Masarykova univerzita

Filozofická fakulta

Katedra anglistiky a amerikanistiky

Magisterská diplomová práce

2010 Dita Hochmanová

Dita

Hoch

manová 2

010

Hřbet

Masaryk University

Faculty of Arts

Department of English

and American Studies

English Language and Literature

Dita Hochmanová

Henry Fielding and the Philosophy

of Morals

Master’s Diploma Thesis

Supervisor: Stephen Paul Hardy, Ph. D.

2010

I declare that I have worked on this thesis independently,

using only the primary and secondary sources listed in the bibliography.

……………………………………………..

Author’s signature

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank my supervisor Stephen Paul Hardy, Ph.D. for his advice, help and

encouragement.

Table of Contents

Introduction ………………………………………………………………………….………….……..1

1. Chapter One: Virtue and Vice …………………………………….….……....….........5

2. Chapter Two: Reason and Feeling………………………………..….…..….…….…21

3. Chapter Three: Moral Development.................................................... 36

4. Chapter Four: Power of Ridicule ..........................................................52

5. Chapter Five: Fielding’s Use of Style ....................................................70

Conclusion .................................................................................................85

Works Cited ...............................................................................................89

English Résumé ..........................................................................................91

Czech Résumé ............................................................................................92

1

Introduction

Henry Fielding, an 18th century dramatist and satirist, is known for his art of

amusing readers with a number of humorous characters and comic situations. However,

the importance of his novels does not lie only in the diversion of the readership. It is

also his moral concern which distinguishes his work and leads the readers into reflection

on the society and the nature of man. As a moralist, Fielding connects his philosophical

beliefs with his life experience and in the novels he touches upon many ethical

problems of his time.

In order to unite comedy with moral implications, Fielding developed a unique

style of writing and a narrative structure in which the plot takes a priority over

characters and an individual is subjected to a larger social order. Such an approach is

manifested not only in the complexity of his story lines and his use of the voice of a

narrator but in his strategy of portraying the main characters. Instead of presenting them

as actual individuals, Fielding assigns them to certain categories to demonstrate his

moral aims. So, by categorization of the principal characters and with the help of

various stylistic devices, Fielding manages to challenge the judgment of his readers and

guides them towards an understanding of a particular system of values.

Despite being a novelist rather than a philosopher, Fielding’s moral conception

reflects many social and ethical problems of his period. One of the influences on his

moral beliefs can be recognized in the ethical theory of Anthony Ashley Cooper, the

third Earl of Shaftesbury. The thesis proposes to analyze the parallels between the

principal characters in Fielding’s three novels Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones and Amelia,

and to compare them with the main philosophical concepts in the theory of moral sense,

which Shaftesbury expressed in his Characteristics. By this comparison, the thesis will

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attempt to prove that the system of values in all Fielding’s major prose correlates with

Shaftesbury’s main philosophical ideas and that his teachings were one of the most

important influences on Fielding’s novels.

Nevertheless, as the compound abstract conception of Lord Shaftesbury does not

always relate to Fielding’s immediate reflections on social problems, the thesis also

aims to stress the ways in which their views overlap. Thus, concentrating on the

differences as well as the parallels, the thesis will attempt to distinguish Fielding as an

independent thinker and confirm his original worldview as a philosopher and an artist.

Finally, since the thoughts of the writer are expressed through the media of

fiction, the evolvement of Fielding’s writing methods will be examined, in particular,

the means he used for delivering moral ‘messages’ to his readers. Also, in order to draw

an overall picture of Fielding’s philosophy of morals, the development of the moral

concerns in the three novels will be analyzed and described.

The opening chapter concentrates on the problem of making a distinction

between virtue and vice in the works of Fielding and Shaftesbury. First, the crucial

concepts in Shaftesbury’s ethical theory will be presented, and then illustrated on the

contrasts between the characters of Joseph Andrews, Abraham Adams and the

Roasting-Squire in Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones and Blifil in Tom Jones, and Captain

Booth and Captain James in Amelia. Furthermore, the question of the relationship

between virtue and happiness is explored and some basic differences between the works

of Fielding and Shaftesbury are considered.

In the second chapter, the concept of balance in affections is examined and

demonstrated by the characters of Adams, Allworthy and Harrison, appearing in Joseph

Andrews, Tom Jones and Amelia, respectively. Also, it focuses on the synthesis of

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reason and sentiment, which is, in the work of both thinkers, indispensable for moral

understanding and the right judgment. By comparing the reasonable but still imperfect

mentor figures of the novels with their highly emotional counterparts, the work of

Fielding is proved to demonstrate that reason alone and affections without any

restrictions of sense fail to ensure the truth in judgment and the harmony in life.

Moreover, the manifestation of the concepts of reason and feeling are traced in

Fielding’s strategy of influencing readers, namely in his technique of opposing

perspectives and in his use of irony.

Afterwards, the moral developments of the principal male characters of the

novels are contrasted with Shaftesbury’s theory of moral development of men. Rather

than similarities, the analysis of moral growth of the three heroes reveals differing

initial standpoints of Fielding and Shaftesbury and their distinct views on the nature of

men.

In the next chapter, Fielding’s application of ridicule to expose false authorities

is examined. As opposed to Shaftesbury, who challenged mainly the authority of the

church, Fielding deals with all the major social authorities which influence human lives.

Particularly, Fielding’s fight against corrupt politicians, judges, lawyers, intellectuals as

well as nobility reveals his concern with general social issues and his effort to point to

the problems of the poor. In this respect, the work of the novelist transcends the abstract

moral philosophy of Shaftesbury and discloses the difficulties of applying his ideas to

the complicated system of a human society where the distinctions between people are

not made according to the goodness of their hearts but rather in relation to their wealth

and social status. Since Fielding’s growing concern with the social sphere influences the

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stylistic strategies he employs in his last novel, the analysis includes the description of

his shift from ridicule to shrewd irony as an instrument of social satire.

The last part of the thesis is devoted to the examination of the means Fielding

used to communicate his moral ideas to the reader. Mainly, it concentrates on his use of

the voice of a narrator and his strategy of presenting characters. It also explores the

function of various stylistic devices, like exaggeration, parody, interpolated stories,

contrasting of textures, symbolism of names, textual divisions, titles of chapters and

prefatory sections, and their contribution to the understanding of moral allegories.

Finally, the transformation of Fielding’s stylistic techniques in his last novel is analyzed

and the progress of his moral concerns is summarized.

Overall, the comparison between the two 18th century thinkers reveals a number

of parallels as well as divergences between their systems of values. Shaftesbury’s

positive perception of human nature proves itself to be a great influence on Fielding’s

work. On the other hand, since the philosophical essays of Shaftesbury are very

abstract, Fielding’s novels offer a more vivid and accurate reflection of the society of

the time. In order to offer a picture of Fielding as an original thinker, the analysis traces

his progress as a moralist and a writer, showing the development of his moral concerns

and the methods he used to present them to his readers.

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1. Chapter One: Virtue and Vice

In Shaftesbury’s Characteristics, one of the crucial themes is the distinction

between virtue and vice. Since Shaftesbury believed that “it is . . . by affection merely

that a creature is esteemed good or ill, natural or unnatural” (Shaftesbury 170), he

suggested that “the virtues were rooted in the affections” and, subsequently, “he aimed

to establish the natural basis of virtue and to demonstrate that the social impulses were

a necessary component of human nature” (Grean 138). Thus, indentifying the virtuous

and the moral with the natural, he divided the affections into three categories:

1. the natural affections which lead to the good of the public; or 2. the

self-affections which lead only to the good of the private; or 3. such as

are neither of these; nor tending either to any good of the public or

private; but contrary-wise: and which may therefore be justly styled

unnatural affections. (Shaftesbury 196)

Then he continued, claiming: “So that according to these affections stand, a creature

must be virtuous or vicious, good or ill. The latter sort of these affections, this evident,

is wholly vicious. The two former may be virtuous or vicious according to their

degree.” (196) Therefore, it is the degree of affections, especially in the case of the self-

affections, which assigns the virtuous or the vicious value to human behavior.

Whereas Shaftesbury defines the idea of virtue and determines the criterion of

balance of affections as the measure of goodness, Fielding uses the method of

contrasting the principal characters to reveal the difference between virtue and vice.

Consequently, the heroes and their rivals in all the three novels represent the

embodiments of either goodness or iniquity. Since Fielding “was engaged in the

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exploration of . . . a mechanism of human society as a whole” (Watt 329), he was

“interested . . . only in those features of the individual which are necessary to assign him

to his moral and social species” (310). Although his method of categorizing the

principle characters might create an impression of their “emotional artificiality” (311),

Fielding managed to make the characters “vividly alive, even more complex, as he

judges them and asks us to judge them” (Alter 65). Instead of using “the analytical

treatment of characters,” he offers their examination “through integration of . . .

characters to one another and to a large, coherent moral vision” (65). Thus, his choice

“not to walk round characters and closely observe their particularity but to step back

from them and set them firmly in an embracing system of moral possibilities,” shows

that the “generalized moral assessment can be an effective novelistic equivalent for

particularized psychological rendering” (69). In brief, by using the categorization of the

main characters, Fielding enables his readers to keep a distance from them, which is

necessary for an objective evaluation and a possible generalization of moral

conclusions.

Since both the philosopher and the novelist perceive a man as a social agent and

a part of a system ruled by a higher order, they judge the virtue or the vice of every

person according to his or her contribution to the public good. Although Lord

Shaftesbury was aware that the public interest and the self-interest always compete in a

nature of man, he maintained that they do not have to be in conflict. On the contrary, he

“considers the self-affections as . . . essential constituents of virtue” (Grean 175). In his

theoretical treatise “Shaftesbury gives no precise list of the social affections, but treats

them as a rather fluid group of related impulses including the drive of preservation of

the species, gregariousness, sympathy, the various forms of familial affection, . . .

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friendship, and love of humanity” (Grean 153-54). Similarly, a list of concrete

self-affections is not presented by Shaftesbury himself but it is included in the study of

Stanley Grean, who classifies them as love of life, resentment of injury, pleasure, desire

of wealth and material conveniences, emulation and indolence (164). As regards the

unnatural affections, Grean specifies them as inhuman delight, delight in disorder,

malice or ill-will, envy, hatred of mankind and society, passions aroused by

superstitions and sexual perversion (169-71). In general, it is the ability of people to

create positive affections to the others which assigns them the quality of virtue and, on

the contrary, their failure to sympathize with their fellow men which condemns them as

being vicious.

Such a view is to a great extent shared by Fielding, which is observable in the

portrayals of the main rival characters in his books. His first novel called The History of

the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend Mr. Abraham Adams, describes a

journey of two honorable men who travel from the corrupted city of London back home

into the unspoiled countryside. According to Jessie Chambers, Mr. Abraham Adams

and his young friend Joseph function as complementary characters. Whereas the

portrayal of Mr. Adams embodies “man’s duties to others” (467) and corresponds to

Shaftesbury’s notion of the natural affections, the character of Joseph represents “man’s

duty to himself” (467) and illustrates a moderate degree of the self-affections.

In the novel, Mr. Adams is described as a “generous, friendly and brave”

country parson who lives with his “Wife and his six Children” (Joseph Andrews 23).

Alongside his familial affections, he proves himself to be a very good friend to Joseph

because, astonished by his industry in learning, Adams tries to arrange some further

education for him. He also shows a great deal of sympathy when he finds Joseph in an

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inn, robbed, beaten and injured by highwaymen, and he bravely defends him against a

greedy and deceitful doctor. Afterwards, Adams tells Joseph that “he had nine shillings

and three-pence-half-penny in his Pocket, which he was welcome to use as he pleased”

(67), and thus the parson sacrifices all his means to save the young man. Moreover, he

functions as a patron of the pure love between Joseph and Fanny when he guards them

against the threads of envious Lady Booby (283). So, for his admirable sympathy,

natural friendliness and selfless care about people, the character of Mr. Adams

embodies the category of the natural affections.

Similarly, Adams’s young friend Joseph represents a reasonable degree of self-

affections. His love of life and desire of pleasure manifests itself in his affection for

Fanny, to whom he remains faithful despite the temptations of Lady Booby and a

chambermaid Betty (30:87). He thus acquits the duty to himself and does not exceed in

his desire of pleasure at the expense of others. Also, in defending his chastity, Joseph

tries to compare to the noble model of his sister Pamela, as he writes to her: “I hope I

shall copy your example . . . and maintain my Virtue against all Temptations” (47). The

wish for wealth and indolence, again in a moderate degree, is traceable in Joseph’s

longing for a family life in the country. In this respect, he follows the pattern of his

new-discovered parents and states that “he will imitate them in their Retirement” from

the busy life in a town (344). Therefore, since he shows the love of life, the desire of

pleasure and wealth as well as the ambition to advance towards the models of virtue, the

character of Joseph illustrates a natural degree of self-interest.

As in the two later novels, the good example of the main character is highlighted

by the contrast with his evil adversary. The contrast is achieved on the background of

their relationship to the main heroine, in this case Joseph’s girlfriend Fanny. On their

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way home, Joseph, Parson Adams and Fanny are cheated by a redoubtable Roasting-

Squire, who invites them for dinner into his house because he lusts after the young

beautiful girl. His wickedness is even emphasized when a full description of his

personality is given by the author: “the Master of this house was . . . a Batchelor . . .

about forty Years of Age. . . . But what distinguished him chiefly was a strange Delight

which he took in everything which is ridiculous, odious and absurd” (245). A group of

fellows was employed to “hunt out and display everything that had any Savour of the

above mentioned Qualities . . . but if they failed in their Search, they were to turn even

Virtue and Wisdom into Ridicule for the diversion of their Master” (245). During the

dinner, the Squire and his company makes fun of Parson Adams, and later, two of his

men try to kidnap Fanny from a neighboring inn in order to offer her to the Squire “for

his vile Purposes” (269). As the portrayal of the Roasting-Squire shows, the collection

of vices embodied in his character resembles the category of the unnatural affections in

Shaftesbury’s theory.

In the novel which follows, the distinction between virtue and vice is

demonstrated on the two main rival characters of Tom Jones and Blifil. The impulses of

gregariousness and friendship are characteristic for Tom, as he loves social events like

hunting with Squire Western, and develops a close friendship with his gamekeeper

Black George. Moreover, he respects their fellowship so much that he is rather willing

to let himself beaten than to betray him (103). Also, Tom proves to have the feeling of

sympathy on many occasions, especially by his charity to Black George’s family and

the family of Mr. Anderson, which both fall into poverty and Tom’s financial support

helps them to survive. The familial affection is reflected in Tom’s devotion to his

patron, Squire Allworthy (204). Finally, Tom manifests an impulse of patriotism when

10

he decides to join a company of soldiers and defend the army of King George against a

rebellion (311). Tom’s qualities thus truly illustrate the category of natural affections of

Shaftesbury.

Along with the social affections, the character of Tom embodies an example of a

moderate degree of the self-affections. His love of life is evident in everything he does

because he admires its pleasures and shows a great respect for its value. For instance,

when he is attacked by a robber, he spares his life and he does not hesitate to fight the

ruffian Northorn who threatens the life of poor Mrs. Waters (579:416). His resentment

of injury is so moderated that he risks his own life to protect Sofia when her horse goes

berserk, which results in a fracture of his arm (167). Tom’s character becomes

controversial for his interest in pleasure, meaning “basically the pleasures of sense . . .

derived from satisfying such basic physiological drives as hunger and sex” (Grean 166).

However, Tom’s sexual affairs are always caused by natural instincts and his behavior

is neither consciously harmful to his mistresses, nor conflicting with his social

affections, and therefore it is not immodest but only irresponsible. Moreover, Tom’s

desire of wealth, emulation and indolence are extremely limited since he sacrifices his

own property to help the poor, shows no ambition to improve his social status, and he

often gets into trouble because of his adventurous temperament.

On the contrary, the character of Blifil illustrates an immodest degree of the

self-affections. Described as “sober, discreet, and pious beyond his age” (Tom Jones

99), Blifil does not show any manifestations of love of life. Also, his cowardice and

squealing when he is punched by Tom for calling him a bastard and his gutless attack

on him with the help of Thwackum proves an excessive resentment of injury (107:220).

Although Blifil does not show much interest in sex or gastronomy, he reveals himself to

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be a greedy person when he consciously suppresses the truth about Tom’s origin in

order to become the only heir of the estate (210). His behavior towards his superiors is

often calculated and servile since Blifil longs for the privileges resulting from their

praise. Furthermore, he uses the weaknesses of Tom to better himself in the eyes of

others by snitching on him and slandering against him (121). Lastly, indolence in the

character of Blifil is demonstrated on the relationships he makes with other characters,

as most of them are based on Blifil’s own interests. Consequently, he cares neither for

the poor nor for the beautiful Sophia, whom he plans to use only as a tool for gaining

the estate of her father. So, when the two characters of Tom and Blifil are compared,

Tom’s self-affections are natural, moderated and oriented towards social welfare, and

thus virtuous, whereas Blifil’s interests are only selfish and immodest, and thus immoral

and vicious.

