Category: General Fiction/Literature Page 15 of 49

Tom and Mrs. Miller sit down for an overdue conversation, now that she knows he has a connection to Mr. Allworthy, she wants to make sure they part on the right terms. She tells him her background, her family’s hard history up to the point where she’s left a widow with two young daughters. Mr. Allworthy knew her late husband a bit and provided her with her house and a small annual income. Not only that, she has heard Allworthy talk about Tom, and always spoke of him in the warmest terms. Tom tries to set her right, but she won’t hear of it, remembering what her husband used to say about circumstances like his:

No, Mr Jones, the words `dishonourable birth’ are nonsense, as my dear, dear husband used to say, unless the word `dishonourable’ be applied to the parents; for the children can derive no real dishonour from an act of which they are entirely innocent.”

This breaks down Tom’s barriers and he tells her everything that’s going on his life. He gets her permission for one final appointment with Lady Bellaston that evening. Bellaston neer shows and Tom falls asleep waiting. He’s awakened by a ruckus–which he discovers is caused by Nancy, trying to kill herself, and her mother and sister lamenting over this. IT turns out that Nightingale has got her pregnant and then left her with a note talking about having to go marry someone his father had picked for her.

Tom tries to help by promising to get Nightingale to come back and do the right thing (which Tom believes is what his friend wants, anyone). Nancy is more concerned with the loss of him than the loss of reputation, it should be noted.

This is exactly what he tells NIghtingale, and probably gives the most eloquent speech of this book to date, about what Nightingale must do, what others will think of his actions and what will happen to Nancy otherwise. NIghtingale assures Tom he’d rather marry Nancy, but his father won’t permit it. Tom sends him off to help with Nancy while he sets off to convince the elder Nightingale to permit this marriage (partially by pretending it already happened).

It does not go well at all, but Tom’s aided by the arrival of the elder Nightingale’s brother (I wish more men had first names in this book to make it easier on these recaps). Nightingale’s uncle married someone who made him happy, not someone who made a “good” (read: profitable) match and encourages him to let the same happen for his nephew. The Elder Nightingale seems to soften a bit and regrets the influence his brother had on his son.

They leave things in this awkward situation, with Tom taking the uncle to see his nephew and Nancy.

A lot happened in a short period of time here. And while I sort of prefer (for entertainment value) TOm being the outrageous scamp, the rascal with a heart of gold; Tom beating earnest and eloquent, showing that heart of gold to the world is really easy to admire and root for. Something tells me he might not have been eloquent enough, but I’ll have to see next week.

As usual, chapter 1 of this Book is a little essay about a topic that Fielding wants to sound off on. This time it’s the education required to be a writer,

As several gentlemen in these times, by the wonderful force of genius only, without the least assistance of learning, perhaps, without being well able to read, have made a considerable figure in the republic of letters; the modern critics, I am told, have lately begun to assert, that all kind of learning is entirely useless to a writer; and, indeed, no other than a kind of fetters on the natural sprightliness and activity of the imagination, which is thus weighed down, and prevented from soaring to those high flights which otherwise it would be able to reach.

I’m tempted to camp out on this chapter for a while. Fielding’s a little more firey this time,

…The nimbleness of a dancing-master is not at all prejudiced by being taught to move; nor doth any mechanic, I believe, exercise his tools the worse by having learnt to use them. For my own part, I cannot conceive that Homer or Virgil would have writ with more fire, if instead of being masters of all the learning of their times, they had been as ignorant as most of the authors of the present age.

He concedes, not everyone who writes needs to be educated:

…very little reading is, I conceive, necessary to the poet, less to the critic, and the least of all to the politician.

Would love to see what Fielding could do with a Twitter feed. He rants on the subject a little longer, but you get the flavor, let’s get back to Tom.

Tom’s slipped out of Lady Bellaston’s house while she and Sophia spar. He’s not home long before he receives a letter from the Lady, who is not happy with him. She warns him against making her angry by seeing Sophia again. Almost immediately, he gets another from her telling him to come to visit. Lady Bellaston is not the woman he wants to go visit, but he figures he’d better. But before he can leave—guess who shows up?

