"Jokes, repartees, and laugh, and pun polite,

Are the true test to prove a mau is right."-PETRON. Some passages of the Editor's address (5th November, 1745) afford an amusing picture of the periodical literature of the age, and his opinion regarding his own qualifications for the task he had undertaken. "Of all mankind," he says, "there are none whom it so absolutely imports to conform to this golden rule of following fashion as an author; by neglecting this Milton himself lay long in obscurity, and the world had nearly lost the best poem which, perhaps, it hath ever seen. On the contrary, by adhering to it, Tom Durfey, whose name is almost forgotten, and many others who are quite forgotten, flourished most notably in their respective ages, wrote and were read very plentifully by their contemporaries. In strict obedience to this sovereign power, being informed by my bookseller, a man of great sagacity in his business, that nobody at present read anything but newspapers, I determined to conform myself to the reigning taste. The number indeed of these writers at first a little staggered us both; but, upon perusal of their works, I fancied I had discovered two or three little imperfections in them, all which somewhat diminished the force of this objection, and gave me hopes that the public will expel some of them to make room for their betters. The first little imperfection in these writings is, that there is scarcely a syllable of truth in any of them. If this be admitted to be a fault, it requires no other evidence than themselves, and the perpetual contradictions that occur, not only on comparing one with the other, but the same author with himself at different days. Secondly, there is no sense in them: to prove this, likewise, I appeal to their works. Thirdly, there is, in reality, nothing in them at all. And this also must be allowed by their readers, if paragraphs which contain neither wit, nor humour, nor sense, nor the least importance, may be properly said to contain nothing. And here I cannot agree with my bookseller, that their eminent badness recommends them. The true reason is, I believe, simply the same which I once heard an economist assign for the content and satisfaction with which his family drank water-cyder ; namely, because they could procure no other liquor. Indeed, I make no doubt but that the understanding, as well as the palate, though it may, out of necessity, swallow the worse, will in general prefer the better."

The author proceeds to observe, that though it was not usual for those of superior eminence in their profession to hang out their names on the signpost, yet that, to raise some expectation in his readers, and aid their conjectures, he should do so. "And first, I faithfully promise him that I do not live within a mile of Grub-street; nor am I acquainted with a single inhabitant of that place. Secondly, I am of no party; a word which I hope by these my labours to eradicate out of our constitution; this being indeed the true source of all those evils which we have reason to complain of. Thirdly, I am a gentleman; a circumstance from which my reader will reap many advantages; for, at the same time that he may peruse my paper without any danger of seeing himself or his friends traduced with scurrility, so he may expect, by means of my intercourse with people of condition, to find here many articles of importance concerning the affairs and transactions of the great world (which can never reach the ears of vulgar news-writers), not only in matters of state and politics, but amusement. All routs, dinners, and assemblies, will fall under my immediate inspection; and the adventures which happen at

them will be inserted in my paper, with due regard, however, to the character which I here profess, and with strict care to give no offence to the parties concerned. Lastly, as to my learning, knowledge, and other qualifications for the office I have undertaken, I shall be silent, and leave the decision to my reader's judgment, of whom I desire no more than that he would not despise me before he is acquainted with me."

Having informed his readers what he is, he proceeds to supply them with a few ingenious conjectures as to who he is. "First, then, it is very probable I am lord B-ke. This I collect from my style of writing and knowledge in politics. Again, it is probable that I am the bishop of from my zeal for the protestant religion. When I consider these, together with the wit and humour which will diffuse themselves through the whole, it is more than possible I may be lord C- himself, or at least he may have some share in my paper. From some or all of these rea

...

sons I am very likely Mr. W-n, Mr. D-n, Mr. L-n, Mr. F-y, I-n, or indeed any other person who hath ever distinguished himself in the republic of letters!" In alluding to the price, he as humorously insists on the superior value of his paper to that of all others. "I conclude the whole in the words of the fair and honest tradesman: Gentlemen, upon my word and honour, I can afford it no cheaper; and I believe there is no shop in town will use you better for the price.""

