And not to forget the wit in the moral reformer, we may leave Mr Jonathan Wild listening to one of the reasons given by the Newgate chaplain for his Reverence"s preference for punch over wine: "Let me tell you, Mr Wild there is nothing so deceitful as the spirits given us by wine. If you must drink let us have a bowl of punch; a liquor I the rather prefer as it is nowhere spoken against in Scripture."
After _Jonathan Wild_ the most interesting fragment of the _Miscellanies_ is the _Journey from this World to the Next_. In this essay Fielding reveals his philosophy, his sternness, his affections, and his humour, as a man might do in intimate conversation. His warm humanity breathes in the conception that "the only Business" of those who had won admission to Elysium "that happy Place," was to "contribute to the Happiness of each other"; and again in the stern declaration of Heaven"s doorkeeper, the Judge Minos, that "no Man enters that Gate without Charity." And indeed the whole chapter devoted to the judgments administered by Minos on the spirits that come, confident or trembling, before him, and are either admitted to Heaven, sent back to earth, or despatched to the "little Back Gate" opening immediately into the bottomless pit, is full of personal revelation. We feel the glee with which Fielding consigns the "little sneaking soul" of a miser to diabolically ingenious torments; the satisfaction with which he watches Minos apply a kick to the retreating figure of a duke, possessed of nothing but "a very solemn Air and great Dignity"; and the pleasure it gave him to observe the rejection accorded to "a grave Lady," the Judge declaring that "there was not a single Prude in Elysium." Again, nothing could be more true to Fielding"s nature than the account of the poet who is admitted, not for the moral value he himself places on his Dramatic Works (which he endeavours to read aloud to Minos), but because "he had once lent the whole profits of a Benefit Night to a Friend, and by that Means had saved him and his Family from Destruction"; unless it were the account of the poverty driven wretch, hanged for a robbery of eighteen-pence, who yet could plead that he had supported an aged Parent with his labour, that he had been a very tender Husband, and a Kind Father, and that he had ruined himself for being Bail for a Friend. "At these words," adds the historian, "the gate opened, and _Minos_ bid him enter, giving him a slap on the Back as he pa.s.sed by him."
When the author"s own turn came, he very little expects, he tells us, "to pa.s.s this fiery Trial. I confess"d I had indulged myself very freely with Wine and Women in my Youth, but had never done an Injury to any Man living, nor avoided an opportunity of doing good; but I pretended to very little Virtue more than general Philanthropy and Private Friendship." Here Minos cut the speaker short, bidding him enter the gate, and not indulge himself trumpeting forth his virtues. Whether or no we may here read the reflections of Fielding"s maturity, looking honestly back over his own forty years and forward with humble fear into the future, we may certainly see reflected in both confession and judgment much of the doctrine and the practice of his life.
After the failure, early in 1743, of the _Wedding Day_, and the subsequent publication of the _Miscellanies_, Fielding seems to have thrown his energies for twelve months into an exclusive pursuit of the law. This appears from his statement, made a year later, in May 1744, that he could not possibly be the author of his sister"s novel _David Simple_, which had been attributed to him, because he had applied himself to his profession "with so arduous and intent a diligence that I have had no leisure, if I had inclination, to compose anything of this kind." Clearly, in the period that covers the publication of _Joseph Andrews_ an historical pamphlet, parts of a farce and of _Plutus_, and of the _Miscellanies_, Fielding found both leisure and inclination for writing; so this sudden immersion in law must relate to the twelve months or so intervening between these works and the publication of his statement. Murphy corroborates this bout of hard legal effort. After the _Wedding Day_ says that biographer "the law from this time had its hot and cold fits with him." The cold fits were fits of gout; and inconveniences felt by Fielding from these interruptions were, adds Murphy "the more severe upon him, as voluntary and wilful neglect could not be charged upon him. The repeated shocks of illness disabled him from being as a.s.siduous an attendant at the bar, as his own inclination and patience of the most laborious application, would otherwise have made him."
