THE WORKS OF HENRY FIELDING EDITED BY GEORGE SAINTSBURY IN TWELVE VOLUMES VOL. II. JOSEPH ANDREWS VOL. II. CONTENTS BOOK II. --continued. CHAPTER XIV. _An interview between parson Adams and parson Trulliber. _ CHAPTER XV. _An adventure, the consequence of a new instance which parson Adams gave of his forgetfulness. _ CHAPTER XVI. _A very curious adventure, in which Mr Adams gave a much greater instance of the honest simplicity of his heart, than of his experience in the ways of this world. _ CHAPTER XVII. _A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and his host, which, by the disagreement in their opinions, seemed to threaten an unlucky catastrophe, had it not been timely prevented by the return of the lovers. _ BOOK III. CHAPTER I. _Matter prefatory in praise of biography. _ CHAPTER II. _A night scene, wherein several wonderful adventures befel Adams and his fellow-travellers. _ CHAPTER III. _In which the gentleman relates the history of his life. _ CHAPTER IV. _A description of Mr Wilson's way of living. The tragical adventure of the dog, and other grave matters. _ CHAPTER V. _A disputation on schools held on the road between Mr Abraham Adams and Joseph; and a discovery not unwelcome to them both. _ CHAPTER VI. _Moral reflections by Joseph Andrews; with the hunting adventure, and parson Adams's miraculous escape. _ CHAPTER VII. _A scene of roasting, very nicely adapted to the present taste and times. _ CHAPTER VIII. _Which some readers will think too short and others too long. _ CHAPTER IX. _Containing as surprizing and bloody adventures as can be found in this or perhaps any other authentic history. _ CHAPTER X. _A discourse between the poet and the player; of no other use in this history but to divert the reader. _ CHAPTER XI. _Containing the exhortations of parson Adams to his friend in affliction; calculated for the instruction and improvement of the reader. _ CHAPTER XII. _More adventures, which we hope will as much please as surprize the reader. _ CHAPTER XIII. _A curious dialogue which passed between Mr Abraham Adams and Mr Peter Pounce, better worth reading than all the works of Colley Cibber and many others. _ BOOK IV. CHAPTER I. _The arrival of Lady Booby and the rest at Booby-hall. _ CHAPTER II. _A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and the Lady Booby. _ CHAPTER III. _What passed between the lady and lawyer Scout. _ CHAPTER IV. _A short chapter, but very full of matter; particularly the arrival of Mr Booby and his lady. _ CHAPTER V. _Containing justice business; curious precedents of depositions, and other matters necessary to be perused by all justices of the peace and their clerks. _ CHAPTER VI. _Of which you are desired to read no more than you like. _ CHAPTER VII. _Philosophical reflections, the like not to be found in any light French romance. Mr Booby's grave advice to Joseph, and Fanny's encounter with a beau. _ CHAPTER VIII. _A discourse which happened between Mr Adams, Mrs Adams, Joseph, and Fanny, with some behaviour of Mr Adams which will be called by some few readers very low, absurd, and unnatural. _ CHAPTER IX _A visit which the polite Lady Booby and her polite friend paid to the parson. _ CHAPTER X. _The history of two friends, which may afford an useful lesson to all those persons who happen to take up their residence in married families. _ CHAPTER XI. _In which the history is continued. _ CHAPTER XII. _Where the good-natured reader will see something which will give him no great pleasure. _ CHAPTER XIII _The history, returning to the Lady Booby, gives some account of the terrible conflict in her breast between love and pride, with what happened on the present discovery. _ CHAPTER XIV. _Containing several curious night-adventures, in which Mr Adams fell into many hair-breadth scapes, partly owing to his goodness, and partly to his inadvertency. _ CHAPTER XV. _The arrival of Gaffar and Gammar Andrews with another person not much expected, and a perfect solution of the difficulties raised by the pedlar. _ CHAPTER XVI. _Being the last. In which this true history is brought to a happy conclusion. _ LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. MR WILSON RELATES HIS HISTORY PARSON ADAMS HE RAN TOWARDS HER BOOK II. --continued. CHAPTER XIV. _An interview between parson Adams and parson Trulliber. _ Parson Adams came to the house of parson Trulliber, whom he foundstript into his waistcoat, with an apron on, and a pail in his hand, just come from serving his hogs; for Mr Trulliber was a parson onSundays, but all the other six might more properly be called a farmer. He occupied a small piece of land of his own, besides which he rented aconsiderable deal more. His wife milked his cows, managed his dairy, and followed the markets with butter and eggs. The hogs fell chiefly tohis care, which he carefully waited on at home, and attended to fairs;on which occasion he was liable to many jokes, his own size being, withmuch ale, rendered little inferior to that of the beasts he sold. Hewas indeed one of the largest men you should see, and could have actedthe part of Sir John Falstaff without stuffing. Add to this that therotundity of his belly was considerably increased by the shortness ofhis stature, his shadow ascending very near as far in height, when helay on his back, as when he stood on his legs. His voice was loud andhoarse, and his accents extremely broad. To complete the whole, he hada stateliness in his gait, when he walked, not unlike that of a goose, only he stalked slower. Mr Trulliber, being informed that somebody wanted to speak with him, immediately slipt off his apron and clothed himself in an oldnight-gown, being the dress in which he always saw his company at home. His wife, who informed him of Mr Adams's arrival, had made a smallmistake; for she had told her husband, "She believed there was a mancome for some of his hogs. " This supposition made Mr Trulliber hastenwith the utmost expedition to attend his guest. He no sooner saw Adamsthan, not in the least doubting the cause of his errand to be what hiswife had imagined, he told him, "He was come in very good time; that heexpected a dealer that very afternoon;" and added, "they were all pureand fat, and upwards of twenty score a-piece. " Adams answered, "Hebelieved he did not know him. " "Yes, yes, " cried Trulliber, "I have seenyou often at fair; why, we have dealt before now, mun, I warrant you. Yes, yes, " cries he, "I remember thy face very well, but won't mention aword more till you have seen them, though I have never sold thee aflitch of such bacon as is now in the stye. " Upon which he laid violenthands on Adams, and dragged him into the hog-stye, which was indeed buttwo steps from his parlour window. They were no sooner arrived therethan he cry'd out, "Do but handle them! step in, friend! art welcome tohandle them, whether dost buy or no. " At which words, opening the gate, he pushed Adams into the pig-stye, insisting on it that he should handlethem before he would talk one word with him. Adams, whose natural complacence was beyond any artificial, was obligedto comply before he was suffered to explain himself; and, laying hold onone of their tails, the unruly beast gave such a sudden spring, that hethrew poor Adams all along in the mire. Trulliber, instead of assistinghim to get up, burst into a laughter, and, entering the stye, said toAdams, with some contempt, "Why, dost not know how to handle a hog?" andwas going to lay hold of one himself, but Adams, who thought he hadcarried his complacence far enough, was no sooner on his legs than heescaped out of the reach of the animals, and cried out, "_Nihil habeocum porcis_: I am a clergyman, sir, and am not come to buy hogs. "Trulliber answered, "He was sorry for the mistake, but that he mustblame his wife, " adding, "she was a fool, and always committedblunders. " He then desired him to walk in and clean himself, that hewould only fasten up the stye and follow him. Adams desired leave to dryhis greatcoat, wig, and hat by the fire, which Trulliber granted. MrsTrulliber would have brought him a basin of water to wash his face, buther husband bid her be quiet like a fool as she was, or she would commitmore blunders, and then directed Adams to the pump. While Adams was thusemployed, Trulliber, conceiving no great respect for the appearance ofhis guest, fastened the parlour door, and now conducted him into thekitchen, telling him he believed a cup of drink would do him no harm, and whispered his wife to draw a little of the worst ale. After a shortsilence Adams said, "I fancy, sir, you already perceive me to be aclergyman. "--"Ay, ay, " cries Trulliber, grinning, "I perceive you havesome cassock; I will not venture to caale it a whole one. " Adamsanswered, "It was indeed none of the best, but he had the misfortune totear it about ten years ago in passing over a stile. " Mrs Trulliber, returning with the drink, told her husband, "She fancied the gentlemanwas a traveller, and that he would be glad to eat a bit. " Trulliber bidher hold her impertinent tongue, and asked her, "If parsons used totravel without horses?" adding, "he supposed the gentleman had none byhis having no boots on. "--"Yes, sir, yes, " says Adams; "I have a horse, but I have left him behind me. "--"I am glad to hear you have one, " saysTrulliber; "for I assure you I don't love to see clergymen on foot; itis not seemly nor suiting the dignity of the cloth. " Here Trulliber madea long oration on the dignity of the cloth (or rather gown) not muchworth relating, till his wife had spread the table and set a mess ofporridge on it for his breakfast. He then said to Adams, "I don't know, friend, how you came