History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

Henry Fielding

Description

The foundling Tom Jones is found on the property of a benevolent, wealthy landowner. Tom grows up to be a vigorous, kind-hearted young man, whose love of his neighbor's well-born daughter brings class friction to the fore. The presence of prostitution and promiscuity in Tom Jones caused a sensation at the time it was published, as such themes were uncommon. It is divided into 18 shorter books, and is considered one of the first English-language novels.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2009
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775412533
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE HISTORY OF TOM JONES, A FOUNDLING
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HENRY FIELDING
 
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The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling First published in 1749.
ISBN 978-1-775412-53-3
© 2008 THE FLOATING PRESS.
While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike.
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Contents
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BOOK I Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII BOOK II Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX BOOK III Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X BOOK IV Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV BOOK V Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII BOOK VI Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV BOOK VII Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV BOOK VIII Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV BOOK IX Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII BOOK X Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX BOOK XI Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X BOOK XII Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV BOOK XIII Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII BOOK XIV Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X BOOK XV Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII BOOK XVI Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X BOOK XVII Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX BOOK XVIII Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter the Last Endnotes
 
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To the Honourable
GEORGE LYTTLETON, ESQ;
One of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury.
Sir,
Notwithstanding your constant refusal, when I have asked leave toprefix your name to this dedication, I must still insist on my rightto desire your protection of this work.
To you, Sir, it is owing that this history was ever begun. It was byyour desire that I first thought of such a composition. So many yearshave since past, that you may have, perhaps, forgotten thiscircumstance: but your desires are to me in the nature of commands;and the impression of them is never to be erased from my memory.
Again, Sir, without your assistance this history had never beencompleted. Be not startled at the assertion. I do not intend to drawon you the suspicion of being a romance writer. I mean no more thanthat I partly owe to you my existence during great part of the timewhich I have employed in composing it: another matter which it may benecessary to remind you of; since there are certain actions of whichyou are apt to be extremely forgetful; but of these I hope I shallalways have a better memory than yourself.
Lastly, It is owing to you that the history appears what it now is. Ifthere be in this work, as some have been pleased to say, a strongerpicture of a truly benevolent mind than is to be found in any other,who that knows you, and a particular acquaintance of yours, will doubtwhence that benevolence hath been copied? The world will not, Ibelieve, make me the compliment of thinking I took it from myself. Icare not: this they shall own, that the two persons from whom I havetaken it, that is to say, two of the best and worthiest men in theworld, are strongly and zealously my friends. I might be contentedwith this, and yet my vanity will add a third to the number; and himone of the greatest and noblest, not only in his rank, but in everypublic and private virtue. But here, whilst my gratitude for theprincely benefactions of the Duke of Bedford bursts from my heart, youmust forgive my reminding you that it was you who first recommended meto the notice of my benefactor.
And what are your objections to the allowance of the honour which Ihave sollicited? Why, you have commended the book so warmly, that youshould be ashamed of reading your name before the dedication. Indeed,sir, if the book itself doth not make you ashamed of yourcommendations, nothing that I can here write will, or ought. I am notto give up my right to your protection and patronage, because you havecommended my book: for though I acknowledge so many obligations toyou, I do not add this to the number; in which friendship, I amconvinced, hath so little share: since that can neither biass yourjudgment, nor pervert your integrity. An enemy may at any time obtainyour commendation by only deserving it; and the utmost which thefaults of your friends can hope for, is your silence; or, perhaps, iftoo severely accused, your gentle palliation.
In short, sir, I suspect, that your dislike of public praise is yourtrue objection to granting my request. I have observed that you have,in common with my two other friends, an unwillingness to hear theleast mention of your own virtues; that, as a great poet says of oneof you, (he might justly have said it of all three), you
Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame .
If men of this disposition are as careful to shun applause, as othersare to escape censure, how just must be your apprehension of yourcharacter falling into my hands; since what would not a man havereason to dread, if attacked by an author who had received from himinjuries equal to my obligations to you!
And will not this dread of censure increase in proportion to thematter which a man is conscious of having afforded for it? If hiswhole life, for instance, should have been one continued subject ofsatire, he may well tremble when an incensed satirist takes him inhand. Now, sir, if we apply this to your modest aversion to panegyric,how reasonable will your fears of me appear!
Yet surely you might have gratified my ambition, from this singleconfidence, that I shall always prefer the indulgence of yourinclinations to the satisfaction of my own. A very strong instance ofwhich I shall give you in this address, in which I am determined tofollow the example of all other dedicators, and will consider not whatmy patron really deserves to have written, but what he will be bestpleased to read.
Without further preface then, I here present you with the labours ofsome years of my life. What merit these labours have is already knownto yourself. If, from your favourable judgment, I have conceived someesteem for them, it cannot be imputed to vanity; since I should haveagreed as implicitly to your opinion, had it been given in favour ofany other man's production. Negatively, at least, I may be allowed tosay, that had I been sensible of any great demerit in the work, youare the last person to whose protection I would have ventured torecommend it.
From the name of my patron, indeed, I hope my reader will beconvinced, at his very entrance on this work, that he will find in thewhole course of it nothing prejudicial to the cause of religion andvirtue, nothing inconsistent with the strictest rules of decency, norwhich can offend even the chastest eye in the perusal. On thecontrary, I declare, that to recommend goodness and innocence hathbeen my sincere endeavour in this history. This honest purpose youhave been pleased to think I have attained: and to say the truth, itis likeliest to be attained in books of this kind; for an example is akind of picture, in which virtue becomes, as it were, an object ofsight, and strikes us with an idea of that loveliness, which Platoasserts there is in her naked charms.
Besides displaying that beauty of virtue which may attract theadmiration of mankind, I have attempted to engage a stronger motive tohuman action in her favour, by convincing men, that their trueinterest directs them to a pursuit of her. For this purpose I haveshown that no acquisitions of guilt can compensate the loss of thatsolid inward comfort of mind, which is the sure companion of innocenceand virtue; nor can in the least balance the evil of that horror andanxiety which, in their room, guilt introduces into our bosoms. Andagain, that as these acquisitions are in themselves generallyworthless, so are the means to attain them not only base and infamous,but at best incertain, and always full of danger. Lastly, I haveendeavoured strongly to inculcate, that virtue and innocence canscarce ever be injured but by indiscretion; and that it is this alonewhich often betrays them into the snares that deceit and villainyspread for them. A moral which I have the more industriously laboured,as the teaching