Mr Counsellor Fielding follows his retrospect of this strenuous attack on the law with a declaration that, henceforth, he intends to forsake the pursuit of that "foolscap" literary fame, and the company of the "infamous" nine Muses; a decision based partly on the insubstantial nature of the rewards achieved, and partly it would seem due to the fact that at Fielding"s innocent door had been laid, he declares, half the anonymous scurrility, indecency, treason, and blasphemy that the few last years had produced. [6] In especial he protests against the ascription to his pen of that "infamous paltry libel" on lawyers, the _Causidicade_, an ascription which, as he truly says, accused him "not only of being a bad writer and a bad man, but with downright idiotism in flying in the face of the greatest men of my profession." He also declares that no anonymous work had issued from his pen since his promise to that effect; and that these false accusations had injured him cruelly in ease, reputation and interest. This solemn declaration that the now detested Muses shall no longer beguile Fielding"s pen affords excellent reading in view of the fact that this absorbed barrister must, within a year or two, have been at work on _Tom Jones_. The whole emphatic outburst was probably partly an effort to a.s.sert himself as now wholly devoted to the law, and partly an example of one of those "occasional fits of peevishness" into which, Murphy tells us, distress and disappointment would betray him.
The preface to his sister"s novel _David Simple_, in which Fielding took occasion to announce these protests and a.s.sertions, is his only extant publication for this year of 1744; and apart from its biographical value is not of any great moment. Ample proof may be found in it of brotherly pride and admiration for the work of a sister "so nearly and dearly allied to me in the highest friendship as well as relation." There is the noteworthy declaration that the "greatest, n.o.blest, and rarest of all the talents which const.i.tute a genius" is the gift of "a deep and profound discernment of all the mazes, windings, and labyrinths which perplex the heart of man." The utterance concerning style, by so great a master of English, is memorable--"a good style as well as a good hand in writing is chiefly learned by practice." And a delightful reference should not be forgotten to the carping ignorant critic, who has indeed, "had a little Latin inoculated into his tail," but who would have been much the gainer had "the same great quant.i.ty of birch been employed in scourging away his ill-nature."
Disabled by gout and hara.s.sed by want of money, a yet greater distress was now fast closing on Fielding in the prolonged illness of his wife. "To see her daily languishing and wearing away before his eyes," says Murphy, "was too much for a man of his strong sensations; the fort.i.tude with which he met all other calamities of life [now] deserted him." In the autumn of 1744 Mrs Fielding was at Bath, doubtless in the hope of benefit from the Bath waters. And here, in November, she died. Her body was brought to London for burial in the church of St. Martin"s in the Fields; receiving on the 14th of November, 1744, honourable interment in the chancel vault, to the tolling of the great tenor bell, and with the fullest ceremonial of the time. Indeed it is evident, from the charges still preserved in the s.e.xton"s book, that Fielding rendered to his wife such stately honours as were occasionally accorded to the members of the few great families interred in the old church.
The death of this beloved wife, Murphy tells us, brought on Fielding "such a vehemence of grief that his friends began to think him in danger of losing his reason." When we remember that he himself has explicitly stated that lovely picture of the "fair soul in the fair body," the Sophia of _Tom Jones_, to have been but a portrait of Charlotte Fielding, we can in some measure realise his overwhelming grief at her death. And that the exquisite memorial raised to his wife by Fielding"s affection and genius was not more beautiful in mind or face than the original, is acknowledged by Lady Bute, a kinswoman of the great novelist. Lady Bute was no stranger, "to that beloved first wife whose picture he drew in his Amelia, where, as she said, even the glowing language he knew how to employ did not do more than justice to the amiable qualities of the original, or to her beauty. He loved her pa.s.sionately, and she returned his affection; yet had no happy life for they were almost always miserably poor, and seldom in a state of quiet and safety. His elastic gaiety of spirit carried him through it all; but meanwhile, care and anxiety were preying upon her more delicate mind, and undermining her const.i.tution. She gradually declined, caught a fever and died in his arms." That Fielding"s married life was unhappy, whatever were its outward conditions, is obviously a very shallow misstatement; but, for the rest, the picture accords well enough with our knowledge of his nature. The pa.s.sionate tenderness of which that nature was capable appears in a pa.s.sage from those very _Miscellanies_, which, he tells us, were written with so frequent a "Degree of Heartache." In the _Journey from this World to the Next_, Fielding describes how, on his entrance into Elysium, that "happy region whose beauty no Painting of the Imagination can describe" and where "Spirits know one another by Intuition" he presently met "a little Daughter whom I had lost several years before. Good G.o.ds! What Words can describe the Raptures, the melting pa.s.sionate Tenderness, with which we kiss"d each other, continuing in our Embrace, with the most extatic Joy, a s.p.a.ce, which if Time had been measured here as on Earth, could not have been less than half a Year."
