Tag: General Fiction Page 11 of 42

After the hopeful note that we ended on last week, everything goes to pieces in the last two chapters—Mrs. Miller’s daughter/Nightingale’s wife dies in childbirth; Sophia can’t get over everything that Tom put her through, and dies lonely and miserable; Tom joins the Navy and dies of scurvy somewhere around Australia; Partridge becomes a successful playwright, Allworthy drinks himself to death, and Blifil becomes Prime Minister.

Okay, no. That’s not even close to it. Instead, we get something akin to Wayne’s World‘s “Mega Happy Ending.”

We start with Allworthy and Tom going to call on Sophia with her Father. Straight away Allworthy and Western leave the two alone. It takes the two a while to start speaking, eventually, Sophia breaks the silence and calls him most fortunate thanks to being freed. Tom rejects that, saying he can’t be fortunate as long as she’s upset. The ice broken, words start flowing.

Tom ensures she understands what happened with that letter—she gets it, but wants him to prove his devotion. But, she assures him,

You will now want no opportunity of being near me, and convincing me that your mind is altered too.

He wants to know how long it’ll take, she guesses maybe a year (but implies it might take longer). He calls that an eternity. She tells him to back off and not pressure her, and he does so and insists he will keep not pressuring her.

Which leads the two of them to kiss. Naturally, that’s when Western comes back in. He’s overjoyed to see this and asks when they’ll get married. Tom tries to get him to stop this, but Sophia overrides that. She’s an obedient daughter, she says—what does her father want her to do? Marry Tom the next day? Well, okay.

Tom’s stunned, Western demands Allworthy’s presence. Allworthy makes sure that she feels no constraint and then gives his blessing. The four of them go off to meet with NIghtingale and his father, but Sophia wants to keep the engagement quiet.

NIghtingale’s father and uncle trade war stories about their offspring’s impetuous and ill-advised marriage? Allworthy’s counsel works its magic and the two fathers accept the new spouses. The next day Sophia and Tom are married in a small, private ceremony.

And just like that,

Thus, reader, we have at length brought our history to a conclusion, in which, to our great pleasure, though contrary, perhaps, to thy expectation, Mr Jones appears to be the happiest of all humankind; for what happiness this world affords equal to the possession of such a woman as Sophia, I sincerely own I have never yet discovered.

But Fielding doesn’t leave us like that—like in those movies that at the end give you a freeze-frame of a character or two with a chyron summing up the rest of their life in a sentence or three, Fielding tells us what happens to the major characters—Blifil never sees his uncle again, becomes a Methodist (so he can court a woman) and plans on buying a seat in Parliament; Partridge marries good old Molly Seagrim and opens another school; Western becomes a doting grandfather to his two grandchildren (particularly his granddaughter); and so on.

Whatever in the nature of Jones had a tendency to vice, has been corrected by continual conversation with [Allworthy], and by his union with the lovely and virtuous Sophia. He hath also, by reflection on his past follies, acquired a discretion and prudence very uncommon in one of his lively parts.

To conclude, as there are not to be found a worthier man and woman, than this fond couple, so neither can any be imagined more happy. They preserve the purest and tenderest affection for each other, an affection daily encreased and confirmed by mutual endearments and mutual esteem. Nor is their conduct towards their relations and friends less amiable than towards one another. And such is their condescension, their indulgence, and their beneficence to those below them, that there is not a neighbour, a tenant, or a servant, who doth not most gratefully bless the day when Mr Jones was married to his Sophia.

So, that’s that. The ending—all of Book 18—felt rushed. But I’m not sure I could’ve taken much more. After all this, it was really just a simple story about an unlikely guy getting the girl—with a lot of insane twists, turns, and hoops to jump through along the way.

I should have more to say. And probably will soon. I’m not quite done with this series yet—see you next week.

Last week we learned everything except who killed JR and what is the Colonel’s secret blend of herbs and spices. This week we see what happens after the beans are spilled (and learn a thing or two in addition).

Mrs. Waters has one more bit of commendation for Tom, telling Allworthy:

…it was then I accidentally met with Mr Jones, who rescued me from the hands of a villain. Indeed, he is the worthiest of men. No young gentleman of his age is, I believe, freer from vice, and few have the twentieth part of his virtues; nay, whatever vices he hath had, I am firmly persuaded he hath now taken a resolution to abandon them.

