Of True Greatness: An Inquiry into the Rhetoric of Henry Fielding, as Illustrated in the Characterization of the Hero

Even before Thackeray's debunking of the central role of the fictional hero in Vanity Fair, the variety of heroes in British fiction was more subtle and often less obvious than many readers recognized. Henry Fielding may have written the first "novel without a hero" in Jonathan Wild (1743), and concluded his career in fiction with another, of a very different order, Amelia (1751). From his first foray into fiction with Shamela (1741), Fielding continually experiments with the concept of the hero, writing novels with and without heroes over a century before Vanity Fair would specifically call attention to the issue. And he clearly uses as a structural basis of his works the counterplay between "literary" and "real life" heroes.

Fielding himself lays claim to this formative position in the Preface to Joseph Andrews: "it may not be improper to premise a few words concerning this kind of writing, which I do not remember to have seen hitherto attempted in our language" (7). Literary historians have given us an ever-widening picture of Fielding's premise and its influence on the shape of British fiction, noting his major influences not only on the form of the comic romance, but on techniques of characterization through which language expresses moral purpose. Many of these contributions have been studied in great detail, and a more complete picture of Fielding as conscious artist and pioneer has emerged during the past several decades. Yet in spite of the accumulation of knowledge, relatively little attention has been paid to Fielding's characterization of the hero as the central focus of his mission to establish and legitimize this new form of literature. Nor has there been much critical interest in how these heroes' relationship to Fielding's changing concept of the novel's rhetorical form and aesthetic purposes, as it developed in the intense world of mid-eighteenth-century literary activity.

Fielding’s Heroes: The Traditional Moral View

The attention focused on Fielding's heroes has continually centered on their relationship to the philosophical and religious climate of the age, especially the influence of latitudinarian philosophy². Fielding criticism has traditionally examined character--and especially the hero--as an integral aspect of the moral and social climate of the age, especially due to the pioneering and perhaps overly-influential work of Martin Battestin, whose 1989 critical biography of Fielding culminates this perspective. This is rightly so: Fielding was not only deeply aware of the complex relationship between literature and society, but helped define and formalize that relationship through the molding of narrative voice, particularly in Tom Jones. Heroic but fallible characters--Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones, and William Booth--all must learn the lessons of benevolence, charity, and Christian good nature provided by the supporting characters: Parson Adams, Squire Allworthy, and Mr. Harrison. To view characters as exempla of specific moral values is accurate, but does not give a complete picture of Fielding's achievement, and in the past has led to misinterpretation of the heroes. Ian Watt claims, for example, that the exemplary nature of characterization makes character less important than plot in Fielding's novels (Rise of the Novel, 268). This view may be somewhat helpful in reading Joseph Andrews, although incomplete even there; but it fails to take into account the absolutely interwoven relationship between character and plot, especially in Tom Jones, or between character and narrative method in Amelia.

Because so much critical emphasis has been placed on Fielding's heroes as examples of specific eighteenth-century moral and religious values, there has been little examination of their structural and rhetorical roles, the nature of Fielding's methods of characterization, or other ways these heroes reflect the time in which Fielding was writing (Hahn 20). Fielding's use of literary sources for his characters has been widely explored, but his debt to earlier literature is usually seen in more or less general terms--the novel as "comic-epic-poem in prose." There has been little careful study of how Fielding's conception of the hero changes through his career and how these changes affect the kinds of novels he writes. Indeed, while Fielding's conception of the character traits of the hero remain fairly fixed, the role of the hero in the rhetorical structure of the works changes radically.

Fielding’s Changing View of the Fictional Hero

Fielding offers his own early definition of the hero in "An Essay on the Knowledge of the Characters of Men," in 1743, and two poems, "Of True Greatness" and "Of Good Nature." Heroes, in life and literature—and I reiterate Fielding’s emphasis on the combination--"should have stood up the Champions of the innocent and undesigning, and have endeavored to arm them against Imposition" (I.153). They should be good-natured rather than good-humoured (I.158). Their actions rather than their words should reveal the truth of their character (I.163), and, while religious, they should act against hypocritical sanctity (I.167). They are observant and watch the "Actions of Men with others" (I.175) in order to judge other men’s characters.

