"Teach me (he exclaims), which to thee is no difficult Task, to know Mankind better than they know themselves. Remove that Mist which dims the Intellects of Mortals, and causes them to adore Men for their Art, or to detest them for their Cunning in deceiving others, when they are, in Reality, the Objects only of Ridicule, for deceiving themselves. Strip off the thin Disguise of Wisdom from Self-Conceit, of Plenty from Avarice, and of Glory from Ambition. Come thou, that hast inspired thy _Aristophanes_, thy _Lucian_, thy _Cervantes_, thy _Rabelais_, thy _Moliere_, thy _Shakespear_, thy _Swift_, thy _Marivaux_, fill my Pages with Humour, till Mankind learn the Good-Nature to laugh only at the Follies of others, and the Humility to grieve at their own." From the little group of immortals who are here enumerated, it may be gathered with whom Fielding sought to compete, and with whom he hoped hereafter to be associated. His hopes were not in vain. Indeed, in one respect, he must be held to have even outrivalled that particular predecessor with whom he has been oftenest compared. Like _Don Quixote_, _Tom Jones_ is the precursor of a new order of things,--the earliest and freshest expression of a new departure in art. But while _Tom Jones_ is, to the full, as amusing as _Don Quixote_, it has the advantage of a greatly superior plan, and an interest more skilfully sustained. The incidents which, in Cervantes, simply succeed each other like the scenes in a panorama, are, in _Tom Jones_, but parts of an organised and carefully-arranged progression towards a foreseen conclusion. As the hero and heroine cross and re-cross each other's track, there is scarcely an episode which does not aid in the moving forward of the story. Little details rise lightly and naturally to the surface of the narrative, not more noticeable at first than the most everyday occurrences, and a few pages farther on become of the greatest importance. The hero makes a mock proposal of marriage to Lady Bellaston. It scarcely detains attention, so natural an expedient does it appear, and behold in a chapter or two it has become a terrible weapon in the hands of the injured Sophia! Again, when the secret of Jones' birth [Footnote: Much ink has been shed respecting Fielding's reason for making his hero illegitimate. But may not "The History of Tom Jones, a _Foundling_," have had no subtler origin than the recent establishment of the Foundling Hospital, of which Fielding had written in the _Champion_, and in which his friend Hogarth was interested?] is finally disclosed, we look back and discover a hundred little premonitions which escaped us at first, but which, read by the light of our latest knowledge, assume a fresh significance. At the same time, it must be admitted that the over-quoted and somewhat antiquated dictum of Coleridge, by which _Tom Jones_ is grouped with the _Alchemist_ and _OEdipus Tyrannus_, as one of the three most perfect plots in the world, requires revision.