to caale on me; however, as you are here, if youthink proper to eat a morsel, you may. " Adams accepted the invitation, and the two parsons sat down together; Mrs Trulliber waiting behind herhusband's chair, as was, it seems, her custom. Trulliber eat heartily, but scarce put anything in his mouth without finding fault with hiswife's cookery. All which the poor woman bore patiently. Indeed, she wasso absolute an admirer of her husband's greatness and importance, ofwhich she had frequent hints from his own mouth, that she almost carriedher adoration to an opinion of his infallibility. To say the truth, theparson had exercised her more ways than one; and the pious woman had sowell edified by her husband's sermons, that she had resolved to receivethe bad things of this world together with the good. She had indeed beenat first a little contentious; but he had long since got the better;partly by her love for this, partly by her fear of that, partly by herreligion, partly by the respect he paid himself, and partly by thatwhich he received from the parish. She had, in short, absolutelysubmitted, and now worshipped her husband, as Sarah did Abraham, callinghim (not lord, but) master. Whilst they were at table her husband gaveher a fresh example of his greatness; for, as she had just delivered acup of ale to Adams, he snatched it out of his hand, and, crying out, "Icaal'd vurst, " swallowed down the ale. Adams denied it; it was referredto the wife, who, though her conscience was on the side of Adams, durstnot give it against her husband; upon which he said, "No, sir, no; Ishould not have been so rude to have taken it from you if you had caal'dvurst, but I'd have you know I'm a better man than to suffer the best hein the kingdom to drink before me in my own house when I caale vurst. " As soon as their breakfast was ended, Adams began in the followingmanner: "I think, sir, it is high time to inform you of the business ofmy embassy. I am a traveller, and am passing this way in company withtwo young people, a lad and a damsel, my parishioners, towards my owncure; we stopt at a house of hospitality in the parish, where theydirected me to you as having the cure. "--"Though I am but a curate, "says Trulliber, "I believe I am as warm as the vicar himself, or perhapsthe rector of the next parish too; I believe I could buy themboth. "--"Sir, " cries Adams, "I rejoice thereat. Now, sir, my businessis, that we are by various accidents stript of our money, and are notable to pay our reckoning, being seven shillings. I therefore requestyou to assist me with the loan of those seven shillings, and also sevenshillings more, which, peradventure, I shall return to you; but if not, I am convinced you will joyfully embrace such an opportunity of layingup a treasure in a better place than any this world affords. " Suppose a stranger, who entered the chambers of a lawyer, being imagineda client, when the lawyer was preparing his palm for the fee, shouldpull out a writ against him. Suppose an apothecary, at the door of achariot containing some great doctor of eminent skill, should, insteadof directions to a patient, present him with a potion for himself. Suppose a minister should, instead of a good round sum, treat my lord----, or sir ----, or esq. ---- with a good broomstick. Suppose a civilcompanion, or a led captain, should, instead of virtue, and honour, andbeauty, and parts, and admiration, thunder vice, and infamy, andugliness, and folly, and contempt, in his patron's ears. Suppose, when atradesman first carries in his bill, the man of fashion should pay it;or suppose, if he did so, the tradesman should abate what he hadovercharged, on the supposition of waiting. In short--suppose what youwill, you never can nor will suppose anything equal to the astonishmentwhich seized on Trulliber, as soon as Adams had ended his speech. Awhile he rolled his eyes in silence; sometimes surveying Adams, then hiswife; then casting them on the ground, then lifting them up to heaven. At last he burst forth in the following accents: "Sir, I believe I knowwhere to lay up my little treasure as well as another. I thank G--, if Iam not so warm as some, I am content; that is a blessing greater thanriches; and he to whom that is given need ask no more. To be contentwith a little is greater than to possess the world; which a man maypossess without being so. Lay up my treasure! what matters where a man'streasure is whose heart is in the Scriptures? there is the treasure of aChristian. " At these words the water ran from Adams's eyes; and, catching Trulliber by the hand in a rapture, "Brother, " says he, "heavens bless the accident by which I came to see you! I would havewalked many a mile to have communed with you; and, believe me, I willshortly pay you a second visit; but my friends, I fancy, by this time, wonder at my stay; so let me have the money immediately. " Trulliber thenput on a stern look, and cried out, "Thou dost not intend to rob me?" Atwhich the wife, bursting into tears, fell on her knees and roared out, "O dear sir! for Heaven's sake don't rob my master; we are but poorpeople. " "Get up, for a fool as thou art, and go about thy business, "said Trulliber; "dost think the man will venture his life? he is abeggar, and no robber. " "Very true, indeed, " answered Adams. "I wish, with all my heart, the tithing-man was here, " cries Trulliber; "I wouldhave thee punished as a vagabond for thy impudence. Fourteen shillingsindeed! I won't give thee a farthing. I believe thou art no more aclergyman than the woman there" (pointing to his wife); "but if thouart, dost deserve to have thy gown stript over thy shoulders for runningabout the country in such a manner. " "I forgive your suspicions, " saysAdams; "but suppose I am not a clergyman, I am nevertheless thy brother;and thou, as a Christian, much more as a clergyman, art obliged torelieve my distress. " "Dost preach to me?" replied Trulliber; "dostpretend to instruct me in my duty?" "Ifacks, a good story, " cries MrsTrulliber, "to preach to my master. " "Silence, woman, " cries Trulliber. "I would have thee know, friend" (addressing himself to Adams), "I shallnot learn my duty from such as thee. I know what charity is, better thanto give to vagabonds. " "Besides, if we were inclined, the poor's rateobliges us to give so much charity, " cries the wife. "Pugh! thou art afool. Poor's reate! Hold thy nonsense, " answered Trulliber; and then, turning to Adams, he told him, "he would give him nothing. " "I amsorry, " answered Adams, "that you do know what charity is, since youpractise it no better: I must tell you, if you trust to your knowledgefor your justification, you will find yourself deceived, though youshould add faith to it, without good works. " "Fellow, " cries Trulliber, "dost thou speak against faith in my house? Get out of my doors: I willno longer remain under the same roof with a wretch who speaks wantonlyof faith and the Scriptures. " "Name not the Scriptures, " says Adams. "How! not name the Scriptures! Do you disbelieve the Scriptures?" criesTrulliber. "No; but you do, " answered Adams, "if I may reason from yourpractice; for their commands are so explicit, and their rewards andpunishments so immense, that it is impossible a man should stedfastlybelieve without obeying. Now, there is no command more express, no dutymore frequently enjoined, than charity. Whoever, therefore, is void ofcharity, I make no scruple of pronouncing that he is no Christian. " "Iwould not advise thee, " says Trulliber, "to say that I am no Christian:I won't take it of you; for I believe I am as good a man as thyself"(and indeed, though he was now rather too corpulent for athleticexercises, he had, in his youth, been one of the best boxers andcudgel-players in the county). His wife, seeing him clench his fist, interposed, and begged him not to fight, but show himself a trueChristian, and take the law of him. As nothing could provoke Adams tostrike, but an absolute assault on himself or his friend, he smiled atthe angry look and gestures of Trulliber; and, telling him he was sorryto see such men in orders, departed without further ceremony. CHAPTER XV. _An adventure, the consequence of a new instance which parson Adams gaveof his forgetfulness. _ When he came back to the inn he found Joseph and Fanny sitting together. They were so far from thinking his absence long, as he had feared theywould, that they never once missed or thought of him. Indeed, I havebeen often assured by both, that they spent these hours in a mostdelightful conversation; but, as I never could prevail on either torelate it, so I cannot communicate it to the reader. Adams acquainted the lovers with the ill success of his enterprize. Theywere all greatly confounded, none being able to propose any method ofdeparting, till Joseph at last advised calling in the hostess, anddesiring her to trust them; which Fanny said she despaired of her doing, as she was one of the sourest-faced women she had ever beheld. But she was agreeably disappointed; for the hostess was no sooner askedthe question than she readily agreed; and, with a curtsy and smile, wished them a good journey. However, lest Fanny's skill in physiognomyshould be called in question, we will venture to assign one reasonwhich might probably incline her to this confidence and good-humour. When Adams said he was going to visit his brother, he had unwittinglyimposed on Joseph and Fanny, who both believed he had meant his naturalbrother, and not his brother in divinity, and had so informed thehostess, on her enquiry after him. Now Mr Trulliber had, by hisprofessions of piety, by his gravity, austerity, reserve, and theopinion of