University of Virginia Library

Four New Fielding Attributions: His Earliest Satires of Walpole
by
Martin C. Battestin

My purpose here is to claim for the Fielding canon four new, and rather surprising, pieces from the earliest period of his authorship. In subject and manner, all four are characteristic of Fielding. What may be unexpected about them—considering his overtures to Walpole and the Court in roughly the same period—is that they appeared in Opposition journals and are openly satirical of the Prime Minister, though in varying degrees of severity. The two earliest items—a ballad entitled "The Norfolk Lanthorn" and an epistolary essay on "the Benefit of Laughing"—were published during the summer of 1728 in, respectively, The Craftsman (20 July) and Mist's Weekly Journal (3 August). The latter two—in the form of letters from the sharp-sighted physiognomist "Thomas Squint" and from the Norfolk squire "Harry Hunter," who expounds upon the analogy between hunters and politicians—appeared in the summer and autumn of 1730 in, respectively, Fog's Weekly Journal (25 July) and The Craftsman (10 October).

Since Fielding did not publish these pieces under his own name or otherwise acknowledge that he wrote them, and since—with perhaps the tantalizing exception of "The Norfolk Lanthorn"—his contemporaries are silent on the matter, the case for his authorship must rest almost entirely on internal evidence. In a moment, therefore, we will examine these works in some detail, noting in each the characteristic features of Fielding's style and thought. First, however, it will be helpful to review the biographical circumstances in which Fielding wrote them—at a time in his career when we might have expected to find him praising Caesar not blaming him.

When Fielding, well before his twenty-first birthday, tried to establish himself as a poet and playwright in London, he understood that his best hopes for prospering lay with Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, his second cousin and a close friend of Sir Robert Walpole. To her in 1727

he submitted the manuscript of his first play, Love in Several Masques, for criticism; and in November of that year—the commencement of his career as an author happily coinciding with George II's accession to the throne—he published together under his own name a pair of poems celebrating the new king's coronation and birthday.[1] Owing no doubt to the sponsorship of Lady Mary, to whom the play is dedicated, Love in Several Masques was produced, we may further note, in February 1728 at Drury Lane, the Theatre Royal, whose steady affiliation with the Court Interest made it a standing target for Opposition writers.

In March of that year Fielding interrupted his literary career in order to begin his studies at the University of Leyden in Holland. He did not remain abroad many months, however, as is clear from his poem, "A Description of U[pto]n G[rey]" written some time "in the Year 1728," presumably during the summer vacation. It was possibly in the same season a year later, when he returned to England after completing his studies, that he visited Lady Mary at Twickenham and sketched out those mock-epic cantos that so faithfully reflect her own political and literary prejudices—cordially praising Walpole and the Royal Family, and roundly satirizing both the Scriblerus circle of Pope, Swift, Gay, and Bolingbroke, and the editors of The Craftsman and Fog's Weekly Journal. These cantos, as Isobel Grundy observes, surely "represent a bid for [Lady Mary's] patronage and perhaps, through her, for that of Walpole."[2]

But these hopes, for the time being at least, came to nothing. No doubt unimpressed by the distinctly modest success of Love in Several Masques, the managers at Drury Lane rejected Fielding's next offerings. To find a stage for his second play, The Temple Beau (January 1730), he was forced to go to the new City theatre in Goodman's Fields, and from there to throw in his lot with the still less prestigious company of rogue comedians at the little Theatre in the Haymarket. Here it was that he succeeded brilliantly by giving the Town what he was convinced it preferred to regular comedy—farce and burlesque: The Author's Farce in March and Tom Thumb in April.

Though some critics have discerned in these plays signs of Fielding's disenchantment with Walpole, Professor Goldgar is certainly correct in regarding them as essentially unpolitical. In The Author's Farce, though Fielding mocks such ministerial creatures as Cibber and Henley and Theobald, his overt political strokes are few and they are directed

equally at the Opposition and the Court. As for Tom Thumb, not only was the usually alert Earl of Egmont unable to detect any ridicule of Walpole in the play; the Great Man himself so much enjoyed the burlesque that he attended three performances.[3] In its expanded form, as The Tragedy of Tragedies, the play indeed was considered so inoffensive politically that it was revived at Drury Lane after Fielding had returned to that company in 1732. Whether or not the minister's contributing to the successful original run of Tom Thumb can in itself fairly be construed as his patronage of Fielding, as the Opposition journalists believed, we may surely infer from Fielding's verse epistle to Walpole, "Written in the Year 1730," that he was courting his favor at about this time: in that poem, addressing Walpole, he refers to himself as "Your Bard" and angles, however facetiously, for some government "Sinecure."[4] His friendship with James Ralph, Lewis Theobald, and Thomas Cooke—all of whom were associated with the Court Party— stems, moreover, from this same period.[5]

Indeed, as Goldgar has shown (pp. 105-10), the first real indication of anything like an anti-Walpole bias in Fielding's known writings is not to be found until the Haymarket production of Rape upon Rape (later called The Coffee-House Politician) in June 1730: this play, thematically the most earnest of Fielding's regular comedies to date, satirizes lewdness and corruption in the magistracy—a subject reflecting on the recent scandal involving the infamous Col. Charteris and the man who was said to have "screened" him from justice, Sir Robert Walpole. But even here Fielding's satire, though pointed enough in its castigation of vice in high places, hits Walpole only obliquely. Judging strictly from what we have known of his published work, it would seem in fact that Fielding scrupulously avoided sensitive political subjects until, almost a year later, he produced The Welsh Opera (soon retitled The Grub-Street Opera) in April 1731 at the Haymarket Theatre. This play, which ridicules not only Walpole and party politics, but the Royal Family! was almost certainly quashed by the government; and it no

doubt contributed to the demise of the Haymarket company, whom the authorities prosecuted later that year for producing the thinly disguised anti-Walpole drama, The Fall of Mortimer.

It is curious, to say the least, that while the ministry was hounding the Haymarket players out of existence, the author of The Grub-Street Opera escaped unscathed. Indeed, after publicly dissociating himself from the publication of the play,[6] he would reappear six months later as nothing less than the principal dramatist of the Establishment's own theatre, Drury Lane. It may be that his second versified appeal for Walpole's patronage (dated 1731) was written in the latter part of that year. In any event, so thick was Fielding with the Court Party at this time that he could be counted on to supply the epilogue to The Modish Couple (produced at Drury Lane in January 1732)—a feeble comedy damned by the Opposition both at the theatre and in the press because, though supposedly written by the courtier Capt. Charles Bodens, the real authors were known to be Lord Hervey and the Prince of Wales. And when Fielding's own comedy, The Modern Husband, appeared the following month it was published with a Dedication to the Prime Minister himself, a circumstance which for some time thereafter subjected Fielding to the relentless abuse of The Grub-Street Journal.

With but two exceptions, then—the productions of Rape upon Rape in June 1730 and of The Welsh Opera in April 1731—Fielding's known writings of this early period are either entirely unconcerned with political matters or indiscriminate in directing incidental shafts at either party—or, as in the instances of the poems addressed to Walpole in 1730 and 1731, and the Dedication to The Modern Husband in 1732, they are openly complimentary of the minister. At first glance it would seem improbable therefore that Fielding could be the author of the four satires which are the subject of this essay. The fact is, however, that Fielding, who was very free with his money and had to earn with his pen what he could get of it, took a pragmatic view of his talent. We may recall, for instance, his well-known declaration in The Jacobite's Journal (26 March 1748) that "a Writer, whose only Livelihood is his Pen," must, like "every other Advocate," be allowed the right to sell his services to those who will pay for them:

Twenty years earlier, as a wild young man whose only saleable commodity was a talent to amuse, Fielding was doubtless no more inclined to play the idealist in such a mercenary game as politics. One may suppose that his own sentiments on the subject conformed pretty closely to those of his surrogate, "Scriblerus Secundus," author of The Grub-Street Opera, who explains to the Master of the Playhouse how it can be that the Grub-Street brethren should "pull one another to pieces as you do, especially in your political pamphlets":

Given this recognition of the realities of authorship and the patronage system, we should not be surprised to hear Fielding confess in The Champion, a paper friendly to the Opposition, that he had once been "induced to write certain insipid Things" in Walpole's behalf, or that he had taken Walpole's money "to stop the Publication of a Book" which he had written against him (31 July, 4 October 1740). Nor should we be any more surprised to find him, è converso, turning to the Opposition for encouragement if the minister in his beneficence proved dilatory or insufficient.

It is likely that Fielding's reputation for tergiversation in political matters was well deserved; he simply did not regard the unsteadiness of hackney writers in this respect as either morally reprehensible or financially

practicable. He was unswerving in his devotion to Whig principles, to be sure; but it never mattered very much to him which Whig was in place so long as he was a friend. In the summer of 1728, as a reckless youth just returned from his travels, what did matter to him, besides the craft of comedy, was the enjoyment of his pleasures and having the money to pay for them.