The attorney, Mr. Downey comes along at this point and Allwrothy gets him to spill the beans—why did he approach Mrs. Waters, who put him up to that, who put him up to getting the support of witnesses for the prosecution. He even gets Downey to admit that he knew Tom was Allworthy’s nephew, he’d told Blifil and had given Blifil a letter from his mother to Allworthy about it. Not surprisingly, Blifil neglected to pass along the messages. Which pretty much seals both of their fates in Allworthy’s eyes.

Western pops in, beside himself about this letter he’s found from Tom to Sophia—the most recent one. He wants these shenanigans finished and has locked her up again. Allworthy talks him down from that, promising to go talk to Sophia that day.

Mrs. Miller’s worried about what horrible things Mrs. Waters told Allworthy, and tries to defend Tom. Instead, Allworthy tells her what he’s been learning, closing with

O! Mrs Miller, you have a thousand times heard me call the young man to whom you are so faithful a friend, my son. Little did I then think he was indeed related to me at all.—Your friend, madam, is my nephew; he is the brother of that wicked viper which I have so long nourished in my bosom….Indeed, Mrs Miller, I am convinced that he hath been wronged, and that I have been abused; abused by one whom you too justly suspected of being a villain. He is, in truth, the worst of villains.

As he leaves to go talk to Sophia, Allworthy says something to his younger nephew about the letter from his mother, leaving “Blifil in a situation to be envied only by a man who is just going to be hanged.” While on the road, Allworthy reads the letter from Jones to Sophia, starts to understand what Tom feels about her, and gets choked up by some of what he reads about himself from Tom’s hand.

When he talks to Sophia, he spends a lot of time showing her that he’s on her side when it comes to Blifil.

I heartily congratulate you on your prudent foresight, since by so justifiable a resistance you have avoided misery indeed!

The scales are truly fallen from his eyes.

If I had married Mr Blifil—” “Pardon my interrupting you, madam,” answered Allworthy, “but I cannot bear the supposition.—Believe me, Miss Western, I rejoice from my heart, I rejoice in your escape.—I have discovered the wretch for whom you have suffered all this cruel violence from your father to be a villain.” “How, sir!” cries Sophia—“you must believe this surprizes me.”—“It hath surprized me, madam,” answered Allworthy, “and so it will the world.

This is so fun to watch Allwrothy catch up with the reader and narrator on this front.

Allworthy then goes on to try to convince Sophia to give Tom another chance—and tells her everything he learned about him that day. Sophia remains unmoved, however. I mean really unmoved.

At present there is not a man upon earth whom I would more resolutely reject than Mr Jones; nor would the addresses of Mr Blifil himself be less agreeable to me.

Things look dire for the two of them.

Squire Western, on the other hand, has a complete change of heart regarding Tom. He’s 100% Team Tom now.

After Allworthy gets back to Mrs. Miller’s, he sees that Tom is, too, and they meet again.

It is impossible to conceive a more tender or moving scene than the meeting between the uncle and nephew (for Mrs Waters, as the reader may well suppose, had at her last visit discovered to him the secret of his birth). The first agonies of joy which were felt on both sides are indeed beyond my power to describe: I shall not therefore attempt it.

A lot of flowery language flows between the two as they apologize to each other and take all the responsibility and blame for their recent problems on themselves.

Mrs. Miller tells Tom how she tried to explain things to Sophia who would not listen. Western comes in, assures Tom he’s very supportive of him now, all is good between the two of them.

The conversation which now ensued was pleasant enough; and with which, had it happened earlier in our history, we would have entertained our reader; but as we have now leisure only to attend to what is very material, it shall suffice to say that matters being entirely adjusted as to the afternoon visit Mr Western again returned home.

If that’s not enough, we get to learn the details of Tom’s release. Fitzgerald realizes that he was completely in the wrong about Tom and seeks to make amends, and gets Lord Fellamar on board, he wants to make things up to Tom, too!