Tom’s in the middle of assuring the Lady that he and Sophia accidentally ran into each other, and that’s all when Partridge comes up alerting him that Mrs. Honour is coming to see him. There’s no good place to hide Lady Bellaston from her prying eyes, so they settle with putting her behind a curtain.

Mrs. Honour gossips a bit about Bellaston while Tom tries (and tries and tries) to shush her and redirect the conversation. But she has to tell Tom about Bellaston’s scandalous behavior with men (Bellaston is insulted, but she is in the room of a man right now—as we’re about to learn, at 2 am with her carriage driver loitering nearby telling everyone who’ll listen why he’s there). She finally gives Tom a letter from Sophia and leaves. Bellaston comes out incredibly offended, Tom placates her about Honour and the meeting with Sophia, too.

Here ensued a long conversation, which the reader, who is not too curious, will thank me for not inserting at length. It shall suffice, therefore, to inform him, that Lady Bellaston grew more and more pacified, and at length believed, or affected to believe, his protestations, that his meeting with Sophia that evening was merely accidental, and every other matter which the reader already knows, and which, as Jones set before her in the strongest light, it is plain that she had in reality no reason to be angry with him.

“the reader, who is not too curious, will thank me for not inserting at length.” Ha.

Anyway, they finally decide that Tom will come to visit the next day. He’s coming over to visit Bellaston, but will pretend to be there to see Sophia.

Because that’s going to work, I guess.

Sophia’s letter interferes with that plan, she tells him repeatedly, “if you have
any concern for my ease, do not think of returning hither.” She doesn’t trust Bellaston and things won’t go well. Tom isn’t sure what to do now, so the next morning, he jots off a quick note begging off from calling that day, he’s sick.

He’ll come to regret that because that means he’s home to get a talking-to by Mrs. Miller. Two women in his room with him alone last night? One who didn’t leave until 2? This will not do. She doesn’t need people talking, him setting a bad example for the girls, and she expects more from someone tied to Mr. Allworthy. Tom agrees but insists on his own privacy, no matter who comes to visit. Things break down to the point where he’ll have to look for a new place to stay the next day.

Nightingale stops by, too. He’s headed for other pastures, too. Tom rakes him over the coals for the way he’s behaving toward Mrs. Miller’s daughter, Nancy. Nightingale claims to have no idea what Tom’s talking about. Tom sticks to the message—you messed up, thanks to your flirting, the girl has fallen in love. YOu can’t just duck out (as he was planning), but you can’t keep stringing her on, either.

And that’s that, I’d expected to take about 1/3 the space and time to write this up. Heh.

Last week, Lashaan asked about going through the novel in little bits and pieces. This selection was one of those times I had a hard time stopping—the clock and fatigue stopped me from finishing Book IV. I have a bad feeling both about Tom’s impending meeting with Lady Bellaston and ol’ Nightingale, and want to see if I’m right.

Well, thanks to that unexpected nine-week break, I’m abandoning the whole “read through this in 2020” goal. This bothers me a little bit, but I’ll get over it.

So, when we left Tom, he was in London. He’d made some decent friends (or at least allies), was being his usual generous and helpful self with them. He’d also found a way to hopefully gain an audience with Sophia, but it looks like it’s going to take some work. Let’s dive back in, shall we?

Oh, my hardcopy with the funky capitalization, etc. is in a different box than I believed. So, Project Gutenberg to the rescue today.

I just love the titles of the first two chapters we’re looking at this week: “Which treats of matters of a very different kind from those in the preceding chapter,” and “A chapter which, though short, may draw tears from some eyes.”

So Tom’s getting nowhere with his connections to Sophia—in fact, it’s getting to the point that he’s about to lose his connection if he keeps bringing her up. But, he’s a clever guy. If Lady Bellaston won’t help him who will? Well, what she knows, the servants likely know (he figures), so Partridge is deployed to get that information from the servants.

