Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

by Henry Fielding

  [Greek verses]

  [Footnote: “If Jupiter doth not immediately execute his vengeance, he will however execute it at last; and their transgressions shall fall heavily on their own heads, and on their wives and children.”]

  “I have no Greek ears, sir,” said Mrs. Atkinson. “I believe I could understand it in the Delphin Homer.”

  “I wish,” cries he, “my dear child (to Amelia), you would read a little in the Delphin Aristotle, or else in some Christian divine, to learn a doctrine which you will one day have a use for. I mean to bear the hardest of all human conflicts, and support with an even temper, and without any violent transports of mind, a sudden gust of prosperity.”

  “Indeed,” cries Amelia, “I should almost think my husband and you, doctor, had some very good news to tell me, by your using, both of you, the same introduction. As far as I know myself, I think I can answer I can support any degree of prosperity, and I think I yesterday shewed I could: for I do assure you, it is not in the power of fortune to try me with such another transition from grief to joy, as I conceived from seeing my husband in prison and at liberty.”

  “Well, you are a good girl,” cries the doctor, “and after I have put on my spectacles I will try you.”

  The doctor then took out a newspaper, and read as follows:

  “‘Yesterday one Murphy, an eminent attorney-at-law, was committed to Newgate for the forgery of a will under which an estate hath been for many years detained from the right owner.’

  “Now in this paragraph there is something very remarkable, and that is — that it is true: but opus est explanatu. In the Delphin edition of this newspaper there is the following note upon the words right owner:— ‘The right owner of this estate is a young lady of the highest merit, whose maiden name was Harris, and who some time since was married to an idle fellow, one Lieutenant Booth. And the best historians assure us that letters from the elder sister of this lady, which manifestly prove the forgery and clear up the whole affair, are in the hands of an old Parson called Doctor Harrison.’”

  “And is this really true?” cries Amelia.

  “Yes, really and sincerely,” cries the doctor. “The whole estate; for your mother left it you all, and is as surely yours as if you was already in possession.”

  “Gracious Heaven!” cries she, falling on her knees, “I thank you!” And then starting up, she ran to her husband, and, embracing him, cried, “My dear love, I wish you joy; and I ought in gratitude to wish it you; for you are the cause of mine. It is upon yours and my children’s account that I principally rejoice.”

  Mrs. Atkinson rose from her chair, and jumped about the room for joy, repeating,

  Turne, quod oplanti divum promittere nemo

  Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultro.

  [Footnote: “What none of all the Gods could grant thy vows,

  That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.”]

  Amelia now threw herself into a chair, complained she was a little faint, and begged a glass of water. The doctor advised her to be blooded; but she refused, saying she required a vent of another kind. She then desired her children to be brought to her, whom she immediately caught in her arms, and, having profusely cried over them for several minutes, declared she was easy. After which she soon regained her usual temper and complexion.

  That day they dined together, and in the afternoon they all, except the doctor, visited Captain Atkinson; he repaired to the bailiff’s house to visit the sick man, whom he found very chearful, the surgeon having assured him that he was in no danger.

  The doctor had a long spiritual discourse with Robinson, who assured him that he sincerely repented of his past life, that he was resolved to lead his future days in a different manner, and to make what amends he could for his sins to the society, by bringing one of the greatest rogues in it to justice. There was a circumstance which much pleased the doctor, and made him conclude that, however Robinson had been corrupted by his old master, he had naturally a good disposition. This was, that Robinson declared he was chiefly induced to the discovery by what had happened at the pawnbroker’s, and by the miseries which he there perceived he had been instrumental in bringing on Booth and his family.

  The next day Booth and his wife, at the doctor’s instance, dined with Colonel James and his lady, where they were received with great civility, and all matters were accommodated without Booth ever knowing a syllable of the challenge even to this day.

  The doctor insisted very strongly on having Miss Harris taken into custody, and said, if she was his sister, he would deliver her to justice. He added besides, that it was impossible to skreen her and carry on the prosecution, or, indeed, recover the estate. Amelia at last begged the delay of one day only, in which time she wrote a letter to her sister, informing her of the discovery, and the danger in which she stood, and begged her earnestly to make her escape, with many assurances that she would never suffer her to know any distress. This letter she sent away express, and it had the desired effect; for Miss Harris, having received sufficient information from the attorney to the same purpose, immediately set out for Poole, and from thence to France, carrying with her all her money, most of her cloaths, and some few jewels. She had, indeed, packed up plate and jewels to the value of two thousand pound and upwards. But Booth, to whom Amelia communicated the letter, prevented her by ordering the man that went with the express (who had been a serjeant of the foot-guards recommended to him by Atkinson) to suffer the lady to go whither she pleased, but not to take anything with her except her cloaths, which he was carefully to search. These orders were obeyed punctually, and with these she was obliged to comply.