his great wealth, so great an authority in his parish, thatthey all lived in the utmost fear and apprehension of him. It wastherefore no wonder that the hostess, who knew it was in his optionwhether she should ever sell another mug of drink, did not dare toaffront his supposed brother by denying him credit. They were now just on their departure when Adams recollected he had lefthis greatcoat and hat at Mr Trulliber's. As he was not desirous ofrenewing his visit, the hostess herself, having no servant at home, offered to fetch it. This was an unfortunate expedient; for the hostess was soon undeceivedin the opinion she had entertained of Adams, whom Trulliber abused inthe grossest terms, especially when he heard he had had the assurance topretend to be his near relation. At her return, therefore, she entirely changed her note. She said, "Folks might be ashamed of travelling about, and pretending to be whatthey were not. That taxes were high, and for her part she was obliged topay for what she had; she could not therefore possibly, nor would she, trust anybody; no, not her own father. That money was never scarcer, andshe wanted to make up a sum. That she expected, therefore, they shouldpay their reckoning before they left the house. " Adams was now greatly perplexed; but, as he knew that he could easilyhave borrowed such a sum in his own parish, and as he knew he would havelent it himself to any mortal in distress, so he took fresh courage, andsallied out all round the parish, but to no purpose; he returned aspennyless as he went, groaning and lamenting that it was possible, in acountry professing Christianity, for a wretch to starve in the midst ofhis fellow-creatures who abounded. Whilst he was gone, the hostess, who stayed as a sort of guard withJoseph and Fanny, entertained them with the goodness of parsonTrulliber. And, indeed, he had not only a very good character as toother qualities in the neighbourhood, but was reputed a man of greatcharity; for, though he never gave a farthing, he had always that wordin his mouth. Adams was no sooner returned the second time than the storm grewexceedingly high, the hostess declaring, among other things, that, ifthey offered to stir without paying her, she would soon overtake themwith a warrant. Plato and Aristotle, or somebody else, hath said, _that when the mostexquisite cunning fails, chance often hits the mark, and that by meansthe least expected_. Virgil expresses this very boldly:-- _Turne, quod optanti divum promittere nemo Auderet, volvenda dies, en! attulit ultro. _ I would quote more great men if I could; but my memory not permittingme, I will proceed to exemplify these observations by the followinginstance:-- There chanced (for Adams had not cunning enough to contrive it) to be atthat time in the alehouse a fellow who had been formerly a drummer in anIrish regiment, and now travelled the country as a pedlar. This man, having attentively listened to the discourse of the hostess, at lasttook Adams aside, and asked him what the sum was for which they weredetained. As soon as he was informed, he sighed, and said, "He was sorryit was so much; for that he had no more than six shillings and sixpencein his pocket, which he would lend them with all his heart. " Adams gavea caper, and cry'd out, "It would do; for that he had sixpence himself. "And thus these poor people, who could not engage the compassion ofriches and piety, were at length delivered out of their distress by thecharity of a poor pedlar. I shall refer it to my reader to make what observations he pleases onthis incident: it is sufficient for me to inform him that, after Adamsand his companions had returned him a thousand thanks, and told himwhere he might call to be repaid, they all sallied out of the housewithout any compliments from their hostess, or indeed without paying herany; Adams declaring he would take particular care never to call thereagain; and she on her side assuring them she wanted no such guests. CHAPTER XVI. _A very curious adventure, in which Mr Adams gave a much greaterinstance of the honest simplicity of his heart, than of his experiencein the ways of this world. _ Our travellers had walked about two miles from that inn, which they hadmore reason to have mistaken for a castle than Don Quixote ever had anyof those in which he sojourned, seeing they had met with such difficultyin escaping out of its walls, when they came to a parish, and beheld asign of invitation hanging out. A gentleman sat smoaking a pipe at thedoor, of whom Adams inquired the road, and received so courteous andobliging an answer, accompanied with so smiling a countenance, that thegood parson, whose heart was naturally disposed to love and affection, began to ask several other questions; particularly the name of theparish, and who was the owner of a large house whose front they then hadin prospect. The gentleman answered as obligingly as before; and as tothe house, acquainted him it was his own. He then proceeded in thefollowing manner: "Sir, I presume by your habit you are a clergyman; andas you are travelling on foot I suppose a glass of good beer will not bedisagreeable to you; and I can recommend my landlord's within as some ofthe best in all this country. What say you, will you halt a little andlet us take a pipe together? there is no better tobacco in the kingdom. "This proposal was not displeasing to Adams, who had allayed his thirstthat day with no better liquor than what Mrs Trulliber's cellar hadproduced; and which was indeed little superior, either in richness orflavour, to that which distilled from those grains her generous husbandbestowed on his hogs. Having, therefore, abundantly thanked thegentleman for his kind invitation, and bid Joseph and Fanny follow him, he entered the alehouse, where a large loaf and cheese and a pitcher ofbeer, which truly answered the character given of it, being set beforethem, the three travellers fell to eating, with appetites infinitelymore voracious than are to be found at the most exquisite eating-housesin the parish of St. James's. The gentleman expressed great delight in the hearty and cheerfulbehaviour of Adams; and particularly in the familiarity with which heconversed with Joseph and Fanny, whom he often called his children; aterm he explained to mean no more than his parishioners; saying, "Helooked on all those whom God had intrusted to his care to stand to himin that relation. " The gentleman, shaking him by the hand, highlyapplauded those sentiments. "They are, indeed, " says he, "the trueprinciples of a Christian divine; and I heartily wish they wereuniversal; but, on the contrary, I am sorry to say the parson of ourparish, instead of esteeming his poor parishioners as a part of hisfamily, seems rather to consider them as not of the same species withhimself. He seldom speaks to any, unless some few of the richest ofus; nay, indeed, he will not move his hat to the others. I often laughwhen I behold him on Sundays strutting along the churchyard like aturkey-cock through rows of his parishioners, who bow to him with asmuch submission, and are as unregarded, as a set of servile courtiersby the proudest prince in Christendom. But if such temporal pride isridiculous, surely the spiritual is odious and detestable; if such apuffed--up empty human bladder, strutting in princely robes, justlymoves one's derision, surely in the habit of a priest it must raiseour scorn. " "Doubtless, " answered Adams, "your opinion is right; but I hope suchexamples are rare. The clergy whom I have the honour to know maintain adifferent behaviour; and you will allow me, sir, that the readinesswhich too many of the laity show to contemn the order may be one reasonof their avoiding too much humility. " "Very true, indeed, " says thegentleman; "I find, sir, you are a man of excellent sense, and am happyin this opportunity of knowing you; perhaps our accidental meeting maynot be disadvantageous to you neither. At present I shall only say toyou that the incumbent of this living is old and infirm, and that it isin my gift. Doctor, give me your hand; and assure yourself of it at hisdecease. " Adams told him, "He was never more confounded in his life thanat his utter incapacity to make any return to such noble and unmeritedgenerosity. " "A mere trifle, sir, " cries the gentleman, "scarce worthyour acceptance; a little more than three hundred a year. I wish it wasdouble the value for your sake. " Adams bowed, and cried from theemotions of his gratitude; when the other asked him, "If he was married, or had any children, besides those in the spiritual sense he hadmentioned. " "Sir, " replied the parson, "I have a wife and six at yourservice. " "That is unlucky, " says the gentleman; "for I would otherwisehave taken you into my own house as my chaplain; however, I have anotherin the parish (for the parsonage-house is not good enough), which I willfurnish for you. Pray, does your wife understand a dairy?" "I can'tprofess she does, " says Adams. "I am sorry for it, " quoth the gentleman;"I would have given you half-a-dozen cows, and very good grounds to havemaintained them. " "Sir, " said Adams, in an ecstasy, "you are tooliberal; indeed you are. " "Not at all, " cries the gentleman: "I esteemriches only as they give me an opportunity of doing good; and I neversaw one whom I had a greater inclination to serve. " At which words heshook him heartily by the hand, and told him he had sufficient room inhis house to entertain him and his friends. Adams begged he might givehim no such trouble; that they could be very well accommodated in thehouse where they were; forgetting they had not a sixpenny piece amongthem. The gentleman would