Tom Jones: “an impudent slut, a wanton hussy, an audacious harlot, a wicked jade, a vile strumpet”

1/ I like the sexual frankness of Tom Jones. 

“… Nor was her mind more effeminate than her person. As this was tall and robust, so was that bold and forward. So little had [Molly] of modesty, that Jones had more regard for her virtue than she herself. And as most probably she liked Tom as well as he liked her, so when she perceived his backwardness she herself grew proportionably forward; and when she saw he had entirely deserted the house, she found means of throwing herself in his way, and behaved in such a manner that the youth must have had very much or very little of the heroe if her endeavours had proved unsuccessful. In a word, she soon triumphed over all the virtuous resolutions of Jones; for though she behaved at last with all decent reluctance, yet I rather chuse to attribute the triumph to her, since, in fact, it was her design which succeeded.

In the conduct of this matter, I say, Molly so well played her part, that Jones attributed the conquest entirely to himself, and considered the young woman as one who had yielded to the violent attacks of his passion.” (B.4, ch.6) 

Henry Fielding is so likeable because he values goodness and virtue but he is tolerant and forgiving of human frailty—next to him, George Eliot and Edith Wharton and even Jane Austen may occasionally come across as rather harsh. 

“… Molly Seagrim approached. Our hero had his penknife in his hand, which he had drawn for the before-mentioned purpose of carving on the bark; when the girl coming near him, cried out with a smile, “You don't intend to kill me, squire, I hope!”—“Why should you think I would kill you?” answered Jones. “Nay,” replied she, “after your cruel usage of me when I saw you last, killing me would, perhaps, be too great kindness for me to expect.”

Here ensued a parley, which, as I do not think myself obliged to relate it, I shall omit. It is sufficient that it lasted a full quarter of an hour, at the conclusion of which they retired into the thickest part of the grove.” (B.5, ch.10)

Hahahahaha. You can probably see why I love Tom Jones. No wonder some contemporary critic called it a tale of “bastardism, fornication, and adultery” (if that doesn’t make you want to pick up the novel, I don’t know what can). But it’s fascinating to see sexual frankness and an embrace of horniness in the 17th century (like Shakespeare) or the 18th century (Tom Jones, Dangerous Liaisons) after being used for years to the reticence and prudishness of the 19th century. 

(Did Tolstoy ever read Fielding? My quick googling told me nothing. I’m rather amused imagining his shock and outrage upon reading Tom Jones). 

I like the warm, good-humoured persona of the author: 

“… I question not but the surprize of the reader will be here equal to that of Jones; as the suspicions which must arise from the appearance of this wise and grave man in such a place, may seem so inconsistent with that character which he hath, doubtless, maintained hitherto, in the opinion of every one.

But to confess the truth, this inconsistency is rather imaginary than real. Philosophers are composed of flesh and blood as well as other human creatures; and however sublimated and refined the theory of these may be, a little practical frailty is as incident to them as to other mortals.” (B.5, ch.5)

The novel has a comic tone, but Fielding has no illusions about humanity. He depicts the greed and misogyny of Captain Blifil, the hypocrisy of Thwackum, the artful and dishonest behaviour of Master Blifil, the wantonness of Molly Seagrim, the carefree egotism and thoughtless cruelty of Squire Western, the deceit of Black George… but, like Tolstoy or Chekhov, he depicts all these characters with compassion. 

2/ It is good to read Fielding’s masterpiece after Joseph Andrews. Both are full of warmth, wit, and good humour, but one can see the improvements. 

First of all is the main character. Like Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones is handsome, “one of the handsomest young fellows in the world.” But if in his first novel, Fielding concentrated most of his energy on Parson Adams (and some on Lady Booby and Mrs Slipslop) and didn’t give Joseph a personality, he now does a good job with the characterisation of Tom Jones, who is impulsive and has a wild streak but who is nevertheless good-natured, loyal, generous, and lovable.  

Another difference is the plotting. I have written that Joseph Andrews, as a picaresque novel, is episodic and doesn’t have anything that holds it together—it is loose and drags on sometimes—Tom Jones in contrast is tightly plotted and I can see why Coleridge said it’s one of “the three most perfect plots ever planned.” 

I probably won’t say much about the plot and the characters till I’m close to finishing the book though. 

What a romp! 

PS: I’ve just read that Samuel Johnson said about Tom Jones: “I am shocked to hear you quote from so vicious a book. I am sorry to hear you have read it; a confession which no modest lady should ever make. I scarcely know a more corrupt work.” 

Hahaha.