  Two days after the bird was flown a warrant from the lord chief justice arrived to take her up, the messenger of which returned with the news of her flight, highly to the satisfaction of Amelia, and consequently of Booth, and, indeed, not greatly to the grief of the doctor.

  About a week afterwards Booth and Amelia, with their children, and Captain Atkinson and his lady, all set forward together for Amelia’s house, where they arrived amidst the acclamations of all the neighbours, and every public demonstration of joy.

  They found the house ready prepared to receive them by Atkinson’s friend the old serjeant, and a good dinner prepared for them by Amelia’s old nurse, who was addressed with the utmost duty by her son and daughter, most affectionately caressed by Booth and his wife, and by Amelia’s absolute command seated next to herself at the table. At which, perhaps, were assembled some of the best and happiest people then in the world.

  CHAPTER IX.

  In which the history is concluded.

  Having brought our history to a conclusion, as to those points in which we presume our reader was chiefly interested, in the foregoing chapter, we shall in this, by way of epilogue, endeavour to satisfy his curiosity as to what hath since happened to the principal personages of whom we have treated in the foregoing pages.

  Colonel James and his lady, after living in a polite manner for many years together, at last agreed to live in as polite a manner asunder. The colonel hath kept Miss Matthews ever since, and is at length grown to doat on her (though now very disagreeable in her person, and immensely fat) to such a degree, that he submits to be treated by her in the most tyrannical manner.

  He allows his lady eight hundred pound a-year, with which she divides her time between Tunbridge, Bath, and London, and passes about nine hours in the twenty-four at cards. Her income is lately increased by three thousand pound left her by her brother Colonel Bath, who was killed in a duel about six years ago by a gentleman who told the colonel he differed from him in opinion.

  The noble peer and Mrs. Ellison have been both dead several years, and both of the consequences of their favourite vices; Mrs. Ellison having fallen a martyr to her liquor, and the other to his amours, by which he was at last become so rotten that he stunk above-ground.

  The attorney, Murphy, was brought to his trial at the Old Bailey, where, after much quibbling about the mea
ning of a very plain act of parliament, he was at length convicted of forgery, and was soon afterwards hanged at Tyburn.

  The witness for some time seemed to reform his life, and received a small pension from Booth; after which he returned to vicious courses, took a purse on the highway, was detected and taken, and followed the last steps of his old master. So apt are men whose manners have been once thoroughly corrupted, to return, from any dawn of an amendment, into the dark paths of vice.

  As to Miss Harris, she lived three years with a broken heart at Boulogne, where she received annually fifty pound from her sister, who was hardly prevailed on by Dr Harrison not to send her a hundred, and then died in a most miserable manner.

  Mr. Atkinson upon the whole hath led a very happy life with his wife, though he hath been sometimes obliged to pay proper homage to her superior understanding and knowledge. This, however, he chearfully submits to, and she makes him proper returns of fondness. They have two fine boys, of whom they are equally fond. He is lately advanced to the rank of captain, and last summer both he and his wife paid a visit of three months to Booth and his wife.

  Dr Harrison is grown old in years and in honour, beloved and respected by all his parishioners and by all his neighbours. He divides his time between his parish, his old town, and Booth’s — at which last place he had, two years ago, a gentle fit of the gout, being the first attack of that distemper. During this fit Amelia was his nurse, and her two oldest daughters sat up alternately with him for a whole week. The eldest of those girls, whose name is Amelia, is his favourite; she is the picture of her mother, and it is thought the doctor hath distinguished her in his will, for he hath declared that he will leave his whole fortune, except some few charities, among Amelia’s children.

  As to Booth and Amelia, Fortune seems to have made them large amends for the tricks she played them in their youth. They have, ever since the above period of this history, enjoyed an uninterrupted course of health and happiness. In about six weeks after Booth’s first coming into the country he went to London and paid all his debts of honour; after which, and a stay of two days only, he returned into the country, and hath never since been thirty miles from home. He hath two boys and four girls; the eldest of the boys, he who hath made his appearance in this history, is just come from the university, and is one of the finest gentlemen and best scholars of his age. The second is just going from school, and is intended for the church, that being his own choice. His eldest daughter is a woman grown, but we must not mention her age. A marriage was proposed to her the other day with a young fellow of a good estate, but she never would see him more than once: “For Doctor Harrison,” says she, “told me he was illiterate, and I am sure he is ill-natured.” The second girl is three years younger than her sister, and the others are yet children.

  Amelia is still the finest woman in England of her age. Booth himself often avers she is as handsome as ever. Nothing can equal the serenity of their lives. Amelia declared to me the other day, that she did not remember to have seen her husband out of humour these ten years; and, upon my insinuating to her that he had the best of wives, she answered with a smile that she ought to be so, for that he had made her the happiest of women.

  The Play s

  Fielding was educated at Eton College, where he established a lifelong friendship with William Pitt the Elder.