Besides the excessive degree of self-interest, the character of Blifil also

illustrates the category of the unnatural affections. His inhuman delight, meaning a

delight in “witnessing the suffering or destruction of others” (Grean 169), is described

when he informs Mr. Allworthy against Black George, portraying his crime of “wiring

hares” (Tom Jones 124) in such a way that it causes the ruin of the gamekeeper’s

family. Also Tom’s expulsion from the Paradise Hall is presented as Blifil’s final

success, which is evident from the rigid letter he sends Tom on his departure (277).

Although Blifil does not embody much delight in disorder, his malice is demonstrable

on many examples of his behavior, as it results from his excessive self-interest. Such an

attitude goes hand in hand with envy, already proved by Blifil’s jealousy of Tom. As in

the case of the Roasting-Squire, Blifil’s inability to create affections towards other

people and his lack of sensibility towards the opposite sex culminates in sexual

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perversion when he feels satisfaction from the idea of getting Sophia against her will

(291). Therefore, the same as the character of Tom corresponds to Shaftesbury’s notion

of virtue the negative qualities in Blifil reflect his idea of vice.

In order to reaffirm readers in their perception of virtue and vice, the author not

only contrasts the rival characters and portrays them in such situations which disclose

their goodness or wickedness, he also uses the voice of a narrator through which he

comments on the episodes and the behavior of the characters. Since “the author is

always there on his platform to remind us, through his wisdom and benevolence, of

what human life ought to be and might be,” the reader is constantly reassured “of both

the moral and literary rightness of Tom” (Booth 95). For example, after contrasting

Tom’s want of caution with Blifil’s selfish carefulness and describing the consequent

condemnation of Tom by his superiors, the narrator adds: “These two characters are not

always received in the world with the different regard which seems severally due to

either, and which one would imagine mankind from self-interest should show towards

them” (Tom Jones 137-38). So, despite the doubts of other characters in the book, the

reader is reassured in his good opinion of Tom.

On the other hand, the narrator “makes an impression of a man we can trust, who

knows the whole story and still is not deeply concerned; one who understands the

difference between good men and bad men and who can yet speak with amused

indulgence of the first . . . and with urbane scorn . . . of the second” (Crane 92). For

instance, when Tom is brought by Thwackum before Squire Allworthy to answer for his

conduct, the narrator reports: “Tom answered he could in duty refuse him nothing, but

as for that tyrannical rascal, he would never make him any other answer than with a

cudgel, with which he hoped soon to be able to pay him for all his barbarities” (Tom

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Jones 119). As he describes Tom’s impertinent frankness along with the kindness of his

character, the narrator prevents the readers from perceiving the main hero as a mere

illustration of human goodness.

Also, thanks to this “ironical detachment” of the narrator, all the negative

characters in Tom Jones are presented with “evident comic traits” (Crane 92:84). For

example, when Blifil is compared with Jones, the narrator makes a witty comment,

claiming that “Master Blifil fell very short of his companion in the amiable quality of

mercy, but he as greatly exceeded him in one of a much higher kind, namely, in justice,

in which he followed both the precepts and example of Thwackum and Square” (Tom

Jones 123). By portraying Blifil with a distant look and humor, the narrator mitigates

the potential threat of his nastiness. As a result, despite the apparent wickedness of

Blifil and the innocent goodness of Tom, we tend to anticipate the coming troubles of

the main hero “with no more than comic fear” (Crane 92).

With Fielding’s shift from the interest in the qualities of an individual to the

concern with the social sphere, the categorization of his main characters becomes less

evident. In his last novel, Amelia, the difference between Captain Booth and Captain

James illustrates rather the problem of the degree of self-interest than the distinction

between a pure virtue and a downright vice. Although the character of Booth

symbolizes the imperfection of human nature and has to undergo some profound

changes in order to achieve virtue, his natural goodness is demonstrated on the sincerity

of his qualms of conscience, the concern for his family and the fairness of his intentions

towards other people.

As in the case of Tom Jones, Booth’s carelessness and popularity with women

brings him some joy but twice as much trouble. When he succumbs to the temptation of

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Mrs. Matthews, “a deep melancholy seized his mind, and cold damp sweats overspread

his person, so that he was scarce animated. . . . He endeavoured, however, at first, as

much as possible, to conceal what he felt, and attempted . . . to act the part of a happy

man” not to hurt his wife, whom he admires and loves (Amelia 168). His tenderness

towards Amelia is also stressed in the portrayal of his attendance to her during her first

pregnancy, as Booth himself describes it: “I lay behind her bolster, and supported her in

my arms; and, upon my soul, I believe I felt more pain in my mind than she underwent

in her body. . .” (130) His kindness is immediately contrasted with the cynical reaction

of Mrs. Matthews, who refuses to believe any man capable of such a behavior, and she

claims: “Why, then, honestly and sincerely may I never see heaven if I don't think you

an angel of a man!” (130) Later, when he is promised a post in the West Indies, he does

not hesitate to accept it in order to ensure the living for his family. His intentions are

reflected in the passage where he persuades Amelia to agree with his decision:

It is love for you alone which could persuade me to submit to it. Consider

our situation; consider that of our children; reflect but on those poor

babes whose future happiness is at stake, and it must arm your resolution.

It is your interest and theirs that reconciled me to a proposal which . . .

struck me with the utmost horror. (429)

Therefore, the character of Booth, on the one hand illustrates the weaknesses of human

nature, but on the other hand, his tenderness towards women, the worries about his

family and his noble intentions reveal Booth’s essential goodness and honesty in the

relationships with others.

In contrast, his false friend James embodies the recklessness of immoderate self-

interest, which results in a complete loss of affections towards the rest of the people.

15

When James learns about Booth’s infidelity with Mrs. Matthews, whom he passionately

admires himself, he envies him her attention and decides to destroy his adversary by

slandering against him and accusing him of the failure to make payments (203).

Whereas Booth is not interested in Mrs. Matthews and wants to get rid of her, bothering

himself with remorse, James feels no responsibility towards his wife or women in

general. After marrying a colonel’s sister and securing himself socially, he soon grows

“so heartily tired of his wife, that she had very little of his company” (176). Also his

concern with Mrs. Matthews does not show much respect for the opposite sex, as he

claims about her: “Pox of her inclination; I want only the possession of her person; and

that you will allow is a very fine one. But, besides my passion for her, she hath now

piqued my pride; for how can a man of my fortune brook being refused by a whore?”

(187)

Afterwards, when he conquers Mrs. Matthews, he starts to fancy the beautiful

Amelia and attempts to gain her by manipulation. Since his efforts to get Booth into jail

and seduce his wife prove inefficient, he offers Booth a post in the army and some

money to get him out of his way (429). Moreover, he discloses Booth’s infidelity “with

a prospect of injuring Booth in the affection and esteem of Amelia, and of

recommending himself somewhat to her by appearing in the light of her champion”

(582). So, as it is demonstrated on the portrayal of the egoistic and ruthless behavior of

Captain James, his character represents the opposite of Booth’s good-heartedness and

sincerity. Consequently, the contrast between the characters of the two captains reflects

the basic distinction between the natural affection for the self and the other people and

the excessive self-interest which leads to the unnatural affections towards others.

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To conclude, the analysis of the heroes and their adversaries in the three

Fielding’s novels reveals a number of parallels between the virtuous as well as the

vicious counterparts. The basic principle of the distinction between virtue and vice thus

remains the same in Fielding’s work. Also, his purposeful strategy of presenting the

main characters is proved to be influenced by the ideas of Lord Shaftesbury, whose

theory of the three categories of affections corresponds to the contrasts of the main

heroes.

Shaftesbury’s assumptions about the essence of virtue and vice are closely

connected with his theory of moral sense. The basis of his moral theory is the idea that

the moral faculty to distinguish the good from the evil is natural to us. Therefore, our

“moral sensibilities generate autonomic responses” (Wandless) to what we perceive. As

Shaftesbury claims in his Characteristics:

in these characters . . . or pictures of manners, . . . the heart cannot

possibly remain neutral. . . . However false or corrupt it be within itself,

it finds the difference . . . between one heart and another, one turn of

affection, one behavior, one sentiment and another . . . and . . . must

approve of what is natural and honest and disapprove of what is

dishonest and corrupt. (173)

Furthermore, Shaftesbury states that “to be wicked and vicious, is to be miserable and

unhappy” (Shaftesbury 229); and thus “Virtue is the Good and Vice is the Ill of

everyone” (230). The concepts of Fielding’s stories, where the good characters gain all

they wanted and the evil ones get punished for their crimes, reflect Shaftesbury’s

hypothesis.

17

However, the adventures of the main heroes clearly show that it is not in the

power of a single individual to achieve happiness without the help of other people.

Despite all their qualities, neither Joseph Andrews nor Tom Jones and Captain Booth

are the only originators of their own good. Although the character of Joseph illustrates

the true virtue of chastity and modesty, it is not his resistance to the temptations of the

material world which brings him the familial happiness with Fanny. After Joseph’s

displacement for the affront of the sex-starved Lady Booby, his misfortunes continue

and he is attacked by highwaymen (Joseph Andrews 51). Fortunately, he is saved by a

group of strangers in a passing coach, attended to by a maid Betty in a nearby inn, and

finally defended by his friend Adams (54:57). Also, his beloved Fanny is rescued, first

by Adams, and then they both by a good Squire of his acquaintance (137:150).

Afterwards, when Fanny is kidnapped by the men of the Roasting-Squire, both Joseph

and Adams remain locked in a room, good-intentioned but helpless, and it is a friend of

Fanny, Peter Pounce, who assists her (269). So, as the story demonstrates, the happiness

of Joseph and Fanny does not depend on their virtue alone.

Although the plot of Tom Jones is ruled by strict rules of causality and is

purposely focused on the consequences of particular deeds of the main characters, the

happy-ending of the story is not determined merely by Tom’s moral growth to maturity.

As in the case of Joseph Andrews, there are many good and evil forces which influence

the fate of the main hero. It is true that Tom’s kindness to Sophia and Mrs. Waters

brings him later in the story their favor and help. His courtesy to Sophia and her

resulting fondness of him prevents her from marrying Blifil and makes her forgive

Tom’s trespasses (Tom Jones 845). Also, the rescue of Mrs. Waters by Tom later on

enables her to reveal his true parents (814). On the other hand, his assistance to the

18

family of Black George does not prove very valuable to the main hero since his friend

steals a £500 bank note from him (266). Furthermore, the honest love for his benefactor

is shown to be inefficient because he expels him from the Paradise Hall (262). Finally,

Squire Western would not let him marry his daughter even though he values his

personal qualities, as the reader learns from the author’s comment:

The idea of marriage between Jones and his daughter had never once

entered into the squire’s head, either in the warmest minutes of his

affection towards that young man . . . or on any other occasion. He did

indeed consider a parity of fortune and circumstances to be physically as

necessary an ingredient in marriage as difference of sexes. . . (253)

So, Tom and Sophia’s marriage is proved to be a result of many coincidences,

particularly the revelation of Tom’s high social origin and his subsequent gain of

property. In Joseph Andrews as well as in Tom Jones, Fielding therefore portrays the

consequences of the virtuous or the vicious character for an individual, but he also

depicts a personal struggle with the impact of virtues and vices of other people.

The theme of the private fight with the corruptive forces of the society is further

developed in the last novel Amelia. Captain Booth, despite his noble intentions, is

continuously harried by adversity. First, he gets into trouble when he assists a stranger

attacked by another man and he is unjustly sentenced into prison by a judge Thackeray

for “beating the watchman, in the execution of his office, and breaking his lantern”

(Amelia 9). Then, he is deceived by Noble Lord who promises him a “rank . . . in the

West Indies, perhaps, or in some regiment abroad” (215) in order to gain a free access to

his charming wife Amelia. Also, twice he is forced to rush into danger and risk the ruin

of his family when he is called out to defend his honor by colonel Bath and Captain

19

James (230:574). Moreover, when, later on, Booth’s friend Dr. Harrison goes to Noble

Lord and asks him for a recommendation for Booth, the nobleman demands a political

support of his unworthy acquaintance in return. In the following debate between the

idealistic priest and the cynical Lord, the conflict between the power of an individual to

direct his own fate and the demoralizing force of the society is reflected, as Lord asks:

And do you really think, doctor, . . . that any minister could support

himself in this country upon such principles as you recommend? Do you

think he would be able to baffle an opposition unless he should oblige his

friends by conferring places often contrary to his own inclinations and his

own opinion? (541)

Nevertheless, the author does not surrender to a cynical condemnation of humankind -

quite the opposite. Since in the end his hero achieves happiness with the help of his

devout wife, a faithful friend Attkinson and the wise Dr. Harrison, Fielding rather

criticizes the corruptness of the social institutions and draws attention to the difficulties

of a single person, however virtuous, to function in a complicated social system

consisting of imperfect people who depend one on another.

On the whole, Fielding questions Shaftesbury’s belief that “the conditions for

our true happiness and good lie within ourselves and within our own power” (Grean

235). He also reveals the dubiousness of Shaftesbury’s contention that “what is good for

a group as a whole is to be assumed good for the individual members of the group”

(179) and specifies Shaftesbury’s vague notion of happiness, which he portrays in all

his three novels as a modest harmonious family life. As opposed to the philosopher,

Fielding thus offers a more complex view of the relationship between an individual and

20

the society because his perspective is not based on theoretical models but on his own

experience with the life of the lower classes.

21

2. Chapter Two: Reason and Feeling

The presumption that anyone is able to distinguish right from wrong thanks to

the moral sense undeniably influenced Fielding’s strategy of presenting characters and

his method of pressing the readers to make moral judgments about them. In

Shaftesbury’s theory, a moral judgment is described as “an attempted synthesis of two

elements: one, an intuitive process in which one responds directly to moral objects,

being either attracted or repelled by them; and two, a logical or discursive process

utilizing such standards as the good of the whole and consistency” (Grean 209). As in

Shaftesbury’s conception, in Fielding’s novels the faculties of reason and feeling play

the key role in the process of moral judgment. They are represented by pairs of

complementary characters of mentor figures and main heroines, who influence and

judge the main hero.

However, since Fielding and Shaftesbury’s perspectives are not exactly the

same, they focus on different aspects of making moral judgments. Whereas the

philosopher describes an ideal of a virtuous man whose “affections co-operate

harmoniously,” and thus “logical and empirical analysis should confirm what [his]

immediate feeling makes known” (Grean 200:210), Fielding’s characters show

imperfections of the moral authority of an individual. In all his three novels, the mentor

figures of Parson Adams, Squire Allworthy and Dr. Harrison appear to be examples of

true virtue and honesty, yet the infallibility of their estimations is questioned and their

lack of intuition is approached with humor.

In Fielding’s first novel, the character of Parson Adams is portrayed as a good-

natured person but also as a rather simple one. At the very beginning of the story, the

reader is informed that

22

Mr. Abraham Adams was an excellent Scholar. He was a perfect Master

of the Greek and Latin Languages . . . and had treasured up a Fund of

Learning rarely to be met with in a University. He was besides a Man of

good Sense, good Parts, and good Nature; but was at the same time as

entirely ignorant of the Ways of this World. . . . As he had never any

Intention to deceive, so he never suspected such a Design in others.

(Joseph Andrews 22-23)

Although the honesty of Adams’s intentions is described on many occasions in the

story, his naïve kindness is used as a source of humor and the learned wisdom of the

good Parson is discredited by his absentmindedness.

For example, his bravery is praised in the scene where he saves an innocent girl

from a ravisher (137). Yet, later on, his courage is depreciated when he tries to save

Mrs. Slipslop but confuses her with a rapist in a “curious Night-Adventure, in which

Mr. Adams fell into many Hair-breadth ‘Scapes, partly owning to his Goodness, and

partly to his Inadvertency” (330). Also, since Adams considers hospitality a

commonplace routine, he puts up Joseph and Fanny in his own modest house. This

ingenious conviction, however, brings him much trouble when he is taken in by the

Roasting Squire who offers to pay for him in an inn but then comes up with the excuse

that his “Steward had locked up his purse”(175). Instead of realizing that the Squire has

made a fool of him, Adams answers that “It might very possibly be; and he should

wonder at no Liberties which the Devil might put into the Head of a wicked Servant to

take with so worthy a Master” (175).

Furthermore, the Parson’s easy-going attitude towards money causes a lot of

difficulties to everyone around him. Although he does not hesitate to give all he has to

23

people in need, he expects other people to help him out when he runs out of cash. As a

result, when he finds himself indebted in an inn, he naively goes to a local parson

Trulliber to ask him for money. After he learns what Adams wants from him, Trulliber

scolds the poor Adams for his impudence and throws him out of doors (168). Preaching

his colleague on charity and “groaning and lamenting, that it was possible in a Country

professing Christianity, for a Wretch to starve in the midst of his Fellow-Creatures who

abounded” (169), Adams fails to recognize the difference between the ideals of his great

Greek, Latin, and Christian authors and the “demands of the modern, commercialized

world” he lives in (Cruise 258). Therefore, because of Parson Adams’s excessive trust

in other people’s goodness, his moral authority is questioned and the foolishness of his

expectations is ridiculed.