By the publication of Tom Jones in 1749, however, Fielding had ameliorated his view, first by asserting that the unalloyed idealized hero is no longer a viable character; and second, by moving toward a more inward, less active view of the hero: First, the movement away from idealization:

Secondly, in the Dedication to Tom Jones Fielding moves toward a more inward definition of the hero's qualities:

Fielding does not deny the possibility of the heroic life in the real world--a life Ralph Allen, Fielding’s close friend and patron, most clearly exemplifies. But he is now distinguishing between heroes of fiction and heroes of life, rather then lumping them together.

This change in the rhetoric of the hero moves Fielding away from both the materialistic self-serving picaresque of Defoe and the moralistic self-centered sentimentalism of Richardson’s epistolary technique. This difference is reflected not only in the kind of hero Fielding creates, but more importantly in the relationship of the hero to the narrative structure He cannot, for example, except in the special case of Shamela,⁴ rely on internal characterized narration as Defoe often and Richardson always does. Since Fielding’s heroes must learn to act within the range of possibilities sanctioned by society, the reader needs an observer-narrator to define the values of that society and to differentiate between the appropriate expression of those values and their corruption and misuse. Since individual characters in Fielding’s novels, such as Parson Trulliber or Squire Western, are often corrupters of those values, the narrator is necessary to provide the appropriate evaluation for the reader (which, of course, is pretty standard formal analysis). Where I differ from other readers is to suggest that Fielding’s choice of narrative method is dictated by the rhetorical needs of the hero, not by the moral/social paradigm of his world (which for Fielding is always defined by the ideals of latitudinarian Benevolence).

The Preface to Joseph Andrews

Any study of the hero in Fielding must come to terms with the Preface to Joseph Andrews. We are all familiar with Fielding's epic claims in the Preface. But, in fact, epic is pretty far from Fielding’s mind and pen in spite of his protestations. In a brief discussion of contemporary 18^th-century epic, he clearly focuses on its differences from other genres rather than its similarities to Classical epic. Indeed, the Preface is more directly concerned with the nature of comic fiction than of epic fiction. Fielding, like many an effective lawyer (his own recently assumed vocation) and rhetorician, asserts his claims about Classical form without giving much proof or supporting examples. He then quickly passes on to a fuller examination of the comic and the burlesque. One relatively short paragraph in the Preface thus serves as basis for all of Fielding’s claims to Classical heritages:

In this complex paragraph Fielding makes three primary points about the epic characteristics of his new "kind of writing": one, it is like an epic poem, but written in prose; two, it is different from comedy in plot (more extended and comprehensive action and a wider variety of incidents), and in its greater variety of character; and three, it is different from romance in its emphasis on light and ridiculous fable and action, its introduction of characters of inferior rank and manner, and its common use of sentiments and diction that are ludicrous rather than sublime. The only direct comment about similarity to epic is the bold and bald assertion with which the argument begins. And even this assertion carries with it the important caveat that there is also a major difference: it is written in prose. All that follows in this paragraph and throughout the Preface demonstrates the differences between the new form and conventional comedy and romance; nowhere does the argument focus on the similarities to epic. And whereas traditional definitions of epic have always had much to say about characterization of the hero, the comments in the Preface are very general and hardly apply to Fielding’s own heroes.

Tom Jones: Definition of the Hero

More overtly and intentionally than in his other fiction, Fielding develops character and plot in Tom Jones to dissect and define the nature of the hero in the rhetorical structure of the newly-emerging novel form. Jones acts the role of traditional hero (discussed at length in an earlier section of this study) in relation to other characters and a new kind of hero in relation to the structure of the novel. Although critics have always emphasized the importance of Jones' life as a moral fable, we must remember that Jones is primarily the exemplary hero of fiction not of the real world--the hero of a comic novel, not of a rational world, whose method of characterization is primarily objective and external.

