The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling by Henry Fielding (top young adult novels TXT) π
Description
A baby is deposited in the bed of Squire Allworthy, a wealthy widower in Georgian England. The baby is given the name of Tom Jones and given to Allworthyβs live-in sister to raise. She soon marries and has her own son, and the two boys are raised together, with the usual household rivalries and jealousies. As Tom reaches his late teenage years, he discovers the several young ladies that surround, but especially the one that lives next door. Circumstances eventually lead to Tom being thrown out of Allworthyβs house, and the bulk of the novel is about the resulting adventures and pursuit of his beloved Sophia.
Tom Jones is many things: a coming-of-age story, a romance, a picaresque, but it is first and foremost a comedy. It is also one of the earliest English novels, and was hugely popular when it was released, going through four printings in its first year. Fielding used the first chapter of each of its eighteen βbooksβ to weigh in on a wide-range of topics, from critics to religion, and his narrator is as important a character in the novel as Tom himself. Highly regarded and highly popular, it is still in print over three-and-a-half centuries after its initial success.
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- Author: Henry Fielding
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In which Mr. Western visits Mr. Allworthy.
Mr. Allworthy was now retired from breakfast with his nephew, well satisfied with the report of the young gentlemanβs successful visit to Sophia (for he greatly desired the match, more on account of the young ladyβs character than of her riches), when Mr. Western broke abruptly in upon them, and without any ceremony began as follows:β β
βThere, you have done a fine piece of work truly! You have brought up your bastard to a fine purpose; not that I believe you have had any hand in it neither, that is, as a man may say, designedly: but there is a fine kettle-of-fish made onβt up at our house.ββ ββWhat can be the matter, Mr. Western?β said Allworthy.β ββO, matter enow of all conscience: my daughter hath fallen in love with your bastard, thatβs all; but I wonβt ge her a hapeny, not the twentieth part of a brass varden. I always thought what would come oβ breeding up a bastard like a gentleman, and letting un come about to vokβs houses. Itβs well vor un I could not get at un: Iβd a lickβd un; Iβd a spoilβd his caterwauling; Iβd a taught the son of a whore to meddle with meat for his master. He shanβt ever have a morsel of meat of mine, or a varden to buy it: if she will ha un, one smock shall be her portion. Iβd sooner ge my esteate to the zinking fund, that it may be sent to Hanover to corrupt our nation with.ββ ββI am heartily sorry,β cries Allworthy.β ββPox oβ your sorrow,β says Western; βit will do me abundance of good when I have lost my only child, my poor Sophy, that was the joy of my heart, and all the hope and comfort of my age; but I am resolved I will turn her out oβ doors; she shall beg, and starve, and rot in the streets. Not one hapeny, not a hapeny shall she ever hae oβ mine. The son of a bitch was always good at finding a hare sitting, an be rotted toβn: I little thought what puss he was looking after; but it shall be the worst he ever vound in his life. She shall be no better than carrion: the skin oβer is all he shall ha, and zu you may tell un.ββ ββI am in amazement,β cries Allworthy, βat what you tell me, after what passed between my nephew and the young lady no longer ago than yesterday.ββ ββYes, sir,β answered Western, βit was after what passed between your nephew and she that the whole matter came out. Mr. Blifil there was no sooner gone than the son of a whore came lurching about the house. Little did I think when I used to love him for a sportsman that he was all the while a poaching after my daughter.ββ ββWhy truly,β says Allworthy, βI could wish you had not given him so many opportunities with her; and you will do me the justice to acknowledge that I have always been averse to his staying so much at your house, though I own I had no suspicion of this kind.ββ ββWhy, zounds,β cries Western, βwho could have thought it? What the devil had she to do wiβn? He did not come there a courting to her; he came there a hunting with me.ββ ββBut was it possible,β says Allworthy, βthat you should never discern any symptoms of love between them, when you have seen them so often together?ββ ββNever in my life, as I hope to be saved,β cries Western: βI never so much as zeed him kiss her in all my life; and so far from courting her, he used rather to be more silent when she was in company than at any other time; and as for the girl, she was always less civil toβn than to any young man that came to the house. As to that matter, I am not more easy to be deceived than another; I would not have you think I am, neighbour.β Allworthy could scarce refrain laughter at this; but he resolved to do a violence to himself; for he perfectly well knew mankind, and had too much good-breeding and good-nature to offend the squire in his present circumstances. He then asked Western what he would have him do upon this occasion. To which the other answered, βThat he would have him keep the rascal away from his house, and that he would go and lock up the wench; for he was resolved to make her marry Mr. Blifil in spite of her teeth.β He then shook Blifil by the hand, and swore he would have no other son-in-law. Presently after which he took his leave; saying his house was in such disorder that it was necessary for him to make haste home, to take care his daughter did not give him the slip; and as for Jones, he swore if he caught him at his house, he would qualify him to run for the geldingsβ plate.
When Allworthy and Blifil were again left together, a long silence ensued between them; all which interval the young gentleman filled up with sighs, which proceeded partly from disappointment, but more from hatred; for the success of Jones was much more grievous to him than the loss of Sophia.
At length his uncle asked him what he was determined to do, and he answered in the following words:β ββAlas! sir, can it be a question what step a lover will take, when reason and passion point different ways? I am afraid it is too certain he will, in that dilemma, always follow the latter. Reason dictates to me, to quit all thoughts of
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