Things continue to not go well for Tom’s younger brother:

…a message was brought from Mr Blifil, desiring to know if his uncle was at leisure that he might wait upon him. Allworthy started and turned pale, and then in a more passionate tone than I believe he had ever used before, bid the servant tell Blifil he knew him not. “Consider, dear sir,” cries Jones, in a trembling voice. “I have considered,” answered Allworthy, “and you yourself shall carry my message to the villain. No one can carry him the sentence of his own ruin so properly as the man whose ruin he hath so villanously contrived.” “Pardon me, dear sir,” said Jones; “a moment’s reflection will, I am sure, convince you of the contrary. What might perhaps be but justice from another tongue, would from mine be insult; and to whom?—my own brother and your nephew. Nor did he use me so barbarously—indeed, that would have been more inexcusable than anything he hath done.

Tom not only melts his Uncle’s heart with these words but lives up to them.

He goes to see his brother who is despondent—not that he’s treated Allworthy and Tom so poorly, but that it’s all falling apart. Tom encourages him that he’ll try to work things out with Allworthy, but in the meantime, Blifil needs to get his act together and take this like a man. Tom promises to treat him as a brother and to try to let bygones be bygones.

That’s a lot of stuff for four chapters of this book—and I didn’t get as detailed as I was tempted to. It doesn’t have the style (outside of a sentence or two scattered throughout) as the rest of the novel, but man, it’s fun to read now that everything is coming to light.

Next week, we finish the novel. I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to wrap things up, but I have a pretty good idea how Fielding will. Guess we’ll see.

We’re in the last book, nearing the end of the novel and therefore ehhhhhh-verything is going to be revealed. And things at Mrs. Miller’s are busy for Squire Allworthy this day.

Square, who the reader may remember as the less-religious tutor for Tom and Blifil is dying, and has got real religion. Now has been driven to confess to everyone he can think of to clear his conscience and hopefully make things right.

As part of this effort, he sends a letter to Allworthy, in part, he states:

Believe me, my friend, this young man hath the noblest generosity of heart, the most perfect capacity for friendship, the highest integrity, and indeed every virtue which can ennoble a man. He hath some faults, but among them is not to be numbered the least want of duty or gratitude towards you. On the contrary, I am satisfied, when you dismissed him from your house, his heart bled for you more than for himself.

Allworthy also gets a letter from Thwackum, having heard of the murder accusation, who goes on and on about Tom’s villainy—and tries to get Allworthy’s support for a job. Allworthy’s a little shaken by this, but not that much.

But wait, there’s more.

We then discover that Allworthy’s lawyer, Dowling, was one of the men Nightingale talked to at the alehouse when he got the truth from Fellamar’s goons about the attempt to press him into the Navy via this trumped-up charge. Nightingale assumed Dowling was there, like he was, to gather information to help Tom. Allworthy is stunned by this news. Blifil explains it away—over the outspoken skepticism of Mrs. Miller.

Patridge stops by right then to update Mrs. Miller, but Allworthy corners him and

asked him many questions concerning Jones, as to his health, and other matters; to all which Partridge answered, without having the least regard to what was, but considered only what he would have things appear; for a strict adherence to truth was not among the articles of this honest fellow’s morality or his religion.

Allworthy then gets everyone to leave and speaks frankly with Partridge, accusing him of being Tom’s father. Partridge denies it, ” he was no more the father of Jones than of the Pope of Rome”. It’s at this point that Mrs. Waters shows up, and things get really interesting.

Also, it should be noted that by now, that anything that Mr. Square has said has quite been forgotten.

Partridge calls on Mrs. Waters to be a witness—if anyone can state definitively that he’s not the father, it has to be the mother, right? But, no. She flat out states that’s not the case (which will greatly relieve Tom, I’m sure)

I’m not really going to try to summarize what says:

“I am not his mother; nor would I now think myself so for the world….So far what I confest,” said she, “was true, that these hands conveyed the infant to your bed; conveyed it thither at the command of its mother; at her commands I afterwards owned it, and thought myself, by her generosity, nobly rewarded, both for my secrecy and my shame.” “Who could this woman be?” said Allworthy. “Indeed, I tremble to name her,” answered Mrs Waters. “By all this preparation I am to guess that she was a relation of mine,” cried he. “Indeed she was a near one.” At which words Allworthy started, and she continued—“You had a sister, sir.” “A sister!” repeated he, looking aghast.—“As there is truth in heaven,” cries she, “your sister was the mother of that child you found between your sheets.” “Can it be possible?” cries he, “Good heavens!” “Have patience, sir,” said Mrs Waters…all suspicions were afterwards laid asleep by the artful conduct of your sister, in pretending ill-will to the boy, and that any regard she shewed him was out of meer complacence to you.”