'The True Patriot' was followed by the Jacobite Journal,' edited by John Trott Plaid, Esquire, which, by a rich vein of satiric humour and irony, aimed at covering the party against whom it was directed with still greater ignominy. The 15th number (March 12th, 1748) consists of a translation sent by à correspondent of a pretended poem, entitled 'De Arte Jacobinicâ,' very happily adapted from Horace's 'Art of Poetry.' The first rule which this curious essay contains, is to learn the art of lying and misrepresenting. "Fling dirt enough, and some will certainly stick. You may venture to abuse the king himself; but do this with caution for the sake of your ears and head. But spare not his ministers : give a wrong turn to their most plausible actions. The next thing you are to remember is, to feign a love to your country and religion; the less you have of both, the better you can feign both. 'O liberty! O virtue! O my country! Remember to have such expressions as these constantly in your mouth!"

Though severely pressed by circumstances, it would be hardly fair to infer that Fielding, in pursuance of his own ironical advice, projected these periodicals, instigated only by hope that his services would obtain for him some official situation from the court. He knew the world, and especially the world of intrigue and faction, too well; but he was naturally accused by his enemies of entertaining only the most interested views. It was not so: his ambition at least was laudable; for he never prostituted his pen to power, though of the temptations to do so, only the man who has long struggled with adverse fate-with a series of evil circumstances calculated to render their victim an object of persecution, of scorn, filled perhaps with unavailing regrets, and the haunting dread that Fortune may not yet have shot all her bolts, can form even a remote idea.* Instead of a handsome provision for his last days, however, he was left to perish by the government he had so essentially served; and it was only by the extreme exertions and influence of Lord Lyttleton that he Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se Quam quod ridiculos homines facit. (Juv.) Nor for the poor hath fate a keener sting

Than the fell woes which scorn and malice bring.

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was appointed in his forty-fourth year, with a constitution already broken, to the bench of acting magistrates at Westminster; a situation requiring robust health and strength, though one for which his talents eminently qualified him. But Walpole, like all his Whig progeny, ever studiously avoided men of real merit, in order to find tools more fitted for his purposes, sycophants, dunces, and knaves. Involved as Fielding now was in a series of arduous duties, which he discharged with zeal and ability, he did not confine his attention to the routine of official business. He extended his inquiries into the state of the penal laws; and published several tracts which display his enlightened views, and contain judicious proposals for their reform and consolidation. His 'Charge to the Grand Jury' delivered at Westminster, on the 29th of June, 1749, may be regarded, for that time, as a very able and valuable state paper. He traces the history of grand juries from their origin; shows their beneficent operation in leading to just decisions, in the detection of crime, and for the safety of the subject. His inquiry into the Increase and Cause of Robberies' did him equal credit for legal knowledge and sagacity, and was held in high estimation by the most eminent barristers and the judges presiding in Westminster Hall. A Proposal for the Maintenance of the Poor' evinced much diligent research into that difficult subject: and among other useful hints and suggestions, some of which have since been acted upon, this valuable little treatise contains the first recommendation of a county workhouse, in which the different objects of industry and reformation might be united. Another interesting tract, which shows the extent to which he carried his inquiries, and how far, in the midst of his corporeal sufferings, he retained an active and inquisitive mind, is entitled 'Examples of the Interposition of Providence in the Detection and Punishment of Murder, with an Introduction and Conclusion' (dated 1762). This production he repeatedly advertised in the Covent Garden Journal,' with a view of giving it greater publicity; having conceived great hopes of its general utility, and its good effect, more especially among the lower orders. The public mind, it is stated, was at that period much disturbed by murders committed with a degree of barbarity neither usual nor characteristic, it was remarked, of this country. Indeed, few controversial topics of the day escaped him he wrote a pamphlet on the case of Elizabeth Canning, which was answered by Sir John Hill, between whom and its ingenious author there is said to have occurred a sharp and frequent interchange of animosities, to the no small disgrace and discomfiture of the former. All these productions do honour to Fielding, as a magistrate; and the result, as they were of brief intervals between his active duties, must have cost him intense application, instigated by an ardent zeal for the service of the community, added to the exigency of his own affairs. Still, amidst these various avocations his inventive genius found room to display itself, and for some time past he had amused his leisure moments-few as they were, with the composition of Tom Jones,' the progress and completion of which embraced a large space of time. It was commenced in the midst of his political conflicts, and finished amidst all the turmoil of his magisterial duties-and in a continually declining state of health.

