. . .He preaches like Thackeray; he writes “with a purpose” like Dickens—obsolete old authors.  His cause is judged, and into Bridewell he goes, if l’Art pour l’Art is all the literary law and the prophets.

But Fielding cannot be kept in prison long.  His noble English, his sonorous voice must be heard.  There is somewhat inexpressibly heartening, to me, in the style of Fielding.  One seems to be carried along, like a swimmer in a strong, clear stream, trusting one’s self to every whirl and eddy, with a feeling of safety, of comfort, of delightful ease in the motion of the elastic water.  He is a scholar, nay more, as Adams had his innocent vanity, Fielding has his innocent pedantry.  He likes to quote Greek (fancy quoting Greek in a novel of to-day!) and to make the rogues of printers set it up correctly.  He likes to air his ideas on Homer, to bring in a piece of Aristotle—not hackneyed—to show you t. . . Read More