not be denied; and, informing himself how farthey were travelling, he said it was too long a journey to take on foot, and begged that they would favour him by suffering him to lend them aservant and horses; adding, withal, that, if they would do him thepleasure of their company only two days, he would furnish them with hiscoach and six. Adams, turning to Joseph, said, "How lucky is thisgentleman's goodness to you, who I am afraid would be scarce able tohold out on your lame leg!" and then, addressing the person who made himthese liberal promises, after much bowing, he cried out, "Blessed be thehour which first introduced me to a man of your charity! you are indeeda Christian of the true primitive kind, and an honour to the countrywherein you live. I would willingly have taken a pilgrimage to the HolyLand to have beheld you; for the advantages which we draw from yourgoodness give me little pleasure, in comparison of what I enjoy for yourown sake when I consider the treasures you are by these means laying upfor yourself in a country that passeth not away. We will therefore, mostgenerous sir, accept your goodness, as well the entertainment you haveso kindly offered us at your house this evening, as the accommodation ofyour horses to-morrow morning. " He then began to search for his hat, asdid Joseph for his; and both they and Fanny were in order of departure, when the gentleman, stopping short, and seeming to meditate by himselffor the space of about a minute, exclaimed thus: "Sure never anythingwas so unlucky; I had forgot that my house-keeper was gone abroad, andhath locked up all my rooms; indeed, I would break them open for you, but shall not be able to furnish you with a bed; for she has likewiseput away all my linen. I am glad it entered into my head before I hadgiven you the trouble of walking there; besides, I believe you will findbetter accommodations here than you expected. --Landlord, you can providegood beds for these people, can't you?" "Yes, and please your worship, "cries the host, "and such as no lord or justice of the peace in thekingdom need be ashamed to lie in. " "I am heartily sorry, " says thegentleman, "for this disappointment. I am resolved I will never sufferher to carry away the keys again. " "Pray, sir, let it not make youuneasy, " cries Adams; "we shall do very well here; and the loan of yourhorses is a favour we shall be incapable of making any return to. " "Ay!"said the squire, "the horses shall attend you here at what hour in themorning you please;" and now, after many civilities too tedious toenumerate, many squeezes by the hand, with most affectionate looks andsmiles at each other, and after appointing the horses at seven the nextmorning, the gentleman took his leave of them, and departed to his ownhouse. Adams and his companions returned to the table, where the parsonsmoaked another pipe, and then they all retired to rest. Mr Adams rose very early, and called Joseph out of his bed, between whoma very fierce dispute ensued, whether Fanny should ride behind Joseph, or behind the gentleman's servant; Joseph insisting on it that he wasperfectly recovered, and was as capable of taking care of Fanny as anyother person could be. But Adams would not agree to it, and declared hewould not trust her behind him; for that he was weaker than he imaginedhimself to be. This dispute continued a long time, and had begun to be very hot, when aservant arrived from their good friend, to acquaint them that he wasunfortunately prevented from lending them any horses; for that his groomhad, unknown to him, put his whole stable under a course of physic. This advice presently struck the two disputants dumb: Adams cried out, "Was ever anything so unlucky as this poor gentleman? I protest I ammore sorry on his account than my own. You see, Joseph, how thisgood-natured man is treated by his servants; one locks up his linen, another physics his horses, and I suppose, by his being at this houselast night, the butler had locked up his cellar. Bless us! howgood-nature is used in this world! I protest I am more concerned on hisaccount than my own. " "So am not I, " cries Joseph; "not that I am muchtroubled about walking on foot; all my concern is, how we shall get outof the house, unless God sends another pedlar to redeem us. Butcertainly this gentleman has such an affection for you, that he wouldlend you a larger sum than we owe here, which is not above four or fiveshillings. " "Very true, child, " answered Adams; "I will write a letterto him, and will even venture to solicit him for three half-crowns;there will be no harm in having two or three shillings in our pockets;as we have full forty miles to travel, we may possibly have occasion forthem. " Fanny being now risen, Joseph paid her a visit, and left Adams towrite his letter, which having finished, he despatched a boy with it tothe gentleman, and then seated himself by the door, lighted his pipe, and betook himself to meditation. The boy staying longer than seemed to be necessary, Joseph, who withFanny was now returned to the parson, expressed some apprehensions thatthe gentleman's steward had locked up his purse too. To which Adamsanswered, "It might very possibly be, and he should wonder at noliberties which the devil might put into the head of a wicked servantto take with so worthy a master;" but added, "that, as the sum was sosmall, so noble a gentleman would be easily able to procure it in theparish, though he had it not in his own pocket. Indeed, " says he, "ifit was four or five guineas, or any such large quantity of money, itmight be a different matter. " They were now sat down to breakfast over some toast and ale, when theboy returned and informed them that the gentleman was not at home. "Verywell!" cries Adams; "but why, child, did you not stay till his return?Go back again, my good boy, and wait for his coming home; he cannot begone far, as his horses are all sick; and besides, he had no intentionto go abroad, for he invited us to spend this day and tomorrow at hishouse. Therefore go back, child, and tarry till his return home. " Themessenger departed, and was back again with great expedition, bringingan account that the gentleman was gone a long journey, and would not beat home again this month. At these words Adams seemed greatlyconfounded, saying, "This must be a sudden accident, as the sickness ordeath of a relation or some such unforeseen misfortune;" and then, turning to Joseph, cried, "I wish you had reminded me to have borrowedthis money last night. " Joseph, smiling, answered, "He was very muchdeceived if the gentleman would not have found some excuse to avoidlending it. --I own, " says he, "I was never much pleased with hisprofessing so much kindness for you at first sight; for I have heard thegentlemen of our cloth in London tell many such stories of theirmasters. But when the boy brought the message back of his not being athome, I presently knew what would follow; for, whenever a man of fashiondoth not care to fulfil his promises, the custom is to order hisservants that he will never be at home to the person so promised. InLondon they call it denying him. I have myself denied Sir Thomas Boobyabove a hundred times, and when the man hath danced attendance for abouta month or sometimes longer, he is acquainted in the end that thegentleman is gone out of town and could do nothing in thebusiness. "--"Good Lord!" says Adams, "what wickedness is there in theChristian world! I profess almost equal to what I have read of theheathens. But surely, Joseph, your suspicions of this gentleman must beunjust, for what a silly fellow must he be who would do the devil's workfor nothing! and canst thou tell me any interest he could possiblypropose to himself by deceiving us in his professions?"--"It is not forme, " answered Joseph, "to give reasons for what men do, to a gentlemanof your learning. "--"You say right, " quoth Adams; "knowledge of men isonly to be learned from books; Plato and Seneca for that; and those areauthors, I am afraid, child, you never read. "--"Not I, sir, truly, "answered Joseph; "all I know is, it is a maxim among the gentlemen ofour cloth, that those masters who promise the most perform the least;and I have often heard them say they have found the largest vails inthose families where they were not promised any. But, sir, instead ofconsidering any farther these matters, it would be our wisest way tocontrive some method of getting out of this house; for the generousgentleman, instead of doing us any service, hath left us the wholereckoning to pay. " Adams was going to answer, when their host came in, and, with a kind of jeering smile, said, "Well, masters! the squire hathnot sent his horses for you yet. Laud help me! how easily some folksmake promises!"--"How!" says Adams; "have you ever known him do anythingof this kind before?"