Dating from this period, the first two pieces to be produced below may serve to clarify at last that curious passage from An Historical View of the Principles, Characters, Persons, &c. of the Political Writers in Great Britain (1740), in which the author declares that, at a time before he "set up for a Play-Writer," Fielding had behaved ungratefully to Walpole. Fielding, the writer insists,

Though coming, obviously, from an unfriendly source, this circumstantial account has the ring of authenticity. Certainly one should not too hastily dismiss as malicious gossip the assertion that Fielding as a youth cooled his heels in a jail: the court records of Lyme Regis and Westminster for the period from September 1725 to November 1726 attest that he spent more than his share of time before magistrates explaining the various brawls and violent altercations his hot temper involved him in, the best-known instance of which was his attempt to abduct the young heiress Sarah Andrew.[8] But even those who are prepared to think there may be more truth than slander in this anecdote from the Historical View have found it puzzling. Which "Country-Town" is meant? Why, if the escapade took place in Fielding's usual rural haunts of Dorset, Hampshire, Wiltshire, should he send for aid to Walpole instead of applying to his friends and relations in the West Country? Which of Fielding's satires can the writer be alluding to, when the only one he is known to have published before setting up in earnest as a playwright in 1730, is The Masquerade (January 1728)—a poem ridiculing not Walpole, but a fashionable diversion of the Town?

The discovery that Fielding was the author of "The Norfolk Lanthorn," in particular, now enables us to offer plausible solutions to each of these puzzles. The author of the ballad (published on 20 July 1728) states that he has "just returned from a Journey into N[orfolk]," where he has seen the curiosities of Walpole's "Palace," Houghton Hall—so, too, may Fielding have done if he had returned from Holland for the summer by way of Harwich, the usual route.[9] Walpole was residing at Houghton for a fortnight or so in early July 1728;[10] and had Lady Mary's mischievous cousin become embroiled in yet another brush with the law while in the vicinity, he may well have appealed to Lady Mary's most powerful friend to bail him out.[11] "The Norfolk Lanthorn," which caused much embarrassment to Walpole and his party, would itself nicely fit the description of the "Satyr" in which Fielding is said to have "libelled" the minister "personally"; indeed, that the author of the ballad had defamed Walpole personally in this way was the very point of "Roger Manley's" attack on the poem in the British Journal of 27 July. Furthermore, since the minister, like the author of the satire, had returned to town shortly before "The Norfolk Lanthorn" was published —he arrived in London on Tuesday morning, 16 July, and set out at once to establish himself at Hampton Court for the summer—he might well have had an occasion at his levee the following week to upbraid Fielding for his ingratitude. And finally, if Fielding's authorship of the essay in Mist's Weekly Journal a fortnight later were suspected, the remaining details of the account also fall into place, since Walpole, even after the "Satyr," is said to have continued befriending Fielding "till he grew quite abandon'd to all Sense of Shame." All this is conjecture of course; but it has the virtue of squaring more nearly than any other explanation with the circumstances cited by the author of the Historical View.

As we have earlier remarked that among Fielding's known writings Rape upon Rape (June 1730) contains, albeit obliquely, the first definite

traces of satiric innuendo against Walpole and his corrupt agents, it will be less surprising that Fielding should be seen to continue in this vein throughout the summer and autumn of that year, when, in the pieces he contributed to Fog's Weekly Journal and The Craftsman, his satire against the minister is for the first time rather more acrimonious than playful. Both these pieces, moreover, relate in interesting ways to the themes of The Modern Husband, which, though not produced until 1732 at Drury Lane, was written much earlier while Fielding was still affiliated with the Haymarket Theatre—written, indeed, just after he had finished Rape upon Rape.[12] Certain parallels between The Modern Husband and Fielding's journalism of this same period suggest, in fact, that in composing this, his darkest dramatic satire against the lewdness and venality of the Great, Fielding originally intended another, more pointed, indictment of Walpole. With "Thomas Squint's" depiction of the minister as an arrogant "Man-Brute" lording it over a throng of abject flatterers, compare, for example, Capt. Merit's bitterness upon being turned away from Lord Richly's levee: "What an abundance of poor wretches go to the feeding the vanity of that leviathan—one great rogue" (I. viii), the phrasing of which would surely have suggested the Great Man himself.[13] Again, "Squint's" perception of the blustering placeman whom he encounters near St. James's—"tho' he could handsomely bully in the Mall, yet he was a very contented C[uckol]d at home"—anticipates not only the central theme of the play, but the very phrasing of Mr. Modern's expostulations with his wife, whose adultery he has connived at: "I have been contented to wear horns for your pleasure . . . . Sure, the grand seignior has no slave equal to a contented cuckold" (I. iv). Mr. Woodall, furthermore, the country M.P. who attends Lord Richly in the play (I. ix), succinctly embodies the analogy between foxhunters and politicians that Fielding draws at length in "Harry Hunter's" letter to The Craftsman.

As he composed The Modern Husband Fielding seems to have associated such themes and images with the state of moral debility in government which Walpole (for the moment at least) epitomized. It will now seem less surprising, then, that the earliest "puff" of that play appeared in The Craftsman (19 September 1730) less than a month before the same journal published "Harry Hunter's" satire against the

minister and his party. But in the comedy, in contrast to the journalism, Fielding disguised and generalized his satire so successfully that it not only passed the scrutiny of Walpole's friends, Lady Mary[14] and the managers at Drury Lane; it seemed innocuous enough to be presented to Walpole himself with a Dedication in the style of Horace's flattery of Augustus.

In brief, then, these are the circumstances, political and personal, in which Fielding wrote the four satires we are about to consider. Before examining the evidence for attributing these pieces to Fielding, however, we should be aware of certain matters affecting the cogency and organization of the argument. To begin with, it will be apparent that two of the pieces in question—those published in Mist's Weekly Journal and its successor Fog's—do not show what has long been regarded as an essential hallmark of Fielding's style: his preference for the archaic verb forms, hath and doth. There are good reasons for this anomaly—which, indeed, with respect to Fielding's writings of this period, is not an anomaly at all. His published works of 1728-30 predominantly show the modern forms, has and does; and the holograph material that survives from roughly the same period invariably shows the same preference. As the recent discovery of the manuscript of an essay published in Common Sense (13 May 1738) indicates, moreover, compositors of the time were perfectly capable of modernizing his archaisms when he did use them.[15] In the earlier period, however, the evidence might incline us to suspect that a work characterized by these archaisms was not by Fielding, rather than otherwise. But we would then be unable to account for Rape upon Rape (1730) and The Tragedy of Tragedies (1731), which with few exceptions show hath and doth; and there are passages where these same forms occur in both The Author's Farce (1730) and Tom Thumb (1730). In short, in the face of evidence as contradictory and untrustworthy as this, it will be prudent to abandon the hath/doth test altogether when trying to determine Fielding's authorship of a work written, say, before 1737, when he was forced to give up play-writing for the study of law.

A further problem affected the selection and arrangement of the evidence for Fielding's authorship of the four pieces in question. Each of the following four sections provides the full text of the work, together with introductory remarks meant to place it, both thematically

and stylistically, in the general context of Fielding's known writings. Since our present purpose is to establish the probability of Fielding's authorship on the basis chiefly of internal evidence, the notes to the texts will be strictly limited to the recording of parallels in Fielding's other works. To this end I have carefully reread all his works published during the fifteen-year period from The Masquerade (1728) to the Miscellanies (1743); in a more selective and cursory way I have reread the works published after that period. It will be apparent that this procedure proved efficacious in identifying numerous parallels between the essay in question and Fielding's known works. Since, however, many of these represent commonplaces of the period, they may seem to some readers to embarrass rather than enhance the case for Fielding's authorship; too many unremarkable parallels tend to confirm the doubts of sceptical readers. Sensing this difficulty, I submitted a draft of this paper to several scholars whose advice I value: in particular, I wish to thank Hugh Amory, James Earle Deese, Irvin Ehrenpreis, Bertrand A. Goldgar, Thomas Lockwood, and Simon Varey—all of whose criticisms I carefully weighed as I tried to give the paper an effective final form. With reference to the quantity of parallels recorded, I have heeded the advice of Professor Deese, a scientist well known for his studies in the psychological bases of language: on the principle that the probability of Fielding's authorship of a given anonymous essay increases in proportion to the number of close correspondences (whether commonplace or otherwise) between that essay and his known writings, I have kept the number of parallels high. To assist the reader in distinguishing between the commonplace and the unusual, however, I have marked with an asterisk those notes which contain striking or distinctive parallels.