The fittest final comment on Henry Fielding"s marriage with Charlotte Cradock is, perhaps, that saying of a member of his own craft of the drama, "Now to love anything sincerely is an act of grace, but to love the best sincerely is a state of grace."
[1] _Daily Post_, June 5, 1742.
[2] MS. copy of the Minutes of the Meetings of the Partners in the _Champion_, in the possession of the present writer.
[3] See _Daily Post_. May 29, 1742.
[4] Preface to the _Miscellanies_.
[5] Such as the inscription on some verses, published in the _Miscellanies_, as "Written _Extempore_ in the Pump-room" at Bath, in 1742.
[6] Preface to _David Simple_.
CHAPTER X
PATRIOTIC JOURNALISM
"he only is the _true Patriot_ who always does what is in his Power for his Country"s Service without any selfish Views or Regard to private Interests."--The _True Patriot_.
Fielding"s active pen seems to have been laid aside for twelve months after the death of his wife; and it is perfectly in accord with all that we know of his pa.s.sionate devotion to Charlotte Cradock that her loss should have shattered his energies for the whole of the ensuing year.
Murphy, as we have seen, speaks of the first vehemence of his grief as being so acute that fears were entertained for his reason. According to Fielding"s kinswomen, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and Lady Bute, the first agonies of his grief approached to frenzy; but "when the first emotions of his sorrow were abated" his fine balance rea.s.serted itself, and to quote again from Murphy, "philosophy administered her aid; his resolution returned, and he began again to struggle with his fortune."
As we hear no more of exclusive devotion to the law, it may be a.s.sumed that the attempt of the previous year to live by that arduous calling alone was now abandoned; and to a man of Fielding"s strong Protestant and Hanoverian convictions the year of the "45, when a Stewart Prince and an invading Highland army had captured Edinburgh and were actually across the border, could not fail to bring occupation. Fielding believed ardently that Protestant beliefs, civil liberty, and national independence of foreign powers were best safeguarded by a German succession to the English throne; so by the time Prince Charles and 6,000 men had set foot on English soil, the former "Champion of Great Britain" was again up in arms, discharging his st.u.r.dy blows in a new weekly newspaper ent.i.tled the _True Patriot_.
The _True Patriot_ is chiefly notable as affording the first sign that Fielding was now leaving party politics for the wider, and much duller, field of Const.i.tutional liberty. A man might die for the British Const.i.tution; but to be witty about it would tax the resources of a Lucian. And, accordingly, in place of that gay young spark Mr Pasquin, who laid his cudgel with so hearty a good will on the shoulders of the offending "Great Man," there now steps out a very philosophic, mature, and soberly const.i.tutional _Patriot_; a patriot who explicitly a.s.serts in his first number, "I am of no party; a word I hope by these my labours to eradicate out of our const.i.tution: this being indeed the true source of all those evils which we have reason to complain of." And again, in No.
14, "I am engaged to no Party, nor in the Support of any, unless of such as are truly and sincerely attached to the true interest of their Country, and are resolved to hazard all Things in its Preservation." Here is a considerable change from the personal zest that placed Mr Quiddam and Mr Pillage before delighted audiences in the Little Theatre in the Haymarket.
The available copies of the _True Patriot_, now in the British Museum, [1] include only thirty-two numbers, starting from No. 1, which appeared on the 5th of November, 1745, and ending on June 3, 1746. The first number contains a characteristic tribute to Dean Swift, whose death had occurred "a few days since." Doctor Jonathan Swift, says the _Patriot_, was "A genius who deserves to be rank"d among the first whom the World ever saw.
