The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling | Page 6

pathetic scene between Mr Allworthy and Mrs Miller.

Chapter viii
-- Containing various matters.

Chapter ix
-- What happened to Mr Jones in the prison.
BOOK XVIII -- CONTAINING ABOUT SIX DAYS.

Chapter i
-- A farewel to the reader.

Chapter ii
-- Containing a very tragical incident.

Chapter iii
-- Allworthy visits old Nightingale; with a strange discovery that he
made on that occasion.

Chapter iv

-- Containing two letters in very different stiles.

Chapter v
-- In which the history is continued.

Chapter vi
-- In which the history is farther continued.

Chapter vii
-- Continuation of the history.

Chapter viii
-- Further continuation.

Chapter ix
-- A further continuation.

Chapter x
-- Wherein the history begins to draw towards a conclusion.

Chapter xi
-- The history draws nearer to a conclusion.

Chapter xii
-- Approaching still nearer to the end.

Chapter the
last -- In which the history is concluded.

To the Honourable
GEORGE LYTTLETON, ESQ;
One of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury.
Sir,
Notwithstanding your constant refusal, when I have asked leave to
prefix your name to this dedication, I must still insist on my right to
desire your protection of this work.
To you, Sir, it is owing that this history was ever begun. It was by your
desire that I first thought of such a composition. So many years have
since past, that you may have, perhaps, forgotten this circumstance: but
your desires are to me in the nature of commands; and the impression
of them is never to be erased from my memory.
Again, Sir, without your assistance this history had never been

completed. Be not startled at the assertion. I do not intend to draw on
you the suspicion of being a romance writer. I mean no more than that I
partly owe to you my existence during great part of the time which I
have employed in composing it: another matter which it may be
necessary to remind you of; since there are certain actions of which you
are apt to be extremely forgetful; but of these I hope I shall always have
a better memory than yourself.
Lastly, It is owing to you that the history appears what it now is. If
there be in this work, as some have been pleased to say, a stronger
picture of a truly benevolent mind than is to be found in any other, who
that knows you, and a particular acquaintance of yours, will doubt
whence that benevolence hath been copied? The world will not, I
believe, make me the compliment of thinking I took it from myself. I
care not: this they shall own, that the two persons from whom I have
taken it, that is to say, two of the best and worthiest men in the world,
are strongly and zealously my friends. I might be contented with this,
and yet my vanity will add a third to the number; and him one of the
greatest and noblest, not only in his rank, but in every public and
private virtue. But here, whilst my gratitude for the princely
benefactions of the Duke of Bedford bursts from my heart, you must
forgive my reminding you that it was you who first recommended me
to the notice of my benefactor.
And what are your objections to the allowance of the honour which I
have sollicited? Why, you have commended the book so warmly, that
you should be ashamed of reading your name before the dedication.
Indeed, sir, if the book itself doth not make you ashamed of your
commendations, nothing that I can here write will, or ought. I am not to
give up my right to your protection and patronage, because you have
commended my book: for though I acknowledge so many obligations
to you, I do not add this to the number; in which friendship, I am
convinced, hath so little share: since that can neither biass your
judgment, nor pervert your integrity. An enemy may at any time obtain
your commendation by only deserving it; and the utmost which the
faults of your friends can hope for, is your silence; or, perhaps, if too
severely accused, your gentle palliation.

In short, sir, I suspect, that your dislike of public praise is your true
objection to granting my request. I have observed that you have, in
common with my two other friends, an unwillingness to hear the least
mention of your own virtues; that, as a great poet says of one of you,
(he might justly have said it of all three), you
_Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame_.
If men of this disposition are as careful to shun applause, as others are
to escape