In order to simplify the citations and to conserve space, page-references, wherever possible, will be to Fielding's Complete Works, ed. W. E. Henley, 16 vols. (1903). Since, however, that edition includes only a selection of Fielding's journalism, references to The Champion, True Patriot, Jacobite's Journal, and The Covent-Garden Journal will be by date only. Other editions used are the following: The Masquerade (1728) and Epilogue to Fatal Curiosity (1737), in C. E. Jones, ed. The Female Husband and other writings (Liverpool, 1960); burlesque of Dunciad (c. 1729) and "Epistle to Mr. Lyttleton" (1733), ed. I. M. Grundy, PMLA, 87, (1972), 213-245; Author's Farce (1730 version), ed. C. B. Woods (1966); Tom Thumb (1730), ed. L. J. Morrisey (1970); Grub-Street Opera, revised, ed. E. V. Roberts (1969); Shamela (1741), in M. C. Battestin, ed. Joseph Andrews and Shamela (1961).

In the notes to the texts, the following abbreviations are used:

• AF Author's Farce (1730)
• CGJ Covent-Garden Journal (1752)
• CGT Covent-Garden Tragedy (1732)
• Ch Champion (1739-40)
• CJ Charge to the Jury (1745)
• Co "Essay on Conversation" (1743)
• CS Common Sense (1737-8)
• D burlesque of Dunciad (c. 1729)
• DAD "Dialogue between Alexander the Great and Diogenes the Cynic" (1743)
• DQE Don Quixote in England (1734)
• E Eurydice (1737)
• EH Eurydice Hissed (1737)
• EL "Epistle to Mr. Lyttleton" (1733)
• F The Fathers (1778)
• FC Epilogue to Fatal Curiosity (1736)
• FCW "To a Friend on the Choice of a Wife" (1743)
• GSO Grub-Street Opera (1731)
• HR Historical Register for the Year 1736 (1737)
• IC Intriguing Chambermaid (1734)
• JA Joseph Andrews (1742)
• JJ Jacobite's Journal (1747-48)
• JSS "Part of Juvenal's Sixth Satire Modernised in Burlesque Verse" (1743)
• JVL Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon (1755)
• JW Jonathan Wild (1743)
• JWN Journey from This World to the Next (1743)
• KCM "Essay on the Knowledge of the Characters of Men" (1743)
• L The Lottery (1732)
• LSM Love in Several Masques (1728)
• LW The Letter-Writers (1731)
• Ma Masquerade (1728)
• MD Mock-Doctor (1732)
• MH Modern Husband (1732)
• Mi Miser (1733)
• MLT Miss Lucy in Town (1742)
• N "Essay on Nothing" (1743)
• OMTW Old Man Taught Wisdom (1735)
• P Pasquin (1736)
• PRS Some Papers proper to be read before the Royal Society (1743)
• RALF "Of the Remedy of Affliction for the Loss of Our Friends" (1743)
• RR Rape upon Rape (1730)
• S Shamela (1741)
• TB Temple Beau (1730)
• TDD Tumble-Down Dick (1736)
• TG Of True Greatness (1741)
• TJ Tom Jones (1749)
• TP True Patriot (1745-46)
• TrT Tragedy of Tragedies (1731)
• TT Tom Thumb (1730)
• UG Universal Gallant (1735)
• V Vernoniad (1741)
• WD Wedding Day (1743)

I. "The Norfolk Lanthorn" (July 1728)

On Saturday, 20 July 1728, The Craftsman published a rousing little ballad contributed by an anonymous correspondent who, having just returned to town from a visit to Houghton, Sir Robert Walpole's country house in Norfolk, was moved to commemorate in song one of the most conspicuous of the many sumptuous furnishings with which the minister had adorned his "great Palace." The object that he so particularly admired was a large copper-gilt lantern for eighteen candles which hung in the hall.[1] "The Norfolk Lanthorn," as the poet called it, seemed a fit emblem for the minister's peculiar way of letting his light shine before men, as it were—declaring

in its hugeness and opulence both the poverty of his taste and the riches he was amassing at the expense of his country.

As slight and playful a thing as it was, the ballad nevertheless struck a nerve. Angry replies appeared at once in the ministerial press. "Veritas" in the Daily Journal (24 July) protested that, in comparing Houghton with Hampton Court and Whitehall, the poet said the thing that was not: it is not a large house, he insisted, and in its excellent construction and design "has the Air of Magnificence of the great Minister, join'd with the Moderation of a very wise one . . . ." On the following Saturday (27 July) the London Journal published "A New BALLAD" in "Answer to the Ballad in last Saturday's Craftsman, call'd, the Norfolk Lanthorn . . . ." And in a leader in the British Journal of the same date "Roger Manley" used the occasion to denounce the Opposition for abusing the liberty of the press in personal libels against the minster: "Men must be treated as being what they are; and we cannot but despise the little paultry Jingles of a certain Writer on a certain Lanthorn . . . ." That Fielding at about this time had "libelled" Walpole "personally in a Satyr" was also, we will recall, the charge of the author of An Historical View.

Indeed, the satiric verses in The Craftsman caught the public fancy to such an extent that a half-century later Horace Walpole, remarking in his copy of Chesterfield's Miscellaneous Works on a reference to Houghton, could declare with some annoyance:

However unfairly the Opposition writers may have represented the lantern's size, it continued to epitomize (depending on one's political point of view) the Patriots' case against the Minister, or the Minister's case against the Patriots' abuse of the press. In 1729, for example, when Richard Savage sought to typify the hireling scribblers of the Opposition, he had "Iscariot Hackney" freely confess to writing "the History of the Norfolk Dumpling, the Verses on the Norfolk Lanthorn, and many other popular Libels on Persons who least deserv'd them . . . ."[3] Three years later the lantern appears as item 11 in the ironic catalogue of Opposition grievances ridiculed in the Daily Courant (27 October 1732); and in a similar satiric vein it is part of the "catalogue of wares" Thomas Newcomb offers for sale to the Opposition, in order to assist them in spreading lies about Walpole.[4]

Clearly, "The Norfolk Lanthorn" had an impact on the political wars of the Walpole era far out of proportion to its weight. But why should we accept it as Fielding's work?

For several reasons. In the first place, of the four works we are considering "The Norfolk Lanthorn" is the only one that has actually been attributed to Fielding—not (so far as can be known) by a contemporary of his, but nevertheless by a scholar whose claims should not be lightly dismissed: namely, the eminent antiquarian and bibliographer, H. B. Wheatley. In his classic work, London Past and Present (1891), Wheatley makes the following declaration while describing Chesterfield House in Mayfair: "The lantern of copper-gilt for eighteen candles, bought by the Earl of Chesterfield at the sale of Houghton, the seat of Sir Robert Walpole, is celebrated in a once famous ballad by Fielding, in the Craftsman, called 'The Norfolk Lanthorn, a New Ballad'" (I. 388). Typical of the scholars of his generation, Wheatley disdains to document this surprising assertion—which, in due course, was reiterated by W. H. Craig in his Life of Lord Chesterfield (1907) and by the distinguished historian George Rudé.[5] What can have prompted Wheatley to make the attribution? Had he seen an annotated copy of the original number of The Craftsman or of the later versions of the ballad included either in the reprint of that paper (14 vols., 1731-37) or in "Caleb D'Anvers," A Collection of Poems on Several Occasions; Publish'd in the Craftsman (1731)? Or had he come across some contemporary comment on Chesterfield's purchase of the lantern in 1749? Perhaps it is significant that—except for the crucial references to Fielding and to the title of the ballad—all the information Wheatley supplies about the lantern can be found in Horace Walpole's Ædes Walpolianœ, including the facts that it was "for Eighteen Candles" and was "of Copper gilt," that it was ridiculed in The Craftsman in particular, and that it was "sold to the Earl of Chesterfield." Had Wheatley seen a copy of that work in which this passage had been glossed by some knowledgable contemporary?[6] Certainly, Wheatley, an assiduous antiquarian

researcher and cataloguer of libraries, had enviable opportunities for making such a discovery. Indeed, it is hard to imagine why, without some such piece of evidence likely to inspire confidence, Wheatley would have thought to attribute this obscure set of verses to Fielding, who in the years before, say, 1734 had no reputation as a political writer and who has never been suspected of contributing to The Craftsman.

