- out the comedies may De lound to vary 1"ram light and harmless v n i t

~l.j '( - (1). Author's Preface. P. XXXIV. o v r y oc i y . ct r 0 too t. c i Politic

d 10 () or co

c he its fet ting an ong the people O l. low 111 e. Phaeton' mother

i~ .n oyster ·ench and hiA foster t ther a. co 1 r. The etting of The Covent Gprden Trn&edy may be t be de ign ted tr. t of e under orld. The characters r e ourlesquc e gger tio s executed :i th old strokes . They are typical, lot in ividual.

The dialogue e.ploys 0 r eeque ex ggeration, pa.rody and v r~ol sports.

So far as t .e p ys 0 ielding ar c concerned it i vi nt

than on1 i eU.o 6 0 c arnct rization 1 .e u 1n any co c principle. later t te

Garden Tr!1Sedy. The. 0 r of ect tinn t .o of t e rid -

culous, ond c 'r cter rid1culou n ~ a cort in e t of i d o'er- , toppin al. ot or tr it • Of .6 Co!'f it c 1

is the one c racter lch Y b 1d to e

in~' , pinee -on uixote in

merely Gervnnt ~, ere ti n pl ce on n d.

ld In e novel 0 Henry i l di

nd .!!melin on! t 0 d c rom nces. he r n have a abl n a DC" 0 tended inei nt. e c. L tl'O uce 0 c

- 1 n.' the plot of Joseph Andrews , h owever, the element of burlesque

parody, whi ch Fielding hed used in ilis burlesque pla.ys. RiB" own

definition ~f the comic romance, valile it does not exclude burlesquE suggests that it is only to oe admitted in the diction and not used

in plot , or characterization. (1). The plot of ~om ~ones has no burlesque element, this according to Fielding's theory being used only in the diction in occasional instances. This exclusion of burlesque from the plot of Tom Jones Kakes that novel more definite

compact end better welded togeh ter than Jo.se,ph J.\ndre~ • In the

plot oi ' Jonathstn Wild Fielding abandoned llis use of' ~he c C' mic romance altogether. The [l ction of Jonathan 'Iild is neither extended nor comprehensive, and only such incidents and cnar acters

are introduced a s contrioute to ~le main design. The plot of Ame lielikewise does not conform to the requirements of the comic

romance. Its fable and action is not light and riciculous. The trie.ls and tribule.ti C'n s of a very worthy couple after entering the holy state of matrimony, is its subject treated in a serious mu nner. It is thus a novel of situation, with ohly as great a variety of

incidents introduced 8 S may sprlng out of ana evolve around t~

one situa tion; and though there is u great variety 0_ Clnracters they arL a part oi' tne main situation \

It would then seem t lla t so f ar as plot as concerned that ],'1 eld~

ing 's work as a comic nove~ist tended a Y l ro ourle que and the comic romance to ti"a.t of t.t'le novel concerned i th a s ~' i ous urpose,

- 16.------

=

and which wa s a ore e~ a ct reproduction 0 1 life , 5 it ie thun the comic romance could possibly be.

The setting of lo§eph An~s and Tom Jones 15 in LOw life,

that of Jonathan ~{ild a.nd the greater pa rt of J'illlelia among t.e

people of t} e underworla ana tte pri so .. s. f o t h t 1t · oul~ seem thf:l t wi th greeter concentration of plot and the aevelo ment of tne

novel whose action W~5 serious and n' turali~tic, Fielding'e incl ina·

ti on s to place i s cll., ractors in tJ e enviro ent 01 the under

~~rld in order to ~~ke more forcible I i~ seri ous aim.

e 3 1'e In ~eph ~nd re s t e etho of c a.ract izatio.. t.o

of tI.. e co ic ara ~ ti6t, tl.e ourlesq 0, a r ti t, c. r acterizati on 'hos after t e I~ nner of Cerv nte , t' 0 e 0 e tur ist. of t.e l irst t p e are riaiculou ro. af ecta t 'o , ond aa

such conlorm to }I' iela i g ' t. Ol'Y ; 0, e of econd ' .oulc. ac­

cording to .ie ~ eory be excluded; e ann r 0 Cer- i e ventes a re c! a r a cter of • our, .... 0