  The college today

  LOVE IN SEVERAL MASQUE S

  Fielding’s first play was performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. The drama comically depicts three lovers trying to pursue their individual beloveds, who expect various demands, allowing the playwright to introduce his personal thoughts on morality and virtue, whilst criticising women and society in general. Love in Several Masques highlights Fielding’s early approach to theatre and his familiarising himself with 18th-century theatre conventions.

  The play was advertised on 15 January 1728 in the London Evening Post and first ran on 16 February 1728 at the Theatre Royal. Performances were held on 17, 19 and 20 February, with the third night being the author’s benefit. The play was never revived. The cast included four members among some of the most talented of the Theatre Royal actors. Although it only ran for four nights, this was a great feat because John Gay’s popular The Beggar’s Opera was performed during the same time and dominated the theatrical community during its run.

  The traditional Restoration plot introduces three female characters, three respectable males, three non-respectable males and three ‘side characters’. Each respectable male meets their female counterpart three times, and each has a parallel incident with letters and an unmasking. The primary plot of the play deals with Wisemore and his pursuit of Lady Matchless. With the aid of his friend Merital, Wisemore is able to overcome other lovers and various struggles in order to prove his worth to Matchless and win her love.

  The play was traditionally believed by critics to be modelled after the plays of Congreve, as it resembles the same use of plot and dialogue. In particular, Merital and Malvil resemble characters in The Old Bachelor and Rattle resembles the fop in Love for Love. However, some parts of Love in Several Masques also resemble Molière’s Les Femmes Savantes, Sganarelle and Le Misanthrope. Fielding writes in the preface, “the Play was received with greater Satisfaction than I should have promised myself from its Merit”, though it received little critical attention after its final performance.

  The original title page

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE

  PROLOGUE

  DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

  ACT I.

  ACT II.

  ACT III.

  ACT IV.

  ACT V.

  SONG.

  EPILOGUE

  The Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, 1809

  Inside the theatre, 1808

  TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

  THE LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE

  MADAM, — Your ladyship’s known goodness gives my presumption the hopes of a pardon, for prefixing to this slight work the name of a lady, whose accurate judgment has long been the glory of her own sex, and the wonder of ours: especially, since it arose from a vanity to which your indulgence, on the first perusal of it, gave birth.

  I would not insinuate to the world that this play past free from your censure; since I know it not free from faults, not one of which escaped your immediate penetration. Immediate indeed! for your judgment keeps pace with your eye, and you comprehend almost faster than others overlook.

  This is a perfection very visible to all who are admitted to the honour of your conversation; since, from those short intervals you can be supposed to have had to yourself, amid the importunities of all the polite admirers and professors of wit and learning, you are capable of instructing the pedant, and are at once a living confutation of those morose schoolmen, who would confine knowledge to the male part of the species; and a shining instance of all those perfections and softer graces, which nature has confined to the female.

  But I offend your ladyship, whilst I please myself and the reader; therefore I shall only beg your leave to give a sanction to this Comedy, by informing the world that its representation was twice honoured with your ladyship’s presence, and am, with the greatest respect,

  Madam,

  Your ladyship’s most obedient,

  Most humble servant,

  HENRY FIELDING.

  PREFACE

  I BELIEVE few plays have ever adventured into the world under greater disadvantages than this. First, as it succeeded a comedy which, for the continued space of twenty-eight nights, received as great (and as just) applauses, as ever were bestowed on the English Theatre. And secondly, as it is co-temporary with an entertainment which engrosses the whole talk and admiration of the town.

  These were difficulties which seemed rather to require the superior force of a Wycherley, or a Congreve, than of a raw and unexperienced pen; for I believe I may boast that none ever appeared so early upon the stage. However, such was the candour of the audience, the play was received with
greater satisfaction than I should have promised myself from its merit, had it even preceded the Provoked Husband.

  But after having returned thanks to the spectators, I cannot rest till I have been in some measure grateful to the performers. As for Mr. Wilks and Mr. Cibber, I cannot sufficiently acknowledge their civil and kind behaviour previous to its representation. How advantageously both they and the other personages set off their respective parts, at that time, has been spoken of by much politer and better judges than myself.

  Lastly, I can never express my grateful sense of the good nature of Mrs. Oldfield; who, though she had contracted a slight indisposition by her violent fatigue in the part of Lady Townly, was prevailed on to grace that of Lady Matchless; which placed her in a light so far inferior to that which she had in the other. Nor do I owe less to her excellent judgment, shown in some corrections, which I shall, for my own sake, conceal. But the ravishing perfections of this lady are so much the admiration of every eye and every ear, that they will remain fixed in the memory of many, when these light scenes shall be forgotten.

  PROLOGUE

  OCCASIONED BY THIS COMEDY’S SUCCEEDING THAT OF THE PROVOKED HUSBAND

  SPOKEN BY MR. MILLS