With regard to this amusing work, justly, perhaps, considered his master-piece,-it may not be uninteresting to give the opinions of different writers, some of whom were nearly cotemporary with the author. In extolling the uniform and regular plan on which

it is conducted, Murphy observes that "No author has introduced a greater diversity of character, or displayed them more fully or in more various attitudes. Allworthy is the most amiable picture in the world of a man who does honour to his species; in his own heart he finds constant propensities to the most benevolent and generous actions, and his understanding conducts him with discretion in the performance of whatever his goodness suggests to him. And though it is apparent that the author laboured this portrait con amore, and meant to offer it to mankind as a just object of imitation, he has soberly restrained himself within the bounds of probability nay, it may be said of strict truth, as, in the general opinion, he is supposed to have copied here the features of a worthy character still in being! The person here alluded to was Ralph Allen, Esquire, of Prior Park, and we learn from 'Groves's Anecdotes' that Fielding, while engaged in writing this novel, lived at Tiverton in the neighbourhood, and even dined every day at Allen's table." (Chalmers.) "Nothing can be more entertaining than Western; his rustic manners, his natural undisciplined honesty, his half-enlightened understanding, with the selfpleasing shrewdness which accompanies it, and the bias of his mind to mistaken politics, are all delincated with precision and fine humour. The sisters of these two gentlemen are aptly introduced, and give rise to many agreeable scenes. Tom Jones' will always be a fine lesson to young men of good tendencies to virtue, who yet suffer the impetuosity of their passions to hurry them away." "Thwackum and Square are excellently opposed to each other! In short, all the characters down to Partridge, and even to a maid or hostler at an inn, are drawn with truth and humour; and indeed they abound so much, and are so often brought forward in a dramatic manner, that everything may be said to be here in action; everything has manners, and the very manners which belong to it in human life: they look; they act; they speak to our imaginations just as they appear to us in the world.

"It may be added that in many parts of 'Tom Jones' we find our author possessed the softer graces of character painting, and of description; many situations and sentiments are touched with a delicate hand, and throughout the work he seems to feel as much delight in describing the amiable part of human nature, as in his early days he had in exaggerating the strong and harsh features of turpitude and deformity. This circumstance breathes an air of philanthropy through his work, and renders it an image of truth, as the Roman orator calls a comedy. And hence it arose from this truth of character, which prevails in Tom Jones,' in conjunction with the other qualities of the writer above set forth, that the suffrage of the most learned critic of this nation | (Dr. Warburton) was given to our author, when he says, "Monsieur de Marivaux, in France, and Mr. Fielding, in England, stand the foremost among those who have given a faithful and chaste copy of life and manners; and by enriching their romance with the best part of the comic art, may be said to have brought it to perfection." "Such a favourable decision from so able a judge will do honour to Mr. Fielding with posterity; and the excellent genius of the person with whom he has paralleled him will reflect the truest praise on the author who was capable of being his illustrious rival!" (Murphy.)

"That elegant writer and judicious critic, Dr. Beattie, who had no personal animosities to gratify in trying to depreciate a character like Fielding's, carries his enthusiasm in his favour still farther. Since the days of Homer,' he says, the world has

not seen a more artful epic fable. The characters and adventures are wonderfully diversified; yet the circumstances are all so natural, and rise so easily from one another, and co-operate with so much regularity in bringing, or even while they seem to retard the catastrophe, that the curiosity of the reader is always kept awake, and, instead of flagging, grows more and more impatient as the story advances, till at last it becomes downright anxiety. And when we get to the end, and look back on the whole contrivance, we are amazed to find that of so many incidents there should be so few superfluous; that in such a variety of fiction there should be so great a probability, and that so complex a tale should be so perspicuously conducted, and with perfect unity of design."

It is also justly remarked by Chalmers, "that the comic romance since the days of Fielding has been declining apace from simplicity and nature. The cause of his superiority is to be sought in his wit and humour, of which he had an inexhaustible fund;" an opinion confirmed by the most impartial and enlightened among his contemporaries, not excepting Lord Lyttleton and his friends, intimately acquainted with him as they were from the outset of his career. "Although in this, as well as in other writings of the author," says Dr. Aikin, "the scenes are chiefly drawn from low life, and display too much of the vices and crimes of mankind, yet they are relieved by considerable admixture of nobler matter, and contain many affecting pictures of moral excellence. Indeed it cannot be doubted the writer's intentions were to favour the cause of virtue; and probably the majority of readers, judging from their feelings in the perusal, will pronounce that he has effected his purpose. A rigid moralist will object to him the common fault of many writers of fiction, that of sheltering gross deviations from rectitude of conduct under that vague goodness of heart which is so little to be relied upon as the guide of life; yet he has not been inattentive to poetical justice in making misfortune the constant concomitant of vice, though perhaps he has not nicely adjusted the degree of punishment to the crime."