He possessed the Talents of a Lucian a Rabelais and a Cervantes and in his Works exceeded them all. He employed his Wit to the n.o.blest Purposes in ridiculing as well Superst.i.tion in Religion as Infidelity and the several Errors and Immoralities which sprung up from time to time in his Age; and lastly in defence of his Country.... Nor was he only a Genius and a Patriot; he was in Private Life a good and charitable Man and frequently lent Sums of Money, without interest, to the Poor and Industrious; by which means many Families were preserved from Destruction." In No. 2, the _Patriot_ reiterates his "sincere Intention to calm and heal, not to blow up and inflame, any Party-Divisions"; but even the task of defending the British Const.i.tution could not stifle Fielding"s wit, and he escapes, for breathing s.p.a.ce as it were, into a column devoted to the news items of the week, gathered from various papers, and adorned by comments of his own, printed in italics. And in this running commentary on the daily occurences of the time we get nearer, perhaps, to the table-talk of Henry Fielding than by any other means. Thus he faithfully repeats the inflated obituary lists that were then in fashion, but with such a variation as the following, "Thomas Tonkin, ... universally lamented by his Acquaintance.
Upwards of 40 Cows belonging to one at Tottenham Court, _universally lamented by all their Acquaintance_." On a notice of an anniversary meeting of the Society for propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts there is the pertinent comment "_It is a Pity some Method--was not invented for the Propagation of the Gospel in Great Britain_." After the deaths of a wealthy banker and factor, comes the obituary of "One Nowns a Labourer, _most probably immensely poor, and yet as rich now as either of the two Preceeding_"; beside which may be placed the very characteristic a.s.sertion in No. 6 that "Spleen and Vapours inhabit Palaces and are attired with Pomp and Splendor, while they shun Rags and Prisons."
There is scarcely a personal allusion in all the thirty-two numbers of the _Patriot_, save the charming picture of that gentleman sitting in his study "meditating for the good and entertainment of the public, with my two little children (as is my usual course to suffer them) playing near me." And the ending of his horrid nightmare, in which a Jacobite executioner was placing a rope round his neck, "when my little girl entered my bedchamber and put an end to my dream by pulling open my eyes, and telling me that the taylor had brought home my cloaths for his Majesty"s Birthday." The number for January 28 must not be overlooked, containing as it does, a scathing and humourous exposure of the profligate young sparks of the Town, from no less a pen than that of the Rev. Mr.
Abraham Adams; and Parson Adams" letter concludes with a paragraph in which may be heard the voice of the future zealous magistrate: "No man can doubt but that the education of youth ought to be the princ.i.p.al care of every legislation; by the neglect of which great mischief accrues to the civil polity in every city." When himself but a lad of twenty, and in the prologue of his first comedy, Fielding had entered his protest against certain popular vices of the time, and had made merry over its follies.
The desire to make the world he knew too well a better place than he found it is just as keen in the wit and humourist of thirty-nine; a desire, moreover, undulled by twenty years of vivacious living. Surely not the least amazing feature of Fielding"s genius is this dual capacity for exuberant enjoyment, and incisive judgement. "His wit," said Thackeray, "is wonderfully wise and detective; it flashes upon a rogue and brightens up a rascal like a policeman"s lantern."
To this time of national ferment belongs a publication of which we know nothing but the t.i.tle, a _Serious Address_; and also one of our rare glimpses of the novelist"s home life. Joseph Warton writes to his brother Tom, on October 29, 1746:--"I wish you had been with me last week when I spent two evenings with Fielding and his sister, who wrote David Simple, and you may guess I was very well entertained. The lady indeed retir"d pretty soon, but Russell and I sat up with the Poet till one or two in the morning, and were inexpressibly diverted. I find he values, as he justly may, Joseph Andrews above all his writings: he was extremely civil to me, I fancy, on my Father"s account." Joseph Warton"s father was Vicar of Basingstoke, Professor of Poetry at Oxford, and moreover, something of a Jacobite; whereby, we may surmise, that the _True Patriot_ did not allow his staunch Hanoverian sentiments too great an invasion into his private society. Alas, that it did not occur to Warton to preserve, for the entertainment of later ages, some fuller record of those two _noctes ambrosianae_.