While we wait for results on that front, we learn that Lady Bellaston is what we would call a cougar (or we would’ve a few years ago, anyway), and she has her sights set on Tom, and showers him with attention (and gifts). Tom isn’t interested in her, he’s devoted to Sophia. But, it’d be rude to not return a little of the affection she’s showering on him.

One night, he’s compelled to ditch his pal Nightengale—they were supposed to go see a play together, but Bellaston wanted Tom to come meet her in her home. To make this appointment possible, Bellaston sends away some servants and even arranges for her houseguest, Sophia, to attend that same play (with a chaperone, of course).

But before Tom can leave, Mrs. Miller asks him to join her to meet someone. The cousin that Tom’s been so recently generous to is downstairs and wants to thank him. Now remember a few chapters back, when someone tried to steal from Tom, tells him a sob story about a sick family member, and so Tom gives him some money? Well, guess who Mrs. Miller’s cousin happens to be. It’s practically a Dickensian coincidence (if Dickens had been born yet, anyway). Mr. Miller had already planned on spilling his heart in gratitude, but this just compounded his thanks. Tom’s gratified to hear how much he’s helped. (this is the chapter we might have got teary about).

So then Tom heads to Ballston’s, and gets there early, so is hanging out in the drawing room to wait. The play turned into some sort of a to-do. it was a new play, and apparently controversial. One group had shown up to protest, another to cheer it on (Nightengale had been counting on Tom to help him encourage the production). It was all too much for Sophia, who came home between accts. She discovers Tom, and almost faints.

To paint the looks or thoughts of either of these lovers, is beyond my power. As their sensations, from their mutual silence, may be judged to have been too big for their own utterance, it cannot be supposed that I should be able to express them: and the misfortune is, that few of my readers have been enough in love to feel by their own hearts what past at this time in theirs.

In what follows, Tom gives her the pocketbook and money, they clear up some misconceptions and misunderstandings, basically clear the air and are getting all sentimental with each other, when Tom remembers he has to ask her to forget about him (the last thing she wants to hear), and starts to say something along those lines, but botches it and says something

that sounded like a proposal of marriage. To which she replied, “That, did not her duty to her father forbid her to follow her own inclinations, ruin with him would be more welcome to her than the most affluent fortune with another man.”

The use of the word “ruin,” brings everything back to Tom and he starts to do what he’s supposed to do, but she interrupts to ask what he was doing in that room. Naturally, in walks Lady Bellaston—shocked to find the two of them together, and she demands to know what Sophia is doing there.

Sophia tells what happened at the play (Bellaston doubts it), says that Tom came to return her pocketbook (Bellaston knew it was missing, doesn’t believe that Tom returned it), after tracking her down by the name inside it. Bellaston and Tom don’t let on that they know each other either. Tom’s willing to play along, as it keeps both women from being upset with him.

Tom leaves, and the two women spend some time lying to each other about what they think about Tom, what they know about him, and so on. It’s a giant mess that’s sure to come toppling down soon.

And there we go, back to the book and at the end of Book Thirteen. Both of which are fun. We’re in the final third here, so things are going to start happening more quickly (I expect). Will Tom come clean to Sophia about Bellaston? Will Bellaston tell Sophia that she knew she was lying about Tom? Is Tom still destined for a hanging? All this and more to come in the next few chapters.

The next day, Tom tries several times to see Mrs. Fitzgerald but gets nowhere. Fed up, he goes back to the Inn he’s staying at (a place Mr. Allworthy stayed at when in London). He hears an altercation and comes to intervene.

I was joking last week about how nice it was to see another fistfight again, and already we have a new one. They’re good for drama, I guess, and to make fast friends of whoever Tom comes to the rescue of (or vice versa). A footman was attacking his employer, and the daughter of the Innkeeper was standing by and screaming (this is what alerted Tom). As handily as the footman was beating his employer, so Tom took care of the footman.