--"Ay! marry have I, " answered the host: "it is nobusiness of mine, you know, sir, to say anything to a gentleman to hisface; but now he is not here, I will assure you, he hath not his fellowwithin the three next market-towns. I own I could not help laughing whenI heard him offer you the living, for thereby hangs a good jest. Ithought he would have offered you my house next, for one is no more histo dispose of than the other. " At these words Adams, blessing himself, declared, "He had never read of such a monster. But what vexes me most, "says he, "is, that he hath decoyed us into running up a long debt withyou, which we are not able to pay, for we have no money about us, and, what is worse, live at such a distance, that if you should trust us, Iam afraid you would lose your money for want of our finding anyconveniency of sending it. "--"Trust you, master!" says the host, "that Iwill with all my heart. I honour the clergy too much to deny trustingone of them for such a trifle; besides, I like your fear of never payingme. I have lost many a debt in my lifetime, but was promised to be paidthem all in a very short time. I will score this reckoning for thenovelty of it. It is the first, I do assure you, of its kind. But whatsay you, master, shall we have t'other pot before we part? It will wastebut a little chalk more, and if you never pay me a shilling the losswill not ruin me. " Adams liked the invitation very well, especially asit was delivered with so hearty an accent. He shook his host by thehand, and thanking him, said, "He would tarry another pot rather for thepleasure of such worthy company than for the liquor;" adding, "he wasglad to find some Christians left in the kingdom, for that he almostbegan to suspect that he was sojourning in a country inhabited only byJews and Turks. " The kind host produced the liquor, and Joseph with Fanny retired intothe garden, where, while they solaced themselves with amorous discourse, Adams sat down with his host; and, both filling their glasses, andlighting their pipes, they began that dialogue which the reader willfind in the next chapter. CHAPTER XVII. _A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and his host, which, by thedisagreement in their opinions, seemed to threaten an unluckycatastrophe, had it not been timely prevented by the return ofthe lovers. _ "Sir, " said the host, "I assure you you are not the first to whom oursquire hath promised more than he hath performed. He is so famous forthis practice, that his word will not be taken for much by those whoknow him. I remember a young fellow whom he promised his parents to makean exciseman. The poor people, who could ill afford it, bred their sonto writing and accounts, and other learning to qualify him for theplace; and the boy held up his head above his condition with thesehopes; nor would he go to plough, nor to any other kind of work, andwent constantly drest as fine as could be, with two clean Holland shirtsa week, and this for several years; till at last he followed the squireup to London, thinking there to mind him of his promises; but he couldnever get sight of him. So that, being out of money and business, hefell into evil company and wicked courses; and in the end came to asentence of transportation, the news of which broke the mother'sheart. --I will tell you another true story of him. There was a neighbourof mine, a farmer, who had two sons whom he bred up to the business. Pretty lads they were. Nothing would serve the squire but that theyoungest must be made a parson. Upon which he persuaded the father tosend him to school, promising that he would afterwards maintain him atthe university, and, when he was of a proper age, give him a living. Butafter the lad had been seven years at school, and his father brought himto the squire, with a letter from his master that he was fit for theuniversity, the squire, instead of minding his promise, or sending himthither at his expense, only told his father that the young man was afine scholar, and it was pity he could not afford to keep him at Oxfordfor four or five years more, by which time, if he could get him acuracy, he might have him ordained. The farmer said, 'He was not a mansufficient to do any such thing. '--'Why, then, ' answered the squire, 'Iam very sorry you have given him so much learning; for, if he cannot gethis living by that, it will rather spoil him for anything else; and yourother son, who can hardly write his name, will do more at ploughing andsowing, and is in a better condition, than he. ' And indeed so it proved;for the poor lad, not finding friends to maintain him in his learning, as he had expected, and being unwilling to work, fell to drinking, though he was a very sober lad before; and in a short time, partly withgrief, and partly with good liquor, fell into a consumption, anddied. --Nay, I can tell you more still: there was another, a young woman, and the handsomest in all this neighbourhood, whom he enticed up toLondon, promising to make her a gentlewoman to one of your women ofquality; but, instead of keeping his word, we have since heard, afterhaving a child by her himself, she became a common whore; then kept acoffeehouse in Covent Garden; and a little after died of the Frenchdistemper in a gaol. --I could tell you many more stories; but how do youimagine he served me myself? You must know, sir, I was bred a seafaringman, and have been many voyages; till at last I came to be master of aship myself, and was in a fair way of making a fortune, when I wasattacked by one of those cursed guarda-costas who took our ships beforethe beginning of the war; and after a fight, wherein I lost the greaterpart of my crew, my rigging being all demolished, and two shots receivedbetween wind and water, I was forced to strike. The villains carried offmy ship, a brigantine of 150 tons--a pretty creature she was--and put me, a man, and a boy, into a little bad pink, in which, with much ado, we atlast made Falmouth; though I believe the Spaniards did not imagine shecould possibly live a day at sea. Upon my return hither, where my wife, who was of this country, then lived, the squire told me he was sopleased with the defence I had made against the enemy, that he did notfear getting me promoted to a lieutenancy of a man-of-war, if I wouldaccept of it; which I thankfully assured him I would. Well, sir, two orthree years passed, during which I had many repeated promises, not onlyfrom the squire, but (as he told me) from the lords of the admiralty. Henever returned from London but I was assured I might be satisfied now, for I was certain of the first vacancy; and, what surprizes me still, when I reflect on it, these assurances were given me with no lessconfidence, after so many disappointments, than at first. At last, sir, growing weary, and somewhat suspicious, after so much delay, I wrote toa friend in London, who I knew had some acquaintance at the best housein the admiralty, and desired him to back the squire's interest; forindeed I feared he had solicited the affair with more coldness than hepretended. And what answer do you think my friend sent me? Truly, sir, he acquainted me that the squire had never mentioned my name at theadmiralty in his life; and, unless I had much faithfuller interest, advised me to give over my pretensions; which I immediately did, and, with the concurrence of my wife, resolved to set up an alehouse, whereyou are heartily welcome; and so my service to you; and may the squire, and all such sneaking rascals, go to the devil together. "--"O fie!" saysAdams, "O fie! He is indeed a wicked man; but G-- will, I hope, turn hisheart to repentance. Nay, if he could but once see the meanness of thisdetestable vice; would he but once reflect that he is one of the mostscandalous as well as pernicious lyars; sure he must despise himself toso intolerable a degree, that it would be impossible for him to continuea moment in such a course. And to confess the truth, notwithstanding thebaseness of this character, which he hath too well deserved, he hath inhis countenance sufficient symptoms of that _bona indoles_, thatsweetness of disposition, which furnishes out a good Christian. "--"Ah, master! master!" says the host, "if you had travelled as far as I have, and conversed with the many nations where I have traded, you would notgive any credit to a man's countenance. Symptoms in his countenance, quotha! I would look there, perhaps, to see whether a man had thesmall-pox, but for nothing else. " He spoke this with so little regard tothe parson's observation, that it a good deal nettled him; and, takingthe pipe hastily from his mouth, he thus answered: "Master of mine, perhaps I have travelled a great deal farther than you without theassistance of a ship. Do you imagine sailing by different cities orcountries is travelling? No. "Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt. "I can go farther in an afternoon than you in a twelvemonth. What, Isuppose you have seen the Pillars of Hercules, and perhaps the walls ofCarthage. Nay, you may have heard Scylla, and seen Charybdis; you mayhave entered the closet where Archimedes was found at the taking ofSyracuse. I suppose you have sailed among the Cyclades, and passed thefamous straits which take their name from the unfortunate Helle, whosefate is sweetly described by Apollonius Rhodius; you have passed thevery spot, I conceive, where Daedalus fell into that sea, his waxenwings being melted by the sun; you have traversed the Euxine sea, I makeno doubt; nay, you may have been on the banks of the Caspian, and calledat Colchis, to see if there is ever another golden fleece. " "Not I, truly, master, " answered the host: "I never touched at any of theseplaces. "--"But I have been at all these, " replied Adams. "Then, Isuppose, " cries the host, "you have been at the East Indies; for thereare no such, I will be sworn, either in the West or the Levant. "--"Praywhere's the Levant?" quoth Adams; "that should be in the East Indies byright. " "Oho! you are a pretty traveller, " cries the host, "and not knowthe Levant! My service to you, master; you must not talk of these thingswith me! you must not tip us the traveller; it won't go here. " "Sincethou art so dull to misunderstand me still, " quoth Adams, "I will informthee; the travelling I mean is in books, the only way of travelling bywhich any knowledge is to be acquired. From them I learn what I assertedjust now, that nature generally imprints such a portraiture of the mindin the countenance, that a