This sister, Sally Fielding as her cousin Lady Mary Wortley Montagu called her, made some figure in the literary world of the day. Richardson extolled her "knowledge of the human heart"; Murphy writes of her "lively and penetrating genius"; and her cla.s.sical scholarship is attested by a translation of Xenophon"s _Memorabilia_. That she also shared some of the engaging qualities of her brother may be a.s.sumed from the lines written to the memory of the "esteemed and loved ... Mrs. Sarah Fielding," by her friend Dr. John Hoadley.
"Her unaffected Manners, candid Mind, Her Heart benevolent, and Soul resign"d; Were more her Praise than all she knew or thought Though Athens Wisdom to her s.e.x she taught."
Sarah Fielding"s name occurs again as living with her brother in that house in Beaufort Buildings with which is a.s.sociated perhaps the happiest instance of Fielding"s warm-hearted generosity. The story may be given as nearly as possible in the words of the narrator, one G. S., writing from Harley Street in 1786. After speaking of the conspicuous good nature of "the late Harry Fielding," G. S. says: "His receipts were never large, and his pocket was an open bank for distress and friendship at all times to draw on. Marked by such a liberality of mind it is not to be wondered at if he was frequently under pecuniary embarra.s.sments.... Some parochial taxes for his house in Beaufort Buildings being unpaid, and for which he had been demanded again and again [we may remember how Mr. Luckless" door was "almost beat down with duns"]...he was at last given to understand by the collector who had an esteem for him, that he could procrastinate the payment no longer." To a bookseller, therefore he addressed himself, and mortgaged the coming sheets of some work then in hand. He received the cash, some ten or twelve guineas, and was returning home, full freighted with this sum, when, in the Strand, within a few yards of his own house, he met an old college chum whom he had not seen for many years. "Harry felt the enthusiasm of friendship; an hundred interrogatives were put to him in a moment as where had he been? where was he going? how did he do?
&c. &c. His friend told him in reply he had long been buffeting the waves of adverse fortunes, but never could surmount them." Fielding took him off to dine at a neighbouring tavern, and as they talked, becoming acquainted with the state of his friend"s pocket, emptied his own into it; and a little before dawn, he turned homewards "greater and happier than a monarch." Arrived at Beaufort Buildings his sister, who had anxiously awaited him, reported that the collector had called for the taxes twice that day. "Friendship," answered Harry Fielding "has called for the money and had it;--let the collector call again." Well might his cousin Lady Mary say of the man of whom such a story could be told, "I am persuaded he has known more happy moments than any prince upon earth."
During the summer following Warton"s visit to the brother and sister, Fielding published a _Dialogue between an Alderman and a Courtier_. And in the following November his second marriage took place, at the little City church of St Bene"t"s, Paul"s Wharf. The story of this marriage cannot be better told than in the words of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu"s granddaughter, Lady Louisa Stuart, quoting from the personal knowledge of her mother and grandmother:
"His biographers seem to have been shy of disclosing that after the death of this charming woman [his first wife] he married her maid. And yet the act was not so discreditable to his character as it may sound. The maid had few personal charms, but was an excellent creature, devotedly attached to her mistress, and almost broken-hearted for her loss. In the first agonies of his own grief, which approached to frenzy, he found no relief but from weeping with her; nor solace, when a degree calmer, but in talking to her of the angel they mutually regretted. This made her his habitual confidential a.s.sociate, and in process of time he began to think he could not give his children a tenderer mother, or secure for himself a more faithful housekeeper and nurse. At least this was what he told his friends; and it is certain that her conduct as his wife confirmed it, and fully justified his good opinion." From a supposed allusion by Smollett, in the first edition of _Peregrine Pickle_, (an allusion afterwards suppressed) it would appear that Fielding"s old schoolfellow and lifelong friend "the good Lord Lyttelton" so far approved the marriage as himself to give Mary Daniel away; and, as the dates in the Twickenham Register of births show that the marriage was one of justice as well as expediency, this well accords with Lyttelton"s upright and honourable character. Of Fielding"s affectionate and grateful loyalty to his second wife ample evidence appears in the pages of his last book, the _Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon_. Throughout this touching record of the journey of a dying man, there are references to her tenderness, ability and devotion. At the sad parting from children and friends, on the morning of their departure for Lisbon, he writes of her behaviour as "more like a heroine and philosopher, though at the same time the tenderest mother in the world."