It turns out—and you’ve gotta love this—the footman had been using his boss’s (Mr. Nightengale) copy of Hoyle and had spilled wine on an open page. Nightengale was angered, and the two started arguing over how much the book had been worth before getting ruined, so they could agree on how much to be withheld from his pay. One thing led to another…

Anyway, out of gratitude Nightengale splits a bottle of wine with Tom and they become friends, the innkeeper and her daughter join them and they all get along really well.

The next day, as masquerade invitation and mask arrive for Tom, he assumes this comes from Mrs. Fitzgerald and will be his chance to see Sophia. So he invites Nightengale to come to the ball with him—and then has to borrow cab fare from Partridge so he can afford to go anywhere. There’s no Sophia, or even Mrs. Fitzgerald at the ball, instead, it’s Sophia’s friend, Lady Bellaston, who arranged to meet Tom there.

She grills Tom for hours and finally agrees to arrange a meeting if he promises to leave Sophia alone after that. She gives him fifty pounds and sends him on his way.

Tom gets back to the inn to hear Mrs. Miller (the innkeeper, who I should’ve introduced earlier) talk about a cousin, who married for love and is now destitute and barely hanging on due to illness in the family. Tom pulls her aside and gives her the money Bellaston just gave him.

Now, earlier, Fielding told the reader that he focused on describing Mrs. Miller because she’s going to be important. I wonder how? And I look forward to finding out. A fun few chapters this week, I’m really enjoying Tom’s time in London.

After the wedding, Tom and Partridge are back on their way to London. Funds are running low, and Partridge suggests borrowing from Sophia’s hundred to get them some food, they both could use some. Particularly Tom, who hadn’t had anything but a poached egg in a long time, unlike Partridge at the wedding “he had feasted only his understanding.” Tom refuses to steal (or, borrow, but he knows it’d really be stealing) and the two get into a heated argument about it.

They do stop for some food and things cool down. When they leave a stranger asks if he can travel with them—and after a little bit, he pulls a gun on them and demands that hundred. A scuffle (a really tame one by this book’s standards) ensues and Tom gets the guy on his back and disarmed easily. This was his first attempted mugging—the pistol isn’t even loaded—he’s poor, he has five kids with another on the way. Tom gives him a little bit of money (over Partridge’s objections—he’s getting hard to like), and goes on his way.

They end up in London and now Tom has to find Sophia. He tracks down Mrs. Fitzpatrick and tries to get information about Sophia from her. Mrs. Fitzpatrick is convinced he’s Mr. Blifil and doesn’t give him anything. As Tom leaves, her maid clues her in—which involves catching her up on who Tom is, as Sophia left him out of her stories.

In that case, Mrs. Fitzpatrick both wants to meet with him again and to get Sophia’s friend, Lady Bellaston, involved, too. The next day when Tom comes again to try to get information out of Mrs. Fitzpatrick the two ladies make some observations and discuss him at some length after he leaves again.

After fisticuffs being a frequent occurrence for a bit, it’s now been weeks since we had one. And it looks like it’s going to be a few before we get another after this very short altercation. I’m not saying I need them, it’s just something that was common enough that I joked about it, and now it’s gone by the wayside. Instead, it looks like we’re getting into a groove of domestic kind of action—Sophia’s female relatives or friends looking out for her and making Tom jump through hoops. Maybe I’m wrong, but I bet the last little bit is going to repeat itself for a few chapters.

While Jones is catching some Zs, Partridge is having a good time talking with men at the inn. He starts off talking up Tom’s wealth, but then gets into talking about worrying aobut his mental health. THye kick around some schemes to get TOm some help for his madness, but don’t end up pursuing any action because some news comes in about the rebels marching on London.

Tom sleeps a lot for him, and could probably do with some more. But he gets a clue about Sophia’s route and follows up on it—and then finds the boy who took her into London, and discretely pumps him for information. It’s at this point that Fielding talks about Sophia being more offended by Tom’s use of her name in public than any, shall we say, extra-curricular activities he may be involved in. Sadly, she’s upset with the wrong man, Tom’s very careful of her reputation. Partridge, on the other hand… Tom must really be lonely and in need of a traveling companion, that’s all I’ll say.

