1/ Once I came across a review of Tom Jones that complained of Henry Fielding’s “relentless flow of words”. But I love that about Fielding!
“Now the little trembling hare, which the dread of all her numerous enemies, and chiefly of that cunning, cruel, carnivorous animal, man, had confined all the day to her lurking-place, sports wantonly o’er the lawns; now on some hollow tree the owl, shrill chorister of the night, hoots forth notes which might charm the ears of some modern connoisseurs in music; now, in the imagination of the half-drunk clown, as he staggers through the churchyard, or rather charnelyard, to his home, fear paints the bloody hobgoblin; now thieves and ruffians are awake, and honest watchmen fast asleep; in plain English, it was now midnight; and the company at the inn, as well those who have been already mentioned in this history, as some others who arrived in the evening, were all in bed.” (B.10, ch.2)
He does the same thing later on:
“Twelve times did the iron register of time beat on the sonorous bell-metal, summoning the ghosts to rise and walk their nightly round.——In plainer language, it was twelve o’clock, and all the family, as we have said, lay buried in drink and sleep, except only Mrs Western, who was deeply engaged in reading a political pamphlet, and except our heroine, who now softly stole down-stairs, and, having unbarred and unlocked one of the house-doors, sallied forth, and hastened to the place of appointment.” (B.10, ch.9)
2/ I love that Fielding has absorbed Shakespeare into his bloodstream and constantly references him: Othello, “green-eyed monster”, Desdemona and Cassio, “much ado about nothing”, “dogs of war”, “bloody Banquo”, Macduff, and so on and so forth (unless I’m mistaken, Othello is referenced the most).
There are also lots of allusions to Don Quixote.
“Having scoured the whole coast of the enemy, as well as any of Homer’s heroes ever did, or as Don Quixote or any knight-errant in the world could have done, he returned to Molly, whom he found in a condition which must give both me and my reader pain, was it to be described here. Tom raved like a madman, beat his breast, tore his hair, stamped on the ground, and vowed the utmost vengeance on all who had been concerned.” (B.4, ch.8)
Fielding directly mentions Cervantes (and Shakespeare and other writers he likes):
“Come, thou that hast inspired thy Aristophanes, thy Lucian, thy Cervantes, thy Rabelais, thy Molière, thy Shakespear, thy Swift, thy Marivaux, fill my pages with humour; till mankind learn the good-nature to laugh only at the follies of others, and the humility to grieve at their own.” (B.13, ch.1)
Tom Jones may be divided into three parts: Tom Jones on Mr Allworthy’s estate in Somersetshire, on the way to London, and in London. The second part, when Jones is travelling and accompanied by Partridge, is essentially like a picaresque novel in the mould of Joseph Andrews (and Don Quixote). They also stop at one inn after another, they also have adventures and meet different sets of characters along the way, and they sometimes get these characters to tell their own stories. The difference between Tom Jones and Joseph Andrews or Don Quixote is that Tom Jones has three different groups of people on the roads: Jones and Partridge going on their way to join the army and then hearing about Sophia Western and looking for her; Sophia running away from home and heading to London, accompanied by her maid Mrs Honour; and her father Squire Western chasing her.
Another influence of Don Quixote is in the character of Partridge. Fielding has learnt from Joseph Andrews—its main flaw is that he concentrates all his energy on Parson Adams and gives Joseph no personality—in the later novel, Jones and Partridge are both vividly drawn characters and they do interact and bounce off each other, like Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.
“They soon arrived at the door of this house, or cottage, for it might be called either, without much impropriety. Here Jones knocked several times without receiving any answer from within; at which Partridge, whose head was full of nothing but of ghosts, devils, witches, and such like, began to tremble […].
The poor fellow, however, had no sooner warmed himself, than those thoughts which were always uppermost in his mind, began a little to disturb his brain. There was no article of his creed in which he had a stronger faith than he had in witchcraft, nor can the reader conceive a figure more adapted to inspire this idea, than the old woman who now stood before him. She answered exactly to that picture drawn by Otway in his Orphan. Indeed, if this woman had lived in the reign of James the First, her appearance alone would have hanged her, almost without any evidence.” (B.8, ch.10)
Later on, Partridge is terrified hearing the noise of a drum, thinking that’s the rebel army.
“… And now Partridge, who kept even pace with Jones, discovered something painted flying in the air, a very few yards before him, which fancying to be the colours of the enemy, he fell a bellowing, “Oh Lord, sir, here they are; there is the crown and coffin. Oh Lord! I never saw anything so terrible; and we are within gun-shot of them already.”
Jones no sooner looked up, than he plainly perceived what it was which Partridge had thus mistaken. “Partridge,” says he, “I fancy you will be able to engage this whole army yourself; for by the colours I guess what the drum was which we heard before, and which beats up for recruits to a puppet-show.” (B.12, ch.5)
Fielding gives Partridge the superstition, cowardice, and loquaciousness of Sancho Panza. But if Sancho is illiterate and ignorant and constantly pumping out proverbs in his talks, Partridge scatters around Latin sayings (possibly all non sequitur, I have no idea what he’s saying). Fielding also gives Partridge a fertile imagination, but it’s the imagination of a superstitious coward, not of a lunatic (as in the case of Don Quixote).
3/ Here’s another Don Quixote allusion:
“Sophia was very soon eased of her causeless fright by the entry of the noble peer, who was not only an intimate acquaintance of Mrs Fitzpatrick, but in reality a very particular friend of that lady. To say truth, it was by his assistance that she had been enabled to escape from her husband; for this nobleman had the same gallant disposition with those renowned knights of whom we read in heroic story, and had delivered many an imprisoned nymph from durance. He was indeed as bitter an enemy to the savage authority too often exercised by husbands and fathers, over the young and lovely of the other sex, as ever knight-errant was to the barbarous power of enchanters; nay, to say truth, I have often suspected that those very enchanters with which romance everywhere abounds were in reality no other than the husbands of those days; and matrimony itself was, perhaps, the enchanted castle in which the nymphs were said to be confined.” (B.11, ch.8)
One can tell, reading Tom Jones, that Fielding hates more than anything else the hypocrite and the tyrant. The hypocrite: Master Blifil, Thwackum, Square… The tyrant: Captain Blifil, Squire Western, Mr Fitzpatrick…
The characterisation of Squire Western is especially good. At the beginning, he appears a merry, easy-going man who loves Tom Jones with a generosity of spirit and whose only weakness seems to be his love for hunting above anything else. But gradually Fielding removes the layers and reveals that this is not a warm, open man; Squire Western is thoughtless, hot-headed, and cruel, a monster to his late wife, a tyrant to his daughter. This is an excellent creation.