skilful physiognomist will rarely bedeceived. I presume you have never read the story of Socrates to thispurpose, and therefore I will tell it you. A certain physiognomistasserted of Socrates, that he plainly discovered by his features that hewas a rogue in his nature. A character so contrary to the tenour of allthis great man's actions, and the generally received opinion concerninghim, incensed the boys of Athens so that they threw stones at thephysiognomist, and would have demolished him for his ignorance, had notSocrates himself prevented them by confessing the truth of hisobservations, and acknowledging that, though he corrected hisdisposition by philosophy, he was indeed naturally as inclined to viceas had been predicated of him. Now, pray resolve me--How should a manknow this story if he had not read it?" "Well, master, " said the host, "and what signifies it whether a man knows it or no? He who goes abroad, as I have done, will always have opportunities enough of knowing theworld without troubling his head with Socrates, or any such fellows. ""Friend, " cries Adams, "if a man should sail round the world, and anchorin every harbour of it, without learning, he would return home asignorant as he went out. " "Lord help you!" answered the host; "there wasmy boatswain, poor fellow! he could scarce either write or read, and yethe would navigate a ship with any master of a man-of-war; and a verypretty knowledge of trade he had too. " "Trade, " answered Adams, "asAristotle proves in his first chapter of Politics, is below aphilosopher, and unnatural as it is managed now. " The host lookedstedfastly at Adams, and after a minute's silence asked him, "If he wasone of the writers of the Gazetteers? for I have heard, " says he, "theyare writ by parsons. " "Gazetteers!" answered Adams, "what is that?" "Itis a dirty newspaper, " replied the host, "which hath been given away allover the nation for these many years, to abuse trade and honest men, which I would not suffer to lye on my table, though it hath been offeredme for nothing. " "Not I truly, " said Adams; "I never write anything butsermons; and I assure you I am no enemy to trade, whilst it isconsistent with honesty; nay, I have always looked on the tradesman as avery valuable member of society, and, perhaps, inferior to none but theman of learning. " "No, I believe he is not, nor to him neither, "answered the host. "Of what use would learning be in a country withouttrade? What would all you parsons do to clothe your backs and feed yourbellies? Who fetches you your silks, and your linens, and your wines, and all the other necessaries of life? I speak chiefly with regard tothe sailors. " "You should say the extravagancies of life, " replied theparson; "but admit they were the necessaries, there is something morenecessary than life itself, which is provided by learning; I mean thelearning of the clergy. Who clothes you with piety, meekness, humility, charity, patience, and all the other Christian virtues? Who feeds yoursouls with the milk of brotherly love, and diets them with all thedainty food of holiness, which at once cleanses them of all impurecarnal affections, and fattens them with the truly rich spirit of grace?Who doth this?" "Ay, who, indeed?" cries the host; "for I do notremember ever to have seen any such clothing or such feeding. And so, inthe mean time, master, my service to you. " Adams was going to answerwith some severity, when Joseph and Fanny returned and pressed hisdeparture so eagerly that he would not refuse them; and so, grasping hiscrabstick, he took leave of his host (neither of them being so wellpleased with each other as they had been at their first sitting downtogether), and with Joseph and Fanny, who both expressed muchimpatience, departed, and now all together renewed their journey. BOOK III. CHAPTER I. _Matter prefatory in praise of biography. _ Notwithstanding the preference which may be vulgarly given to theauthority of those romance writers who entitle their books "the Historyof England, the History of France, of Spain, &c. , " it is most certainthat truth is to be found only in the works of those who celebrate thelives of great men, and are commonly called biographers, as the othersshould indeed be termed topographers, or chorographers; words whichmight well mark the distinction between them; it being the business ofthe latter chiefly to describe countries and cities, which, with theassistance of maps, they do pretty justly, and may be depended upon; butas to the actions and characters of men, their writings are not quite soauthentic, of which there needs no other proof than those eternalcontradictions occurring between two topographers who undertake thehistory of the same country: for instance, between my Lord Clarendon andMr Whitelocke, between Mr Echard and Rapin, and many others; where, facts being set forth in a different light, every reader believes as hepleases; and, indeed, the more judicious and suspicious very justlyesteem the whole as no other than a romance, in which the writer hathindulged a happy and fertile invention. But though these widely differin the narrative of facts; some ascribing victory to the one, and othersto the other party; some representing the same man as a rogue, whileothers give him a great and honest character; yet all agree in the scenewhere the fact is supposed to have happened, and where the person, whois both a rogue and an honest man, lived. Now with us biographers thecase is different; the facts we deliver may be relied on, though weoften mistake the age and country wherein they happened: for, though itmay be worth the examination of critics, whether the shepherdChrysostom, who, as Cervantes informs us, died for love of the fairMarcella, who hated him, was ever in Spain, will any one doubt but thatsuch a silly fellow hath really existed? Is there in the world such asceptic as to disbelieve the madness of Cardenio, the perfidy ofFerdinand, the impertinent curiosity of Anselmo, the weakness ofCamilla, the irresolute friendship of Lothario? though perhaps, as tothe time and place where those several persons lived, that goodhistorian may be deplorably deficient. But the most known instance ofthis kind is in the true history of Gil Blas, where the inimitablebiographer hath made a notorious blunder in the country of Dr Sangrado, who used his patients as a vintner doth his wine-vessels, by letting outtheir blood, and filling them up with water. Doth not every one, who isthe least versed in physical history, know that Spain was not thecountry in which this doctor lived? The same writer hath likewise erredin the country of his archbishop, as well as that of those greatpersonages whose understandings were too sublime to taste anything buttragedy, and in many others. The same mistakes may likewise be observedin Scarron, the Arabian Nights, the History of Marianne and le PaisanParvenu, and perhaps some few other writers of this class, whom I havenot read, or do not at present recollect; for I would by no means bethought to comprehend those persons of surprizing genius, the authors ofimmense romances, or the modern novel and Atalantis writers; who, without any assistance from nature or history, record persons who neverwere, or will be, and facts which never did, nor possibly can, happen;whose heroes are of their own creation, and their brains the chaoswhence all their materials are selected. Not that such writers deserveno honour; so far otherwise, that perhaps they merit the highest; forwhat can be nobler than to be as an example of the wonderful extent ofhuman genius? One may apply to them what Balzac says of Aristotle, thatthey are a second nature (for they have no communication with the first;by which, authors of an inferior class, who cannot stand alone, areobliged to support themselves as with crutches); but these of whom I amnow speaking seem to be possessed of those stilts, which the excellentVoltaire tells us, in his letters, "carry the genius far off, but withan regular pace. " Indeed, far out of the sight of the reader, Beyond the realm of Chaos and old Night. But to return to the former class, who are contented to copy nature, instead of forming originals from the confused heap of matter in theirown brains, is not such a book as that which records the achievements ofthe renowned Don Quixote more worthy the name of a history than evenMariana's: for, whereas the latter is confined to a particular period oftime, and to a particular nation, the former is the history of the worldin general, at least that part which is polished by laws, arts, andsciences; and of that from the time it was first polished to this day;nay, and forwards as long as it shall so remain? I shall now proceed to apply these observations to the work before us;for indeed I have set them down principally to obviate someconstructions which the good nature of mankind, who are always forwardto see their friends' virtues recorded, may put to particular parts. Iquestion not but several of my readers will know the lawyer in thestage-coach the moment they hear his voice. It is likewise odds but thewit and the prude meet with some of their acquaintance, as well as allthe rest of my characters. To prevent, therefore, any such maliciousapplications, I declare here, once for all, I describe not men, butmanners; not an individual, but a species. Perhaps it will be answered, Are not the characters then taken from life? To which I answer in theaffirmative; nay, I believe I might aver that I have writ little morethan I have seen. The lawyer is not only alive, but hath been so thesefour thousand years; and I hope G-- will indulge his life as many yet tocome. He hath