We are hardly ever permitted the intimacy of Jones’ mind, heart, or soul (McKillop, Early Masters 129; Stumpf 3-21). At moments when we might expect this intimacy--when he repents in prison, for example--Jones feels and speaks in eighteenth-century cliches, not in the language of personal individual experience. Nor does Jones himself change in any fundamental way during the course of the novel, as we might expect from a character who is learning important moral lessons. Instead, the complexities and conventions of the plot and rhetorical structure lead the reader through a process of changing notion of the heroic (guided by the narrator). The same character who acts the very fallible non-Christian hero of the comic novel that is the beginning of Tom Jones is the worthy ideal hero of the idealized romance that is the conclusion. The plot of the novel rewards Jones for his recognition and acceptance of the true value of Prudence and the appropriate place of Benevolence in a world of Divine Providence. But the rhetorical structure of the novel tells us that this world is a fiction, and the rewards come only in romance not in life (please recall my earlier comments about Fielding’s putting distance between literature and life).

Errors in Reading Tom Jones

Serious attempts to place the moral nature of Jones himself at the structural center of the novel have also led to creative but misleading schemes. Tillyard, for example, suggests that the unifying feature in Tom Jones is Fielding's conception of Jones as a hero of chivalry "who pledges himself to serve the commands of his lady" (52). While this is a striking character metaphor, it is clearly contradicted by the text itself in a number of ways: Jones will serve the commands of almost any lady, from Molly Seagrim to Mrs. Waters to Lady Bellaston; the language and process of Jones' education is an ironic reversal of the education and quest of the chivalric knight.

Schonhorn goes even farther afield when he seeks a parallel between Jones and Christ, a view that even common sense easily refutes: "It was his [Fielding's] answer to one of the most difficult problems he faced, how to make his unnatural protagonist a representative of mankind, how to give some kind of other, and moral dimension, to his comic hero" (226). Of course, Fielding’s solution is actually more simple, elegant, and effective--we don’t need the Holy Spirit hovering over the text when we have the charming, authoritative, and intrusive narrator.⁶

Specific Narrative Technique in Tom Jones

• The Voice of the Narrator

Tom Jones uses a variety of rhetorical methods to define and exemplify the nature of its hero, the most obvious and pervasive being the voice of this intrusive narrator. Although this narrator is often a moral bully and social propagandist, he is also (like Thackeray’s later narrator), a master showman. We do not mind his bullying and manipulation, because he is (with one or two minor exceptions), open and direct with the reader, never pretending to be anything other than the controlling force behind the action.

• Abstraction and Generalization

One major technique is the narrator’s use of abstractions and generalizations as the common vocabulary of description of the hero. And this generalizing is not merely typical of 18th-century thought, but carefully calculated for effect. For example, although Jones’s appearance is a large part of his charm, we are not given any specific physical description of Jones until well into the middle part of the novel. And even then the language is abstract and general rather than detailed and specific:

Hardly a walking likeness. In spite of Fielding’s disclaimers about the importance of concrete and specific language and detail (see introductory chapters to each book of Joseph Andrews), he hardly follows his own advice. In Book 10, chapter 1, the narrator provides a lengthy treatise on the nature of characterization in drama and fiction, claiming it is the sign of the greatest artist to be able to differentiate nuances of behavior and characteristics among the many seemingly similar types that abound in life and on the stage: "Every Person, for Instance, can distinguish between Sir Epicure Mammon, and Sir Fopling Flutter, but to note the Difference between Sir Fopling Flutter and Sir Courtly Nice, requires a more exquisite Judgment. . . " (2.525). Fielding may admire this "Judgment," but his narrator hardly displays it in his descriptions of the hero in Tom Jones.