During a break in their travel, Tom splits a bottle of wine with Mr. Dowling—the attorney who brought news of Blifil’s mother’s death.

Mr Dowling, pouring out a glass of wine, named the health of the good Squire Allworthy; adding, “If you please, sir, we will likewise remember his nephew and heir, the young squire: Come, sir, here’s Mr Blifil to you, a very pretty young gentleman; and who, I dare swear, will hereafter make a very considerable figure in his country. I have a borough for him myself in my eye.”

“Sir,” answered Jones, “I am convinced you don’t intend to affront me, so I shall not resent it; but I promise you, you have joined two persons very improperly together; for one is the glory of the human species, and the other is a rascal who dishonours the name of man.”

No beating around the bush there with Tom, who goes on to explain his problems with Blifil in the starkest of terms before the horses are ready for them to resume.

Tom, Partridge and the boy get lost shortly after this and stumble upon a Romani (not the word Fielding used) wedding party and take some shelter with them during a storm. It’s an interesting interlude, Tom and their “King” engage in good conversation about forms of government and lighter topics. Their conversation ends with this amusing exchange:

the king, turning to him, said, “Me believe you be surprize: for me suppose you have ver bad opinion of my people; me suppose you tink us all de tieves.”

“I must confess, sir,” said Jones, “I have not heard so favourable an account of them as they seem to deserve.”

“Me vil tell you,” said the king, “how the difference is between you and us. My people rob your people, and your people rob one anoder.”

Not a lot actually got accomplished in these few chapters—the plot only inched forward. But there were some interesting/amusing passages, and the closer Tom gets to London, the closer we get (I imagine) to a lot of things happening.

We’ve spent some time with Sophia, her cousin and her father, as they left that Inn and traveled toward London. Now it’s time to get back to Tom Jones, the man this History is about to see what he does when he leaves the same Inn after that eventful night. I really liked the way this week’s chapters started. Fielding being Fielding:

At length we are once more come to our Heroe; and, to say Truth, we have been obliged to part with him so long, that, considering the Condition in which we left him, I apprehend many of our Readers have concluded we intended to abandon him for ever; he being at present in that Situation in which prudent People usually desist from enquiring any farther after their Friends, lest they should be shocked by hearing such Friends had hanged themselves.

But, in reality, if we have not all the Virtues, I will boldly say, neither have we all the Vices of a prudent Character; and tho’ it is not easy to conceive Circumstances much more miserable than those of poor Jones at present, we shall return to him, and attend upon him with the same Diligence as if he was wantoning in the brightest Beams of Fortune.

It’s good to be back with Tom, even if he doesn’t seem much like the man destined for a hanging right now—he’s heartbroken and lost. He actually loses it on poor Partridge shortly after they leave in pursuit of Sophia. They eventually patch it up and Tom figures since everything else in life has gone wrong, he might as well pursue glory and join the army.

Partridge tries to dissuade him, in part with flowery religious talk. Which is almost immediately shown to be empty when a poor beggar crosses their path, seeking aid. Partridge has no patience for him, but Tom chastises him and gives the man some money. The man offers to sell him a notebook, that Tom soon discovers belongs to Sophia—and contains the missing hundred pounds! Tom takes the beggar’s name so he can arrange some award money to be sent to him once he delivers this book to Sophia.

I did enjoy the beggar grumbling to himself as he left about his parents never having sent him to school to read. If only they had, he wouldn’t be in this state.

Tom and Partridge carry on for a while and eventually stop in an in ann which is also playing host to a puppet show. The puppeteer has removed Punch and Joan from his shows so that they’ll teach morality. Tom suggests that the removal makes them dull, and the two argue a bit before the landlady interrupts to complain that no one does Bible stories anymore in those shows.

I’m not sure what Fielding is going to do with this stuff, but I think I’ll find out next week. In the meantime, Partridge convinces him to get a room for the night (wouldn’t want to travel at night) and get some overdue sleep. And we’ll leave it there for now.

It was good to be back traveling with Tom, but I wish I knew where things were going.