Also, as Joseph’s protector and advisor, Adams does not manage to persuade the

young hero that he should not regret the loss of his lover. When Fanny is kidnapped by

the men of the Roasting Squire and Joseph and Parson Adams are left alone chained and

locked up in a room, Joseph starts to drive to despair. Trying to console him, Adams

reminds him that “it is the Business of a Man and a Christian to summon Reason . . . to

his Aid” (264). Afterwards, he cites to his friend three good reasons why he should not

mourn his loss. First, he makes Joseph consider that “the same Power which made us,

rules over us, and we are absolutely at his Disposal” (265). Then, he explains that “as

we know not future Events, so neither can we tell to what Purpose any Accident tends”

(265). The third reason Adams offers is that “Our Impotency of relieving ourselves,

demonstrates our Folly and Absurdity of our Complaints” (265). However, in spite of

Parson Adams’s efforts, Joseph replies: “O you have not spoken one Word of Comfort

to me yet” (266) and he admits that “all this is very true” but he also adds that he “could

24

listen to him all day, if [he] was not so grieved at Heart” (265). Thus, although the

logical arguments of Parson Adams appeal to Joseph’s understanding, they fail to

comfort him and bring him to reason.

In Tom Jones, the protector of the main hero is also presented as “an agreeable

person” of “a sound constitution, a solid understanding, and a benevolent heart” (Tom

Jones 29). The same as Parson Adams, Squire Allworthy represents a moral authority in

the novel and his intentions are always pure. However, his inability to see through the

machinations of his own relations is comparable to Parson Adams’s ignorance of the

ways of the world and despite the reputation of a reasonable magistrate Allworthy

cannot avoid a few misjudgments of the young hero and his friends.

First, he charges the purported mother of Tom, Jenny Jones, with abandoning

her little child. Accused on the basis of the suspicion of Allwothy’s maid, Mrs. Wilkins,

and of his sister, Miss Bridget, Jenny is examined and confesses “the whole fact with

which she was charged” (41). During the questioning, she refuses to disclose the name

of the father, which makes an impression on the Squire because “she had . . . hazarded

his further displeasure . . . rather than she would forfeit her honour . . . by betraying

another” (46). After the kind Mr. Allworthy dismisses “her with assurances that he

would very soon remove her out of the reach of that obloquy she had incurred” (46), the

reader can hardly have doubts about the justness of his judgment. Nevertheless, towards

the end of the book, when the whole truth about the origin of Tom Jones is revealed, the

reader is told that Tom is the son of Miss Bridget, Allworthy’s own sister (821).

Therefore, Allworthy lets himself convinced by skillfully manipulated facts, ignoring

his immediate impression of Jenny’s honesty.

Also, he commits a similar mistake when he condemns the schoolmaster

25

Partridge for incontinency on account of evidence presented by Partridge’s own wife,

and when he sentences Molly Seagrim to Bridewell. In this case, he even exceeds “his

authority a little . . . And, to say the truth, I question, as here was no regular information

before him, whether his conduct was strictly regular” (160). So, on many instances

Allworthy is shown to be “presumptuous” and “righteous overmuch” (Alter 85) despite

his virtue and goodness.

Finally, he expels Tom Jones from the Paradise Hall after Blifil presents some of

the incidents of the young hero in such a way that he persuades Mr. Allworthy about

Tom’s depravity. When Squire Western comes to complain to his neighbour that his

“daughter hath fallen in love with [his] bastard,” (257) the right moment comes for

Blifil “to joint weight of many facts falling upon” his rival (261). First, he acts as a

jilted lover although “the success of Jones was more grievous to him than the loss of

Sophia,” (259) and then he informs Allworthy about all of Tom’s crimes. Since

Twackum supports his testimony and “corroborated every circumstance which the other

had deposed” (260), and because Tom, hardly knowing the accusations, “could not deny

the charge” (262), Allworthy is forced to punish him for much more than he has

actually done. Although his decisions seems to be reasonable with regard to the

presented evidence, “we suspect in Allworthy just that degree of stupidity which makes

it credible that he could have Blifil and Tom under his roof for so long, and yet know so

little of the character of either” (Jenkins 63). Thus, even though both Parson Adams and

Squire Allworthy represent high moral authorities, they fail to recognize malicious

intentions and to make the right judgments about people.

The benefactor of Captain Booth in Amelia is a rather grave parson, Dr. Harrison.

26

As opposed to Parson Adams, Harrison “constantly visits every house in the parish,

examines, commends, and rebukes, as he finds occasion” (148). Also his personality

much differs from the previous mentor figures, as “his speech, the doctor's voice, his

look, and his behaviour, . . . is sufficiently calculated to inspire awe, and even terror,

when he pleases” (84). With the change of tone in Fielding’s last novel, the character of

the parson is less ridiculed and Fielding uses him as a means of criticizing the decay of

Christian values. First, Harrison gets involved into a discussion about duels with

Colonel Bath, in which he condemns this practice as “a direct and audacious defiance of

the Christian law . . . much more sinful in us than it would have been in the heathens”

(426). Then, he instructs Amelia to stay at home with her children and let her husband

accept a position abroad, persuading her: “there are some reasons which would not only

justify his leaving you, but which must force him. . . . If it was necessary, for instance,

either to your good or to the good of your children, he would not deserve the name of a

man . . . if he hesitated a moment” (431).

Afterwards, when Amelia complains of the wickedness of mankind, the parson

opposes her with his positive view of human nature, claiming: “the nature of man is far

from being in itself evil . . . Bad education, bad habits, and bad customs, debauch our

nature . . . The governors of the world . . . are answerable for the badness of it” (436).

Later, he defends this opinion in the dispute with the Noble Lord, in which he criticizes

“corruption in the body politic” (539). Also, he gives a whole sermon about the

fallibility of clergy, which he accuses of profligacy, avarice, ambition and pride in a

discussion with a young priest and his father (465). So, using his character as a

representative of Christian values, Fielding contrasts Harrison’s convictions with some

social practices and general beliefs of his time in order to show their depravity.

27

Although Harrison is marked by solemnity of the values he represents, his

general failure to assert those values questions his authority. Whereas Amelia and Booth

often admire the wisdom of Harrison’s opinions, his preaching is laughed at and

rejected by most of the opposing characters. Colonel Bath discredits Harrison’s views

by claiming that “Women and the clergy are upon the same footing” (424-25), and thus

they are not to be taken seriously. Even though Amelia never casts doubt on Dr.

Harrison’s convictions, Mrs. Atkinson severely opposes him when he dares to “question

the utility of learning in a young lady's education” (475). Also Noble Lord is not

persuaded by Dr. Harrison’s expressiveness and he calls his ideas “all mere Utopia”

(538). In the discussion about clergy, the young priest raises objection that “a clergyman

is a man as well as another,” and comments upon Harrison: “It is true, indeed, he put

together a set of sounding words; but, in the main, I never heard any one talk more

foolishly.” (468) Therefore, the wise sermons of Dr. Harrison, in spite of being true and

sound, fail to persuade or make anybody change his or her attitudes.

The gap between Harrison’s exalted demands and the social practices of the time

is exposed when a letter with his sermon is found at a masquerade. In the portrayal of

the gayeties of the ball, some of the principal characters, including Booth, are depicted

in the middle of their machinations to either hide or initiate adultery. Their intrigues are

interrupted by a group of young bucks who have found Harrison’s sermon against

conjugal infidelity and they publicly read it and laugh at it, suggesting: "D--n me, . . .

we'll have it set to a psalm-tune, and we'll sing it next Sunday at St James's church, and

I'll bear a bob, d--n me” (484). Although the ridicule becomes less direct, Dr. Harrison’s

superior tiresome moralizing is shown as ineffective to persuade any of his opponents

and his arguments, however compelling, fall flat.

28

In general, the mentor figures in Fielding’s novels are portrayed as virtuous men

who represent a moral order and see their surroundings through a grid of ideals about

morality. However, their authority is questioned when they disregard the importance of

human feelings and their reason-based convictions fail to console, judge and persuade

the others.

The one-sided approach of the mentor figures is counterbalanced by the

characters of the main heroines, who symbolize sentiment and intuition. According to

Shaftesbury, the intuition is “always a rational process of mind” (Grean 43) and “the

moral sense operates in part as an intuitive faculty” (206). As a result, “the knowledge

of good is not merely intellectual process,” as “it involves the affectional life, the trial or

exercise of the heart,” and thus the “wisdom is more from the Heart than from the

Head” (220). In compliance with Shaftesbury’s ideas, they are the characters of Fanny,

Sophia and Amelia who succeed where the reason fails and who guide the heroes

through their adversities.

In Joseph Andrews, the character of Fanny serves as a rather passive symbol of

female innocence and her opinions are not much expressed. Nevertheless, as the reader

very soon learns from the narrator, it is because Joseph wants to “live comfortably

together” (48) with Fanny that he leaves home and gains experience during the service

of Mr. and Mrs. Booby. Also, the reason of Joseph’s resistance to the temptations of

Lady Booby and the maid Betty is “this young Creature” who “had been always

beloved by Joseph, and returned his Affection” (48). After overcoming the dangers on

their way home, Joseph refuses to break away from Fanny even though, with the

marriage of Joseph’s sister Pamela to her master Mr. Booby, he could achieve a much

higher social position. Moreover, when Mr. Booby objects to his choice, saying: “such a

29

Match . . . would break the Hearts of your Parents, who now rejoice in the Expectation

of seeing you make a Figure in the World,” (302) Joseph defends his lover, and claims:

“I know not . . . that my Parents have any Power over my Inclinations; nor am I obliged

to sacrifice my Happiness to their Whim or Ambition . . . I am resolved on no account

to quit my dear Fanny, no, tho’ I could raise her as high above her present Station as

you have raised my Sister” (302). Thus, Joseph’s affection for Fanny proves itself to be

a more powerful impulse than the rational persuasions of Mr. Booby or Parson Adams.

Moreover, his love for the young girl makes Joseph recognize the true source of

happiness and prefer the value of human goodness to social advancement.

Nevertheless, the impulsive mutual affection of Joseph and Fanny also brings

them many problems. When “this poor Girl having heard of Joseph’s Misfortunes . . .

that instant abandoned the Cow she was milking . . . and . . ., without consulting anyone,

immediately set forward in pursuit of One, whom she loved with inexpressible

Violence” (144), she foolishly exposes herself to danger because she travels

unprotected. Also, facing the intrigues of Lady Booby after they arrive safe home,

Joseph despairs that “he should never have an easy Moment till Fanny was absolutely

his” (307), and begs Adams to marry them before the banns. So, as well as Parson

Adams, the character of Fanny is limited and the affections of the two lovers, on the one

hand, give them much hope and consolation, but on the other hand, get them into

trouble with common law.

Similarly, in Fielding’s second novel, Sophia serves as the right judge and a

source of motivation in Tom’s moral growth. First, thanks to her intuition, Sophia does

not let herself fool by the counterfeit behavior of Master Blifil. When Blifil releases her

little bird, claiming: “to confine anything seems to me against the law of nature, by

30

which everything has a right to liberty” (134), Tom tries to catch the bird for her, falling

from a tree. On the basis of this simple incident, Sophia “discerned that Tom, though an

idle, thoughtless, rattling rascal, was nobody’s enemy but his own; and that Master

Blifil, though a prudent, discreet, sober young gentleman, was at the same time strongly

attached to the interest only of one single person” (137). Furthermore, Sophia’s

fondness of the young hero keeps him in hope to become her lover and makes Tom

avoid the traps of Molly Seagrim, Lady Bellaston and Lady Hunt. Sophia’s intuitive

judgment of Tom is thus shown to be more accurate than the one of reasonable Mr.

Allworthy and the love of the heroine serves as a better motivation for Tom than the

education he gets at the estate of his guardian.

However, the same as Fanny, Sophia fails to behave with discretion since she

falls in love with a penniless foundling and, even though she has many “good

resolutions against Tom,” they “never survive for long in the presence of her lover”

(Crane 85). Consequently, she gets into conflict with her family and breaks social

conventions, as she decides to prefer a precarious future to a profitable marriage

because of her sentimental love for a rascal. Therefore, Sophia’s intuition enables her to

judge people well, yet her sensibility urges her to act without prudence.

In contrast to the previous two heroines, Amelia is portrayed as a symbol of

perfect virtue and conjugal affection. Whereas Dr. Harrison tries to persuade Booth by

rational arguments, she supports him with the strength of her love. As an ideal wife, she

adores her husband and never doubts his honor. When Booth comes home heartbroken

because of his adultery with Miss Matthews, Amelia thinks he feels sorry for his debts

and imprisonment, and so she tries to cheer him up:

31

My dear Billy, let nothing make you uneasy. Heaven will, I doubt not,

provide for us and these poor babes. Great fortunes are not necessary to

happiness. For my own part, I can level my mind with any state; and for

those poor little things, whatever condition of life we breed them to, that

will be sufficient to maintain them in. (169)

What is more, she even “refused to gratify her children with tarts” to save their last

sixpence when her husband loses almost all their money in cards. When Booth finally

confesses his infidelity, she responses “Indeed, I firmly believe every word you have

said, but I cannot now forgive you the fault you have confessed; and my reason is –

because I have forgiven it long ago” (586). This unrestricted worship surely encourages

and consoles Booth in the worst moments of his struggle but it does not give him many

reasons to learn from his mistakes. It is because of “poor Amelia's total want of all

jealousy and suspicion” (179) that Booth can so easily get away with his cheating. Thus,

although Amelia’s relentless love of her problematic husband serves him as a model of

marital virtue, the intensity of her affection goes beyond the bounds of reason and

makes her miserable.

On the whole, whereas the mentor figures in Fielding’s novels fail to assert their

high ideals and neglect the power of human affections, the heroines serve as driving

motives or models for the main heroes but they often forget about the check of reason,

which, according to Shaftesbury, “plays a key role in establishing the setting within

which the affections function” (Grean 222). As a result, neither the wise guardians nor

the loving mistresses can make flawless judgments and their imperfections question the

moral authority they represent. By portraying the complementary characters of the

mentors and the heroines as virtuous and respected yet not entirely perfect, Fielding

32

emphasizes the importance of balance between reason and feeling in human judgment

and he also points out that Shaftesbury is “formulating an ideal here which he does not

claim anyone has attained or ever will except in degree” (224).

Even so, Shaftesbury’s idea that moral judgment is “a complex fusion of

intellect and emotion” (219) corresponds with Fielding’s method of presenting the two

opposing perspectives to the reader and letting him judge one against the other. Since

the main heroes of his novels are always judged against the measures of their

moralizing mentors and, at the same time, admired by their sweethearts, the reader is

pressed to consider both the weaknesses and the charms of the heroes in order to judge

them. By presenting various perspectives, Fielding does not give us clear-cut examples

of what is right and wrong, on the contrary, he pulls us in complicated and vivid stories

where all the characters have their strong points as well as weaknesses. More than being

in the position of cold-blooded judges we therefore “cannot help becoming . . .

emotionally involved; for some of the characters we wish good, for other ill, . . . we feel

hope and fear, pity or satisfaction . . .” (Crane 72). So, we respond to the adventures of

his heroes instinctively.

Nevertheless, besides our straightforward reactions to particular episodes, there

is the voice of a narrator who freely interrupts the lines of the stories to guide us in our

reflections on the characters. The frequent comments of the narrator are often marked

with irony, which establishes a relationship of “both complicity and superiority-

complicity between the ironist and the discerner of the irony” (Alter 40), and thus the

narrator “is able to conjure up a common viewpoint with the reader” (45). As he

combines “sympathetic moral feeling with ironical detachment” (Crane 92), the author

33

ensures to “control with nice precision how we are to think and feel about his fictional

events” (Alter 41), appealing to our sentiments and our reasoning.

In addition to this strategy, Fielding uses a method which William Empson calls

“double irony” (34) – double because it “incorporates a recognition of possible validity

in the very position it sets out to destroy” (Alter 71). Thanks to this double irony, as

Andrew Wright states, “Fielding as narrator stands between his novel and a didactic

interpretation . . . and thus invites more than a straightforward response” (59). In such a

position, Fielding can make the readers enquire about the real motives of his characters’

behavior, and thus attack the hypocrisy of morals of his time. For example, in Joseph

Andrews, where the virtue of the main hero is threatened by the lust of Lady Booby, the

narrator comments on her character: “before we discover too much of her Frailty to our

Reader, it will be proper to give him a lively Idea of that vast Temptation, which

overcame all the Efforts of a modest and virtuous Mind; and then we humbly hope his

Good-nature will rather pity than condemn the Imperfections of human Virtue.” (Joseph

Andrews 38) Then, the narrator adds:

Nay, the Ladies themselves will, we hope, be induced . . . to bridle their

rampant Passion for Chastity, and be at least, as mild as their violent

Modesty and Virtue will permit them, in censuring the Conduct of a

Woman, who, perhaps, was in her own Disposition as chaste as those

pure and sanctified Virgins, who . . . begin about Fifty to attend . . .