When, during the voyage down the Thames, an unmannerly custom house officer burst into the cabin where Fielding and his wife were sitting, the man was soundly rated for breaking "into the presence of a lady without an apology or even moving his hat"; by which we may see his sensitive care that due respect was accorded her. He tells us how he persuaded her with difficulty to take a walk on sh.o.r.e when their vessel was wind bound in Torbay, it being "no easy matter for me to force [her] from my side." With anxious forboding he thinks of his "dear wife and child" facing the world alone after his death, for "in truth I have often thought they are both too good and too gentle to be trusted to the power of any man I know, to whom they could possibly be so trusted." And in a more formal tribute he acknowledges the abilities that accompanied her worth, when he says that "besides discharging excellently well her own and all tender offices becoming the female character; ... besides being a faithful friend, an amiable companion, and a tender nurse, [she] could likewise supply the wants of a decrepit husband and occasionally perform his part." That Fielding suffered socially by the fact of his second marriage is probable.
But the fact is proof, if proof were needed, of his courage in reparation, and of the unworldly spirit in which he ultimately followed the dictates of that incorruptible judge which he himself a.s.serted to be in every man"s breast.
It was in December 1747, just a month after his second marriage, that Fielding again flung himself into the arena of contentious journalism, "brandishing" his pen as truculently as ever on behalf of the Protestant and Hanoverian succession, and in despite of the Jacobite cause. He called his new paper "_The Jacobite"s Journal_, by John Trott Plaid Esq"re.," and the ironic t.i.tle was accompanied by a woodcut traditionally a.s.sociated with Hogarth. The ironic mask, Fielding explains, was a.s.sumed "in order if possible to laugh Men out of their follies and to make men ashamed of owning or acting by" Jacobite principles.
The _Jacobite"s Journal_ appeared at a moment when public opinion, and public gossip also, seem to have been immersed in the question whether a notorious pamphlet purporting to have been found among the papers of a late Minister, Mr. Thomas Winnington, were genuine or a libel. Into this fray Fielding promptly plunged, publishing, in December 1747, [2] a shilling pamphlet ent.i.tled _A Proper Answer to a Late Scurrilous Libel,... By the Author of the Jacobites Journal._ This little pamphlet, copies of which may be seen in the British Museum, is merely a further vigorous declamation for civil liberty and the Protestant religion, as under King George, and contains hardly any reference either to Winnington or to the author. It was retorted on in two further pamphlets. In one of these a Lady f.a.n.n.y and her friend, enjoying a "Chit chat," discuss the news that Lady f.a.n.n.y is she "whom F---g represents in a _Plaid Jocket_ in the front of his _Jacobite_ Journal." "The Whirling c.o.xcomb," cries Lady f.a.n.n.y enraged, "what had he to do with ridiculing any Party, who had travell"d round the whole Circle of Parties and Ministers, ever since he could brandish a Pen." [3] Her Ladyship adds some further sneers on writers pensioned to amuse people with their nonsense. The other counter pamphlet consists of conversations overheard, all over the town, on the subject of Winnington and his _Apology_. Here a mercer and a bookseller abuse Fielding for boxing the political compa.s.s, and for selling his pen.