Other evidence, admittedly circumstantial, tends to strengthen the case for Fielding's authorship of the ballad. At least once in the later works the lantern at Houghton figures explicitly in his satire of Walpole, who, as Mammon in The Vernoniad (1741), is thus discovered in his "Palace":

To these verses Fielding adds the following note:

A number of correspondences serve to link these passages with the ballad. Like the author of the ballad, the first thing Fielding satirizes about Walpole is his house and its furnishings, particularly the lantern, which serves as a symbol of the minister's conspicuous wealth and power. Both writers associate the lantern with the same descriptive qualities: in the preface to the ballad, the author speaks of the lantern as being "huge" and he invites us to contrast it to a certain "little, dark Lanthorn";[7] similarly, in his footnote Fielding stresses "the propriety of these two epithets, huge and dark, applied to the lantern . . . ." Both writers, moreover, refer to Houghton as a "Palace"; both place the lantern in the "Hall." And both, in order to multiply ocular proofs of Walpole's unseemly opulence, add to the symbol of the lantern itself the evidence of the minister's expensive collection of paintings—that "great Variety of fine Pictures," as the balladeer calls them; those "heaps of ill-got pictures," as The Vernoniad has it.

A further (and splendidly esoteric) instance of Fielding's use of the lantern

at Houghton as a symbol of Walpole's bad eminence occurs in that enigmatic farce, Tumble-Down Dick: or, Phaeton in the Suds (1736), performed originally at the Haymarket Theatre as an afterpiece to Pasquin— the play that inaugurated Fielding's final, brilliant campaign as a theatrical satirist, against Walpole in particular and against corrupt politicians in general. In Tumble-Down Dick Apollo, god of the sun, is represented as a watchman sitting in a great chair in the roundhouse, where he keeps a large lantern, the emblem of his power, and is attended by a band of followers. No one acquainted with contemporary political satire will need to be supplied with a key to this allegory. Apollo is of course Walpole. The roundhouse—which "Machine," the composer of the little drama, informs us is meant to represent "the Palace of the Sun" (XII. 16)—is Houghton. And the lantern, though representing Apollo's "chariot," as "Machine" assures us, is also meant to recall that other, larger lantern that hung in the hall at Houghton. This connection is enforced, for example, when, having disastrously scorched the country, "Phaeton falls" (according to the stage directions) "and the lanthorn hangs hovering in the air" (XII. 24). But those members of the audience with a keen memory might have made the connection sooner if, when Clymene advises Phaeton, "Go to the watch-house, where your father bright / That lanthorn keeps which gives the world its light . . ." (XII. 16), they had called to mind the prayer of the balladeer "That this Lanthorn may spread such an Illumination, / As may glare in the Eyes of the whole British Nation." And as Phaeton's eyes dazzle upon entering the roundhouse—"What do I see? What beams of candle-light / Break from that lanthorn and put out my sight?" (XII. 17)—those same members of the audience might have recalled the balladeer's own reaction upon visiting Houghton for the first time, who "was so much delighted with the Sight of an huge and sumptuous Lanthorn, which immediately struck my Eyes, upon entering the great Hall . . . ."

That Fielding, in Tumble-Down Dick and The Vernoniad, should thus apply the lantern at Houghton to the same satiric purpose as that evident in the ballad which first made it famous does not of course prove him to be the author of the ballad. But we can agree, I think, that this ludicrous manifestation of Walpole's greatness held a special fascination for him. (Indeed, the "Home News" column of The Champion for 15 July 1740 reduces Houghton, by metonymy, to merely "the Lanthorn-House in Norfolk.") But not only do Fielding and the author of the ballad share this common interest; the lantern evokes in their minds similar ideas and associations, which they express in similar turns of phrase. One of these in the ballad is quite distinctive, yet it occurs more than once in Fielding's known writings: thus, in the last line of Stanza VI, the author hopes that the lantern's illumination "may glare in the Eyes" of the British nation. Twice in Fielding's Miscellanies this same expression appears: in the "Essay on Nothing" ("this dignity . . . glares in the eyes of men" [XIV. 316]) and in Jonathan Wild ("the absurdity . . . glared in his eyes" [II. 125]).

For these reasons, then, Wheatley's attribution of "The Norfolk Lanthorn"

to Fielding seems well founded. The text follows; the notes appended to the text will serve to supplement the correspondences with Fielding's known writings already cited above.

To CALEB D'ANVERS, Esq; Ex Pede Herculem.[1]

Sir, I am just returned from a Journey into N[orfolk],[2] where I have at length satisfied my Curiosity in viewing a certain great Palace, which hath occasioned so much Discourse in Town, and by far exceeded the most sanguine of my Expectations. A particular Description of the Magnificence of the House, Gardens and Stables, as well as of the great Variety of fine Pictures, the vast Quantities of Massy Plate and other costly Furniture would require a Volume in Folio,[3] which I hope some Person, who hath more Opportunity and Leisure than my self, will undertake. But I was so much delighted with the Sight of an huge and most sumptuous Lanthorn, which immediately struck my Eyes, upon entering the great Hall, that I could not forbear celebrating it in a few Stanza's, which (as trifling as they may seem) will serve to fill up a little Vacancy in your Paper and may, perhaps, do well enough by way of Contraste to the Remarks on a little, dark Lanthorn, which we were lately desired to take Notice of in our Common Prayer Books.

II. On the Benefit of Laughing (August 1728)

On 3 August 1728, just a fortnight after "The Norfolk Lanthorn" caused such a stir among readers of The Craftsman, there appeared in Mist's Weekly Journal, the other principal organ of the Opposition, an essay "upon the Benefit of Laughing" contributed by a certain facetious correspondent who, though he is ready enough to have fun at Walpole's expense, is more inclined to amuse the public than to embarrass the minister. The writer who, having recently returned from his "Travels" is soon "to cross the Channel" again, represents himself as a most peculiar sort of physician—one able, indeed, to "cure all Diseases incident to the Mind and Body of Man by a Laugh." Though choosing to remain anonymous, this odd doctor of mirth may be confidently identified as Henry Fielding—soon to embark again for Holland to resume his studies, but already launched upon a literary career that would establish his reputation as one of England's greatest comic authors. How fitting, therefore, that by celebrating the therapeutic properties of laughter, this his first published essay should serve as a kind of overture to the comic masterpieces to come.

Though in attributing this essay to Fielding we must rely entirely on internal evidence, the amount of such evidence is plentiful—to the extent

that no attempt could be made in the notes to adduce all the relevant parallels. Consider, to begin with, the general theme of the essay, which is one Fielding made peculiarly his own. It precisely anticipates, for example, that passage in the Preface to Joseph Andrews in which Fielding adapts to comedy Aristotle's medical metaphor of a tragic catharsis, purging the audience of the passions of fear and pity. Burlesque, Fielding would write in his famous Preface, Variations on this same theme are often heard in Fielding's early work—as in these lines from the prologue to The Author's Farce (1730): In The Mock-Doctor (1732) we are similarly assured that the physician who can bring his patient to smile has cured him (X. 156); and later in that play Gregory, to cure Charlotte, instead of disagreeable medicines prescribes a song: "Is there any thing so strange in that? Did you never hear of Pills to purge Melancholy?" (X. 168). Compare, too, Fielding's anatomy of laughter in "An Essay on the Knowledge of the Characters of Men" (1743), where he again emphasizes its beneficial effects: "laughter, while confi[n]ed to vice and folly, is no very cruel punishment on the object, and may be attended with good consequences to him . . ." (XIV. 286). Or finally, consider how Fielding in The Champion (27 March 1740) applies the same metaphor to the case of satire and ridicule: "If the mind be only tainted with one particular vice, this is but a potion given to our disease; and though it may be attended with some pain in the operation, the satirist is to be regarded as our physician, not our enemy . . . ."

Not only is the general theme of the curative power of laughter associated distinctively with Fielding's theory of comic catharsis. In its particular patterns of thought as well the essay recalls Fielding at virtually every turn: his anatomy of the kinds of laughter here resembles the similar analysis in "An Essay on the Knowledge of the Characters of Men" (XIV. 285-288); his satire of physicians—ridiculing in particular their greed for fat fees, their painful or unpalatable remedies, their way of declining to swallow themselves the medicines they prescribe for others—might serve as a paradigm for his treatment of the "Faculty" throughout his career; as might his milder ridicule

of the lady's bad spelling, and her tendency to suffer from the vapors or to amuse herself at quadrille. Numerous passages in his works reveal the same pleasure he here expresses in the antics of monkeys, or the wholesome gaiety of fiddles and country dances, or the cheerfulness induced by witty conversation over a bottle of wine; or in the humor of Butler's Hudibras and Swift's Gulliver's Travels (even, most particularly, in the character of the giantess Glumdalclitch).

Many of the essay's rhetorical strategies and turns of phrase, furthermore, correspond to Fielding's usual practice—the pattern of the maid's speech, for example ("Lord, Madam . . . I beg your Ladyship . . . ."); or the occasional bawdy or rude observation; or the humorous use of homely proverbs. And many of Fielding's favorite words, associated with his characteristic habits of thought and description, will be found here as well: the notion, for example, that there are "Degrees" of certain qualities; of an art or science as a "Mystery"; of evil-doing as "Mischief"; of moods being reflected in the "Countenance"; and such favorite adjectives as "good-natur'd," "nauseous," "handsome," "sour" vs. "sweet."

