may add, twice congratulated Jones on the happy turn in his fortunes. This is the sort of thing certain to happen sometimes when a novelist writes a chapter without reading over the previous one written a day or two before.

It would be hypercritical to ask, as Mr. Dickson has pleasantly done: Why did not Jones remember his promise to reward the beggar who found Sophia's purse? Why did not Sophia likewise fulfil her solemn engagement to reward Mrs. Honour to the utmost for her fidelity? Instead of that, she did not, so far as the reader knows, even pay Mrs. Honour her wages when she dismissed her. And finally, when Mr. Abraham Adams was taken into Allworthy's house, what became of the parson's wife and six children? These questions have a sort of answer. The beggar, we may suppose, received a liberal reward when Jones returned home, though Fielding neglected to say so. Mrs. Honour found a mistress more to her liking in Lady Bellaston. And as to Parson Adams, he was now widower and his children had doubtless grown up and long since left Mr. Booby's parish to make their fortunes in the world.

When the slips, omissions, or inadvertences—whatever they may be called-in "Tom Jones" are thus brought together, it is remarkable, says Mr. Dickson, how few they are in comparison with "the harmonies." Fielding had an extraordinary memory, which enabled him to carry through hundreds of pages the varied details on which he built the last books. All along he played with the secret of Tom's birth, giving hints as to who he was but never betraying the secret. A reader may feel certain that Partridge and Jenny Jones were not his parents; but that does not give him any positive clue to the mystery; he hardly picks up the clue when Mrs. Blifil is disposed of by death. But if he looks back after finishing the novel, it is another story: he then sees that Tom's real mother conducted herself just as

a woman of her character would in the circumstances. By the time Tom had his quarrel with Northerton at a nameless inn on the Gloucester road, perhaps Fielding had already planned to have his hero arrested and sent to the gatehouse for murder after his arrival in London. He there provided Tom with a sword which he wore by his side against the day when he should be called upon to run Fitzpatrick through the body. It is really amusing to see how Tom clung to that sword, as he should, through the long journey to town; how he used his fists or a cudgel in the contests with ordinary people by the way, drawing but once it was when he stood guard over a prostrate highwayman-the sword which Fielding had reserved for a duel with a gentleman. To cite one more instance, the night at Upton was a forecast of that scene of deep humiliation when Partridge visited Jones in prison and told him who Mrs. Waters really was. Throughout "Tom Jones" there is this looking forwards and backwards. Such lapses as occur now and then may be mostly laid to the interruptions of journalism and the illness to which Fielding referred in setting pen to the last book. They are unimportant; they may be paralleled in Scott, Dickens, and Thackeray; they merely show the fallibility of genius. The wonder is that any man having no definite plan on paper and depending solely upon memory and prevision, could ever have composed so large and so harmonious a novel as "Tom Jones."

Those who have most praised the art of "Tom Jones" have had in mind the final complication of the plot and the dénouement which quickly follows. Here Fielding was confronted by several problems. He had to punish Tom for his follies (to use no harsher word), to display, as an offset to them, the best elements in his character, to lay bare the intrigues against him, unmasking one by one the villains, and to remove, by disclosing the mystery of Tom's birth, a conventional bar to the marriage with Sophia. For

these purposes he cleverly assembled, as I have earlier remarked, his characters in Westminster, summoning several of them even from Ireland, and then set them into various relations with men and women of the town. His procedure, though on a larger scale, was much like that in many comedies of the time, his own "Miss Lucy in Town," for example.