The hits keep coming. The reason she showed up wasn’t to drop that bomb on everyone, but this—she’s been approached by someone thinking she was Mrs. Fitzgerald. As such, she might be interested in someone coming along to give financial aid for the prosecution of Tom. Who was this less-than-scrupulous man?

Mr. Dowling, of course. Things are not looking good for him.

This section really goes with Fielding’s promise to not give us a whole lot of fancy writing or anything with flair anymore—just the events. That’s all we got. Nothing clever, just a lot of exposition. And a lot of things to chew on. I really miss the flavor of the previous 17 books, but if he’d kept that up, Fielding would’ve taken at least 7 or 8 chapters to give us as much exposition as he did in these four.

Nightingale spends a couple of days hunting for something to exonerate Tom, but when he finds two of the witnesses, it’s not good news. He found two of the men who were with Fitzgerald, but were so far away during the altercation to hear what happened. They stress, however, that Tom struck first.

Nightingale’s faith in Tom is staggered, but Tom wins him back, just as Mrs. Miller arrives and reports her utter lack of success, too. While those two are still there, Tom gets news that a lady wishes to speak with him. He has no idea who it could be, but wants to see whoever it might be. Mrs. Miller and Nigthingale leave so she could be shown in.

It’s Tom’s, um, acquaintance, Mrs. Waters from Chapter 9. She’d spent a lot of time with Fitzgerald, both on the road and after the fight with Tom. She’s more than confident that he’s about to recover, and she continues,

“By the most extraordinary accident in the world I lodge at the same house; and have seen the gentleman, and I promise you he doth you justice, and says, whatever be the consequence, that he was entirely the aggressor, and that you was not in the least to blame.”

Which sounds pretty good for TOm, right?

Thus the melancholy occasioned by the report of Mr Nightingale was pretty well effaced; but the dejection into which Mrs Miller had thrown him still continued. The account she gave so well tallied with the words of Sophia herself in her letter, that he made not the least doubt but that she had disclosed his letter to her aunt, and had taken a fixed resolution to abandon him. The torments this thought gave him were to be equalled only by a piece of news which fortune had yet in store for him, and which we shall communicate in the second chapter of the ensuing book.

And so we turn to the last Book of the novel, and Fielding bids his readers good-bye.

We are now, reader, arrived at the last stage of our long journey. As we have, therefore, travelled together through so many pages, let us behave to one another like fellow-travellers in a stage coach, who have passed several days in the company of each other; and who, notwithstanding any bickerings or little animosities which may have occurred on the road, generally make all up at last, and mount, for the last time, into their vehicle with chearfulness and good humour; since after this one stage, it may possibly happen to us, as it commonly happens to them, never to meet more.

As we are so close to the end, it’s straight-narrative now. No more asides, clever little observations, or anything—we’re just going to wrap things up and get all the story told.

Which is a shame, because I’d have truly loved a few paragraphs of digression after the revelation of Chapter 2 sets in. After Mrs. Waters leaves, Partridge comes in and confesses he overheard most of their conversation, then asks if it’s true that Tom and Mrs. Waters actually went to bed together. Tom admits it to be true but doesn’t see why Partridge is so upset.

I have not breath enough left to tell you now, but what I have said is most certainly true.—That woman who now went out is your own mother. How unlucky was it for you, sir, that I did not happen to see her at that time, to have prevented it! Sure the devil himself must have contrived to bring about this wickedness.”

Yup. Partridge recognized Mrs. Waters, Jenny Jones herself.

Tom reacts the way almost everyone would to find out he slept with his mother—he’s horrified. Partridge isn’t much better—if only he’d seen her earlier he could have saved Tom. While they’re in shock, Tom gets a letter from Mrs. Waters, saying she has “learned something concerning you which greatly surprizes and affects me”—undoubtedly, she’s learned the same thing as Tom, he assumes. She also assures him that Fitzpatrick will live.

Black George decides that this is the time to drop by. He offers Tom help or money, but Tom declines, his problems are far bigger than that. George describes that Sophia and her father have reconciled, mostly due to the wedge driving between Sophia and her aunt. This pleases Tom, immensely, but does him little good.