Churches and Chapels, to return Thanks for the Grace which preserved

them formerly amongst Beaus from the Temptations, perhaps less

powerful than what now attacked the Lady Booby. (38)

34

By asking the seemingly innocent readers for tolerance of Lady Booby’s failure with so

much exaggeration, Fielding attacks her conduct as well as the pretense of some of his

readers who would dare to judge her.

Similarly, in Tom Jones, Fielding uses double irony to cast doubt on the guilt of

Black George when he describes the duel between his avarice and his consciousness.

After George conceals that he has found Tom’s £500 and he is asked by Sophia’s maid

to deliver another £16 to him, he persuades himself that, after what he has already done,

“it was absurd, if not downright hypocrisy, to affect any qualms at this trifle” (Tom

Jones 270). His dilemma is solved when he realizes that “the secreting the £500 was a

matter of very little hazard, whereas the detaining the sixteen guineas was liable to the

utmost danger of discovery.” (271) So, “by this friendly aid of fear, conscience obtained

a complete victory in the mind of Black George and, after making him a few

compliments on his honesty, forced him to deliver the money to Jones” (271). When

Fielding diverts us with the irony of George’s quandary, he also provides us with “an

insight into the nature of the character” (Alter 72). Since in the conflict between avarice

and consciousness the fear is considered as the main motive, Fielding shows the limited

choice of a person dependent on his reputation more than on his own consciousness.

In Amelia, the reader is subjected to ambiguity of the character of Miss Matthews,

who discloses for the readers the origins of adultery in “a most understandable human

weakness” (174). After Booth tells the story of his life to Miss Matthews in her prison

cell, the reader soon learns that

Miss Matthews did not in the least fall short of Mr. Booth in expressions

of tenderness. Her eyes, the most eloquent orators on such occasions,

exerted their utmost force; and at the conclusion of his speech she cast a

35

look as languishingly sweet as ever Cleopatra gave to Antony. In real

fact, this Mr. Booth had been her first love, and had made those

impressions on her young heart, which the learned in this branch of

philosophy affirm, and perhaps truly, are never to be eradicated. (157)

Afterwards, the narrator comments on the success of the seductress, addressing his

readers: “If any over-curious readers should be disappointed on this occasion, we will

recommend such readers to the apologies with which certain gay ladies have lately been

pleased to oblige the world, where they will possibly find everything recorded that past

at this interval” (159). Therefore, like in the cases of Mrs. Booby and Black George,

Fielding “manages to maintain a nice balance of affectionate sympathy and satiric

censure” (Alter 174) by revealing the inner motives of the characters and teasing the

readers for their double standards.

To conclude, Fielding subjects the readers to two opposing perspectives on the

main heroes by comparing their imperfections to the moral ideals of their mentors and,

at the same time, by stressing their qualities through the admiring look of the heroines.

Besides, in order to ensure credibility and vividness of his characters, he maintains a

certain ambiguity in their behavior and uses irony in the voice of the narrator to both

question and guide the opinions of his readers.

36

3. Chapter Three: Moral Development

Another of Shaftesbury’s concepts which can be claimed as influential on

Fielding’s work is his theory of moral development of a man. It is based on the

presumption that every person has a natural tendency to goodness and virtue; however,

as both the good and the bad qualities are mixed in human nature, everyone has to

undertake a certain “formation of taste” (Shaftesbury 176:152). As opposed to moral

sense, “moral taste . . . is not full-formed at birth but must be developed (Grean 208).

However, “we cannot change deeply ingrained habits or the “temper” of our personality

by just wishing it, . . . such changes require . . . the development of new habits of

thought and feeling” (204). According to Shaftesbury, “men naturally feel division

between a better self . . . and a worse self,” and that is “the basis of Shaftesbury’s

method of inward dialogue or “soliloquy,” which he regards as an essential means of

self-knowledge and self-mastery” (225). In short, with the help of moral sense every

person can recognize his or her bad deeds. Afterwards, through rational self-reflection

or consciousness one is able to fight one’s vices and become virtuous and happy.

Similarly to this theory, all the main heroes of Fielding’s novels undertake a

certain development in order to achieve true happiness. Whereas the mentor figures and

the main heroines symbolize rationality and sentiment, the characters of Joseph

Andrews, Tom Jones and William Booth function as examples of ordinary men.

In Joseph Andrews, the development of the hero is mostly formal. Since the novel was

written as a reaction to Samuel Richardson’s Pamela: Or, Virtue Rewarded, at the

beginning of the story, the character of Joseph Andrews is portrayed as simply a parody

of Richardson’s Pamela. In the very first chapter, Fielding refers to Richardson’s work,

claiming:

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What the Female Readers are taught by the Memoirs of Mrs. Andrews, is

so well set forth in the excellent Essays or Letters prefixed to the second

and subsequent Editions of that work, that it would be here a needless

Repetition. The authentic History with which I now present the public, is

an Instance of the great Good that Book is likely to do, and of the

Prevalence of Example which I have just observed: since it will appear

that it was by keeping the excellent Pattern of his Sister’s Virtues before

his Eyes, that Mr. Joseph Andrews was chiefly enabled to preserve his

Purity in the midst of such Temptations; (19-20)

Therefore, right at the beginning, the author establishes the basis of his main hero and

opens the question of true virtue.

Like his virtuous sister, Joseph resists an attempted seduction of his superior and

defends his innocence. However, being the opposite sex, the seduction scene seems a bit

ridiculous since Lady Booby does not expect chastity in men. When Joseph fails to

understand her sexual innuendos, she exclaims: “Are you not a man? . . . you are either

a Fool or pretend to be so, I find I was mistaken in you, so get you down Stairs, and

never let me see your Face again: your pretended Innocence cannot impose on me”

(30). Although Fielding sets Joseph’s chastity into a comic scene, it is not necessarily

his virtue which is ridiculed. Rather, by reversing the genders of the two main

protagonists of Richardson’s novel and setting them into a similar situation, Fielding

points to Pamela’s “pretense of outraged innocence” (Johnson 28) which he finds

purposeful.

Later in the story, Fielding lets the readers fully distinguish Joseph’s innate

goodness from Pamela’s aspirations “to material betterment by means of virtue” (Cho

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158). In the scene where Joseph defenses his poor beloved Fanny against the reproaches

of his calculating sister and her noble husband, he objects to Pamela: “Sure Sister, you

are not in earnest; I am sure she is your Equal at least.” To which Pamela replies: “She

was my Equal . . . but I am no longer Pamela Andrews, I am now this Gentleman’s

Lady, and as such am above her” (302). So, Fielding demonstrates that “whereas

Pamela . . . largely valued her chastity in order to secure economic and social security,

Joseph largely values his because of his passionate devotion to his Fanny” (Johnson 52).

The author therefore uses the character of Joseph to ridicule Pamela’s priggishness

about her innocence and he also shows that the true virtue does not lay in any worldly

ambitions.

While Pamela remains merely a symbol of female innocence, “Josef turns out to

be better than a male Pamela. He deserves respect in his own right, as a man with an

identity other than that of the famous Pamela’s brother, and with other things to think

about than keeping alert against an outrage on his chastity” (49-50). His character

comes to life in the scene where he is reunited with Fanny and “clasping her in his Arms

. . . and pulling her to his Heart, he imprinted numberless Kisses on her Lips, without

considering who were present” (Joseph Andrews 155). Here, Joseph’s naturalness is

distinguished from the affectation of Pamela and the difference is stressed by the

narrator, commenting on the scene: “If Prudes are offended at the Lusciousness of this

Picture, they may take their Eyes off from it, and survey Parson Adams dancing about

the Room in a Rapture of Joy” (155). The open manifestations of Joseph’s genuine love

for Fanny thus cast a new light on his character and let him pass beyond the shadow of

his sister’s model.

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On his way back home, Joseph also grows in experience and soon rivals the

learned Parson Adams as he challenges his opinions and asserts his own views. For

example, during Adam’s lecture on iniquity of public schools, Joseph opposes him with

his own observations:

‘I prefer a private School, where Boys may be kept in Innocence and

Ignorance . . . Who would not rather preserve the Purity of his Child,

than wish him to attain the whole Circle of Arts and Sciences; which . . .

he may learn in the Classes of a private School? for I would not be vain,

but I esteem myself to be second to none . . . in teaching these things; so

that a Lad may have as much Learning in a private as in a public

Education.’ ‘And with Submission,’ answered Joseph, ‘he may get as

much Vice, witness several Country Gentlemen, who were educated

within five Miles of their own Houses, and are as wicked as if they had

known the World from their Infancy. I remember when I was in the

Stable, if a young Horse was vicious in his Nature, no Correction would

make him otherwise; I take it to be equally the same among Men . . .

(231)

So, Joseph refuses to accept Adam’s guidance without restrictions and claims the

validity of his own experience against his mentor’s ideas.

Apart from Adams, also Joseph therefore becomes a critic of manners and he

serves as a spokesman of Fielding’s views on charity when “he defines charity, gives

instances of it, criticizes its lack in rich people and their misuse of their wealth in false

taste and bad spirit” (Cho 162). Moreover, in the end, Joseph is able to fight for his love

against his superiors and comment on Adams’s unworldliness. After Joseph defends

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Fanny against the arrogance of his sister and her husband, he asks Parson Adams to

marry them without bans, and thus to defeat the machinations of Lady Booby. However,

faithful to his principles, the parson decides to give Joseph a lecture:

. . . All Passions are criminal in their Excess, and even Love itself. . . No

Christian ought so to set his Heart on any Person or Thing in this World,

but that whenever it shall be required or taken from him in any manner

by Divine Providence, he may be able, peaceably, quietly, and

contentedly to resign it.’ (Joseph Andrews 308)

His haughtiness towards Joseph is nevertheless immediately ridiculed when the narrator

continues: “At which Words one came hastily in and acquainted Mr. Adams that his

youngest Son was drowned. He stood for a moment, and soon began to stamp about the

Room and deplore his Loss with the bitterest Agony” (308-309). Fortunately, Adams’s

son is rescued by a Pedlar and when the parson calms down, he continues:

‘No, Joseph, do not give too much way to thy Passions, if thou dost

expect Happiness’. – The Patience of Joseph . . . could bear no longer; he

interrupted the Parson, saying, ‘it was easier to give Advice than take it,

nor did he perceive he could so entirely conquer himself when he

apprehended he had lost his Son, or when he found him recover’d.’ (310)

So, even though his character was first created to ridicule pretentiousness of

Richardson’s heroine, later “he is given a personality of his own, a stature and force,

and meaning in the work” (Cho 165). The character of Joseph gains in importance with

his wise speech on charity and he even “shows a measure of the realistic, practical

wisdom and social balance, which Adams lacks” (Cho 161). Therefore, he develops

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from a straightforward parody to a complex character with his own identity which

Fielding uses to demonstrate the difference between a pretended virtue and the virtue of

true love.

In contrast to Joseph, whom Martin C. Battestin considers a “representative of

chastity, . . . temperance, the rational control of passions” (Chambers 467), Tom Jones

is portrayed as a thoughtless youth with a good heart but a lack of prudence. As such, he

often yields to his passions and impulses without considering the consequences of his

behavior, especially in relation to women, and it is also through his experience with

women that Tom gains his understanding of true values and reaches maturity.

The same as the other two heroes, Tom has to undergo a certain development in

order to deserve the love of his beloved sweetheart, in this case Miss Sophia Western, a

daughter of the neighboring Squire. At first, she is only an object of his admiration and

natural interest since “though he greatly liked her beauty and esteemed all her other

qualifications, . . . his heart was in the possession of another woman” (Tom Jones 144).

Although “to debauch a young woman, however low her condition appeared to him a

very heinous crime,” this young poor woman called Molly “soon triumphed over all the

virtuous resolutions of Jones” (145). Later on, when the feelings of Tom and Sophia

become reciprocal, Tom suddenly has to face a moral dilemma: “as he could not think

of abandoning his Molly, poor and destitute as she was, so no more could he entertain a

notion of betraying such a creature as Sophia” (146).

Luckily, his problem is solved when Tom finds out that Molly, despite her most

sincere promises of love, has been unfaithful to him with Square. Although “his heart

was now entirely evacuated and Sophia took absolute possession of it” (197), his new

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born love was not exactly constant, which is demonstrated in the scene where Tom

pleads loyalty to Sophia but is disturbed by the arrival of his former lover:

Could I think my eyes capable of looking at any other with tenderness,

these hands should tear them from my head. … The chastest constancy

will I ever preserve to thy image. Though I should never have possession

of thy charming person, still shalt thou alone have possession of my

thoughts, my love, my soul. . . . At these words he started up, and beheld

– not his Sophia, no, . . . Molly Seagrim approached. . . . Here ensued a

parley . . . at the conclusion of which they retired into the thickest part of

the grove. (215-16)

So, regardless of his thoughts, love and soul, Molly is the one who takes the possession

of Tom’s body, and thus the inconsistency of his promises is fully displayed.

Tom’s surprising behavior is explained by the narrator, who states: “Jones

probably thought one woman better than none” (216), and he adds that Tom “was not at

this time perfect master of that wonderful power of Reason” (216) because he was

drunk. Not to mislead his readers to an acceptance of Tom’s irregularity, the author,

nevertheless, clarifies his intentions in the following introductory chapter:

what is commonly called love, namely, the desire of satisfying voracious

appetite with a certain quantity of delicate white human flesh is, by no

means, the passion for which I here contend … esteem and gratitude are

the proper motives to love, as youth and beauty are to desire; and,

therefore though such desire may naturally cease when age or sickness

overtake its object, yet these can have no effect on love. (226-7)

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Fielding therefore shows Tom’s weaknesses and, at the same time, defines the right

motives of love which his main hero has to discover to become virtuous.

Soon after his trespass with Molly, Jones is subjected to another temptation since

he learns that Sophia is madly in love with him. After his exclusion from Paradise Hall,

“the greatest doubt was how to act with regard to Sophia. The thoughts of leaving her

almost rent his heart asunder, but the consideration of reducing her to ruin and beggary

still racked him, if possible, more” (264). Yet, “honour at last backed with despair, with

gratitude to his benefactor, and with real love to his mistress, got the better of burning

desire, and he resolved rather to quit Sophia than to pursue her to her ruin” (264). In

spite of his desires, Tom thus realizes the danger of doing harm to other people and the

need to fight his weakness.

However, on his way to London, he has an affair with Mrs. Waters, which seems

to be of no consequence for both until Sophia learns about it and, thanks to an

exaggeration of the whole matter by a meddlesome maid, she pronounces Jones “not

only a villain but a low, despicable wretch” (459). When Tom finds out that Sophia was

in the same inn, he is reminded of his feelings for her and decides to

set forward the . . . quest of his lovely Sophia, whom he now resolved

never more to abandon the pursuit of. Nor could he bring himself even to

take leave of Mrs. Waters, of whom he detested the very thoughts, as she

has been, though not designedly, the occasion of his missing the happiest

interview with Sophia, to whom he now vowed eternal constancy.

(466-67)

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So, since he assigns a greater value to a conversation with his beloved mistress than to a

gratification with Mrs. Waters, Tom recognizes the difference between passion and true

love, which brings him closer to his happiness.

His resolution to pursue Sophia leads Tom to London, where he is entrapped by

Lady Bellaston, an elderly woman always in search for new young lovers. Since she

gives him information about Sophia and helps him from his financial difficulties, Tom

“felt his obligations” and “well knew the lady would think him ungrateful, and, what is

worse, he would have thought himself so,” if he did not satisfy her wishes (615).

Though this self-serving affair seems justified by maintaining his male honor, it costs

Jones rather dear. As in the case of Lady Booby, Lady Bellaston becomes jealous of

Sophia and does whatever she can to separate the lovers. Fortunately, Tom soon finds

out the truth about his lady and the thoughts of Sophia “made his commerce with Lady

Bellaston appear still more odious. The result of all was that though his turning himself

out of her service, in which light he now saw his affair with her, would be the loss of his

bread, yet he determined to quit her” (701-702). So, whereas before he was resolved not

to sacrifice Sophia to his passion, Tom is now ready to give up his own comfort in order

to keep his engagement to her.

The intentions of the young hero are confirmed by his refusal of a rich and

beautiful young widow Lady Hunt. Although “his honorable mistress was in the hands

of her father and he had scarce any hopes ever to get her out of them again,” and what is

more “this lady’s fortune would have been exceedingly convenient to him, and he could

have no objection to her in any respect, . . . to abandon Sophia and marry another, that

was impossible” (710). Tom’s resolutions are therefore finally proved by his deeds and,

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enlightened by his amorous experience with various kinds of women, he can convince

his dear Sophia in their last dialogue:

‘If I am to judge,’ says she, ‘of the future by the past, my image will no

more remain in your heart when I am out of your sight’ . . . ‘By heaven,

by all that is sacred,’ says Jones, ‘it never was out of my heart. The

delicacy of your sex cannot conceive the grossness of ours, nor how little

one sort of amour has to do with the heart.’ ‘I will never marry a man,’

replied Sophia very gravely, ‘who shall not learn refinement enough to

be incapable . . . of making such a distinction.’ ‘I will learn it,’ said

Jones. ‘I have learnt it already.’ (843)

Thus, the hero learns his lesson and he develops from a thoughtless irresponsible youth

to a virtuous gentleman capable of prudence and constancy in behavior, which is, in the

novel, rightly rewarded by achieving happiness with his beloved Sophia.