It is true of course that, with perhaps the exception of the controlling theme of the essay—the therapeutic properties of laughter, which is such a distinctive feature of Fielding's theory of comedy—no one of these correspondencies is so singular that it could not also be found in other authors of the period. But the occurrence of so many marks of Fielding's thought and style in this essay should establish the case for his authorship beyond reasonable doubt.

SIR,[1]
Perhaps you'll be surprized to think, that one advanced to my Years should think of engaging with Success in a new Profession, a Profession too which is commonly thought to require some Study; but when I assure you, that my Method is new, and that I am resolved to avoid all the Courses of your modern Practitioners in Physick, you will allow that I may do the World some Service.

To let you therefore into the Affair at once, you must know I propose to cure all Diseases incident to the Mind and Body of Man by a Laugh, and therefore it will be necessary that I should make some Remarks upon the Benefit of Laughing, and give a few Examples of some extraordinary Cures perform'd by it.

I will own to you, that I took the Hint from an ancient Manuscript, wherein the Author assures us, that he frequently prescrib'd Laughing, and never knew it fail of Success; (he lived before it was the Custom for Physicians to poison their Patients with nauseous Drugs; [)][2] his Method was to prescribe a small low Laugh, which in our Language is called Te he,[3] and is just two Degrees above a Sneer,[4] with Directions to raise it by Degrees till it came at last to the loud Laugh called the Haugh, haugh, he does not advise it to be taken in Bed, because if the Engines should happen to be weak, or unretentive, the Patient will be in Danger of bep—— himself,[5] a Case that has often happened.

But as Men under acute Pains are not to be worked into a Laugh by ordinary Methods, such as the moving of a Feather, or the like, which will operate well enough upon the Muscles[6] of a French Gentleman or Lady, proper Objects must therefore be applied, according to the Design of the Physician, and Strength of the Patient. Sometimes the Conversation of a pleasant Man of Wit, and sometimes the Appearance of a blundering Fellow[7] have had the same Effect, and perform'd the Cure.

In my own Practice, I confess, I have found nothing more effectual than the Writings of a certain modern Author,[8] who, though he never laughs himself, has a Knack of making others laugh; in this Way he is like the Gentlemen of the Faculty, who never take any of those Medicines themselves they prescribe their Patients.[9]

Let your Patient take up Gulliver's Voyages, and imagine what an odd Figure Nurse Glumdalclitch [10] would make in a modish English Head, of the Dimensions of a Silver Three-Pence, and how charmingly it must become her Baby Face, in Circumference equal to the great Tun of Heidelburg, (for those People were all Roundheads,[11] though the learned Author, out of a Contempt to that Party, is pleased to take no Notice of it,) let him do this, I say, and forbear laughing if he can.

I foresee the Gentlemen of the Faculty will endeavour to cry down[12] this my Discovery, (as indeed they will have Reason) because it will certainly lessen the Receipt of high Fees; and when any Person hereafter finds himself indisposed, instead of sending for a Physician, and being at a Guinea Charge,[13] they need only drink a Pint of Wine with a facetious Friend,[14] or read a Page of Hudibras [15] or S——t, and as for Men of Wit, they may cure one another, without any Expence, or Loss of Time whatsoever.

But there never was a laudable Design but what was depreciated by those self-interested People who find their Accounts in imposing upon Mankind; but if it be true, as it is commonly said, that the Wisdom of Men, and of particular Nations, is shewn mostly by their Proverbs;[16] I can call in many, which plainly hint at the Vertues of this Medicine, as first, Laugh and be fat, which certainly intimates, that laughing will cure a Consumption. Next, Laugh and be rich. Here you see it is good for the Distempers of the Pocket, as well as for those of the Body. Some Manuscripts, indeed, have it, Drink and be rich, but this last Reading is certainly a Corruption of the Text, and therefore I recommend the first. Then there is Laugh and lye down. But I must give some Persons a Caution how they take it this Way, especially young Maids, because I have known it sometimes followed by a Tympany,[17] therefore great Regard must be had to the Designs of the Physician who prescribes; for what is a salutiferous Medicine[18] in the Hands of one Man, may be Poyson in the Hands of another.

But since I have made this Remark, I must observe further, that all Laughs are not to be prescribed; for some are extreamly noxious,[19] as a disdainful Laugh,[20] a malicious Laugh,[21] a treacherous Laugh, which are mostly practiced by Courtiers: There is also a killing Laugh, but this hurts none but Lovers.[22] —Your open Laugh is the most universal Medicine, and attended with no bad Consequences, except that it sometimes discovers a Sett of black Grinders, decayed perhaps by digging into hot Venison Pasty;[23] the sociable Laugh, which is taken by seeing others laugh, is also a very good Laugh.

The Secret of raising a Laugh is not known to all, it has sometimes been convey'd by Way of Letter, and the Writer knew nothing of the Matter.—Thus one fair Lady writing to another, was to tell her she had sent her some Pendants for her Ears;—but as the British Ladies have a peculiar Way of Spelling,[24] she leaves out the first Letter E in the Word E-arse:[25] Her fair Correspondent, who was, at that Time, dying of the Vapours,[26] no sooner came to that Word, but she burst into a Laugh; her Maid, who was also indisposed, perceiving the Change of Countenance in her Mistress, says, Lord, Madam, it is your handsome[27] Day, I beg your Ladyship to let me have a Sight of that Letter,[28] which being granted, she was also cured upon the Spot; the Lady has now left off sickly Quadrille,[29] and can run about for four Hours together to a Tune of a Fiddle in a Country Dance.[30]

I could give innumerable Instances of Cures, but I shall only trouble you with a few, which can be well attested. A certain Person, who had lost both his Wits and his Fortune by an ill Run in the Stocks,[31] was standing at his Window in Suspence, whether he should throw himself out or send for three Pennyworth of Ratsbane,[32] when a Man with a wooden Leg, who is Master of a Company of Players, consisting of one Bear and two Monkeys,[33] happen'd to pass by; they acted a Play, in which the two Monkeys were to decide a Quarrel by Sword and Pistol upon the Back of the Bear, they behav'd so gallantly that both were wounded, so that the fore Leg of each was tied in a Scarf; the whole Scene occasioned so much Laughter, and so diverted his Melancholly [sic],[34] that he immediately applied himself to repair his Affairs, and is now in a Way of making a very good Fortune by an honest Employment (not Stockjobbing.)[35] —The Story of a rich Cardinal at Rome should not be omitted upon this Occasion, who dying of an Imposthume, his Domesticks all began to pillage, even in the Chamber where he lay; his Eminency's Monkey seeing one seize upon this, and the other run away with that, was resolved to have something amongst them, and laid Hold of the Cardinal's Cap, and put it upon his own Head.—The odd Ambition of Pug to be made a Cardinal, so tickled his Eminence, that he burst into a loud Laugh,[36] which broke the Imposthume, and he recovered, to the great Disappointment of the Faculty, who reported him to be a dead Man;[37] —his Eminence ordered a new Chain for his Doctor, and as much Chesnuts as he could eat as long as he lived.

It will not be disputed but that this Medicine gives a very agreeable Air to the Countenance.—In my Travels, I my self cured the present Prime Vizier at Constantinople, of a sower starch'd Countenance,[38] which made some of the Ladies of the Seraglio miscarry, and caused him to be dreaded by the Subjects as a Person always disposed to Mischief: He is become the most affable good-natur'd Person alive, never insults Prisoners of State, and indeed has left off taking People up, and is grown such a merry Grig,[39] that he does nothing from Morning to Night but crack Jokes[40] in the Sclavonian Language.—He sent for me to make me some noble Gratifications, but I begg'd his Highness, if he thought I had merited any Thing at his Hands, that he would shew it in some Favours to our Turkey Company,— and I have in Form received their Thanks since my Return from Travel; upon which Occasion their Secretary was pleased to tell me, I had done as much to recover that sinking Trade as all[*]

You'll excuse me, dear Friend, from discovering all the Mysteries[41] of my Art, till after my Patent be pass'd: In the mean Time I can tell you, that in Order to silence all those who shall attempt to cry down my Practice,[42] that I intend to convey a Laugh into[43] the Congress of Soissons, but this, indeed, I will do more to serve my Country than from the Vanity of shewing my Art, not doubting, but it may make the Spaniards good-humour'd, and dispose them to recede from their Demands of certain Restitutions. No Man has these Affairs more at Heart than my self, and I would not have Ministers and Plenipotentiaries patch up a Peace, as Tinkers do old brass Kettles, who in stopping one Hole make half a Dozen, which call for Repair presently after.