Mrs. Miller and Allworthy are on better terms, and Mrs. Miller continues to defend and promote Tom in his eyes. They receive news that Fitzpatrick is recovering nicely and has claimed he started the altercation, leaving Tom utterly free.

Allworthy then gets a letter from Mr. Square, and it upsets him greatly we won’t find out what it said until the next chapter, however.

Great plot movement, make no mistake, and we’re clearly in the end game when it comes to plot. But I missed the fun of Fielding’s prose, being straightforward like he is being, takes away some of the charm of the book.

Still…wow. A whole lot happened—and a whole lot more needs to in the next couple of seeks. I just hope we get past the incest stage, but I have no idea how Tom’s going to get out.

After the tumultuous events of the last few chapters, things might start to take a turn for the better for Tom.

Might, I say, might. But, like Fielding said in last week’s chapters, it’s going to take some work for these characters to get to the shore of a happy ending, as this isn’t a drama.

Whether it was that Fortune was apprehensive lest Jones should sink under the weight of his adversity, and that she might thus lose any future opportunity of tormenting him, or whether she really abated somewhat of her severity towards him, she seemed a little to relax her persecution,

and sent Nightingale, Partridge, and Mrs. Miller* to visit him.

* I don’t know why this is, but every time I write her name, I write “Mrs. Wilson” and have to go back and fix it in editing. Every. Single. Time.

When these three come to visit Tom in prison, Partridge brings good news—Fitzpatrick is still alive. He’s not in great shape, but he’s still alive. Mrs. Miller agrees to take a letter to Sophia. And Nightingale commits to digging up more information on the duel. The three of them leave Tom feeling better.

Sophia’s not in any mood to take a letter from Mrs. Miller (who she just met), but she’s worn down. Tom’s letter doesn’t really do the trick—he’s too vague about what happened with Lady Bellaston, and in the end, she’s still angry.

Mrs. Miller and Allworthy have a longish conversation, which is really the most interesting thing in this section. Miller gives him an account of all the good things that Tom’s done for her and her family (although she doesn’t get into all the nitty-gritty about Nightingale and Nancy. Allworthy acknowledges that Mrs. Miller ought to feel gratitude and some obligation to TOm, but doesn’t want him mentioned again. He also warns her against the negative comments towards Blifil—or he’ll cut her off. There might be some softening on his part toward Tom, but before we can see more of that Blifeil and his attorney arrive and that’s the end of their conversation because business needs to get taken care of.

The last chapter annoyed me—it’s essentially a repeat of the last chapter or so of Lord Fellamar and Sophia material—but this time, Mrs. Western backs off her earlier support of Sophia and is once again trying to get the match made. Fellamar tries apologizing, but basically says he’s so head-over-heels for her that he couldn’t help but try to rush things. Sophia flatly refuses him and isn’t at all subtle. Mrs. Western is fed up, if Sophia won’t accept him she’ll be sent back to her father the next day.

So the whole Sophia/Fellamar/Bellaston thing (Bellaston was behind Fellamar’s last attempt, I should add) seemed like such a waste, we covered this before, and Mrs. Western’s reversal doesn’t make much sense to me. I’d have preferred more advancement on the other areas of the plot—but I can see where the lack of advancement was necessary. I bet that conversation between Allworthy and Mrs. Miller will prove important later. Also, I had to check but the name of Blifil’s attorney is one we’ve run into before, near the beginning of the book. I bet his reappearance is going to prove pivotal.

There’s some really good writing here, as always, Fielding’s voice makes even the dull/repetitive/annoying parts at least somewhat entertaining.

Next week, Tom in prison and we begin the last Book.

I’m a little daunted by these chapters, I’ve gotta say…if I’m not careful, this’ll be the longest (by far) post in this series.

We kick off the penultimate (!!!) Book with Fielding talking about the tough spot he’s in—if he were writing a tragedy, he’d be about finished.

it would be difficult for the devil, or any of his representatives on earth, to have contrived much greater torments for poor Jones than those in which we left him in the last chapter; and as for Sophia, a good-natured woman would hardly wish more uneasiness to a rival than what she must at present be supposed to feel. What then remains to complete the tragedy but a murder or two and a few moral sentences!