As Tom Jones has to find prudence in order to gain virtue, Billy Booth has to

discover the power of true faith and accept his Christian duties to get the key to a

content life. However, unlike Jones, Captain Booth is a rather passive and pusillanimous

character, whose main weakness is not a passion but his conviction that “every man

acted merely from the force of that passion which was uppermost in his mind, and could

do no otherwise” (Amelia 15). As an example of this doctrine, he mentions his friend

captain James:

The behavior of this man alone is a sufficient proof of the truth of

my doctrine, that all men act entirely from their passions; for Bob James

can never be supposed to act from any motives of virtue or religion, since

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he constantly laughs at both; and yet his conduct towards me alone

demonstrates a degree of goodness which, perhaps, few of the votaries of

either virtue or religion can equal. (114)

Nevertheless, generosity and bravery are not the only passions of James, and thus we

soon learn that

In truth, the colonel, though a very generous man, had not the least grain

of tenderness in his disposition. . . . A man of this temper, who doth not

much value danger, will fight for the person he calls his friend . . . but

such friendship is never to be absolutely depended on; for, whenever the

favourite passion interposes with it, it is sure to subside and vanish into

air. (382)

When James starts lusting for Amelia and becomes Booth’s worst and most dangerous

enemy, he clearly demonstrates that the doctrine of passions, though being a remarkable

observation on human nature, can be regarded as no moral basis for social behavior.

Since this doctrine “denies the freedom of the will and lapses into a kind of moral

paralysis and impotency” (Battestin 630), Booth soon finds himself trapped in the

manipulations of his corrupt friends and, what is more, he becomes a slave to his own

weaknesses. First, he fails to run a farm in the country because he incenses his

neighbors by buying a coach and they “began to envy, hate, and declare war against”

him (153). As a result of this, he goes bankrupt and is forced to leave, penniless, for

London. The same as the farmers in the country envied him his coach, in London it is

his beautiful wife who becomes the subject of men’s desire and whose beauty makes

Booth a victim of base intrigues of his greatest rivals Captain James and Noble Lord.

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Nevertheless, the selfishness of others is not the only reason of Booth’s

misfortunes. As “his bad habits of thinking lead him to his acceptance of the bad

customs of his time” (Wendt 139), he does not escape the danger of some of the

diversions which his friends carelessly enjoy. When he’s falsely accused and sentenced

to prison, he meets Miss Mathews, who keeps him company in his unfortunate situation.

Being “a fine young woman . . . a first love, conferring obligations and using every art

to soften, to allure, to win, and to enflame,” (160) Booth’s passion wins over his

qualities and he yields to the flattery of the artful temptress. Although adultery is not

considered such a big crime by most of his friends, his own consciousness cannot be

deceived by any doctrines or excuses. Therefore,

though the charms of Miss Matthews, and her excessive endearments,

sometimes lulled every thought in the sweet lethargy of pleasure, yet in

the intervals of his fits his virtue alarmed and roused him, and brought

the image of poor injured Amelia to haunt and torment him. (160)

So, harried by remorse, Booth becomes anxious about the disclosure of his failing and

his desperate attempts to keep his pride drag him into more and more trouble.

Afterwards, rather than to suffer anyone to question his male honor, he

thoughtlessly throws himself into a duel with colonel Bath without even knowing the

reason of his resentment. It is only after Bath lies on the ground, wounded, that the two

gentlemen discuss the offence:

‘What may be the consequence I know not, but I hope, at least, I shall

live to reconcile you with my brother.’ Booth shewed great concern, and

even horror in his countenance. ‘Why, my dear colonel,’ said he, ‘would

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you force me to this? for Heaven's sake tell me what I have ever done to

offend you.’ (231)

Therefore, since Booth does not manage to restrict his passions and he even doubts he is

able to, he hurts his poor Amelia and endangers his family as well as his own life.

Moreover, as “he had naturally some inclination to gaming” (502), Booth cannot

resist the temptation of a card-game, first with Mr. Robinson in prison and then with

captain Trent in King’s Arms (24:502). As a result, he aggravates his already serious

debts and reduces his family to poverty. What is even more scandalous, he does not

hesitate to follow the advice of his good friend Bob Bounce and bribes “a little great

man” to obtain a commission, which only results in another loss of his money (556).

The narrow thinking of Booth and his consequent reckless behavior thus harms himself

and those who are dearest to him.

Still, there is one moment in the novel when Booth finds enough strength to

oppose the dishonesty of his surroundings. When he complains to captain Trent about

his want of money and his quarrel with Noble Lord, who tried to seduce Amelia, the

captain replies that Lord’s behavior is understandable because “it is human nature”

(512). Such an attitude gets Booth upset and, suddenly forgetting about his own

convictions, he cries: “Perhaps it is . . . but it is human nature depraved, stript of all its

worth, and loveliness, and dignity, and degraded down to a level with the vilest brutes”

(512). Trent sneers at Booth’s indignation and replies: “I think, when I am talking to

you, I talk to a man of sense and to an inhabitant of this country, not to one who dwells

in a land of saints” (513). After that, he gives him advice to use Lord’s interest in

Amelia to get some money from him, which Booth absolutely refuses, claiming: “I do

assure you, rather than I would act such a part, I would submit to the hardest sentence

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that fortune could pronounce against me” (513). However, despite his fury at Trent’s

attitudes, no alternation in the life philosophy of the main hero is implied and it is only

Booth’s love for Amelia which prevents him from depravity.

Yet, Booth finally achieves an intellectual awakening when he happens to read a

work of Dr. Barrow during his stay in prison. As a result of this epiphany, he undertakes

a certain sudden conversion and convinces Dr. Harrison about his betterment in a

moving confession:

Doctor, I am really ashamed to see you; and, if you knew the confusion

of my soul on this occasion, I am sure you would pity rather than upbraid

me; and yet I can say with great sincerity I rejoice in this last instance of

my shame, since I am like to reap the most solid advantage from it. . . .

Since I have been in this wretched place I have employed my time almost

entirely in reading over a series of sermons which are contained in that

book . . . and so good an effect have they had upon me, that I shall, I

believe, be the better man for them as long as I live. (602)

By accepting the principles of Christian religion, Booth is freed from his spiritual

imprisonment and soon afterwards from the physical one as well.

As it is demonstrated by the series of Booth’s failures and his unexpected

conversion, the misery of the main hero does not reflect any remarkable moral

development. Rather than stressing his moral growth, Fielding portrays Booth’s trouble

to illustrate the bitter consequences of the newly emerging doctrine of passions and he

attempts to warn against its ethical deficiencies.

However, at the end of the story, he also suggests its possible reconciliation with

Christian morality in the comment of Dr. Harrison on Booth’s former conviction:

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A very worthy conclusion truly! . . . but if men act, as I believe they do,

from their passions, it would be fair to conclude that religion . . . applies

immediately to the strongest of these passions, hope and fear; chusing

rather to rely on its rewards and punishments than on that native beauty

of virtue which some of the ancient philosophers thought proper to

recommend to their disciples. (603)

As opposed to Shaftesbury, who based his moral theories on the assumption that men

naturally incline to goodness, Fielding, in his last novel, seems to admit that “only

religion, by appealing to our hopes and fears with the promise of future rewards and

punishments, can prevent anarchy in the moral order” (Battestin 640).

Another discrepancy between the two thinkers results from their differing initial

standpoints. Whereas “Shaftesbury’s thought is dominated by his vision of the cosmos

as a rational, coherent, effusive, and creative Whole” and “neither his vision nor his

ideal of man is derived empirically (Grean 182), Fielding’s ethical views are based on

his life experience with people. So, in his novels, it is not a rational inner dialogue with

one’s better self which compels the main characters to virtue. On the contrary, what

drives the three heroes to self-improvement is their experience and love for the heroines.

In Joseph Andrews, the unselfish love of Joseph for Fanny makes him resist the

temptations of the city and realize that self-serving chastity does not match the

unaffected love. In Tom Jones, his feelings for Sophia guide the young hero through his

amorous experience until he eventually learns the importance of respect and prudence in

affections and gains the key to the heart of his bride elect. Finally, in Amelia, where the

skeptical Billy Booth has to discover true faith in order to match the noble model of his

wife, it is his love for the heroine which serves “as compelling force to virtue” (Wendt

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143). In all of Fielding’s three novels, the main influence on the moral growth of the

main heroes is thus their feeling rather than reasoning.

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4. Chapter four: Power of Ridicule

As the previous chapter shows, Fielding uses his main heroes to demonstrate the

power of human feelings. Furthermore, the heroes serve his satirical aims when he

employs them to criticize the vices embodied in other characters. In accordance with

Shaftesbury’s encouragements for authors, Fielding applies a so called “test of ridicule”

(Shaftesbury 8), by which he reveals what is “truly serious and what is ridiculous” (8)

because all which is true and virtuous cannot be harmed by laughter, but what is

inharmonious and vicious is discovered and justly criticized. To carry out the test of

ridicule, which is based on “comparing the ideal and the actual” (Grean 121), Fielding

employs one of the main characters which then serves as a mirror to the surrounding

authorities. Consequently, he discloses their false gravity and enables the reader to

compare the self-created highfaluting picture of the ridiculed with their real image in the

mirror of the actual world.

Since Fielding portrays “characters of manners” (Watt 297), which have the

important function of revealing the priority of “society and the larger order” (308) over

an individual, his satire more often touches certain social groups than concrete people.

Some of those who do not escape Fielding’s criticism are priests and philosophers.

Their arrogance and hypocrisy is depicted in the characters of Parson Trulliber and

Parson Adams in Joseph Andrews, Mr. Thwackum and Mr. Square in Tom Jones, and

Dr. Harrison and a Stoic in Amelia. In the first novel, the character of Parson Adams is

portrayed as a good-hearted charitable man whose only fault is his bookishness. Such a

small vice, nevertheless, alienates him from the present world and makes him feel as

great as the classical authors he reads. His inability to live up to his own ideals is fully

exposed to ridicule when he is preaching to Joseph about the importance of absolute

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submission to God’s will, but suddenly he loses temper because he gets a false report

about the drowning of his son (Joseph Andrews 310). Adams’s unexpected weakness,

which is confronted with Joseph’s self-composure, then reveals the impracticability of

his religious expectations and undermines his authority.

Conversely, Adams’s innate generosity, which dominates his character, is later

contrasted with the arrogance of his brother in cloth, parson Trulliber. This greedy

priest, actually more of a farmer than a clergyman, laughs at the shabby clothes of his

guest and treats the poverty stricken Adams with haughtiness. The test of ridicule

however reveals the true coarseness in Trulliber’s behavior when he swears: “I would

have thee know, Friend, (addressing himself to Adams) I shall not learn my Duty from

such as thee; I know what Charity is, better than to give to Vagabonds” (167).

Therefore, whereas the modesty of Joseph discloses Adams’s hypocrisy, his charity, on

the other hand, serves as a mirror to the selfish Trulliber.

In Tom Jones, the character of Thwackum is depicted as a perfect example

of a selfish zealot and an unmistakable interpreter of religious rules of morality. From

Thwackum’s disputes with Square, the reader is informed that Mr. Thwackum considers

“the divine power of grace” (Tom Jones 104) as the only constant value, and that he

“decided all the things by authority” (104), citing the Scriptures and their

commentators. By doing so, he hides behind dogmas, which he freely manipulates to

become a redoubtable judge and gain public respect. To describe the conceit of this

character, Fielding discloses Thwackum’s opinions of the young hero and describes

them with a great deal of irony. For example, when Tom conceals Black George’s

complicity in hunting on Squire Western’s shooting-ground and Mr. Allworthy

approves of Tom’s noble intentions, Thwackum,

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whose mediations were full of birch, exclaimed against this weak and . . .

wicked lenity. To remit the punishments of such crimes was, he said, to

encourage them. He enlarged much on the correction of children and

quoted many texts from Solomon and others, which, being to be found in

so many other books, shall not be found here. He then applied himself to

the vice of lying, on which head he was altogether as learned as he had

been on the other. (109)

By using Tom’s natural good-heartedness as a mirror to Thwackum’s obsession with

scriptures and his sadistic zeal, Fielding exposes the wickedness of his character and

lets the reader laugh at Thwackum’s redoubtable powers.

The same as the priest, Square hides his private aims behind the vagueness of

terms and sophistry. Instead of convenient interpretation of religious dogmas, he finds a

support in abstract speculations on “the natural beauty of virtue” and “the eternal fitness

of things” (Tom Jones 104), which “prove inadequate to the business of life” and only

“flatter the philosopher’s opinion of himself but provide no effective moral imperative”

(Battestin 10). Fielding achieves the effect of ridicule by juxtaposing the empty

declamations of the philosopher with the priest’s arrogant moralizing, and then he

concludes that “in one point only they agreed, which was in all their discourses on

morality never to mention the word goodness” (Tom Jones 104). Thus, he adverts to the

falsehood of both.

In the scene where the philosopher is discovered by Tom in Molly’s closet, the

hypocrisy of his convictions is fully revealed and the reader can laugh along with Tom

at Square’s true image:

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The posture, indeed, in which he stood was not greatly unlike that of a

soldier who is tight neck and heels . . . He had a night-cap belonging to

Molly on his head, and his two large eyes, the moment the rug fell, stared

directly at Jones; so when the idea of philosophy was added to the figure

now discovered, it would have been very difficult for the spectator to

have refrained from immoderate laughter. (192)

So, as he stresses the artificiality of Thwackum and Square’s moralizing and gives a

proof of it in the scene with Molly, Fielding makes fun of the two thinkers and shows

the falseness of their authority.

Like Parson Adams in Joseph Andrews, the character of Dr. Harrison in

Fielding’s last novel is mainly a positive character, and as such he is not to be revealed

as an authority which is false. However, pointing out to his imperfection, Fielding

slightly ridicules his self-important manner of preaching. Besides the incident when

young bucks laugh at the patronizing tone in his letter against adultery at the

masquerade, the sermon also provokes a grave misunderstanding and results in irony.

When Colonel Bath hands the letter over to the main hero, he misconstrues its meaning

and, instead of remorse, Harrison’s lecture paradoxically provokes him to jealousy:

Several passages now struck all at once upon Booth's mind, which gave

him great uneasiness. He became confident now that he had mistaken one

colonel for another; and, though he could not account for the letter's

getting into those hands from whom Bath had taken it (indeed James had

dropt it out of his pocket), yet a thousand circumstances left him no room

to doubt the identity of the person, who was a man much more liable to

raise the suspicion of a husband than honest Bath . . . (Amelia 501)

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Therefore, since the moralizing letter does not appeal to Booth’s own uneasy

consciousness, on the contrary, it encourages Booth to suspect his innocent Amelia,

Harrison’s effort goes astray and his condescending way of delivering his lectures leads

to a laughable situation.

Finally, Booth’s encounter with a Stoic in the prison serves as a typical example

of Fielding’s test of ridicule. When the two gentlemen discuss their miseries, the Stoic

informs Booth that the best way how to cope with life is through philosophy which

“teaches us to set a just value on everything, and cures at once all eager wishes and

abject fears, all violent joy and grief concerning objects which cannot endure long, and

may not exist a moment” (404). Nevertheless, Booth disagrees with the Stoic, claiming:

“however true all this may be in theory, I still doubt its efficacy in practice. And the

cause of the difference between these two is this; that we reason from our heads, but act

from our hearts” (404). Booth’s objection is presently confirmed as the philosopher

learns he is to be taken to Newgate that very afternoon and he starts begging the bailiff:

“I hope you will give a little longer time . . . for I expect my wife and children here in

the evening. . . give me another day. I shall take it as a great obligation; and you will

disappoint me in the cruellest manner in the world if you refuse me” (404). Thus,

similarly to the case of Parson Adams, the hypocrisy of the philosopher is ridiculed

when his real behavior is described as contrary to his principles.

Afterwards, Fielding focuses on lawyers and judges, criticizing them for

ignorance of laws and corruptness. Although his concern with criticism of this group is

not so much prominent in Tom Jones, there are the characters of a Justice and a lawyer

Scout in Joseph Andrews, and Jonathan Trasher and Murphy in Amelia, which represent

the vices of their professions. Fielding introduces the theme of absurdity of judiciary

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practice in the scene where Adams and Fanny are seized and falsely accused by a group

of rogues and brought into the house of a Justice:

They had no sooner entered the room, than he began to revile them . . .

After he had gone on some time in this manner, he was reminded by his

Clerk, ‘that it would be proper to take the Deposition of the Witnesses

against them.’ . . .