The introduction of Sophia (Fielding’s notion of the hero is gender neutral) provides another example of abstract presentation: "Thus the Heroe [Sophia] is always introduced with a Flourish of Drums and Trumpets, in order to rouse a Martial Spirit in the Audience, and to accomodate their Ears to Bombast and Fustian, which Mr Lock's blind Man would not have grossly erred in likening to the Sound of a Trumpet" (4.1;1.152). Among the many purposes of this passage--including the notion of female heroism--lie two particularly significant characteristics of the narrator's rhetorical strategy. First, it focuses not on the description of the heroic character being introduced (Sophia), nor even on the abstract qualities of the Hero in general (as in the description of Jones above), but solely on the method of presentation evidenced through language ("the Heroe is always introduced . . . "). Secondly, the passage points out that the hero will be developed throughout the text by contrast with other characters, particularly the military and pseudo-martial ("Flourish of Drums and Trumpets"). A similar passage occurs not much later in the text when the narrator defines the characteristics of the hero, again not through description of action, but through Sophia's (and by comparison, all sensible women’s) responses to Jones' bravery: "The Generosity of Sophia's Temper construed this Behavior of Jones into great Bravery; and it made a deep Impression on her Heart: For certain it is, that there is no one Quality which so generally recommends Men to Women as this" (4.13;1.201).

• Irony and Contrast

Fielding’s narrator further reminds us of the nature of true heroism through its ironic contrast to the more common uses of the word--the difference between label and reality. When Sophia first contemplates marriage to Blifil she is enamored of her heroic role in accepting his hand : "Sophia was charmed with the Contemplation of so heroic an Action, and began to compliment herself with much premature Flattery. . ." (7.9;1.360). The word and the deed do not belong together. But the criticism and irony is gentle and directed more against the false Idea of the heroic than against Sophia herself.

Jones' argument with Northerton over the toasts to Sophia (7.12) is a more serious instance of the difference between label and reality--in this case the Gentleman is no Hero and the Hero is no Gentleman. When Jones reaches London, the false heroism of the foppish aristocracy and its imitators, "Men of Wit and Pleasure about Town" (13.5; 2.700), will be ironically contrasted with Jones’s more modest behavior.

• Character Commentary

Character commentary often corroborates the narrator’s point of view. The corroboration is offered in a number of ways: 1. the use of indirect discourse, which may give us the thoughts of the character, but clearly gives us the words of the narrator; 2. the direct presentation of contrasting views of heroism from unreliable characters; and 3. the direct presentation of positive examples and definitions from morally reliable characters.

Indirect discourse. Fielding often uses indirect discourse to present both contrasting and corroborative definitions, such as this view of Squire Western's admiration for Tom's "heroic" qualities:

Western's view of heroism--not untypical of his time and social position--defines heroism as qualities of physical strength, courage, and determination in activities of drinking and hunting. Western's views are, furthermore, both comparative and materialistic: heroism is measured in comparison to the actions of others (not to any clearly defined moral or other standard), and it is worth its weight in money. While Western's views of Tom are positive from his own perspective--they are only positive in a limited sense since they do not make him a proper candidate for son-in-law.

Contrasting views. That not everyone shares the narrator’s view of heroism is evident through the direct commentary of other characters. That heroism is a matter of class and social position rather than individual behavior and merit is reflected by such people as the Barber and Landlady who would have behaved quite differently to Jones had they known he was a gentleman's son (8.4;1.417). The opposite extreme, which sees the hero as an idealized character out of myth and romance, is expressed by Partridge directly to Jones: "Certainly, Sir, if ever Man deserved a young Lady, you deserve young Madam Western; for what a vast Quantity of Love must a Man have, to be able to live upon it without any other Food, as you do?" (12.13;2.675).

Tom Jones as Character of Convention.

Fielding continually reminds us at crucial points in the plot that the rhetorical movement of the novel is the recognition of Jones' heroic nature, not its formation. Two such crucial scenes are Jones' conversation with Lawyer Dowling on the road to London and his jailhouse "repentance" speech to Mrs. Miller. While Jones' philosophical statements are important manifestations of the system of beliefs in the novel, they are, in fact, purely conventional representations of latitudinarian Benevolence (straight out of sermons and tracts). They bear little relation to the individual thoughts of Jones himself .

