ing) is not for "those that
eddy round and round," I do not desire to see Fielding popular among Miss
Alcott's readers. But no man who cares for books can neglect him, and
many women are quite manly enough, have good sense and good taste enough,
to benefit by "Amelia," by much of "Tom Jones." I don't say by "Joseph
Andrews." No man ever respected your sex more than Henry Fielding. What
says his reformed rake, Mr. Wilson, in "Joseph Andrews"?

"To say the Truth, I do not perceive that Inferiority of Understanding
which the Levity of Rakes, the Dulness of Men of Business, and the
Austerity of the Learned would persuade us of in Women. As for my Wife,
I declare I have found none of my own Sex capable of making juster
Observations on Life, or of delivering them more agreeably, nor do I
believe any one possessed of a faithfuller or braver Friend."

He has no other voice wherein to speak of a happy marriage. Can you find
among our genteel writers of this age, a figure more beautiful, tender,
devoted, and in all good ways womanly than Sophia Western's? "Yes," you
will say; "but the man must have been a brute who could give her to Tom
Jones, to 'that fellow who sold himself,' as Colonel Newcome said."
"There you have me at an avail," in the language of the old romancers.
There we touch the centre of Fielding's morality, a subject ill to
discuss, a morality not for everyday preaching.

Fielding distinctly takes himself for a moralist. He preaches as
continually as Thackeray. And his moral is this: "Let a man be kind,
generous, charitable, tolerant, brave, honest--and we may pardon him
vices of young blood, and the stains of adventurous living." Fielding
has no mercy on a seducer. Lovelace would have fared worse with him than
with Richardson, who, I verily believe, admired that infernal (excuse me)
coward and villain. The case of young Nightingale, in "Tom Jones," will
show you what Fielding thought of such gallants. Why, Tom himself
preaches to Nightingale. "Miss Nancy's Interest alone, and not yours,
ought to be your sole Consideration," cried Thomas, . . . "and the very
best and truest Honour, which is Goodness, requires it of you," that is,
requires that Nightingale shall marry Miss Nancy.

How Tom Jones combined these sentiments, which were perfectly honest,
with his own astonishing lack of _retenue_, and with Lady Bellaston, is
just the puzzle. We cannot very well argue about it. I only ask you to
let Jon