Another bookseller insinuates that Fielding"s own attack on the _Apology_ is but a half-hearted affair--"Ah Sir, you know not what F---g could do if he were willing ... you would have seen him mince and hash it so as to make half the Town weep and the other laugh. Don"t you think the Pen that writ _Pasquin, Joseph Andrews_, and the _Champion_ could have answered the Apology if he had had the Will?" "But I can"t see why the Author of the Jacobite Journal should want that will," protests a Bencher. "Alas Sir!"
cries the bookseller, "You forget the Power of _Necessity_. If a Man that wants Bread can establish a Paper by the P--t Off--e [Post Office?] taking off two thousand every week is he not more excusable...." To which the Bencher replies that possibly it is Fielding"s "Wavering Principles" that have "brought him to the Necessity of writing for Bread." [4] From all which we may a.s.sume that Fielding"s superiority to what he calls the "absurd and irrational Distinction of Parties [which] hath princ.i.p.ally contributed to poison our Const.i.tution" [5] was very little understood by the heated party factions of 1747.
To call one"s political opponent a "Whirling c.o.xcomb," or a "pensioned scribbler," was a very mild amenity in eighteenth century party warfare; and the abuse of such small fry as these anonymous pamphleteers might be wholly disregarded did it not show Fielding"s prominence, during these anxious times, as a strenuous Hanoverian, and also the fact that he had now not only largely abjured party politics, but that what party tenets he still held were changed. Indeed as much may surely be deduced from the following philosophic pa.s.sage in his _True Patriot_. "I have formerly shown in this Paper, that the bare objecting to a Man a _Change_ in his _Political Notions_, ought by no means to affect any Person"s _Character_; because in a Country like this it is simply impossible that a Man of sound Sense, and strict Honour, should always adhere to the same _Political Creed_." [6] It is very little material to our knowledge of Fielding as an honest man and a great genius to discover, were it possible, precisely what changes his political views underwent. When Sir Robert Walpole essayed to corrupt the nation Fielding fought strenuously in the cause of political honour; when a Stewart invasion threatened (as he thought) both civil liberty and Protestant beliefs he flung himself as zealously into the defence of the Church of England and of the Hanoverian Government. It is clear that the latter exertions stirred up much cheap obliquy; and it must be admitted that such references to his antagonists as "last weeks Dunghill of Papers" were likely to entail unsavory retort.
This abuse seems to have broken out with an excess of virulence not long after the appearance of the _Jacobite"s Journal_; a fate, as Fielding observes, little to be expected by the editor of a loyal paper. His dignified protest in the matter is worth recalling. In a leading article he declares that "before my paper hath reached the 20th. number a heavier load of Scandal hath been cast upon me than I believe ever fell to the Share of a Single Man. The Author of the Journal was soon guessed at; Either from some Singularity in Style, or from little care which being free from any wicked Purpose, I have ever taken to conceal my Name. Of this several Writers were no sooner possessed than they attempted to blacken it with every kind of Reproach; pursued me into private Life, _even to my boyish Years_; where they have given me almost every Vice in Human Nature. Again they have followed me with uncommon Inveteracy into a Profession in which they have very roundly a.s.serted that I have neither Business nor Knowledge: And lastly, as an Author they have affected to treat me with more Contempt than Mr. Pope, who hath great Merit and no less Pride in the Character of a Writer hath thought proper to bestow on the lowest Scribbler of his Time. All this moreover they have poured forth in a vein of Scurrility which hath disgraced the Press with every abusive Term in our Language." Although, as Fielding adds, those who knew him would not take their opinion from those who knew him not, it is to be feared that the scurrilous libellers of the day succeeded in creating a prejudice that is hardly yet dispersed. For such petty clamours would be trifling enough round the figure of the creator of the English novel, were it not that in the abuse of the gutter press of his day we may probably find the reason for much of the vague cloud which has so strangely overhung Fielding"s name. In his own spirited protest he tells us of the "ordure" that was thrown at him; and it is an old saying that if enough mud be thrown some will stick.