But he’s not writing a tragedy, it’s a comedy—and it’s going to be some effort

to bring our favourites out of their present anguish and distress, and to land them at last on the shore of happiness

He amends that by noting, it wouldn’t be that hard to get Sophia to a happy ending, but Tom who might just get hanged at Tyburn*—that’s going to be tricky. Especially because he’s not willing to use a literal Deus ex machina (like the ancients would), or any other mythical/supernatural being to help—this is a “natural” work and he’s got to do this in an honest way.

let us try therefore what, by these means, may be done for poor Jones; though to confess the truth, something whispers me in the ear that he doth not yet know the worst of his fortune; and that a more shocking piece of news than any he hath yet heard remains for him in the unopened leaves of fate.

* Fielding stating it’s possible that Tom would be “hanged at Tyburn” made me think of Lady Ty from Ben Aaronovitch’s The Rivers of London\. Now I want Tom to show up and do something with Tom and Nightingale.

After Tom is taken into custody, Blifil comes into breakfast with Mrs. Miller and Mr. Allworthy—and he’s bursting to give the news about

“that Jones, that wretch whom you nourished in your bosom, [who] hath proved one of the greatest villains upon earth.

At this point, Mrs. Miller interrupts him with a glowing defense of Tom—even going so far as to say that Allworthy didn’t do right by him. And even when Allworthy makes her let Blifil share his news, she stands by him—if he actually killed a man, that man deserved it. Before the discussion can go further, Squire Western shows up and Mrs. Miller excuses herself.

Western comes with news—someone else is proposing, and they’d better get things moving if Blifil is going to marry her. Allworthy puts his foot down—he won’t let Sophia be forced into this. Western and Blifil argue against it, but he’s unmoved–if she changes her mind freely, that’s one thing–but otherwise, Allworthy won’t go for it. Blifil can’t help himself and shares the news about Tom, which sends Western into giddy celebration–literally singing and dancing. This will remove Tom from Sophia’s affections, that’s got to be the nail in the coffin, she’ll be Mrs. Blifil before long at this rate.

Western goes off on his way, and Allworthy warns Blifil that the marriage is just not going to happen and he needs to move on.

The reader may pretty well guess Blifil’s answer; but, if he should be at a loss, we are not at present at leisure to satisfy him, as our history now hastens on to matters of higher importance, and we can no longer bear to be absent from Sophia.

Sophia and Mrs. Western are at loggerheads—Lord Fellamar is coming by that afternoon and wants some time without Mrs. Western around. Sophia pleads to not be left alone with him—after some back and forth, she breaks down and tells her aunt what happened. Mrs. Western initially doesn’t believe it, he’s such a good guy with honorable intentions, and so on. But Sophia convinces her. Agast, Mrs. Western agrees to never leave the two of them alone. Fellamar comes, spends an incredibly dull afternoon with the two of them, and departs.

And now we have seen our heroine in a better situation than she hath been for a long time before, we will look a little after Mr Jones, whom we left in the most deplorable situation that can be well imagined.

So what do I have to say about all that? I loved the introductory chapter (even if what he says about the ancients, Persians, and Arabians is irresponsible, inaccurate, and condescending at best). I thought Mrs. MIller was brave and wonderful in her defense, and I was just waiting for her to slap Blifil with a kitchen implement for being such a twerp. I’ve never liked Squire Western less, and I feel bad how the deck is being stacked against Tom. The last chapter between Sophia and her aunt was just great, too.

I guess, basically, I’m excited to be in the home stretch, am really enjoying what Fielding us up to, and am tempted to finish the novel tonight.

So Squire Western drags Blifil with him to go visit Sophia, who does not want to see him and excuses herself immediately. Mrs. Western chalks this up to them showing up unexpectedly and chases them off—schedule a visit (maybe even this afternoon) and she’ll see him, her aunt will see to that. It takes some work, but she gets them to leave—Western only because he insists this afternoon will work, but Blifil thinks something else is afoot.

And he’s right, Lady Bellaston (for whatever twisted reason she has) has come to visit Western and has convinced her that Lord Fellamar is a better match than Blifil, who really only has money to recommend him. Fellmar has a title, money, and class. Sure, he almost raped Sophia, but…I’m not sure Mrs. Western knows that (or would believe Sophia). That stupid proposal that Tom used to scare off Bellaston comes back to haunt him—she gives it to Mrs. Western to show Sophia.