not indeed confined himself to one profession, onereligion, or one country; but when the first mean selfish creatureappeared on the human stage, who made self the centre of the wholecreation, would give himself no pain, incur no danger, advance no money, to assist or preserve his fellow-creatures; then was our lawyer born;and, whilst such a person as I have described exists on earth, so longshall he remain upon it. It is, therefore, doing him little honour toimagine he endeavours to mimick some little obscure fellow, because hehappens to resemble him in one particular feature, or perhaps in hisprofession; whereas his appearance in the world is calculated for muchmore general and noble purposes; not to expose one pitiful wretch to thesmall and contemptible circle of his acquaintance; but to hold the glassto thousands in their closets, that they may contemplate theirdeformity, and endeavour to reduce it, and thus by suffering privatemortification may avoid public shame. This places the boundary between, and distinguishes the satirist from the libeller: for the formerprivately corrects the fault for the benefit of the person, like aparent; the latter publickly exposes the person himself, as an exampleto others, like an executioner. There are besides little circumstances to be considered; as the draperyof a picture, which though fashion varies at different times, theresemblance of the countenance is not by those means diminished. Thus Ibelieve we may venture to say Mrs Tow-wouse is coeval with our lawyer:and, though perhaps, during the changes which so long an existence musthave passed through, she may in her turn have stood behind the bar at aninn, I will not scruple to affirm she hath likewise in the revolution ofages sat on a throne. In short, where extreme turbulency of temper, avarice, and an insensibility of human misery, with a degree ofhypocrisy, have united in a female composition, Mrs Tow-wouse was thatwoman; and where a good inclination, eclipsed by a poverty of spirit andunderstanding, hath glimmered forth in a man, that man hath been noother than her sneaking husband. I shall detain my reader no longer than to give him one caution more ofan opposite kind: for, as in most of our particular characters we meannot to lash individuals, but all of the like sort, so, in our generaldescriptions, we mean not universals, but would be understood with manyexceptions: for instance, in our description of high people, we cannotbe intended to include such as, whilst they are an honour to their highrank, by a well-guided condescension make their superiority as easy aspossible to those whom fortune chiefly hath placed below them. Of thisnumber I could name a peer no less elevated by nature than by fortune;who, whilst he wears the noblest ensigns of honour on his person, bearsthe truest stamp of dignity on his mind, adorned with greatness, enriched with knowledge, and embellished with genius. I have seen thisman relieve with generosity, while he hath conversed with freedom, andbe to the same person a patron and a companion. I could name a commoner, raised higher above the multitude by superior talents than is in thepower of his prince to exalt him, whose behaviour to those he hathobliged is more amiable than the obligation itself; and who is so greata master of affability, that, if he could divest himself of an inherentgreatness in his manner, would often make the lowest of his acquaintanceforget who was the master of that palace in which they are socourteously entertained. These are pictures which must be, I believe, known: I declare they are taken from the life, and not intended toexceed it. By those high people, therefore, whom I have described, Imean a set of wretches, who, while they are a disgrace to theirancestors, whose honours and fortunes they inherit (or perhaps a greaterto their mother, for such degeneracy is scarce credible), have theinsolence to treat those with disregard who are at least equal to thefounders of their own splendor. It is, I fancy, impossible to conceive aspectacle more worthy of our indignation, than that of a fellow, who isnot only a blot in the escutcheon of a great family, but a scandal tothe human species, maintaining a supercilious behaviour to men who arean honour to their nature and a disgrace to their fortune. And now, reader, taking these hints along with you, you may, if youplease, proceed to the sequel of this our true history. CHAPTER II. _A night scene, wherein several wonderful adventures befel Adams and hisfellow-travellers. _ It was so late when our travellers left the inn or alehouse (for itmight be called either), that they had not travelled many miles beforenight overtook them, or met them, which you please. The reader mustexcuse me if I am not particular as to the way they took; for, as we arenow drawing near the seat of the Boobies, and as that is a ticklishname, which malicious persons may apply, according to their evilinclinations, to several worthy country squires, a race of men whom welook upon as entirely inoffensive, and for whom we have an adequateregard, we shall lend no assistance to any such malicious purposes. Darkness had now overspread the hemisphere, when Fanny whispered Joseph"that she begged to rest herself a little; for that she was so tiredshe could walk no farther. " Joseph immediately prevailed with parsonAdams, who was as brisk as a bee, to stop. He had no sooner seatedhimself than he lamented the loss of his dear Aeschylus; but was alittle comforted when reminded that, if he had it in his possession, hecould not see to read. The sky was so clouded, that not a star appeared. It was indeed, according to Milton, darkness visible. This was a circumstance, however, very favourable to Joseph; for Fanny, not suspicious of being overseenby Adams, gave a loose to her passion which she had never done before, and, reclining her head on his bosom, threw her arm carelessly roundhim, and suffered him to lay his cheek close to hers. All this infusedsuch happiness into Joseph, that he would not have changed his turf forthe finest down in the finest palace in the universe. Adams sat at some distance from the lovers, and, being unwilling todisturb them, applied himself to meditation; in which he had notspent much time before he discovered a light at some distance thatseemed approaching towards him. He immediately hailed it; but, to hissorrow and surprize, it stopped for a moment, and then disappeared. He then called to Joseph, asking him, "if he had not seen the light?"Joseph answered, "he had. "--"And did you not mark how it vanished?"returned he: "though I am not afraid of ghosts, I do not absolutelydisbelieve them. " He then entered into a meditation on those unsubstantial beings; whichwas soon interrupted by several voices, which he thought almost at hiselbow, though in fact they were not so extremely near. However, he coulddistinctly hear them agree on the murder of any one they met; and alittle after heard one of them say, "he had killed a dozen since thatday fortnight. " Adams now fell on his knees, and committed himself to the care ofProvidence; and poor Fanny, who likewise heard those terrible words, embraced Joseph so closely, that had not he, whose ears were also open, been apprehensive on her account, he would have thought no danger whichthreatened only himself too dear a price for such embraces. Joseph now drew forth his penknife, and Adams, having finished hisejaculations, grasped his crab-stick, his only weapon, and, coming up toJoseph, would have had him quit Fanny, and place her in the rear; buthis advice was fruitless; she clung closer to him, not at all regardingthe presence of Adams, and in a soothing voice declared, "she would diein his arms. " Joseph, clasping her with inexpressible eagerness, whispered her, "that he preferred death in hers to life out of them. "Adams, brandishing his crabstick, said, "he despised death as much asany man, " and then repeated aloud-- "Est hic, est animus lucis contemptor et illum, Qui vita bene credat emi quo tendis, honorem. " Upon this the voices ceased for a moment, and then one of them calledout, "D--n you, who is there?" To which Adams was prudent enough to makeno reply; and of a sudden he observed half-a-dozen lights, which seemedto rise all at once from the ground and advance briskly towards him. This he immediately concluded to be an apparition; and now, beginning toconceive that the voices were of the same kind, he called out, "In thename of the L--d, what wouldst thou have?" He had no sooner spoke thanhe heard one of the voices cry out, "D--n them, here they come;" andsoon after heard several hearty blows, as if a number of men had beenengaged at quarterstaff. He was just advancing towards the place ofcombat, when Joseph, catching him by the skirts, begged him that theymight take the opportunity of the dark to convey away Fanny from thedanger which threatened her. He presently complied, and, Joseph liftingup Fanny, they all three made the best of their way; and without lookingbehind them, or being overtaken, they had travelled full two miles, poorFanny not once complaining of being tired, when they saw afar offseveral lights scattered at a small distance from each other, and at thesame time found themselves on the descent of a very steep hill. Adams'sfoot slipping, he instantly disappeared, which greatly frightened bothJoseph and Fanny: indeed, if the light had permitted them to see it, they would scarce have refrained laughing to see the parson rolling downthe hill; which he did from top to bottom, without receiving any harm. He then hollowed as loud as he could, to inform them of his safety, andrelieve them from the fears