Whilst the Clerk was employed in writing down the Depositions of the

Fellow who had pretended to be robbed, the Justice employed himself in

cracking Jests on poor Fanny, in which he was seconded by all the

Company at Table. (Joseph Andrews 145)

There then follows a rant of jokes in which the present gentlemen vie in their poor

knowledge of Latin, getting at Adams for his presumably stolen clerical coat. Even

though Adams immediately proves his mastery of Latin and Greek, nobody pays him

any attention and without an intervention of his acquaintance, a Squire, he would have

been condemned to bail unheard. In this scene, Fielding uses the character of innocent

Adams to show the arrogance and indolent behavior of judges as well as the

helplessness of an individual in comparison with the judicial power.

The shortcomings of justice are also represented by lawyers, who are depicted as

cheats and opportunists, as it is the case of Scout, a lawyer hired by Lady Booby to get

her rid of Joseph and Fanny. “This Scout was one of those Fellows, who without any

knowledge of the Law, or being bred to it, take upon them . . . to act as Lawyers in the

Country, and are called so” (286). When he comes to Lady Booby, he tries to convince

her about his skills, claiming that “if she sent to a hundred Lawyers, not one nor all of

them could alter the Law. The utmost that was in the power of a Lawyer, was to prevent

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the Law’s taking effect; and that he himself could do for the Ladyship as well as any

other;” (284) Afterwards, he continues with a messy but impressive description of a

whole problem:

‘Madam, your Ladyship not being conversant in these Matters had

mistaken a Difference . . . . there is a material Difference between being

settled in Law and settled in Fact; and as I affirmed generally he was

settled, and Law is preferable to Fact, my Settlement must be understood

in Law, and not in Fact! And suppose, Madam, we admit he was settled

in Law, what use will they make of it, how does that relate to Fact? He is

not settled in Fact; and if he not be settled in Fact, he is not an Inhabitant;

and if he is not an Inhabitant, he is not of the Parish; and then

undoubtedly he ought not to be published here . . .’ (285)

After hearing such an explanation, Lady Booby replies: “‘Don’t tell me your Facts and

your ifs . . . I don’t understand your Gibberish.’ . . . ‘Take what measures you please,

good Mr. Scout, . . . but I wish you could rid the Parish of both . . .’” (285). When

Fielding presents a dialogue of these two characters, he achieves even a double effect.

First, the straightforward reaction of jealous Lady Booby ridicules Scout’s speech and

reveals the falseness of his self-assigned authority. Then, the learned rubbish of the

lawyer provokes Lady Booby to lose her pretense and disclose her natural vulgarity and

selfish calculation.

Like the character of a Justice in Joseph Andrews, Jonathan Thrasher in Amelia

embodies the vices of the English 18th century judiciary. As we learn from the narrator,

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Mr. Thrasher . . . had some few imperfections in his magistratical

capacity. I own I have been sometimes inclined to think that this office of

a justice of peace requires some knowledge of the law. . . Mr. Thrasher

never read one syllable of the matter. This, perhaps, was a defect; but this

was not all: for where mere ignorance is to decide a point between two

litigants, it will always be an even chance whether it decides right or

wrong: but sorry am I to say . . . the justice was never indifferent in a

cause but when he could get nothing on either side. (Amelia 7)

This plain description of the magistrate is demonstrated on several examples of his

victims, the last of them being the poor Billy Booth, sentenced to prison on the basis of

a false accusation. Although the character of Booth often serves as a mirror to the

surrounding social vices, as it is in this case, the tone of the narrative in Amelia becomes

more serious and the social satire more straightforward. As a result, the test of ridicule

is mostly replaced by open criticism which is delivered through the voice of a narrator

or honorable Dr. Harrison rather than by contrasting the imagined with the real.

Nevertheless, humor does not completely disappear from Amelia and one of

the sources of comedy is the character of a lawyer Murphy, a timeserving cheat, who

does not miss an opportunity to profit from other people’s misfortunes. His hypocrisy

and ignorance are disclosed when he offers his service to Miss Matthews and analyses

her case:

There is but one circumstance, madam, which I wish was out of the case;

and that we must put out of it; I mean the carrying the penknife drawn

into the room with you; for that seems to imply malice prepensive, as we

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call it in the law, . . . if the servant who was in the room observed this, he

must be bought off at all hazards. (49)

His incompetence is stressed when Booth interrupts him, objecting that “in case of

stabbing, a man may be indicted upon the statute; and it is capital, though no malice

appears” (49). Yet, Murphy readily reacts: “You say true, sir, . . . a man may be indicted

_contra formam statutis;_ and that method, I allow you, requires no malice. I presume

you are a lawyer, sir?” But Booth replies: “No, indeed, sir, . . . I know nothing of the

law” (49), and thus he reveals the shallowness of Murphy’s learned deductions.

Besides his incorrectness in terms like malice propensive or contra formam

statutis, Murphy is ridiculed when he suddenly changes the tone of his educated

discourse and cynically considers the financial aspects of Miss Mathews’s case:

Pox on't, it is unlucky this was done in a room: if it had been in the street

we could have had five or six witnesses to have proved the first blow,

cheaper than, I am afraid, we shall get this one; for when a man knows

. . . that you can procure no other witness but himself, he is always dear.

(49)

So, the character of Murphy, symbolizing the insolence of utilitarian lawyers, is

ridiculed by the comments of the main character as well as by the shortcomings of his

own discourse. In general, the author thus uses the airiness of characters like Parson

Adams, Lady Booby and Captain Booth to stress the difference between an imagined

highness of social authorities and their actual behavior.

However, not only representatives of social power are attacked by Fielding’s

mockery. He also expresses his disfavor for studied women and women of the world,

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who, either by their learning or by their familiarity with the manners of the high society,

claim the knowledge of the ways of the world. The former type is depicted in the

characters of Mrs. Slipslop and Mrs. Atkinson whereas the latter is portrayed as Mrs.

Western and Lady Bellaston.

Similarly to the lawyers, Mrs. Slipslop is ridiculed by deficiencies in her

knowledge and consequent humorous misunderstandings of her claims. For example,

when she tries to seduce Joseph, she raises more confusion than interest in him:

‘Sure nothing can be a more simple Contract in a Woman, than to place

her Affections on a Boy. . . . If we like a Man, the lightest Hint

sophisticates. Whereas a Boy proposes upon us to break through all the

Regulations of Modesty, before we can make any Oppression upon him.’

Joseph, who did not understand a Word she said, answered, ‘Yes

Madam;−ʼ ‘Yes Madam!’ reply’d Mrs. Slipslop with some Warmth, ‘Do

you intend to result my Passion? Is it not enough . . . to make no Return

to all the Favours I have done you: but you must treat me with Ironing?

(Joseph Andrews 33)

Her pretended knowledge, which makes her feel superior to other women, is therefore

proved to be doubtful and absurd.

In contrast to Mrs. Slipslop’s amusing distortions of words, Mrs. Atkinson’s

excellent knowledge and admiration of Latin authors is compared to her ignorance of

the anti-feminist tone in their work. When she proudly quotes from Virgil and defends

her ability to gain education equal to that of men, Dr. Harrison questions the utility of

such learning for women and objects to her with a quotation from the same author:

“Varium et mutabile semper faemina_.” (476) By this quote he instructs Mrs. Atkinson

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that Virgil, she is so fond of, made all women the neuter gender and the quote is

translated as “Woman is a various and changeable animal” (477). He thus adverts to the

silliness of her reciting of authors who express the very opposite of what she is trying to

prove. Fielding’s displeasure with learned women, however, does not suggest his

distrust in female intelligence in general. It is much more a criticism of a fashionable

shallow wisdom which served as a source of social supremacy rather than real

understanding.

Also Mrs. Western is used as an example of priggish vanity of world-wise

women. Her knowledge of the world is mocked during the very introduction of her

character, as the narrator describes her with irony:

She had lived about the court and seen the world. Hence she had required

all the knowledge which the said world usually communicates, and was a

perfect mistress of manners, customs, ceremonies and fashions; not did

her erudition stop here. She has considerably improved her mind by

study . . . From which she had attained a very competent skill in politics

. . . She was, moreover, excellently well skilled in the doctrine of Amour

and knew better than anybody who and who were together: a knowledge

which she the more easily attained as her pursuit of it was never diverted

by any affairs of her own. (230)

However, all her knowledge does not make an impression on her coarse brother and she

is warned “not to talk the court gibberish” (231) to him. Also, later when she

misinterprets the feelings of Sophia and arrogantly attributes her affection to Blifil,

causing thus much trouble to both, her brother and her niece, the value of the wonderful

learning of Mrs. Western is cast in doubt. So, by depicting a sister of a country squire in

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all her pride and vanity of a gentlewoman, Fielding ridicules the skills which women

gain in a high society.

His criticism of the women of the world culminates in the portrayal of Lady

Bellaston, who is also ridiculed through the unrestrained vulgar spontaneity of Squire

Western. When he comes to the city in order to bring his daughter home, he finds her in

a company of accomplished ladies, whom he describes with much scorn: “There was

my lady cousin Bellaston and my Lady Betty and my Lady Catherine and my Lady

I-don’t-know-who; d—n me, if ever you catch me among such a kennel of hoop-

petticoat b—s” (758-59). Also, he mocks at a marriage proposal to his daughter by a

lord, mimicking the comments of the ladies and laughing at the artificiality of their

speech: “‘A very advantageous offer, indeed,’ cries another cousin … ‘Surely’, says that

fat a—se b—, my Lady Bellaston, ‘cousin, you must be out of your wits to think of

refusing such an offer’” (759). Therefore, Fielding uses the character of Squire Western

as a means to disclose the pretense of the courtly manners of gentlewomen in the same

way as he used the characters of Parson Adams and Dr. Harrison to criticize the vanity

of female erudition.

On the whole, Fielding’s test of ridicule is based on the contrast between the

imagined and the true, which is revealed through one of the main characters. By

disclosing the baseness and pretense of social authorities, like priests, philosophers,

judges and lawyers, the author destroys their gravity and power. Furthermore, his

portrayal of false education and vanity of distinguished women questions their social

supremacy and deprecates the lifestyle of the upper class. As a result, Fielding’s satire is

not without morals and instructions, which, as Shaftesbury claims, “is the majesty and

life of this kind of writing” (Shaftesbury 119).

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Although the method of contrasting the convictions of the characters and their

actual behavior plays a major role in Fielding’s satire, the author also focuses on the

convictions alone and uses the means of irony to draw our attention to the discrepancy

in meanings of words which we use to describe our ideas as well as deeds. According to

Robert Alter, Fielding’s “most typical procedure is to order a statement in such a way

that the awareness of its ironic counter-meaning gradually dawns on us, throwing a

retrospective light on key words or phrases in the sentence to illuminate the falseness of

their conventional application” (36). A good example of such a procedure is Fielding’s

use of the word virtue in Joseph Andrews. First, the term is mentioned in the context of

Joseph’s admiration of “his Sister’s Virtues” which enabled him “to preserve his Purity”

(20). Then, the word is used again, this time with irony, when the narrator asks the

ladies “to bridle their rampant passion for chastity and be at least as mild as their violent

modesty and virtue will permit them” (38) in censuring the behavior of Lady Booby.

Another perspective is given by Lady Booby when she disputes about virtue with

Joseph:

‘Did ever Mortal hear of a Man’s virtue! . . . And can a Boy, a Stripling,

have the Confidence to talk of his Virtue?’ ‘Madam,’ says Joseph, ‘that

Boy is the Brother of Pamela, and would be ashamed that the Chastity of

his Family, which is preserved in her, should be stained in him. . .’ ‘You

impudent Villain!’ cries the lady in a rage; ‘do you insult me with the

Follies of my Relation, who hath exposed himself all over the Country

upon your Sister's account? a little Vixen, whom I have always wondered

my late Lady Booby ever kept in her House. (41)

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Pamela’s virtue, as most of the readers imagine it, is therefore suddenly questioned and

later compared with another meaning of the term, when Joseph contemplates his

miseries on a sick-bed:

O most adorable Pamela! most virtuous sister! whose example could

alone enable me to withstand all the temptations of riches and beauty,

and to preserve my virtue pure and chaste for the arms of my dear Fanny

. . . What but innocence and virtue could give any comfort to such a

miserable wretch as I am? Yet these can make me prefer this sick and

painful bed to all the pleasures I should have found in my lady's. (58)

Thus, at the end of the book, when Pamela’s self-interest is disclosed, the reader can re-

consider the two meanings of virtue – a mere preservation of chastity for whatever

reason and fidelity to a beloved person – and reflect on the true meaning of the word.

In Tom Jones, Fielding uses a similar strategy to “call the received usage into

question, revealing to his readers the untidy clutter of ambiguities, equivocations, and

needed qualifications which have been swept under the neat rug of a supposedly assured

term” (Alter 38). This time he focuses on the word prudence which he presents in two

various ways: “on the one hand, prudence is the summarizing vice of Blifil …, and on

the other hand, prudence is that virtue Tom Jones must acquire before he reaches

maturity as a moral agent” (Battestin 13). His use of the term reflects its two meanings –

the former, in which “the supreme rational virtue of the ancients” is transformed “into

that selfish and mean-spirited sense of expediency” (14), and the latter, in the sense of

the “practical wisdom” (13).

As Eleanor Newman Hutchens shows in her essay on prudence in Tom Jones,

the ambiguity of the term is well illustrated on the example of Miss Bridget Allworthy,

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who is assigned “a ‘prudence’ of self-conscious officiousness, prudery, and careful

appearance of virtuousness. It is ‘prudence’ without value” (Johnson 117). When she is

first described as “so discreet . . . in her conduct, that her prudence was as much on the

guard, as if she had all the snares to apprehend which were ever laid for her whole sex”

(Tom Jones 30), the reader is offered a bit ambiguous instruction as regards the qualities

of her character. It is a “guidance which he must follow with caution because of a

lurking suspicion that the narrator, in the midst of explanatory gestures, is pulling his

leg.” (Alter 30). So, when the readers finally find out that “Miss Bridget’s guards had

indeed proved insufficient, that she had been caught in the snares of the flesh, and that

her real ‘prudence’ lay in her discreetly protecting her reputation by never admitting she

bore the bastard Tom” (Johnson 118), they are forced to take notice of the dangerous

ambiguity of the term.

As opposed to his mother, the character of Tom embodies generosity,

spontaneity and honesty, which causes him much trouble, as he often gets into conflict

with generally accepted morals. However, Tom’s social trespasses and sexual impulses

are not portrayed as dangerous, vicious or harmful, quite the reverse, Fielding describes

them as natural and joyful, using his “worldly-wise good humour,” which “often

persuades us to regard [Tom’s] sexual irregularities as ludicrous rather than wicked”

(Watt 323). So, Fielding suggests that the “simple physical desire … can be generous”

(Alter 68) and that sexual impulses as such are not dirty and contemptible but rather a

part of social and natural affections.

When Tom’s jolly inconsistency is compared with the unnaturally suppressed

sexuality in the characters of Blifil and Thwackum, the hypocritical concealment of

sexual relationships of Bridget Allworthy and of Square, and the abuse of sexuality of

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Lady Bellaston and Molly Seagrim, Fielding’s test of ridicule discloses the poor value

of pretended prudence and adverts to the true meaning of the word, which implies

respect and faithfulness. Therefore, the contrast between the airiness of Tom Jones and

the moral pretensions of other characters attacks moral hypocrisy of the 18th century

society and defends human naturalness and generosity.

However well the test of ridicule functions in the first two Fielding’s novels, in

Amelia, the author changes his satiric strategies. Instead of exposing vices to mockery,

he uses “a new, trenchant kind of irony, skillfully adjusted to the new earnestness of

moral and social criticism.” (157) For example, to express dissatisfaction with the

system of assigning posts in the army, Fielding describes a scene in which Colonel

James, who gained his post through connections, advices Captain Booth, who has been

twice wounded in a battle but remained poor half paid lieutenant, to get again into army.

After describing the scene, Fielding lets the narrator comment on the situation: “Such

rises we often see in life, without being able to give any satisfactory account of the

means, and therefore ascribe them to the good fortune of the person” (177). So, instead

of amusing irony, the narrator’s remarks resound with sarcasm and scorn.

Moreover, the true motive of the colonel’s behavior is also implied through this

kind of irony. When the colonel promises Booth to help him get the post and gives him

50 pounds, the narrator comes with his aside:

Here, reader, give me leave to stop a minute, to lament that so few are to

be found of this benign disposition; that, while wantonness, vanity,

avarice, and ambition are every day rioting and triumphing in the follies

and weakness, the ruin and desolation of mankind, scarce one man in a

thousand is capable of tasting the happiness of others. Nay, give me leave

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to wonder that pride, which is constantly struggling, and often imposing

on itself, to gain some little pre-eminence, should so seldom hint to us the

only certain as well as laudable way of setting ourselves above another

man, and that is, by becoming his benefactor. (178)

Instead of the pre-supposed motives of goodness and friendship, Fielding gives a hint of

James’s real intentions. The bitterness of this “shrewd irony”, as Alter calls it, is

employed “to rather a different purpose than that of the comic novels” (Alter 158).