To Dowling, Jones solemnly declares:

It matters little to the conventional purpose of this passage that Jones does not choose "the solid Content" over "all the other Advantages," but has it thrust upon him by the machinations of others; nor, even less does it matter that Jones himself is hardly aware of this "swelling Satisfaction" in the context of the plot (and it is surely not accidental that the language here is usually reserved for the description of sexual rather than moral transports, adding to the comic irony of the passage).

Just as conventional is the language of Jones' prison "reformation":

Of course, it is precisely the "common Cant" of repentance that he does speak and every reader would recognize it as such.⁷

The Pattern of Contrasts.

An even more important rhetorical tool is the creation of a complex system of character contrasts and foils, surprisingly not much examined in relation to the nature of the hero in Tom Jones. Critical attention has usually been focused on pairings of individual characters: Allworthy/Western, Thwackum/Square, Tom/Blifil, and Sophia/the string of other women in Tom's life.⁸

A more important system of contrasts focuses on a series of individuals who represent more typical hero-types (moral, religious, romantic, and martial), against whom Jones is contrasted. Jones' heroism is delineated against false conventional notions, against the meaningless and destructive application of labels to human character, and against the failures of ideal role models. The narrator emphasizes the importance of contrast as the primary method by which we evaluate character in fiction: "The Vices of this young Man [Tom] were, moreover, heightened, by the disadvantageous Light in which they appeared, when opposed to the Virtues of Master Blifil, his Companion. . ." (3.2;1.118).

As exemplar of the father figure--the Ideal of the Christian good-natured man--stands Squire Allworthy,⁹ whose strength of character is contrasted with the weaknesses of behavior in Jones on the one hand, and the failures of character in Western, Partridge, and the Man of the Hill on the other. But Allworthy would hardly make an appropriate hero of fiction (a mistake Richardson makes in creating Sir Charles Grandison). He is a "Favourite of both Nature and Fortune," with "an agreeable Person, a sound Constitution, a solid Understanding, and a benevolent Heart. . . " (1.2;1.34). He is "a Man of Sense and Constancy" (1.2;1.35), for whom "Good-nature had always the Ascendant in his Mind" (1.3;1.39). He is, moreover, mightier than the "Sun; than which one Object alone in this lower Creation could be more glorious, and that Mr. Allworthy himself presented; a human Being replete with Benevolence, meditating in what Manner he might render himself most acceptable to his Creator, by doing most Good to his Creatures" (1.4;1.43).

Because Allworthy is the idealized spokesman for the Providence of a Benevolent God, his definition of the hero is one that Jones must strive to fulfill: "you have much Goodness, Generosity, and Honour in your Temper; if you will add Prudence and Religion to these, you must be happy; For the three former Qualities, I admit, make you worthy of Happiness, but they are the latter only which will put you in Possession of it" (5.7;1.244). But it is his very connection with the Divine that makes Allworthy himself inappropriate as a hero in the fictional world of Tom Jones.

Other father figures represent less ideal and less heroic models: Squire Western, Mr. Partridge, the Man of the Hill. And still other characters are grouped in sets that contrast with Jones: the negative models of middle-class complacency (Doctor Blifil, Captain Blifil, Thwackum, and Square); the litany of various romantic hero types, including Sophia Western, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, Nightingale, and Lady Bellaston. The group that provides the most important and most often used contrasts with is the military and martial hero, parodied and debunked in Northerton, Fitzpatrick, the gypsies, and various armies whose soldiers march in and out of the first half of the text.

Conclusion

Because Jones is Fielding's most fully-developed hero-model, he is naturally the central character in any study of Fielding's novels, and illustrates how Fielding’s novels are always about the very nature of heroism in fiction. The plot of his journey to London and back to Somerset leads Jones to discover the value of prudence in self and the value of accepted standards and norms in society--a discovery that epitomizes Fielding's conservative view of human and social order. But as other parts of this study show, while Jones travels, Fielding shapes and defines his role in the larger rhetorical structure of the novel. Thus Jones’ career as hero provides the model against which we can measure Fielding's other heroes. And, perhaps, even other heroes of 18th-century fiction.