History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

by Henry Fielding

  Chapter i.

  An Invocation.

  Come, bright love of fame, inspire my glowing breast: not thee I willcall, who, over swelling tides of blood and tears, dost bear the heroeon to glory, while sighs of millions waft his spreading sails; butthee, fair, gentle maid, whom Mnesis, happy nymph, first on the banksof Hebrus did produce. Thee, whom Maeonia educated, whom Mantuacharmed, and who, on that fair hill which overlooks the proudmetropolis of Britain, sat'st, with thy Milton, sweetly tuning theheroic lyre; fill my ravished fancy with the hopes of charming agesyet to come. Foretel me that some tender maid, whose grandmother isyet unborn, hereafter, when, under the fictitious name of Sophia, shereads the real worth which once existed in my Charlotte, shall fromher sympathetic breast send forth the heaving sigh. Do thou teach menot only to foresee, but to enjoy, nay, even to feed on future praise.Comfort me by a solemn assurance, that when the little parlour inwhich I sit at this instant shall be reduced to a worse furnished box,I shall be read with honour by those who never knew nor saw me, andwhom I shall neither know nor see.

  And thou, much plumper dame, whom no airy forms nor phantoms ofimagination cloathe; whom the well-seasoned beef, and pudding richlystained with plums, delight: thee I call: of whom in a treckschuyte,in some Dutch canal, the fat ufrow gelt, impregnated by a jollymerchant of Amsterdam, was delivered: in Grub-street school didst thousuck in the elements of thy erudition. Here hast thou, in thy maturerage, taught poetry to tickle not the fancy, but the pride of thepatron. Comedy from thee learns a grave and solemn air; while tragedystorms aloud, and rends th' affrighted theatres with its thunders. Tosoothe thy wearied limbs in slumber, Alderman History tells histedious tale; and, again, to awaken thee, Monsieur Romance performshis surprizing tricks of dexterity. Nor less thy well-fed booksellerobeys thy influence. By thy advice the heavy, unread, folio lump,which long had dozed on the dusty shelf, piecemealed into numbers,runs nimbly through the nation. Instructed by thee, some books, likequacks, impose on the world by promising wonders; while others turnbeaus, and trust all their merits to a gilded outside. Come, thoujolly substance, with thy shining face, keep back thy inspiration, buthold forth thy tempting rewards; thy shining, chinking heap; thyquickly convertible bank-bill, big with unseen riches; thyoften-varying stock; the warm, the comfortable house; and, lastly, afair portion of that bounteous mother, whose flowing breasts yieldredundant sustenance for all her numerous offspring, did not some toogreedily and wantonly drive their brethren from the teat. Come thou,and if I am too tasteless of thy valuable treasures, warm my heartwith the transporting thought of conveying them to others. Tell me,that through thy bounty, the pratling babes, whose innocent play hathoften been interrupted by my labours, may one time be amply rewardedfor them.

  And now, this ill-yoked pair, this lean shadow and this fat substance,have prompted me to write, whose assistance shall I invoke to directmy pen?

  First, Genius; thou gift of Heaven; without whose aid in vain westruggle against the stream of nature. Thou who dost sow the generousseeds which art nourishes, and brings to perfection. Do thou kindlytake me by the hand, and lead me through all the mazes, the windinglabyrinths of nature. Initiate me into all those mysteries whichprofane eyes never beheld. Teach me, which to thee is no difficulttask, to know mankind better than they know themselves. Remove thatmist which dims the intellects of mortals, and causes them to adoremen for their art, or to detest them for their cunning, in deceivingothers, when they are, in reality, the objects only of ridicule, fordeceiving themselves. Strip off the thin disguise of wisdom fromself-conceit, of plenty from avarice, and of glory from ambition.Come, thou that hast inspired thy Aristophanes, thy Lucian, thyCervantes, thy Rabelais, thy Moliere, thy Shakespear, thy Swift, thyMarivaux, fill my pages with humour; till mankind learn thegood-nature to laugh only at the follies of others, and the humilityto grieve at their own.

  And thou, almost the constant attendant on true genius, Humanity,bring all thy tender sensations. If thou hast already disposed of themall between thy Allen and thy Lyttleton, steal them a little whilefrom their bosoms. Not without these the tender scene is painted. Fromthese alone proceed the noble, disinterested friendship, the meltinglove, the generous sentiment, the ardent gratitude, the softcompassion, the candid opinion; and all those strong energies of agood mind, which fill the moistened eyes with tears, the glowingcheeks with blood, and swell the heart with tides of grief, joy, andbenevolence.

  And thou, O Learning! (for without thy assistance nothing pure,nothing correct, can genius produce) do thou guide my pen. Thee in thyfavourite fields, where the limpid, gently-rolling Thames washes thyEtonian banks, in early youth I have worshipped. To thee, at thybirchen altar, with true Spartan devotion, I have sacrificed my blood.Come then, and from thy vast, luxuriant stores, in long antiquitypiled up, pour forth the rich profusion. Open thy Maeonian and thyMantuan coffers, with whatever else includes thy philosophic, thypoetic, and thy historical treasures, whether with Greek or Romancharacters thou hast chosen to inscribe the ponderous chests: give mea while that key to all thy treasures, which to thy Warburton thouhast entrusted.

  Lastly, come Experience, long conversant with the wise, the good, thelearned, and the polite. Nor with them only, but with every kind ofcharacter, from the minister at his levee, to the bailiff in hisspunging-house; from the dutchess at her drum, to the landlady behindher bar. From thee only can the manners of mankind be known; to whichthe recluse pedant, however great his parts or extensive his learningmay be, hath ever been a stranger.

  Come all these, and more, if possible; for arduous is the task I haveundertaken; and, without all your assistance, will, I find, be tooheavy for me to support. But if you all smile on my labours I hopestill to bring them to a happy conclusion.