that many persons whom he disliked might be found there also.

Of his friends and acquaintances, some bear their real names. The men and women thus honoured, however, do not enter largely into the story; and in most cases, they pass in review for a compliment merely. Pitt, it is said, had transfused the whole spirit of Demosthenes and Cicero into his speeches; Sophia Western, could she have had her own way, would never have played any pieces but Handel's; Warburton held the key to the treasures of ancient learning; and the "great reputation" of Bishop Hoadly was not forgotten. Fielding did not mention by name his sister Sarah; but the book that Sophia was reading in her chamber, when interrupted by her aunt, was evidently "David Simple"-"the production of a young lady of fashion, whose good understanding," Sophia thought, "doth honour to her sex, and whose good heart is an honour to human nature." Sophia's mistake in calling the author "a lady of fashion" was quickly corrected by Mrs. Western, who remarked that she was indeed "of a very good family" but not seen much "among people one knows." It was Lord Hardwicke, the friend of Sanderson Miller, that Fielding had in mind when he paid a tribute to "The Lord High Chancellor of this Kingdom in his Court"; where conscience "presides, governs, directs, judges, acquits, and condemns according to merit and justice; with a knowledge which nothing escapes, a penetration which nothing can deceive, and an integrity which nothing can corrupt."

Esher, where "the days are too short for the ravished imagination," was the seat of Henry Pelham in Surrey. The London surgeon whose name the Man of the Hill had forgotten, though he remembered that it began with an R, was John Ranby, principal Sergeant-Surgeon to the King and Fielding's own physician-a man having "the first

character in his profession," besides being "a very generous, good-natured man, and ready to do any service to his fellow-creatures." And so the compliments were meted out down to actresses like Mrs. Cibber and Kitty Clive (who were accorded a footnote); Philip Francis, whose version of Horace was several times quoted; Nathaniel Hooke, the Duchess of Marlborough's scribe and author of the Roman history; and the ingenious Philip Miller, sometime foreman of the Botanical Gardens at Chelsea and author of "The Gardener's Dictionary," who, however accurately he might describe a plant, advised his readers, if they would know anything about it, to look at it while growing in the garden.

The philosopher Square, when he went to Bath to drink the waters, consulted Dr. Brewster and Dr. Harrington, who told him that he was past hope of recovery and must prepare in haste for another world. These two well-known physicians were subscribers to Fielding's "Miscellanies." While at Bath, too, Beau Nash took Harriet aside and warned her against the attentions of Fitzpatrick; and the coach that conveyed her and her maid to Upton belonged "to Mr. King of Bath, one of the worthiest and honestest men that ever dealt in horse-flesh, and whose coaches we heartily recommend to all our readers who travel that road." The "Justice Willoughby of Noyle, a very worthy good gentleman," who committed a horse thief taken at the Hindon fair, was one of the Willoughbys of West Knoyle in Wiltshire, presumably the Richard Willoughby, Esq., who put down his name for a copy of the "Miscellanies."'* West Knoyle and Hindon were but a few miles to the north of Fielding's former estate at East Stour, in the neighbourhood of which he had known, I daresay, a Jemmy Tweedle who played his fiddle at wakes and fairs, the Misses Potter whose father ran the Red Lion, and the rest of those country * R. C. Hoare, "The Modern History of Wiltshire," 1822, I, 41.

и

girls with their lovers, including a Molly Seagrim. On his travels Jones put up at the Bell Inn in Gloucester, kept by a brother of "the great preacher Whitefield," where indeed this leader of the early Methodists was born. Fielding, as will become apparent, had stayed many times at that hostelry, and liked both the master and his wife. On no other minor characters in "Tom Jones" did he dwell with so pleasant recollections. Mr. Whitefield, who was "absolutely untainted with the pernicious principles" of his brother, he regarded as "a very honest plain man . . . not likely to create any disturbance in church or state"; while his wife was in person "a very fine woman, . . who might have made a shining figure in the politest assemblies." On the recommendation of her husband's brother, she had tried Methodism for three weeks; but having experienced during that time no "extraordinary emotions of the spirit," she wisely decided to abandon the sect, and to give her attention to the comfort of her guests, all of whom were "extremely well satisfied in her house."