Meanwhile, Fellmar has recruited a naval friend of his to find Tom, trump up some charges (he’s not a gentleman or anyone with a source of income, he’s a vagrant, so that’ll work) to put him on a sailing vessel.

Meanwhile, Tom has kept that appointment with Mrs. Fitzgerald. She’s still upset with Mrs. Western and wants to get back at her by helping Tom win Sophia. The next day, he returns for more discussion of the topic. As he leaves, he bumps into Mr. Fitzgerald—who after a minute, recognizes Tom and challenges him. Tom knows almost nothing about fencing, but knows enough, apparently, to stick him with the pointy end.

Naturally, about that time the group who was coming to grab Tom for Fellmar sees this and takes him off to the magistrate. Murder’ll do better than vagrancy, after all. While Tom’s locked up, the next day, Partridge comes with the news—Fitzgerald died from his wounds. He also brings a note from Sophia, she’s seen the proposal, and he should never contact her again.

Of the present situation of Mr Jones’s mind, and of the pangs with which he was now tormented, we cannot give the reader a better idea than by saying, his misery was such that even Thwackum would almost have pitied him. But, bad as it is, we shall at present leave him in it, as his good genius (if he really had any) seems to have done. And here we put an end to the sixteenth book of our history.

That’s a pretty eventful four chapters right there. There’ve been entire Books of this novel that haven’t had as many events as the last four chapters of this one. Fellmar and Bellaston prove that they’re the worst. Blifil has probably been spurred to new levels of knavery, and I’m kind of looking forward to Fellmar and facing off with him (and man, I hope that happens)

It was a little confusing because Feilding spent a lot of time going back in time when he switched the characters he focused on—but it wasn’t that bad. I feel like I should have more to say, but I really don’t—I just want to see what happens next!

Black George smuggles that letter Tom wrote to Sophia with the breakfast he brought her, and it was a good one. She was so excited to see it that she ignored her favorite dishes, brought by George for her specifically to get over the hunger strike.

What Sophia said, or did, or thought, upon this letter, how often she read it, or whether more than once, shall all be left to our reader’s imagination. The answer to it he may perhaps see hereafter, but not at present: for this reason, among others, that she did not now write any, and that for several good causes, one of which was this, she had no paper, pen, nor ink.

She’s immediately distracted from her lack of office supplies by a heated argument in the house, it doesn’t take long for her to figure out that her aunt had arrived and isn’t happy with her father. At this point, Fielding states:

We shall therefore take our leave at present of Sophia, and, with our usual good-breeding, attend her ladyship.

Mrs. Western’s not happy with the way her brother is treating his daughter. Naturally. For one, she isn’t impressed at all with the quality of the place the Squire has rented. And, of course, the whole locking her in her room thing. After some choice words, and an offer by the Parson to mediate, the two come to an agreement—Mrs. Western will take Sophia to her residence and Squire Western will drink to excess. Each playing to their strengths, I guess.

Sophia gets her hands on some stationary and a pen at her aunt’s lodging and writes Tom back. Essentially saying she has no intentions of marrying Blifil, but won’t defy her father and marry anyone else. Basically what she told her father in last week’s chapters. She commands Tom to write her back, too.

Tom’s so relieved by her freedom from confinement that he keeps his appointment to go to a performance of Hamlet with Mrs. Wilson and her youngest daughter—and they bring Partridge along. Patridge is unfamiliar with the play and is like one of those little kids in the movie theater talking to their parent. “Who is that?” “Ghosts don’t look like that…” and so on. He’s more entertaining to those who hear him than the play is. Fielding has a lot of fun with Patridge at this point—even going so far as to say that the guy playing the King was the better actor:

“The king, without doubt.” “Indeed, Mr Partridge,” says Mrs Miller, “you are not of the same opinion with the town; for they are all agreed, that Hamlet is acted by the best player who ever was on the stage.” “He the best player!” cries Partridge, with a contemptuous sneer, “why, I could act as well as he myself. I am sure, if I had seen a ghost, I should have looked in the very same manner, and done just as he did. And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it, between him and his mother, where you told me he acted so fine, why, Lord help me, any man, that is, any good man, that had such a mother, would have done exactly the same. I know you are only joking with me; but indeed, madam, though I was never at a play in London, yet I have seen acting before in the country; and the king for my money; he speaks all his words distinctly, half as loud again as the other.—Anybody may see he is an actor.”