If you hear of any Body that intends to write against this my Scheme, I desire you will advertise him to do it like a Gentleman and a Scholar, in which Case I will enter the Lists to defend it. The Success of my Practice, I think, will be a good Argument; but as I know that curing the Patient has no Weight in a physical Dispute, I shall therefore prove Galen, Hippocrates, Celsus,[44] and all the Physicians of Antiquity to have been of my Side.

As to those who desire no more than to be cured when they are ill, they cannot be so much their own Enemies,[45] as to refuse my Method of Practice; they know the Ease of the Operation, it is but a laughing Matter, and all is well; whereas your regular Quacks attack you with Blisters, Vomits, and Purges,[46] and display a horrid Sight of excruciating Instruments enough to stagger the Resolution of a primitive Saint.[47] —You are ply'd continually with nauseous Draughts, for the Benefit of your Apothecary, so that you are obliged to out-swallow an Ostrich; you must fast when you have a Mind to eat, and eat when you are inclined to fast,[48] and are forbid to laugh, for Fear you should mend, and the Doctor lose his Fees.

Whereas my Design is only to ease Mankind from all these Plagues, and to furnish every one with a Laugh, at an easy Rate, according to his Circumstances and the Nature of his Disease; but I have not Leisure to inlarge further, at present, because I am going to cross the Channel, having engaged to add a little Sweetness to the Countenance[49] of a certain Ambassador: A certain Person of Interest, his Relation, having promised[50] to make me Physician to some Body[51] the first Vacancy, which cannot be long; for I take it for granted, that half the Faculty will kick up their Heels and die of the Spleen at the Success of my Practice.

III. The Physiognomist (July 1730)

The essay on "the Benefit of Laughing" was, so far as we know, Fielding's last publication before, after another sojourn on the Continent, he "set up

for a Play-Writer" in 1730. In June of that year, we will recall, the Haymarket production of Rape upon Rape represented his first serious attempt as a dramatist to satirize—albeit in a manner prudently oblique—corrupt practices peculiarly associated with Walpole. A month later, on 25 July, there appeared in Fog's Weekly Journal a letter from one "Thomas Squint," a public-spirited physiognomist who, having discovered Walpole's character in his countenance, was eager to share his findings with his "Fellow Subjects."

Again, though the evidence for Fielding's authorship of this piece is wholly internal, it is plentiful and, I believe, conclusive. Like the previous letter to Mist's on "the Benefit of Laughing," this one addresses a topic that Fielding, among popular authors of the period, made distinctively his own: namely, the science of physiognomy.[1] The most thorough discussion of the subject in his works opens the "Essay on the Knowledge of the Characters of Men," where, like "Squint," Fielding defends the science from its detractors: "the passions of men," he writes, "do commonly imprint sufficient marks on the countenance; and it is owing chiefly to want of skill in the observer that physiognomy is of so little use and credit in the world" (XIV. 284); "nature," he continues, "doth really imprint sufficient marks in the countenance, to inform an accurate and discerning eye . . ." (288). Though he could observe in The Champion (11 December 1739) that "the doctrine of physiognomy" was "somewhat unfortunate in these latter ages," he was none the less ready, even at the end of his life, to speak up "in favour of the physiognomist." For, he remarks in the Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, "though the law hath made him a rogue and vagabond . . . nature is seldom curious in her works within, without employing some little pains on the outside; and this," he declares in a comment relevant to the present observations of "Tom Squint," is "more particularly" the case "in mischievous characters" (XVI. 236). This is also the opinion of Parson Adams in Joseph Andrews, who insists "that nature generally imprints such a portraiture of the mind in the countenance that a skilful physiognomist will rarely be deceived" (I. 209); and in Tom Jones (IV. 76, 96) both Partridge and Mrs. Whitefield pretend to some "skill in physiognomy." It is worth noting, finally, that the earliest reference to the science in Fielding's acknowledged works occurs less than a year after the present essay, in the Preface to The Tragedy of Tragedies (IX. 11), where, to comfort admirers of Tom Thumb, "Scriblerus Secundus" states that "our English physiognomical writers" have never held that "the greatness of a man's soul is in proportion to that of his body. . . ."

Fielding, then, from the beginning of his literary career shared with "Tom Squint" not only an interest in the science of physiognomy, but a willingness to entertain the notion that it could be made to work. Other features of the essay are typical of Fielding as well—the author's pose, for instance, as an "Adept," master of the exact "Rules" of a science, who is so skilled in his art that the uninitiated take him for a "Conjurer," but who is

so altruistic that he will publish his discoveries for the benefit of the public. We will also find here one of Fielding's familiar satiric figures, the arrogant Great Man; and here, too, joined in one, will be a pair of other butts well known from his other writings, the oath-swearing "Bully" and the "contented Cuckold." If we enter more closely into the verbal texture of the piece, we will also recognize a number of his favorite expressions, images, patterns of thought: thus "Squint" speaks of the public as his "Fellow-Creatures" and "Fellow Subjects"; he talks confidently of "positive" rules, or contemptuously of the "abject" behavior of Walpole's flatterers; he makes much of removing one's hat as a sign of respect; he is amused at the thought that those who are fated to hang will never drown. But the range and closeness of such correspondences will best be seen in the notes to the text, which follows.

To the Author of FOG's Journal.

SIR,

Many Years ago I thought it my Duty to bend my Studies to the Good and Advantage of my Fellow-Creatures,[1] and very early I applyed my Mind to find out or improve some Science that might be of Use to the Rest of Mankind.

I believ'd that the Science of Phisiognomy [sic] was not at that Height but it was possible to add greatly to it, and tho' it had been exploded and laught at by some ignorant People, yet I believ'd it was possible to settle it on as strong a Basis, and to judge by Rules[2] as certain and positive as those we generally receive from the Royal Society,[3] at least I was resolved to attempt it, and 'tis now, without Vanity, I can assure you, Sir, that my Labour has not been in vain, and I am very ready, when call'd upon, to deliver as certain and infallible Rules, and as real Maxims, for the understanding of this Science, as even the most skilful Decypherers can for the Knowledge of their Art; and tho' some Gentlemen are base enough to suggest that I deal with the Devil,[4] and hold a strict Correspondence with the Pope, yet, Sir, I do assure you, my Art is very innocent, and I act by Rules positive, indisputable, and honest.

The Secrets of most Sciences you are sensible, Sir, are not easily comprehended by the Ignorant,[5] and very often they believe we hold an infernal Correspondence, when what we the Adept do is easy with us, without the least Conjuration; I appeal to Mr. Fawks.[6]

But to leave this Digression, and to come to Fact. I am, Sir, arriv'd to that Heighth[7] of Knowledge in this Science, with the Help of a little Surgery, that I am able to judge of the Intellects of every individual Person I examine at the Distance of 30 Feet; I can, Sir, at the first Glimpse, distinguish between a Knave and a Fool,—between a Patriot and a Politician, between a Courtier and an Excise-man, between a Pimp and a Custom-house Officer,[8] or between a Gamester and a Senator. This, Sir, is of great Use to me,—and hinders my committing several Blunders in my Addresses to Men of Figure.

But, Sir, as, with great Study, Industry and Cost, I am arrived to this Knowledge, I think it my Duty to produce my Art to my Fellow-Christians, and not, like the Tribe of Projectors, consider the Publick a little, and Myself

a great deal; I ought (I think) freely, without the least Prospect of Gain, do an honest and real Service to the Publick,[9] without considering my dear self;[10] what Hurt from Persons in great Posts, from Gentlemen with great Pensions, or how the Courtiers and prime Ministers may happen to relish it I value not; I am very little sollicitous whom I please or displease; I do my Duty;—'tis sufficient,[11] I say, that I do Good to my Fellow Subjects.

But, before I open my Budget[12] of secret Knowledge, I was willing, Sir, to know your Opinion, and to take your Advice, and I beg you would let me know what may happen on my divulging these Secrets; if you think a Mulct or Fine may be laid of 100 l. or a Year's Imprisonment in the County-Jail, or that I must find Security for the Rest of my Life; I shall e'en keep my boasted Knowledge to myself, and bewail Mankind the Loss of this very useful Knowledge.

But, to satisfy you, Sir, of the Truth of what I write, I shall only relate one Matter of Fact, that I am ready to prove by many living Evidences of unquestionable Authority, and leave you, Sir, to judge if I am an ignorant Pretender.