The author's third novel, Amelia,' was published in 1751, and in point of general excellence it has commonly been considered, no less by critics, perhaps, than by the public, as decidedly inferior to "Tom Jones.' In variety and invention it assuredly is so. Its chief merit depends less on its artful and elaborate construction than on the interesting series it presents of domestic paintings, drawn, as we have remarked, from his own family history.

It has more pathos, more moral lessons, with far less vigour and humour than either of its predecesBors. But we agree with Chalmers, that those who have seen much of the errors and distresses of domestic life, will probably feel that the author's colouring in this work is more just as well as more chaste than in any of his other novels. The appeals to the heart are far more forcible.

The whole of Miss Matthews's narrative abounds in exquisite touches of nature and passion; but what may be referred to with most confidence are Chapter VI. of Book X. and Chapter VIII. of Book XI. Where do we find the consequences of imprudence or guilt represented with such irresistible tenderness? The Amelia' is, indeed, a beautiful and almost perfect work of its kind, but throughout preserves the features, in which that very beauty consists, distinct from either of the novels which preceded it. Upon this ground of difference, by many considered as a mark of inferiority, and by his enemies as a decay of the author's powers, it is less

amusing than revolting to observe how eagerly Richardson and his correspondents renew their envious and malignant attacks, although the entire story abounds with incident and detail taken from his own life, and which ought to have disarmed all criticism, while the author was fast sinking into the grave, oppressed with misfortunes, and at the early age of forty-eight. The effects, perhaps, of literary jealousy and personal prejudice were never more forcibly and painfully displayed.

What is the language of Mrs. Donellan, so grateful, doubtless, to the ear of him to whom it was addressed? "Will you leave us to Captain Booth and Betty Thoughtless for our example? As for poor Amelia, she is so great a fool, we pity her, but cannot be humble enough to desire to imitate her." In his reply, Richardson, betraying his characteristic littleness and vanity, repeats, with infinite self-complacency," Will I leave you to Captain Booth? Captain Booth, madam, has done his business. Fielding has over-written himself, or rather underwritten; and, in his own journal, seems ashamed of his last piece, and has promised that the same muse shall write no more for him. The piece, in short, is as dead as if it had been published forty years ago as to sale. You guess I have not read Amelia?' Indeed I have read but the first volume."

Mr.

Contemporary criticism, written in this spirit, requires no comment. It is evidently prompted by the mean desire of cavilling at decided and self-acknowledged superiority, and does no honour to the name of the author of Clarissa' and 'Sir Charles Grandison.' How far he was inferior to his great rival in the leading characteristics of novel writing; and in none more than in natural and true portraiture of character and manners, the different popular light in which they are regarded affords, perhaps, the surest criterion. While Fielding continues to rank with the "foremost men of all the world;" with Homer, Cervantes, Shakspeare, in the highest rank of genius, the long wearisome, thrice elaborated productions of Richardson are a dead weight, and sleep undisturbed upon their shelves. Only for a moment contrast the characters they have drawn, the truth-telling manly minds of Fielding, of which the calm beauty, "the sunshine, and the storm," are all faithful transcripts of nature, with the feeble unvarying portraitures of his contemporary. Of Richardson, indeed, it may be remarked, as of some of our second-rate dramatists, that his characters want breadth and truth, or, in the words of H. Coleridge, when speaking of Massinger falling into a passion with his bad characters, "it is a fault which nowhere occurs in Homer, Cervantes, Shakspeare, the great and true dramatists, and very seldom in Fielding and Sir Walter Scott." While immersed in the avocations of business and the toil of incessant literary composition, Fielding, it appears, had contracted a second marriage. His salary had proved inadequate to the support of his family; and though labouring under increasing infirmities, such was the activity of his mind, that no sooner had he completed one literary undertaking than another was projected. Declining as he was, his efforts to support his new paper, 'The Covent Garden Journal, by Sir Alexander Drawcansir, Knight, Censor-General of Great Britain,' had been unceasing. But at length the announcement that the author's health would no longer enable him to carry on the work-a work which had conduced so much to the entertainment of the public-was received with a feeling of general regret, little complimentary to the critical acumen of Richardson and his supporters. In fact, the mental and