In the February following the appearance of his new paper Fielding must have been at Twickenham; for the baptism of his son William appears in the Parish Register for that month. A writer of thirty years ago says that the house celebrated as that in which Fielding lived was then still standing, a quaint old fashioned wooden dwelling, in Back Lane; and adds the information that Fielding had two rooms, the house being then let in lodgings. [7] Lysons, however, in his _Environs of London_, published in 1795, says that Fielding "rented a house at this time in the Back-Lane at Twickenham," adding that he received his information from the Earl of Orford. The site is now occupied by a row of cottages. In his _Parish Register for Twickenham_ Horace Walpole commemorates the great novelist"s residence in that quiet village, so full of eighteenth century memories.
Here, he says,
"... Fielding met his bunter Muse, And, as they quaff"d the fiery juice, Droll Nature stamp"d each lucky hit With unimaginable wit."
Bunter was a cant word for a woman who picks up rags about the street; and it may seem to later generations that the epithet fitted far more nicely the _bunter muse_ of that "facile retailer of _ana_ and incorrigible society-gossip," that rag-picker of anecdotes, Mr. Horace Walpole himself.
When the _Journal_ had been running some six months, Fielding formally relinquished his ironic character of a Jacobite, partly because, as he says, the evils of Jacobitism were too serious for jesting and required more open denunciation; partly because the age required more highly seasoned writing, the general taste in reading very much resembling "that of some particular Man in eating who would never willingly devour what doth not stink"; and partly from the inept.i.tude of the public to appreciate the ironic method. This latter pa.s.sage is of interest as coming from the author of that great masterpiece in irony, _Jonathan Wild_.
Fielding has observed, he tells us that "though Irony is capable of furnishing the most exquisite Ridicule; yet as there is no kind of humour so liable to be mistaken it is of all others the most dangerous to the Writer. An infinite Number of Readers have not the least taste or relish for it, I believe I may say do not understand it; and all are apt to be tired when it is carried to any degree of Length."
The _Jacobite"s Journal_ is of course mainly occupied with maintaining the Protestant British Const.i.tution; but here, as in the _True Patriot_, Fielding allows himself a pleasant running commentary on the daily news.
He also erects a _Court of Criticism_ in which, by virtue of his "high Censorial Office," he administers justice in "all matters in the Republic of Literature." By thus adopting the t.i.tle of "Censor of Great Britain"
the editor of the _Jacobites Journal_ preserves his ident.i.ty with that censorial _Champion_ who nine years before had essayed to keep rogues in fear of his Hercules" club. Two judgments delivered by the _Court_ are of interest. In one, due castigation is given to that incorrigible mimic and wit Foote, who was once threatened by no less a cudgel than that of Dr.
Johnson himself. Foote was evading all law and order by his inimitable mimicries at the Little Theatre in the Haymarket; and for these performances at his "scandal-shop" is very properly brought up before Mr.
Censor"s _Court_. Whereupon Foote begins to mimic the _Court_ "pulling a Chew of Tobacco from his Mouth, in Imitation of his Honour who is greatly fond of that weed." The culprit suffers conviction for crime against law and good manners. Having thus seen to the public welfare, Fielding also happily settles a little score of his own on one of his anonymous libellers. "One Porcupine Pillage," he records, "came into the court and threw a great shovelful of dirt at his honour, _but luckily none of it hit him_." His comments on weekly news items are no less characteristic than those hidden in the columns of the _Patriot_. Thus, on a trotting match, he observes, "Trotting is a Sport truly adapted to the English Genius."
And on a man found dead in Jewin Street "formerly an eminent Dealer in Buckrams, but [who] being greatly reduced is supposed to have died for Want," he notes, "_either of Common Sense in himself or Common Humanity in his Aquaintance_." His own humanity is shown in the wise appeals, repeated on more than one page of the _Journal_, for some effective provision for the distressed widows and children of the poor clergy. And his unbia.s.sed judgment appears in the _amende honorable_ to Richardson, in the form of generous and unstinted praise of _Clarissa_.
The first number of the _Jacobite"s Journal_ was dated Dec. 5, 1747, and "Mr. Trott Plaid" formally takes leave of his subject exactly eleven months later, on November 5, 1748, declaring that Jacobites were, by then, little to be feared. [8] Ten days before this last "brandish" of Fielding"s Const.i.tutional pen, on October 26, 1748, his oaths had been received as a Justice of the Peace for Westminster.