Some Years ago, in my Way to Buckingham-House, as I was passing through the Mall, a Buzz flew about[13] that Sir —— was coming in a Chariot; —immediately all was in Disorder, and every Body prepared to throw themselves in a Posture of Worship and Adoration;[14] —for my Part, I had soon my Eye in the Chariot, and when, at the Distance of twenty Yards, I perceiv'd a huge,[15] unweildy, lazy[16] Fellow, lolling[17] and grinning[18] at his Ease; at first I supposed him to be, at least, the Keeper of the Lions,[19] and could not easily conceive why my Fellow-Creatures should cringe in that abject[20] Manner to the Man-brute [21] that took no Notice of the kind and abject Salutations that were paid to him. But as I presently recollected that my honest Countrymen were famous in History for Gratitude, so I supposed their present Respects were paid for the Care he might have of the young Whelps in the Tower, but not being certain who the mounted Grinner might be, I thought I was not bound to pay my Respects; but I immediately fell to consider his Physiognomy, secundum Artem,[22] and found Pride, a great Assurance, much Arrogance, and immense Quantity of Self-Love, no small Share of Avarice, with its Attendant Ambition,[23] writ in his Face,[24] and to tell you the Truth, I saw some Signs of a violent Death there, and, if my Art does not deceive me, it will be a dry Death too;[25] I think he is in Danger of going up Stairs out of the World;[26] for which Reason I did not even move my Hat.[27]

The Chariot had hardly passed, when a most impudent Coxcomb[28] accosted me with a Damme,[29] Sir, what do you mean?—What! is your nasty[30] Hat tied so fast to your Noddle,[31] that even the great Knight could not move it? A'n't you a Papist,[32] a Jesuite in Disguise, a disaffected Rascal hired by the Imperialists, one of those that made a Clamour about Dunkirk?

Really, I was not a little disordered at this Salutation, but immediately applying my self to my Art, I found young Pert had married the Grinner's Cook-Maid's first Cousin by the Mother's Side;[33] I found he had a Place of 700 l. a Year in the ——, and accordingly I told him, whatever his Pretensions were, he had receiv'd as much as he had deserved, I assured him; and, tho' he could handsomely[34] bully[35] in the Mall, yet he was a very contented C——d[36] at home; he suspected me for a Conjurer,[37] and retired with Precipitation.

Thus my Art disengaged me from a Quarrel, and if you, Sir, approve this Art and Science, insert this in your next, and you will soon hear further from
Sir, your very humble Servant,
Tho. Squint.

IV. On Hunters and Politicians (October 1730)

On 10 October, just three weeks after The Craftsman had handsomely "puffed" Fielding's Modern Husband, there appeared in the same paper an "Essay upon Hunting" contributed, it would seem, by a Norfolk neighbor of Sir Robert Walpole who signed himself "Harry Hunter." This witty author, well skilled himself in the whole art of "Venation" and well read in the ancient and modern authors who have written of it, is chiefly concerned to explore the relationship he has discerned between hunters and politicians, and to share with us in particular "the Analogy between Politicks and Foxhunting." Internal evidence once again strongly suggests that the real author of this clever satire is not "Harry Hunter" of Norfolk, but "Harry" Fielding, who did his hunting in Dorset and Hampshire.

That Fielding was himself a sportsman is entirely likely, if we may judge not only from the space he gives in his comedies and novels to hunters and hunting, but also from his expert understanding of the sport and his knowledge of huntsmen's argot. In his plays—besides a number of characters whose conversation reveals that they are well acquainted with hunting, such as Malvil in Love in Several Masques (VIII. 18), Sir Harry Wilding in The Temple Beau (VIII. 154), Parson Puzzletext in The Grub-Street Opera (IX. 219), Lovemore in The Lottery (VIII. 274-275), and Mr. Woodall, the foxhunting M.P. in The Modern Husband—Fielding introduces several others who could be said to exist solely for the purpose of coursing through the countryside in avid pursuit of hares and foxes: there is Squire Foxchase in An Old Man Taught Wisdom, his near relation (no doubt) Sir Harry Fox-Chase in Pasquin, Sir Gregory Kennel in The Fathers, and most particularly Squire Badger and his huntsman Scut in Don Quixote in England. Such figures also inhabit the novels, of course: in Joseph Andrews, the hero himself serves a turn as "whipper-in" to Sir Thomas Booby's huntsman (I. 28-29), two young country gentlemen dispute the merits of their pointers (87-89), and an entire chapter relates "the hunting adventure" (Bk. III, ch. vi); in Tom Jones, as no one needs reminding, Western remains unmatched as a comic celebration of the English hunting squire.

As with the two earlier essays on the therapeutic effects of laughter and the virtues of physiognomy, it might be said, then, that among popular authors of the period Fielding made this subject distinctively his own. The case for his authorship of the present essay is greatly strengthened, furthermore, when we consider the number of particular correspondences relating ideas and phrases, images and patterns of thought, in the present essay to passages in Fielding's acknowledged works. To be sure, there is nothing especially

remarkable in the fact that both "Harry Hunter" and Fielding have read the same standard authors: Ovid in the Metamorphoses and Dryden's translation of him; Pope in Windsor Forest and Addison in The Freeholder. Others besides Fielding might also have noticed the same ludicrous or reprehensible practices of English hunters—their stocking the country with foxes, their pursuing the game over cornfields to the ruin of farmers, their beating down gates and recklessly leaping over hedges and ditches, their inhumane way of ignoring their unhorsed comrades. Others, no doubt (though surely not many!), enjoyed the "noble" sound of a pack of hounds in full cry, and admired the skill of the huntsman who commanded his dogs by mere modulations of his voice. The jargon of hunting would also be known to any keen sportsman. These things are commonplace and unremarkable, and taken individually would signify little. That "Harry Hunter" and Fielding should have them all in common, however—that they should so closely resemble each other in what they read and know and think about hunting—is impressive.

Several other, more distinctive parallels strengthen that resemblance into almost certain identity. To begin with, it is hard to imagine any other author of the time who both loved hunting as Fielding loved it, and was also capable of elaborating at such length and so wittily a satiric comparison between hunters and politicians. Once in The Champion (29 July 1740) he in fact repeats the joke in the present essay comparing Walpole's creatures to hounds that are "perfectly stanch, and intirely at his Command"; and in a leader in that periodical (15 December 1739) he varies the general scheme of the essay only slightly, this time finding an analogy with politics in "the art of fishing." Throughout these early years, moreover, one of Fielding's favorite themes—heard most notably in "Of True Greatness" and Jonathan Wild—is the cruelty and inhumanity of those "great men" who, as "Harry Hunter" expresses it, "support their Grandeur by the Misery and Destruction of their Fellow-Creatures." In the present passage this theme is illustrated particularly by Nimrod, hunter of men, to whom Fielding later alludes in characterizing the malevolent squire of "the hunting adventure" in Joseph Andrews (I. 269). Indeed, that chapter from his first novel connects with the present essay in other ways as well. "Harry Hunter," for example, greatly admires the passage in the story of Actæon in which Ovid gives us "the Names of the whole Pack, which was very large, and make almost as noble a Sound in Verse as They once did in the Woods"; in Joseph Andrews (I. 271-272) Fielding actually parodies this very passage from the Metamorphoses. In the same chapter, again like "Harry Hunter," he enlarges the species "Dogs" to include "both human and canine": the followers of the hunting squire in Joseph Andrews are said to be "dogs of his own species . . . . two or three couple of human or rather two-legged curs on horseback . . ." (I. 269-270).

Finally, the essay bears certain marks of Fielding's style. Here, for example, as in the earlier essay on laughing, we find his favorite expression for villainy, "doing Mischief"; and as in the essay on physiognomy we find

variations on his favorite compound denoting the community or brotherhood of men, "Fellow-Creatures" and "Fellow-Subjects." The word "Catastrophe" in its technical sense is also here, which surely cannot have been used as often as Fielding uses it by any other author of the period. Several of Fielding's favorite phrases are evident: the notion that reckless people risk "breaking their necks," that extraordinary qualities "shine forth," that the writer has so many examples to adduce "it would be endless to enumerate all" of them, that the victims of violence are "knocked on the head"—in the present context, indeed, the phrase "to knock an Hare on the Head in her Form" recurs almost verbatim in Tom Jones.

In short, the number and distinctiveness of these correspondences, both in content and verbal texture, make it highly probable that Fielding was the author of this witty satire.

To CALEB D'ANVERS, Esq;

SIR,

You have already publish'd two or three Letters in Favour of Dogs, both human and canine;[1] from whence some witty Gentlemen have taken Occasion to call you the Political Cynick.[2] I flatter myself therefore that an Essay upon Hunting will find a Place in your Paper.

This Sport, which is of various Kinds, hath been in high Vogue amongst Princes and great Men from the earliest Accounts of Time. We read in Scripture of two great Hunters, Nimrod and Esau; the former of whom is said to have been a mighty Hunter before the Lord, and the Commentators inform us that Mankind was his Prey;[3] which is the most glorious Species of this Diversion, and hath therefore found a Multitude of Followers. All Tyrannical Princes, Invaders and Conquerors, who support their Grandeur by the Misery and Destruction of their Fellow-Creatures,[4] fall under this Denomination of Man-Hunters; and the voracious Ministers of their Ambition may be properly call'd Blood-hounds. Several of our English Kings have been Huntsmen of this Kind; particularly William the Conqueror, whom Mr. Pope compares with Nimrod, in the following Verses of Windsor Forest.[5]

Esau is said to be a cunning Hunter; and yet He was not able to support Himself by what He caught; for coming Home, one Day, weary and hungry from his Sport, He was oblig'd to sell his Birthright to his younger Brother for a Mess of Porridge.