Whereas in Tom Jones, “the doubleness of the irony is an invitation to suspend

judgment, or delicately balance contradictory claims, to step back from humanity and

survey it in the round,” the irony in Amelia produces “not bemused contemplation but

an unsettling confrontation, forcing us to face up to the terribly compromised nature of

all men’s motives, our own included” (158).

The new kind of irony is also reflected in a new way of characterization. The

categorizing of main characters, which is typical for Joseph Andrews and Tom Jones,

gives way to “a method of progressive discovery” (Alter 156). John Coolidge, who

described the new method of presenting characters in Amelia, claims that “our

knowledge of a person’s character is always provisory, pending further discovery. A

word or an act may bring a new revelation, causing a shift in our interpretation and

evaluation of a person’s character.” (Alter 156) As a result, “the moral identity of these

characters is, to begin with, uncertain, and they will be whatever we can make of them

by closely following their words and deeds” (152). Unfortunately, since Fielding’s

ambition to instruct his readers becomes even stronger than in the previous novels, his

way of delivering moral ‘messages’ at many points changes into “explicit moralizing”

and becomes “uncomfortable insistent” (159). To conclude, as opposed to the

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playfulness of his previous novels, in Amelia, Fielding adopts a different attitude to his

work. With the new strategy of presenting characters and the choice of bitter sarcasm in

place of witty irony, the tone of the whole narrative changes and the author replaces

ridicule with another, more straightforward and more serious, way of instructing his

readers.

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5. Chapter five: Fielding’s Use of Style

It follows from the previous analysis that Fielding’s stylistic strategies are closely

connected with his moral aims. He uses categorization of characters to generalize his

claims about values in the society of his time and employs irony together with the test

of ridicule to mock and criticize certain social vices. His social satire, however, does not

condescend to mere buffoonery because, by contrasting extremes and opposing

perspectives, he leads his readers to concrete moral conclusions. Besides his concern

with society, Fielding also attempts to convey his observations on human nature and

provides his readers with, sometimes ironical, commentaries on all the characters. Thus,

he carefully guides their opinions and makes them reflect on a number of moral issues.

The voice of a narrator is undoubtedly the most prominent means of influencing

the readers as he directly comments on characters and events. Whereas in Joseph

Andrews and Tom Jones the narrator is omniscient and the whole stories seem to be his

monologue to the reader, in Amelia, “the narrator stays half-hidden in the wings much

of the time, but his occasional appearances . . . are revealing” (Alter 157). In his

analysis of Fielding’s novels, Alter claims that it is mainly “through a creation of a

narrator whom we come to like and trust,” that Fielding “is able to conjure up a sense of

common viewpoint with the reader”. By speaking through “a witty, humane persona

with whom we can feel a sort of urban camaraderie of like intelligences”, the author

creates “a shared outlook” between his readers and himself. Moreover, to reinforce the

credibility of the narrator, Fielding “repeatedly calls attention to his narrator’s ironic

self-awareness,” which he does mainly by using “pretended elegances” and high style

(45).

One of the most striking examples of this style is the description of Sophia:

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Hushed be every ruder breath. May the heathen ruler of the winds

confine in iron chains the boisterous limbs of noisy Boreas and the sharp-

pointed nose of bitter-biting Eurus. Do thou, sweet Zephyrus . . . mount

the western sky and lead on those delicious gales, the charms of which

call forth the lovely Flora from her chamber . . . So charming may she

now appear . . . adorned with all the charm in which Nature can array her,

bedecked with beauty, youth, sprightliness, innocence, modesty and

tenderness, breathing sweetness from her rosy lips, and darting brightness

from her sparkling eyes, the lovely Sophia comes! (Tom Jones 129)

Since the narrator uses such a poetic style for the description of the heroine, he not only

bestows her certain grandness, but also calls attention to his own function in the story

and stresses it with ironic exaggeration.

However, after the passage of Sophia’s elevated portrayal, the narrator consents to

give her description in a less poetic way:

Sophia, then, the only daughter of Mr. Western was a middle sized

woman, but rather inclining to tall. Her shape was not exact but

extremely delicate, and the nice proportion of her arms promised the

truest symmetry in her limbs. . . . If envy could find any part of her face

which demanded less commendation then the rest, it might possibly think

her forehead might have been higher without prejudice to her. . . . (130)

The slightly comic contrast of the high style and the down-to-earth descriptions

therefore adverts to the unheroic nature of reality and underlines the playful self-

awareness of the narrator.

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Fielding’s mocking use of high style also serves his satiric purposes. For

example, when he stresses “the comic deflation of the heroic and romantic pretenses of

the human word by the unheroic and unromantic eloquence of the human deed” (Watt

27) in the famous scene where Tom contemplates his love:

Oh, Sophia, would Heaven give thee to my arms, how blest would be my

condition. . . . How contemptible would the brightest Circassian beauty,

dressed in all the jewels of the Indies, appear to my eyes! But why do I

mention another woman? Could I think capable of looking at any other

with tenderness, these hands should tear them from my head. (215)

By stylizing his hero into “a parody of the conventional Petrarchan lover” (Alter 49),

Fielding stresses the following contrast between Tom’s poetic imagery of absent Sophia

with the actual reality of Tom’s temptress:

. . . not his Sophia, no, nor a Cissarian maid richly and elegantly attired

for the Grand Signor’s seraglio. No, without a gown, in a shift that was

somewhat of the coarsest and none of the cleanest, bedewed likewise

with some odoriferous effluvia, the produce of the day’s labour, with a

pitchfork in her hand Molly Seagrim approached. (216)

Since Tom’s elevated pledge to Sophia is immediately broken with the very opposite

kind of woman, Fielding’s use of high style for Tom’s speech stresses his ridicule of

human hypocrisy.

The stylistic means of satire, ridicule, exaggeration, burlesque and parody which

Fielding imposes on his characters result in their artificiality. In order to carry out his

ambition to comment on the nature of man and, at the same time, use his characters for

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satirical purposes, Fielding takes external approach to his characters, which forms the

basis of “the firm unity of conception and presentation of both Tom Jones and Joseph

Andrews” (Alter 78). Fielding’s remarkable stylization of characters shows that he is

“finely conscious of the status of his novels as artifacts” (101). Being aware that “an art

founded upon life must be artificial or it will be unbearable” (Wright 57), he aims to

point up “a contrast not between life and its representation in literature but between one

kind of representation of reality and another” (Alter 102). Such an attitude is reflected,

for example, in his use of literary parallels, like the similitude of Sophia and Flora or

Lady Bellaston and Cybele, the inseparability of absent-minded Parson Adams and his

Aeschylus, or the analogy of the dialogue of a Poet and a Player with the subsequent

discussion of Adams and Joseph. As Fielding portrays his characters from an external

perspective, he does not attach them to any concrete experience of an individual in real

life. On the contrary, he relates them to a certain general common experience of his

readers, which permits him to communicate his observations on the nature of man.

Fielding’s consciousness that he is creating a product of literary craft is also

traceable in his juxtaposition of narrative textures. For example, he uses a technique of

interpolating stories into the flow of the main narrative which also serves as one of the

means of drawing attention of the readers to a particular moral problem. In Joseph

Andrews, Adams, Joseph and Fanny meet Mr. Wilson, who lets them stay overnight and

tells them the story of his life. The story is about his moral decay in the snares of the

city and serves as an illustration of the miseries Joseph successfully escapes. After Mr.

Wilson describes his vain ambitions to become “a fine Gentleman . . . supplied by a

Taylor, a Periwig-maker and some few more Tradesmen” (Joseph Andrews 202),

qualified in “Dancing, Fencing, Riding the Great Horse, and Musick” (203), and of

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course in intrigue, Wilson proceeds to the bitter consequences of his profligacy. He tells

about the dreadful experience with his mistresses, all of them the type of a “Coquette

achevée” (209), who burdened his mind with their caprices and his body with a venereal

disease.

Disgusted with women, he “became a Member of a Club frequented by young

Men of great Abilities” who “were engaged in a Search after Truth, in the Pursuit of

which they threw aside all the Prejudices of Education, and governed themselves only

by the infallible Guide of Human Reason” (212). This free-minded attitude, however,

leads him to Play-houses, and then to “Poverty and Distress” (215). Looking at his life

in the light of experience, Wilson claims that

Vanity is the worst of Passions, and more apt to contaminate the Mind

than any other: For as Selfishness is much more general than we please to

allow it, so it is natural to hate and envy those who stand between us and

the Good we desire. Now in Lust and Ambition these are few; and even

in Avarice we find many who are no Obstacles to our Pursuits; but the

vain Man seeks Pre-eminence; and every thing which is excellent or

praise-worthy in another renders him the Mark of Antipathy. (214)

Through this speech, Fielding conceives the main moral of the book and, by including

Wilson’s life story, he reflects the evils of the high society in London, giving a warning

against the dangers of such a lifestyle. Moreover, as Wilson is saved by a generous girl,

Harriet Hearty, whom he later marries and brings to the country to settle down and live

in modesty, his story gives a model for a happy life, which Joseph and Fanny later

adopt.

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In Tom Jones, the story of the Man of the Hill also provides “an object lesson for

Tom and for the reader” (Alter 111). In the story, he tells about his unloving mother, his

reckless life at Oxford, the struggling along in London, his disappointment in women,

the dissention with his brother, the betrayal of his best friend, and finally his escape to

solitude. The bad experience of the Man results in his disillusion with the whole

humankind, which he expresses in the dialogue with Tom:

… there is not an insect, not a vegetable of so low an order in the

Creation but it is honoured with bearing mark of the attributes of its great

Creator . . . Man alone . . . hath basely dishonoured his own nature, and

by dishonesty, cruelty, ingratitude, and accursed treachery, hath called

his Maker’s goodness in question by puzzling us to account how a

benevolent Being should form so imperfect and so vile an animal.

(Tom Jones 406)

The same as the story of Mr. Wilson in Joseph Andrews, the one of the Man of the Hill

shows Tom what dangers await him in the city. On the other hand, instead of being an

example for the young hero, the Man represents the very opposite and Tom objects to

his moral views:

If there was indeed much more wickedness in the world than there is, it

would not prove such general assertions against human nature . . . In

truth, none seem to have any title to assert human nature to be necessarily

and universally evil but those whose own minds afford them one instance

of this natural depravity, which is not, I am convinced, your case. (407)

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By contrasting the resembling experience of Tom, who in the end gains happiness for

his generosity and respect towards other people, and of surly misanthropic Man of the

Hill, who ends up in hate and solitude, Fielding reaffirms the crucial idea of the novel,

which is the faith in potential goodness of humankind and the importance of social

affections.

The juxtaposition of textures is also used when Fielding creates parallels

between scenes to stress their meaning in the context of the novel. For instance, the

depiction of Joseph’s unsuccessful seduction by Lady Booby is immediately followed

by Slipslop’s amorous attack on the young boy. In the first scene, Lady Booby

pretentiously exclaims: “La! . . . what am I doing? I have trusted myself with a Man

alone, naked in Bed; suppose you should have any wicked Intensions upon my Honour,

how should I defend myself?” (30), and then she is angry with Joseph for not having

any. Afterwards, Slipslop openly expresses her passion, saying: “Yes, Joseph, my Eyes

whether I would or no, must have declared a Passion I cannot conquer.–Oh! Joseph!−”

(34). Then, “as when a hungry Tygress . . . sees within the Reach of her Claws a Lamb,

she prepares to leap on her Prey . . . so did Mrs. Slipslop prepare to lay her violent hands

on the poor Joseph, when luckily her Mistress’s Bell rung, and delivered the intended

Martyr from her Clutches” (34). So, whereas Lady Booby’s artful equivocations only

give a hint of how base her intentions are, Slipslop’s awkward assault on Joseph shows

them in the true aspect.

Also, the condemnation of Jenny Jones, expressed as Allworthy’s condescending

reprehension, and subsequently as “a sort of comic sermon in duet” (Alter 113) of

Bridget and her maid in the following chapter, serves as an example of a contrasting

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parallel. First, Squire Allworthy gives Jenny a lecture on the evils of sexual indulgence,

saying:

How base and mean must that woman be, how void of that dignity of

mind and decent pride without which we are not worthy the name of

human creatures, who can bear to level herself with the lowest animal

and to sacrifice all that is great and noble in her . . . to an appetite which

she had in common with the vilest branch of the creation! No woman,

sure, will plead the passion of love for an excuse. . . . For, by the laws of

custom, the whole shame, with all its dreadful consequences, falls

entirely upon her. (Tom Jones 43-44)

After he dismisses her from his office, a dialogue between the two spinsters follows.

Although Miss Allworthy surprisingly agrees with a mild punishment which her brother

chose for Jenny, both Madame Bridget and her maid agree that “If wenches will hang

out lures for fellows, it is no matter what they suffer . . . and it would be much better for

them that their faces had been seamed with the smallpox.” (48) Finally, their discourse

is concluded “with a general and bitter invective against beauty, and with many

compassionate considerations for all honest, plain girls who are deluded by the wicked

arts of deceitful men” (48). So, contrasting the sermon on morals of the honorable

magistrate with the hypocritical prudishness of his sister, the author discloses jealousy

and hurt pride as the true source of all the anxiousness about female chastity. The

examples of the parallel scenes in Fielding’s first two novels therefore show that he uses

the technique of juxtaposing textures for highlighting the aims of his satire and for

stressing the main ideas of the novels.

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Furthermore, Fielding uses symbolic names and titles of chapters to guide his

readers. In Joseph Andrews as well as in Tom Jones, the main characters bear

emblematic names which represent their functions in the text. The characters of Joseph

Andrews and Abraham Adams are, according to Martin Battestin, allusions to the

biblical figures. “Andrews, who plays Joseph to the Potiphar’s wife of Lady Booby,

Battestin considers representative of chastity. . . . Adams, identified with Abraham by

his patriarchal character and the incident of the supposed drowning of his son, is

considered a representative of . . . charity” (Chambers 465). Also the names of comic

characters, like Mrs. Slipslop, are figurative as they refer to their major traits. In Tom

Jones, the names like Allworthy, Thwackum and Sophia highlight the qualities of the

characters. While Allworthy represents the greatest authority in the novel, Thwackum’s

name is derived from his relish for using a stick as an instrument of education. Finally,

the name Sophia, meaning wisdom in Greek, signifies the quality which Tom needs to

achieve. Therefore, by using symbolic names, the author draws attention to the

figurative meanings of the main characters and their functions in the stories.

Afterwards, Fielding makes use of titles of particular chapters to highlight the

important aspects of episodes. For instance, the ironical title “The Death of Sir Thomas

Booby, with the affectionate and mournful Behavior of his Widow, and the great Purity

of Joseph Andrews” (28) introduces the scene where Lady Booby attempts to seduce

Joseph and stresses the incorrectness of her behavior. Another example is the chapter

“Containing Justice Business; Curious Precedents of Depositions, and other Matters

necessary to be perused by all Justices of the Peace and their Clerks” (288), where

Fanny and Joseph are sentenced to Bridewell on the grounds of an absurd accusation

and where the title emphasizes Fielding’s critique of jurisdiction. In Tom Jones, the

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titles of chapters, like “In which Master Blifil and Jones appear in different lights” and

“The character of Mrs. Western. Her great learning and knowledge of the world, and an

instance of the deep penetration which she derived from those advantages” (14),

underline the crucial points of the chapters and emphasize some of the themes of the

novel.

On a larger scale, the author employs introductory chapters and prefaces to

explicate his work and directly address his readers. In the first chapters of the first three

books of Joseph Andrews, he establishes the relation of his novel to Richardson’s

Pamela, explains his use of introductory chapters and divisions, and comments on the

genre of biography. Then, in the general introductory essays in Tom Jones, he aims “(1)

to establish qualifications . . . to future authors of works like Tom Jones; (2) to elucidate

the craft of fiction under several headings; and (3) to plead for the reader’s attention and

appreciation in matters both aesthetic and moral” (Johnson 86). The prefatory sections

therefore are an important means of influencing the readers’ understanding of his books.

In the preface to Joseph Andrews and the very first chapter of Tom Jones, the

author defines the genre of his narrative and focuses on some of its important features.

In the preface, he characterizes his first novel as a comic romance, stating:

Now a comic Romance is a comic Epic-Poem in Prose; differing from

Comedy, as the serious Epic from Tragedy: its Action being more

extended and comprehensive; containing a much larger Circle of

Incidents, and introducing a greater Variety of Characters. It differs from

the serious Romance in its Fable and Action, . . . that as in the one these

are grave and solemn, so in the other they are light and ridiculous: it

differs in its Characters, by introducing Persons of inferior Rank, and

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consequently of inferior Manners . . . ; lastly in its Sentiments and

Diction, by preserving the Ludicrous instead of the Sublime. (4)

So, he determines the type of his writing with regard to other genres. Also, he stresses

the difference between burlesque and ridiculous, claiming that “the only Source of the

true Ridiculous . . . is Affectation” which “proceeds from one of these two Causes,

Vanity, or Hypocrisy: for as Vanity puts us on affecting false Characters, in order to

purchase Applause; so Hypocrisy sets us on an Endeavour to avoid Censure by

concealing our Vices under an Appearance of their opposite Virtues.” (8). Thus, by

clarifying his intentions and methods, Fielding shapes the reader’s insight into his work.