Covent Garden JournBl-!re de ridiculoua by Viol nt i e of

the mind, aete i ni n it to ome pec llor olnt. ho e dr fro

lil e a.re 0 ly ~a rtial copies 0 ctu 1 1 iYldU 1. Indeed, in d Joseph Anare , c lr cters -fter thc nner 0 o t i ort t n after tnc Jna nner 0 the comic ar ti t re

t h e most numerou . u ea in dclin- In J ona than . ;ild erc bur e que e eating tr,e mlbnor characters like Blueskin 0 d ~ iV-ebl ood who ~ re in two Dolo strokes ..... nd easily seen 'through. On the other hond 'the chara cter 0 Jone. than \{ild is ouil t accorc.ing to the metilDa of burlesque used by Cervantes . or 1t 1S GS Fielding aescri oed it in

~Coffee-E~use Politicianll). and lat~r defined it in the yovent___ Garden Jouranl a character of humour. (2) . As is he case in

Joseph Andrews tr.is i tile ." ost obvious and important met 00 of characterization. In Tom Jones tlIe c r Elc ters a re depicted e.ccordin to t e methods of t he naturalist , t,e comic dr om tist nd nner of

Cervantes. ~,e methods of c ar cteriz tion ich emp a 1ze tremselves in Tom Jones are thoge of the notur 11 t d of Cer n - teeian burlesque.

In Amel i a the ethode of c erecter portray 1 re .0 a ° e a i 'Et naturali t. of the co~ic dr tist , and of Cerv n~e . c or- i s by far t.e ost eviden t, ana as in To Jone e acters a e constructed accor ing to it. The c ° r erv nte ort nt portrayea accor ing to the et.oc 0 evide t in end tI.1i 5 met ,oc. is , e.l tr.oU va Ther for d almost olly uiscarded by Fielding. ro rl of Fielding's characterizatio a a c 1C r1ter 1 to natura ism.

ote 1 . (1) • Part 1, Chap . 1 , p. 9 .

(2) • covent u rden Journal. The dialogue in Joseph AnArews is distinguished byourlesque

exaggera ti on of phrase, pl?rody, and mi suse of words . A satirical

combination of laughter with the attit de oi serious attack is occasionally evident, as for example, in the dialogue between Lady

Booby and Joseph. (1) In Jonatha~ _ !~ the dialogue may be char-

in their discourse . The dialogue in Tom ~on~ tends to ao away

with burlesque, sna to be superseded by aialogue ~,ich is cowic, mildly satiric, and naturalistic. The dialogue of Amelia eliminat~ burlesque, relegates comic aialogue to a. few scenes, and occupies itself largely with dialogue wnich is naturplistic and serious in intent with a keenness ana severity of rema rk which IIl3ke it fre- quently satiric. Therefore , Fielding's tendency in the creation of dislo e as away from the comic end the burle que to the naturalistic .

It may, then, on the ~hole, be concluded, t - at Fielding's ark as a comic writer tended away from the artificial d conventional- ized methods of producing the comic in plot, setting, characteriz - t~on , and dialogue 0 the methods of the naturalist; nd in SO doint con10rmod to the initial principle of is theory of the cnmic, that

... ~ 64'" (1) • Jonathan -\vild... - Chap . XIII, p. 191. (2) • JoseRh APdre~~~ Book 1, Chap . 8. a cornie wri ter ho ld ever co l1'lne hi elf strictly to ture

a just imit,.,tion of ich ill 10 all the ~eneure t t can be co veyed to a sensible reo der . (1)·

-- ) J 0 8 eoh AnQ... r.;;e..;..;..;;. ,.:.. uthor