The antient Histories of Greece and Rome furnish us with several Instances of illustrious Huntsmen; especially Meleager and Actœon; whose Atchievements and unhappy Fate are beautifully described by Ovid in his Metamorphoses.[6]

Meleager seems to have been a Sportsman of the Patriot-Kind, by delivering his Country from a monstrous, wild Boar, who committed terrible Ravages upon the People. Mr. Dryden calls this Beast, in his Translation,[7] a Minister of Vengeance, sent by Diana, to punish the Sins of the Nation.

Actœon [8] was likewise a very celebrated Huntsman; but We don't find that He ever consulted the Good of the Publick in his Diversions. He seems to be one, who hunted purely for the Sake of the Sport, and took Delight in the Company of his Dogs.[9] Ovid hath given us the Names of the whole Pack,[10] which was very large, and make almost as noble a Sound in Verse [11] as They once did in the Woods.[12] But what deserves our particular Notice is the Catastrophe[13] of this unfortunate Sportsman; who being at length turn'd into a Stag, the Creature which he us'd to hunt, was pursued, run down and devoured by his own Hounds.

The Moral of this Fable, according to some Commentators, is to expose Those, who spend their Estates or squander away great Sums of Money upon Dogs and Horses; but I think it may be more properly apply'd to a wicked and cruel Statesman, who having pack'd together a Number of Men, in order to oppress and ruin his Fellow-Subjects, is often destroy'd by Them Himself, when They grow hungry for Want of other Prey. It is in vain for Him, at such a Time, to cry out, like Actœon, I am your Master. The Dogs, inur'd to Blood and Destruction, will pretend not to know Him from their usual Game,[14] and devour Him with as much Fury and as little Remorse, as He had taught them to devour others.

It would be endless to enumerate[15] all the great Huntsmen of Antiquity. Nay, it would be useless to our present Purpose; since the Royal Diversion, of which I am speaking, continues in as high a Degree of Esteem with our modern Princes and great Men, as it did with Those of former Times. Most of the Courts of Europe have been engaged in it, during the whole Summer; and We have met with little else, in our Newspapers, but Hunting Matches [16] and Preparations for War; as if the contending Parties were resolv'd to begin Hostilities, on both Sides, by the Destruction of wild Beasts,[17] in order to prepare their Hands for more glorious Slaughter.

It is remarkable that Kings and other Hunters of Royal Dignity generally chuse Bulls, Bears, Boars or Stags for the Objects of their Sport; and I could almost undertake to distinguish the Characters of the most considerable Princes of Europe by the Quarry They pursue; but This would be too invidious a Task for a private Man; and might, perhaps, induce some of the foreign Ministers to make a Complaint against me, as an allegorical Defamer of the Kings, their Masters.

The Subject of Bull-and-Bear-hunting [18] is, particularly, of too tender a Nature to admit of any Examination.

The crafty, designing Politician seems to take most Delight in the Chace of a Fox;[19] not with an Intent to kill the Creature, (for He is good for nothing when He is dead; and, besides, it would be unnatural for one, mischievous Animal to destroy another) but only because a Fox-chace bears the nearest Resemblance to a Wild-Goose-Chace,[20] (of which some Statesmen are extremely fond) and gives Him the best Opportunity of displaying his Courage and Conduct; for We shall find, upon Examination, that there is often a very great Analogy between Politicks and Foxhunting, as will appear by a short View of the Qualifications, requisite to the latter—A Foxhunter ought always to be well mounted, and to have, what the Sportsmen call, a good Seat in his Saddle. His Dogs must be perfectly stanch,[21] and intirely at his Command, so as to know every Sound of his Voice,[22] and obey the least Crack of his Whip. A true-bred-Foxhunter will not scruple to ride over Corn

Fields,[23] beat down Gates,[24] or commit any other Spoil, in the Pursuit of his Sport; and if the wily Vermin [25] gives him good Diversion, He scorns to make the poor Farmer any Amends for all the Mischief He hath done Him, by inflicting Justice upon Reynard;[26] if He cannot save Him from the Rage of the Dogs, He will be sure to stock the Country with two or three in his Stead.[27] Lastly, a keen Sportsman, of this Kind, is often oblig'd to gallop blindfold over Hedges and Ditches,[28] without any Regard to his Neck,[29] and is seldom pitied,[30] if He happens to break it—I hope there is no Need of any Application.

I wonder that so cautious a Writer as Mr. Addison should venture to treat this illustrious Order of Men with so much Contempt as He hath done in his Freeholders;[31] or that a Gentleman of his Candour would suffer the Violence of Party Prejudices to carry Him away so far as to represent the Character of a Fox-hunter incompatible with That of a Politician; and yet this seems to be his favourite Topick of Ridicule through the whole Course of those Papers; in one of which He tells us, "that for the Honour of his Majesty, and the Safety of his Government, we cannot but observe, that those who have appeared the greatest Enemies to both, are of that Rank of Men, who are commonly distinguish'd by the Title of Foxhunters. As several of these, says he, have had no Part of their Education in Cities, Camps, or Courts, it is doubtful whether they are of greater Ornament or Use to the Nation in which they live. It would be an ever-lasting Reproach to Politicks, should such Men be able to overturn an Establishment, which has been form'd by the wisest Laws, and is supported by the ablest Heads. The wrong Notions and Prejudices, which cleave to many of these Country Gentlemen, who have always lived out of the Way of being better inform'd, are not easy to be conceived by a Person, who has never conversed with them."

I am always concerned, when I find my self obliged to differ in Opinion from so great a Writer;[32] but Truth ought to prevail over all other Considerations; and I thought it incumbent upon me,[33] when I was upon this Subject, to take some Notice of a Proposition, which Experience hath prov'd to be very ill-grounded. I am sensible that Mr. Addison was drawn into this Error by the Circumstances of the Times, in which he wrote, and which might partly justify his Assertion; but you know, Mr. D'Anvers, that We should never draw general Conclusions from particular Cases; and I am very confident that if He were now alive, He would make no Scruple to retract so injurious a Reflection on the whole Body of British Sportsmen,[34] whom He hath stigmatiz'd with the Character of being Enemies to the present Government, and freely acknowledge that a Foxhunting-Politician is not so ridiculous a Composition as He formerly represented it.

I need not produce any particular Instances of This. The Reader will immediately fix his Eye upon one Man [35] in whom these Qualities are happily united and shine forth[36] together with distinguished Lustre.[37]

You cannot forget, Sir, that a little Piece was publish'd, about two Years ago, intitled the Norfolk Congress; in which the Doctrine of Political Cynegeticks was fully discuss'd, and their Advantages to the Nation demonstrated to the meanest Capacity.

It is remarkable that the two great Points, which came under the Deliberation of that august Assembly, were the Suppression of a Dramatical Libel upon Corruption,[38] and the Destruction of an old vixon [sic] Fox, who had

done the Country a great deal of Mischief; the first of which they dispatch'd without the least Difficulty or Opposition; but it must be confess'd that they were not altogether so successful in their Negociations upon the latter. The Fox, it seems, had more Cunning or better Luck than the Poet, and defeated all their Attempts against Her. She play'd a thousand Tricks to do this; but her last Stratagem was the subtlest of all. Having led them many a weary Chace,[39] and fearing nothing but being betray'd (of which she thought herself in some Danger) she resolv'd to betray first; and immediately joining the Pack, which pursued her, diverted their Scent to another Fox, who happen'd to cross them at that Time and will probably give them more Trouble than Herself.

I could give several other Instances of the Analogy between Politicks and Foxhunting. I could even prove, to Demonstration, that it is absolutely impossible for any Person to make an able Statesman, who is not a good Sportsman; and that the Life of a Minister is, properly speaking, a Scene of Venation; fill'd up with Toils, Dangers, Violence and Fraud; but That would carry me too far beyond the Bounds, which I prescrib'd myself in this Essay upon Hunting.

You have already prov'd that a Messenger of State is only another Word for a Political Courser, who is kept on Purpose to catch Game for his Master; and I cannot help looking upon the present Race of Pensionary Writers, who plead for Violence and arbitrary Power, as a sort of scandalous Poachers, who hunt for the Spit, and never scruple to knock an Hare on the Head in her Form,[40] or shoot her upon the File; a Practice, which hath always been detested by fair and generous Sportsmen.

I am, SIR,
Your constant Reader,
Norfolk, Oct. 1. and humble Servant,
1730. Harry Hunter.

Notes