Similarly, in Tom Jones, the first chapter called “The introduction to the work,

or bill of fare to the feast” (9) provides the reader with guiding information. Comparing

an author to “one who keeps a public ordinary” (27), Fielding informs his ‘customers’

about what they can look forward to, as he states: “we shall represent Human Nature at

first to the keen appetite of our reader in that more plain and simple manner in which it

is found in the country, and shall hereafter hash and ragoo it with all the high French

and Italian seasoning of affectation and vice which courts and cities afford” (29). The

comparison of his novel to a feast serves double purpose here. First, it implies

Fielding’s intention to conceive his work as a public experience (Alter 31), and then it

discloses human nature as the major motive of the novel, inciting the reader’s curiosity

for the numerous comments on the theme throughout the story.

In brief, besides the voice of an omnipresent narrator and categorization of

characters, Fielding uses other stylistic devices, like exaggeration, parody, interpolated

stories, contrasting of textures, symbolism of names, textual divisions, titles of chapters

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and prefatory sections, to communicate his moral messages and guide the readers in

their understanding of his work.

In contrast to his first two novels, the stylistic means in Amelia are rather plain.

The voice of the narrator remains a source of moral guidance, yet it is less dominant and

his comments express open and straightforward observations on human nature and

critique of society. As a result, whereas “in Tom Jones, we recall, the assumed reader

was an intelligent man of the world with whom the narrator could share sly hints,

innuendos, cunning ironies, tempered judgments of moral acts”, the reader in Amelia

“begins to look suspiciously like that bloodless figure with a mind as innocent and

unsubstantial as a lily petal” (161). The game full of humor and wit, which the author

plays with the reader in his first two novels, is therefore replaced by austerity and moral

explicitness.

Also, the didactic load which was previously expressed mainly through the

comments of the narrator is now delivered through the voices of other characters,

namely Dr. Harrison and Amelia. These two characters, consequently, become parabolic

in a similar way as Joseph and Adams in Joseph Andrews, but “the dialectic irony

which qualified the virtuous characters in the two comic novels in nowhere in evidence

here” (161). What is more, the technique of presenting characters entirely changes with

the new method of progressive discovery. Instead of symbolic names and

categorization, Fielding allows his characters a new independence, so that “we know

them for what they are by what they say and think, how each responds to what is said

and apparently thought by the other” (176). The characters and their motives are thus

exposed “through the most natural exchange of speech, with none of the manifest

stylization or comic heightening of dialogue we noted in Joseph Andrews and Tom

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Jones (176). So, unlike in his previous novels, in Amelia Fielding addresses his readers

plainly and with seriousness.

With the change of attitude towards the reader and the new conception of

narrator and characters, the author also modifies most of his stylistic strategies. The use

of exaggeration and hyperbole, which formerly served to stress the ridicule, becomes

rather awkward in Amelia and reveals Fielding’s “shift in attitude towards sensation”

(Alter 170). One of the illustrations of this advancement is a repeated allusion to “the

ineffability of the experience” (167). For example, when Booth describes his departure

from Amelia, he says: “Shall I tell you what I felt at that instant? I do assure you I am

not able. So many tender ideas crowded at once into my mind, that, if I may use the

expression, they almost dissolved my heart.” (105) The elevated way of expression in

Amelia is therefore no longer connected with satire. On the contrary, its pathos leads to

certain “delectation of feeling, where language itself becomes a violation of the purity

of emotion” (170). Consequently, as satirical tone disappears and is exchanged for

sentiment, the author has to find other means to carry out his moral concerns.

Surprisingly, neither introductory chapters nor interpolation of stories, which

previously served such a purpose, are used in Amelia. Yet, it is the technique of

interpolated tales which he transforms into Harrison’s formal disputes on religious and

philosophical questions since they “are connected to the surrounding narrative solely by

the ideas discussed” (160). These “homiletic procedures”, as Alter calls them, then

become the crucial means of criticism of the malfunctions of society as well as of direct

instruction of the reader.

As we learn from the dedication of Amelia: “the following book is sincerely

83

designed to promote the cause of virtue, and to expose some of the most glaring evils,

as well public as private, which at present infest the country” (ix). Since Fielding’s aim

is not only to criticize shortcomings of society, but to draw attention to some of the evils

in moral thinking of an individual, he chooses to tell a story about “the various

accidents which befel a very worthy couple after their uniting in the state of matrimony”

(3). By exceeding the happy-ending union of two lovers from his previous novels and

entering a new domain of married life, Fielding gets an opportunity to fully explore both

the influence of society on an individual and the duties and values one has to accept in

order to resist the corruptness of his or her surroundings. The theme of conjugal

relationship of the two main characters also enables him to address the reader in a new,

more serious and more urgent manner, as he turns away from the ideal of pure love of

two good-natured people and proceeds to the problem of human failure to oppose the

wiles of the world as well as the imperfection of one’s own nature.

With the new theme of a private life, however, raises a new need to relate public

to private experience. Whereas in Joseph Andrews and Tom Jones the emphasis is

“upon instructing the reader in what to look for in fiction”, in Amelia the author “seems

predominantly to want to instruct the reader in living” (171). Thus, in the end, he

manages to relate the art of fiction to the art of life itself and to provide his readers with

a set of moral lessons which should help them to lead their lives in virtue and happiness.

Overall, in his first two novels, Fielding’s connects his satirical aims and the

comic tone of the stories with the help of a number of stylistic devices and the external

approach to characters. So as to ensure the right understanding of his work, the author

employs a charismatic narrator who directly addresses the readers and, by commenting

on characters and events, guides them in their judgments. However, in his last novel,

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Amelia, Fielding changes the tone of the narrative from humorous to sentimental and

presents the characters in a new straightforward way. Instead of an amusing satire, the

readers are exposed to an open criticism of human nature as well as the shortcomings of

society, which should warn them against moral decay and bring them to the discovery

of the art of life.

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Conclusion

The analysis of the work of two 18th century thinkers, a philosopher, Lord

Shaftesbury, and a novelist, Henry Fielding, revealed many parallels in their

conceptions of virtue and happiness. Both Fielding and Shaftesbury agree that the

difference between virtue and vice is based on the ability of a person to create positive

social affections with his or her surroundings and that this ability is natural to people.

By creating pairs of heroes and their adversaries which correspond to such conceptions

of virtue and vice, Fielding attempts to instruct the readers about the real meaning of

these two terms and illustrates them by many episodes in the stories of his heroes.

Shaftesbury’s conviction that virtue leads to happiness and vice to the misery of

every person is also reflected in Fielding’s novels. Since he describes the consequences

of good and bad deeds of his characters, depicting those who are good natured as

rewarded by satisfaction, whereas those who do mischief to others as coming to a bad

end, Fielding’s view of happiness is proved to be in agreement with that of Shaftesbury.

Moreover, in his fiction, the writer gives human happiness a concrete image of idyllic

family life of two people who love and respect each other.

Fielding’s use of the notions of reason and feeling corresponds to the ideas of

the philosopher. As he creates complementary characters of reasonable mentors and

affectionate heroines which fail to function as reliable moral authorities for their

misjudgments, the writer approves of Shaftesbury’s theory that moral judgment is a

fusion of reasoning and intuition. Furthermore, Fielding makes use of this presumption

in his strategy of influencing the readers when he lets them see the heroes from the

opposing perspectives of their mentors and of their sweethearts.

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Although in questions of virtue, happiness and the relation of reason and feeling

the two thinkers generally agree, their views of possibilities and ways of human

development show the difference of their positions. Whereas Shaftesbury maintains that

the formation of moral taste is based on reasoning with one’s own consciousness,

Fielding, in his portrayal of the development of the heroes, displays a belief in the basic

human need of love and happiness as the motivation of moral progress. The stories of

the heroes in Fielding’s three novels also reveal his reliance on experience as the major

source of personal growth. In contrast, Shaftesbury’s concern with an ideal of man

presupposes that human mind reflects a coherent order of cosmos, and thus, it

eventually disperses in the muddy waters of abstraction. Therefore, while in views

concerning the life of an individual Fielding and Shaftesbury generally assent, their

differing perspectives result in several divergences and differences in interest.

Furthermore, as a social critic, Fielding offers a more complex picture of the

relationship between an individual and society. His direct experience with the intricacy

of social relationships in his post of a magistrate makes the novelist questions

Shaftesbury’s persuasion about human power to direct one’s life to happiness without

the help of others. Instead, as he is very well aware of the imperfection of human nature,

he attempts to portray it with indulgence and a distant look. Also, perceiving the nature

of men as vulnerable to corruption, Fielding concludes that Shaftesbury’s ideal about

balance of affections as well as of reason and feeling in an individual is hardly

attainable. Since he sympathizes with Shaftesbury’s belief in innate goodness of human

nature but he cannot share his ideals about the power of reason to strengthen it, Fielding

focuses on the influence of society on an individual and criticizes the shortcomings of

generally accepted moral practices.

87

In his first novel, Joseph Andrews, he assigns the main characters to moral

categories in order to explore the concepts of charity, represented by Abraham Adams,

and chastity, embodied in Joseph Andrews. Reacting to Richardson’s portrayal of his

‘virtuous’ heroine, Pamela Andrews, Fielding contrasts Joseph’s truly virtuous chastity

with the self-serving preservation of virginity of his sister, and thus warns the readers

against understanding of virtue as a means of social promotion. At the same time, the

author employs the test of ridicule to reveal vanity and hypocrisy as the sources of vice

in men and he stresses the importance of charity and fellow feeling as the basis of

morality. In his portrayal of pure love between Joseph and Fanny, Fielding also

expresses his idea of happiness and confirms feeling as the essential motivation of

moral development.

In Tom Jones, the author concentrates on the theme of prudence. By contrasting

the hero Tom and his rival Blifil, he discloses the ambiguity of the term and attacks its

common use as a cover for reckless calculation. What is even more important, Fielding

ridicules false authorities represented mainly by the characters of Thwackum and

Square as well as by Mrs. Waters and Lady Bellaston. Using the spontaneity of Squire

Western and Tom Jones as a mirror to vice, Fielding exposes the pretensions of the four

characters and laughs at their affectation. As in his previous work, the writer uses a

number of stylistic devices to amuse his readers and to draw their attention to particular

moral problems. As a result, with the masterly guidance of his omniscient narrator,

Fielding emphasizes the joy of life and goodness of heart as the principles of human

virtue.

Afterwards, in Amelia, he proceeds to a serious tone, and instead of using

playful stylization, he presents the characters in a new direct way. In instructing the

88

readers he becomes very explicit and addresses them through plain aphoristic comments

of the narrator or moralizing lectures of Dr. Harrison. In his last novel, Fielding then

advances to a bitter denouncement of the corruptness of social institutions and openly

criticizes the general decay of moral values. By portraying the failures and consequent

miseries of Captain Booth and his final conversion to Christian belief, the author, in the

end, stresses the importance of religion, which appeals to the strongest of human

feelings – hope and fear, as the only power which compels men to virtue and maintains

moral principles in society.

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Works Cited:

Alter, Robert. Fielding and the Nature of the Novel. Cambridge: Harvard UP. 1968.

Battestin, Martin C., ed. Twentieth Century Interpretations of Tom Jones: A Collection

of Critical Essays. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall. 1968.

---. “The Problem of Amelia: Hume, Barrow, and the Conversion of Captain Booth”.

ELH 41(1974): 613-648. JSTOR. 29 Oct. 2009

<http://www.jstor.org/stable/2872725>.

Booth, Wayne C. “‘Fielding’ in Tom Jones”. Battestin 94-96.

Campbell, Jill. "‘The Exact Picture of his Mother’: Recognizing Joseph Andrews”.

ELH 55 (1988): 643-664. JSTOR. 29 Oct. 2009

<http://www.jstor.org/stable/2873187>.

Chambers, Jessie Rhodes. Rev. of “The Moral Basis of Fielding's Art: A Study of

Joseph Andrews” by Martin C. Battestin. Modern Language Notes 76 (1961):

464-467. JSTOR. 29 Oct. 2009

< http://www.jstor.org/stable/3040689>.

Cho, Jeon Rae. “Joseph Andrews, Fielding's Realistic Hero”. Nineteenth Century

Literature in English. Vol.7. No.2 (2003): 125-37. 4 Nov 2010

<http://gateway.proquest.com/openurl?ctx_ver=Z39.88-2003&xri:pqil:res_ver=

0.2&res_id=xri:lion&rft_id=xri:lion:rec:mla:R03434142>.

Crane, R. S. “The Plot of Tom Jones”. Battestin 68-93.

Cruise, James. “Fielding, Authority, and the New Commercialism in Joseph Andrews”.

ELH 54 (1987): 253-276. JSTOR. 29 Oct. 2009

<http://www.jstor.org/stable/2873024>.

Empson, William. “Tom Jones”. Battestin 33-55.

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Fielding, Henry. Amelia. London: Smith. 1882.

---. Joseph Andrews. Oxford: Clarendon P. 1967.

---. The History of Tom Jones: A Foundling. Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica. 1952.

Grean, Stanley. Shaftesbury’s Philosophy of Religion and Ethics: A Study in

Enthusiasm. Ohio: Ohio UP. 1967.

Jenkins, Elizabeth. Henry Fielding. London: Home & Van Thal. 1947.

Johnson, Maurice O. Fielding’s Art of Fiction: Eleven Essays on Shamela, Joseph

Andrews, Tom Jones,and Amelia. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P. 1961.

Shaftesbury, Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of. Characterisctics of Men, Manners,

Opinions,Times. Cambridge: Cambridge UP. 1999.

Sherburn, George. “Fielding’s Amelia: An Interpretation”. EHL 3 (1936): 1-14. JSTOR.

29 Oct. 2009 < http://www.jstor.org/stable/2871654>.

Wandless, William H.: "Narrative pain and the moral sense: toward an ethics of

suffering in the long eighteenth century." Literature and Medicine. Vol.24, No.1.

(2005): 51-69. 9 Jan 2008

<http://lion.chadwyck.co.uk/searchFulltext.do?id=R03582363&divLevel=0&qu

eryId=../session/1199895401_2038&trailId=116C4D80CF1&area=abell&forwa

d=critref_ft>

Watt, Ian. “Fielding as Novelist: Tom Jones.” Battestin 19-32.

Wendt, Allan. “The Naked Virtue of Amelia”. ELH 27 (1960): 131-148. JSTOR. 29

Oct.2009 <http://www.jstor.org/stable/2871915>.

Wright, Andrew. “Tom Jones: Life as Art”. Battestin 56-67.

91

English Résumé

The thesis is concerned with an analysis of the work of two 18th century

thinkers, a philosopher Lord Shaftesbury, and a novelist, Henry Fielding. By comparing

Shaftesbury’s ethical theories with the parallel characters in Fielding’s three novels,

Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones and Amelia, the thesis proves that Fielding’s moral

conception correlates with Shaftesbury’s main philosophical ideas and that his work

was one of the major influences on the novelist.

Furthermore, the thesis also concentrates on the ways in which the views of the

two thinkers overlap. As it follows from the analysis, Shaftesbury attempts to describe

an ideal of man and argues that the formation of moral taste is based on reasoning with

one’s consciousness whereas the novelist shows the source of moral growth in

experience and the basic human need of love and happiness. Also, as opposed to the

philosopher, Fielding portrays men as imperfect and questions their ability to become

infallible moral authorities, concluding that Shaftesbury’s ideal of balance in affections

is hardly attainable. As a result, rather than on the refinement of moral taste of an

individual, Fielding focuses on the influence of society on a person and criticizes the

shortcomings of some of the generally accepted moral convictions of his time.

92

Czech Résumé

Cílem této práce je srovnat filozofické pojednání Lorda Shaftesburyho s

morálními postoji Henryho Fieldinga, které vyjádřil ve svých románech Joseph

Andrews, Tom Jones a Amelia. Z analýzy hlavních postav těchto tři románů vyplývá, že

Fieldingova morální koncepce se velmi podobá etickým teoriím Lorda Shaftesburyho, a

že tento filosof Henryho Fieldinga značně ovlivnil.

Analýza se také soustřeďuje na rozdíly mezi myšlenkami obou autorů. Zatímco

Lord Shaftesbury popisuje svou představu o ideálu člověka a za základ rozvoje

morálního cítění považuje racionální dialog člověka se svým svědomím, Fielding

považuje za zdroj morální síly spíše zkušenost a základní lidskou potřebu lásky a

spokojenosti. Na rozdíl od Shaftesburyho se snaží vylíčit lidskou nedokonalost a

zpochybňuje možnost, že by se někdo mohl stát neomylnou morální autoritou. Spíše než

na ideál člověka a jeho cestu k dokonalosti se tedy Fielding soustřeďuje na to, jak

jedince ovlivňuje společnost, a tvrdě kritizuje některé z obecně přijímaných morálních

pravidel své doby.