ot know how to account for this effect, unless it is that
Fielding's constantly assuring us of the beauty of his hero, and the good
sense of his heroine, at last produces a distrust of both. The story of
Tom Jones is allowed to be unrivalled: and it is this circumstance,
together with the vast variety of characters, that has given the History
of a Foundling so decided a preference over Fielding's other novels. The
characters themselves, both in Amelia and Joseph Andrews, are quite equal
to any of those in Tom Jones. The account of Miss Matthews and Ensign
Hibbert, in the former of these; the way in which that lady reconciles
herself to the death of her father; the inflexible Colonel Bath; the
insipid Mrs. James, the complaisant Colonel Trent, the demure, sly,
intriguing, equivocal Mrs. Bennet, the lord who is her seducer, and who
attempts afterwards to seduce Amelia by the same mechanical process of a
concert-ticket, a book, and the disguise of a great-coat; his little, fat,
short-nosed, red-faced, good-humoured accomplice, the keeper of the
lodging-house, who, having no pretensions to gallantry herself, has a
disinterested delight in forwarding the intrigues and pleasures of others
(to say nothing of honest Atkinson, the story of the miniature-picture of
Amelia, and the hashed mutton, which are in a different style,) are
masterpieces of description. The whole scene at the lodging-house, the
masquerade, etc., in Amelia, are equal in interest to the parallel scenes
in Tom Jones, and even more refined in the knowledge of character. For
instance, Mrs. Bennet is superior to Mrs. Fitzpatrick in her own way. The
uncertainty, in which the event of her interview with her former seducer
is left, is admirable. Fielding was a master of what may be called the
_double entendre_ of character, and surprises you no less by what he
leaves in the dark, (hardly known to the persons themselves) than by the
unexpected discoveries he makes of the real traits and circumstances in a
character with which, till then, you find you were unacquainted. There is
nothing at all heroic, however, in the usual style of his delineations. He
does not draw lofty characters or strong passions; all his persons are of
the ordinary stature as to intellect; and possess little elevation of
fancy, or energy of purpose. Perhaps, after all, Parson Adams is his
finest character. It is equally true to nature, and more ideal than any of
the others. Its unsuspecting simpli