It was Lady Bellaston who suggested to Lord Fellamar that Jones be impressed as a vagabond and sent to sea, for she had no further use of him, and his lordship would thereby be rid of a rival for the hand of Sophia. Four days later, while the press gang was lying in wait for him near the lodgings of Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Jones encountered, as he was leaving the house, her husband, who in a fit of jealousy hit him over the head and received in return the hero's sword half through his body. The officer in command of the gang rushed up with his men, seized the victor, and delivered him over to a constable. Tom thus found himself committed to the gatehouse awaiting an indictment for murder. Fitzpatrick was dying, and witnesses were eager to swear that Jones struck the first blow. For six days Fielding kept Tom locked up, with Tyburn all the time staring him in the face; and then, thinking that he had undergone sufficient punishment, set him free by the simple device of letting Fitzpatrick live. Three persons were at hand who knew the secret of Tom's birth. Jenny Jones alias Mrs. Waters related to Mr. Allworthy all the circumstances in which his sister Bridget fell in love with Mr. Summer; how Bridget intended to marry him, but was prevented by the young man's sudden death from smallpox, and so brought a fatherless child into the world; how Jenny and her mother nursed the infant till the day it was placed in Mr. Allworthy's bed; and the girl was amply paid for shielding the spinster from all suspicions of maternity. Dowling had heard the same story from Bridget, then the

widow Blifil, as she lay on her deathbed at Salisbury. Her statement, carefully written out, the attorney had brought to the house of Mr. Allworthy at the time of the squire's illness, but the letter had been intercepted by Master Blifil, who, being now confronted by the evidence, confessed all his villainy. After this revelation, there was little to choose between Tom and Blifil on the score of birth; both had the same mother who had conducted herself in the same way with her two lovers. That one boy had a father while the other had none, was a mere accident; had Captain Blifil like Mr. Summer contracted the smallpox or some other mortal disease, Master Blifil would have been illegitimate as well as Tom Jones; as it was, his birth was rather premature. With this happy turn of affairs Mr. Allworthy was content, and Squire Western, who loved Tom in his heart, was in glee.

Only Sophia had to be reckoned with. By this time Jones was, from the point of view of the eighteenth-century gentleman, reinstated in his former character. The dying confession of Square relieved him of the charge on which Allworthy had turned him off, and disclosed the machinations of Master Blifil against him. It became known to friends, too, that Black George had stolen the five hundred pounds which Jones lost by the brook-side. More than all else, Tom's restoration of peace and happiness in the household of Mrs. Miller brought into light his finest qualities, whereby those who intrigued against him were shown to be the real villains. Nothing was left to explain except his follies and vices-his dealings with women, in a word. Mr. Allworthy lamented them, but was willing to accept a sincere repentance, being certain that faults due to the wildness of youth would soon pass; whereas Squire Western really gloried in all of Tom's escapades because they proved him to be a man. Sophia, of course, could not agree with

her father; nor could she regard as complacently as Mr. Allworthy her lover's shortcomings.

Her attitude is most interesting. In the first place she loved Tom to desperation; and the story of the deceits practised against him awakened her pity. She wished that his conduct had been otherwise, but she hardly expected to find a woman's delicacy in the male sex; she must admit a certain grossness foreign to herself. She insisted, however, upon being assured of one thing: that Tom had been faithful to her from the day he had had any hope of winning her hand. This was easily done. The intrigue with Mrs. Waters at Upton, Jones had refused to continue after their arrival in London. He had also declined a marriage with the rich Mrs. Hunt and a liaison with Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Not only was he no profligate himself, but he had prevailed upon Nightingale to marry the girl whom this young man had betrayed. What still troubled Sophia was Tom's proposal of marriage to Lady Bellaston at the very moment he was professing undying love to herself. As soon as Tom explained to her that the proposal was a device, suggested by Nightingale, for ridding himself of her ladyship, Sophia's resistance broke down. It was all over when Tom, seizing Sophia's hand, led her to the glass, and asked her to look upon her charming self as the surest pledge of his` constancy. There was some sparring for time on Sophia's part in order that Tom might be put to a further test, but the impetuous temper of Squire Western would brook no delay of the marriage beyond the next morning.

III

Historians, Fielding used to say, generally agree on the time and place of an action, but disagree on what the action was and how it should be interpreted; and therefore on whether the actor was an honest man or a rogue: while he himself, it should be understood, was not so much inter