The way Fielding brought in his two peers, the painter and the player of the age, was superb. Three of his characters, he said, had already sat for Hogarth, and he wished that he could borrow his friend's pencil to make them appear as lifelike in his own pages. Anyone, however, who was curious to know just how they looked, might view them in Mr. Hogarth's prints. Thwackum was the gentleman in the Harlot's Progress seen correcting the ladies in Bridewell; Mrs. Partridge "exactly resembled" that masculine woman of the preceding plate, pouring tea in a mean London lodging just as a magistrate enters; and Bridget Allworthy was the withered lady of a Winter's Morning "walking (for walk she doth in the print) to CoventGarden church, with a starved foot-boy behind carrying her prayer-book." And when Fielding got Partridge to London, he took him, with Jones and Mrs. Miller, to the theatre

to see Garrick in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark; and thereby left, in the comment of the country schoolmaster, the most graphic account that has come down to us of a performance by the actor whom the town thought "the best player who was ever on the stage." To this opinion, repeated by Mrs. Miller, Partridge retorted with a sneer of contempt: "He the best player! . . . Why I could act as well as he myself. I am sure if I had seen a ghost, I should have looked in the very same manner, and done just as he did. And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it, between him and his mother, where you told me he acted so fine, why, Lord help me, any man, that is, any good man, that had had such a mother, would have done exactly the same. I know you are only joking with me; but, indeed, madam, though I was never at a play in London, yet I have seen acting before in the country; and the King for my money; he speaks all his words distinctly, half as loud again as the other. Any body may see he is an actor." This wonderful scene, which began as a gentle parody on Sir Roger de Coverley's visit to the theatre when "The Distrest Mother" first appeared, was thus turned to the most convincing praise of the ease and naturalness with which Garrick played his parts.

What Garrick was in acting, what Hogarth was in painting, Fielding aimed to be in the novel. Though there might be a heightening of characteristics, restrained burlesque even, all must rest upon human nature as it is; all characters, all incidents, whatever the recombinations, must be in harmony with the real world as one observes it. By necessity, this view of art resulted in a large number of characters not far removed from actual portraits; and the occasional use of real names known to everybody lent to the narrative the atmosphere of biography rather than fiction. It was a marvellous art.

II

The ease with which the story flowed from Fielding's pen-"commencing strikingly, proceeding naturally, ending happily"-was likened by Sir Walter Scott to "the course of a famed river, which gushes from the mouth of some obscure and romantic grotto-then gliding on, never pausing, never precipitating its course; visiting, as it were, by natural instinct, whatever worthy subjects of interest are presented by the country through which it passes— widening and deepening in interest as it flows on; and at length arriving at the final catastrophe as at some mighty haven, where ships of all kinds strike sail and yard."* Beginning with Allworthy, the novelist introduced, never before he needed them, one member after another of the squire's household until it was complete. After Allworthy came his sister Bridget, a spinster "somewhat passed the age of thirty," her elderly housekeeper Deborah Wilkins, and the foundling, whom the squire discovered one night asleep in his bed as he was preparing to step in after he had said his prayers-supposed to have been placed there by Jenny Jones, a trollop (so his sister and Deborah called her) of the neighbourhood, who had visited the house the day before. Among the guests at the good man's table were two brothers named Blifil,-the one a doctor, the other a captain on half pay,-of whom the latter, a young man thirty-five years old and a great master of the art of love, succeeded in winning the reluctant Bridget for a wife. Eight months after the marriage was born their only child, the Master Blifil of the story. A mile away was the habitation of George Seagrim the gamekeeper, known as "Black George" because of his large black beard; and fifteen miles distant-at "Little Baddington," that is, Little Badminton, perhaps-lived Partridge the schoolmaster, whose wife had learned to cook in Allworthy's kitchen. In the opinion * "Introductory Epistle" to "The Fortunes of Nigel."