While Partridge is telling Mrs. Wilson how hams are clearly the better actors, Mrs. Fitzpatrick approaches Tom, having seen him across the room. She has something to tell him, and they agree to meet the next morning.

Fielding starts the next chapter on a great note:

It is almost impossible for the best parent to observe an exact impartiality to his children, even though no superior merit should bias his affection; but sure a parent can hardly be blamed, when that superiority determines his preference.

As I regard all the personages of this history in the light of my children; so I must confess the same inclination of partiality to Sophia; and for that I hope the reader will allow me the same excuse, from the superiority of her character.

This extraordinary tenderness which I have for my heroine never suffers me to quit her any long time without the utmost reluctance. I could now, therefore, return impatiently to enquire what hath happened to this lovely creature since her departure from her father’s, but that I am obliged first to pay a short visit to Mr Blifil.

I like that even Fielding sees Blifil as an obligation.

Upon hearing that Western has Sophia locked up and is ready to marry her off, Blifil talks his uncle into going to London right away. Allworthy isn’t inclined to at first, because it’s clear that Sophia doesn’t want to marry him, and Allworthy won’t consent to a forced marriage. Blifil convinces him that he’ll persuade her, not force. And so

the affection of Allworthy for his nephew betray the superior understanding to be triumphed over by the inferior; and thus is the prudence of the best of heads often defeated by the tenderness of the best of hearts.

Fielding’s prose was at its best this week—as you can tell from my multiple quotations above (and I cut about half of what I wanted to cite). Between that and how things are progressing, I had a lot of fun this week, and hope it continues.

So what’s Mrs. Fitzgerald got for Tom? Can Blifil continue to fool his uncle? What dumb thing is Partridge going to do next? We just might get an answer to at least one of these next week.

We left off last time being told that a great temptation was coming to Tom as another effort by Fortune to keep him away from Sophia.

It may be a great temptation, but it’s one that takes very little time or effort on his part (well, maybe some effort), and a mere 5 paragraphs—from the introduction of temptation to resolution. A rich widow who lives near the Miller residence asks Tom to court her and pretty much says she’ll make his worth his while monetarily. As he’s practically broke, this is tempting. Also, he really likes the woman, and it seems as if Sophia’s about to be out of reach really soon. He might as well, right?

But something stops him—it wouldn’t be right, so he turns her (and her money) down. “While Jones was exulting in the consciousness of his integrity,” Partridge comes in with news—he ran into an old friend, Black George. It took George a while to remember him, but once he did their friendship had been rekindled. George is in town for Blifil’s marriage to Sophia, but isn’t a fan of the man. He’ll gladly take a letter to Sophia from Tom. And so ends Book XV.

Book XVI begins with a chapter on the difficulty of writing prologues, and well, yeah…not much to say there.

Sophia refuses to consent to marry Blifil, so her father locks her in a room and then goes to drink and talk with the parson he brought along for “that evening and great part of the succeeding day, during which period nothing happened of sufficient consequence to find a place in this history.”

Then an army officer shows up to make Lord Fellamar’s proposal again. It doesn’t go well. At all and a tussle ensues. Eventually the officer leaves and Western tries again to convince Sophia to just give up and go along with this plan. She refuses again, definitively. Then she offers to stay with him, as she loves her father so much. If he’ll only stop pressuring her into an unhappy marriage, she’ll take care of him and only marry if he approves.

That doesn’t appeal to him at all. So he locks her up again,

departing with a very vulgar observation on the effect of tears…and returned to the parson, who said everything he durst in behalf of the young lady, which, though perhaps it was not quite so much as his duty required, yet was it sufficient to throw the squire into a violent rage, and into many indecent reflections on the whole body of the clergy, which we have too great an honour for that sacred function to commit to paper.

I don’t see the point of the whole Widow-throwing-herself-at-Tom Chapter, hopefully, it pays off eventually. But the other two chapters of story are pretty entertaining—full of great overly-long speeches. Still, it feels like too much time was spent spinning our wheels. I should be used to it, but it felt like momentum had been building lately. I glanced at chapter titles for the rest of Book XVI, and I think it’s going to be pretty slow, but building to something big. There’s not much left to go, things had better happen soon.