which they had conceived for him. Joseph andFanny halted some time, considering what to do; at last they advanced afew paces, where the declivity seemed least steep; and then Joseph, taking his Fanny in his arms, walked firmly down the hill, withoutmaking a false step, and at length landed her at the bottom, where Adamssoon came to them. Learn hence, my fair countrywomen, to consider your own weakness, andthe many occasions on which the strength of a man may be useful to you;and, duly weighing this, take care that you match not yourselves withthe spindle-shanked beaus and _petit-maîtres_ of the age, who, insteadof being able, like Joseph Andrews, to carry you in lusty arms throughthe rugged ways and downhill steeps of life, will rather want to supporttheir feeble limbs with your strength and assistance. Our travellers now moved forwards where the nearest light presenteditself; and, having crossed a common field, they came to a meadow, wherethey seemed to be at a very little distance from the light, when, totheir grief, they arrived at the banks of a river. Adams here made afull stop, and declared he could swim, but doubted how it was possibleto get Fanny over: to which Joseph answered, "If they walked along itsbanks, they might be certain of soon finding a bridge, especially as bythe number of lights they might be assured a parish was near. " "Odso, that's true indeed, " said Adams; "I did not think of that. " Accordingly, Joseph's advice being taken, they passed over two meadows, and came to a little orchard, which led them to a house. Fanny begged ofJoseph to knock at the door, assuring him "she was so weary that shecould hardly stand on her feet. " Adams, who was foremost, performed thisceremony; and, the door being immediately opened, a plain kind of manappeared at it: Adams acquainted him "that they had a young woman withthem who was so tired with her journey that he should be much obliged tohim if he would suffer her to come in and rest herself. " The man, whosaw Fanny by the light of the candle which he held in his hand, perceiving her innocent and modest look, and having no apprehensionsfrom the civil behaviour of Adams, presently answered, "That the youngwoman was very welcome to rest herself in his house, and so were hercompany. " He then ushered them into a very decent room, where his wifewas sitting at a table: she immediately rose up, and assisted them insetting forth chairs, and desired them to sit down; which they had nosooner done than the man of the house asked them if they would haveanything to refresh themselves with? Adams thanked him, and answered heshould be obliged to him for a cup of his ale, which was likewise chosenby Joseph and Fanny. Whilst he was gone to fill a very large jug withthis liquor, his wife told Fanny she seemed greatly fatigued, anddesired her to take something stronger than ale; but she refused withmany thanks, saying it was true she was very much tired, but a littlerest she hoped would restore her. As soon as the company were allseated, Mr Adams, who had filled himself with ale, and by publicpermission had lighted his pipe, turned to the master of the house, asking him, "If evil spirits did not use to walk in that neighbourhood?"To which receiving no answer, he began to inform him of the adventurewhich they met with on the downs; nor had he proceeded far in the storywhen somebody knocked very hard at the door. The company expressed someamazement, and Fanny and the good woman turned pale: her husband wentforth, and whilst he was absent, which was some time, they all remainedsilent, looking at one another, and heard several voices discoursingpretty loudly. Adams was fully persuaded that spirits were abroad, andbegan to meditate some exorcisms; Joseph a little inclined to the sameopinion; Fanny was more afraid of men; and the good woman herself beganto suspect her guests, and imagined those without were rogues belongingto their gang. At length the master of the house returned, and, laughing, told Adams he had discovered his apparition; that themurderers were sheep-stealers, and the twelve persons murdered were noother than twelve sheep; adding, that the shepherds had got the betterof them, had secured two, and were proceeding with them to a justice ofpeace. This account greatly relieved the fears of the whole company; butAdams muttered to himself, "He was convinced of the truth of apparitionsfor all that. " They now sat chearfully round the fire, till the master of the house, having surveyed his guests, and conceiving that the cassock, which, having fallen down, appeared under Adams's greatcoat, and the shabbylivery on Joseph Andrews, did not well suit with the familiaritybetween them, began to entertain some suspicions not much to theiradvantage: addressing himself therefore to Adams, he said, "Heperceived he was a clergyman by his dress, and supposed that honest manwas his footman. " "Sir, " answered Adams, "I am a clergyman at yourservice; but as to that young man, whom you have rightly termed honest, he is at present in nobody's service; he never lived in any otherfamily than that of Lady Booby, from whence he was discharged, I assureyou, for no crime. " Joseph said, "He did not wonder the gentleman wassurprized to see one of Mr Adams's character condescend to so muchgoodness with a poor man. "--"Child, " said Adams, "I should be ashamedof my cloth if I thought a poor man, who is honest, below my notice ormy familiarity. I know not how those who think otherwise can professthemselves followers and servants of Him who made no distinction, unless, peradventure, by preferring the poor to the rich. --Sir, " saidhe, addressing himself to the gentleman, "these two poor young peopleare my parishioners, and I look on them and love them as my children. There is something singular enough in their history, but I have not nowtime to recount it. " The master of the house, notwithstanding thesimplicity which discovered itself in Adams, knew too much of the worldto give a hasty belief to professions. He was not yet quite certainthat Adams had any more of the clergyman in him than his cassock. Totry him therefore further, he asked him, "If Mr Pope had latelypublished anything new?" Adams answered, "He had heard greatcommendations of that poet, but that he had never read nor knew any ofhis works. "--"Ho! ho!" says the gentleman to himself, "have I caughtyou? What!" said he, "have you never seen his Homer?" Adams answered, "he had never read any translation of the classicks. " "Why, truly, "reply'd the gentleman, "there is a dignity in the Greek language whichI think no modern tongue can reach. "--"Do you understand Greek, sir?"said Adams hastily. "A little, sir, " answered the gentleman. "Do youknow, sir, " cry'd Adams, "where I can buy an Aeschylus? an unluckymisfortune lately happened to mine. " Aeschylus was beyond thegentleman, though he knew him very well by name; he therefore, returning back to Homer, asked Adams, "What part of the Iliad hethought most excellent?" Adams returned, "His question would beproperer, What kind of beauty was the chief in poetry? for that Homerwas equally excellent in them all. And, indeed, " continued he, "whatCicero says of a complete orator may well be applied to a great poet:'He ought to comprehend all perfections. ' Homer did this in the mostexcellent degree; it is not without reason, therefore, that thephilosopher, in the twenty-second chapter of his Poeticks, mentions himby no other appellation than that of the Poet. He was the father of thedrama as well as the epic; not of tragedy only, but of comedy also; forhis Margites, which is deplorably lost, bore, says Aristotle, the sameanalogy to comedy as his Odyssey and Iliad to tragedy. To him, therefore, we owe Aristophanes as well as Euripides, Sophocles, and mypoor Aeschylus. But if you please we will confine ourselves (at leastfor the present) to the Iliad, his noblest work; though neitherAristotle nor Horace give it the preference, as I remember, to theOdyssey. First, then, as to his subject, can anything be more simple, and at the same time more noble? He is rightly praised by the first ofthose judicious critics for not chusing the whole war, which, though hesays it hath a complete beginning and end, would have been too greatfor the understanding to comprehend at one view. I have, therefore, often wondered why so correct a writer as Horace should, in his epistleto Lollius, call him the Trojani Belli Scriptorem. Secondly, hisaction, termed by Aristotle, Pragmaton Systasis; is it possible for themind of man to conceive an idea of such perfect unity, and at the sametime so replete with greatness? And here I must observe, what I do notremember to have seen noted by any, the Harmotton, that agreement ofhis action to his subject: for, as the subject is anger, how agreeableis his action, which is war; from which every incident arises and towhich every episode immediately relates. Thirdly, his manners, whichAristotle places second in his description of the several parts oftragedy, and which he says are included in the action; I am at a losswhether I should rather admire the exactness of his judgment in thenice distinction or the immensity of his imagination in their variety. For, as to the former of these, how accurately is the sedate, injuredresentment of Achilles, distinguished from the hot, insulting passionof Agamemnon! How widely doth the brutal courage of Ajax differ fromthe amiable bravery of Diomedes; and the wisdom of Nestor, which is theresult of long reflection and experience, from the cunning of Ulysses, the effect of art and subtlety only! If we consider their variety, wemay cry out, with Aristotle in his 24th chapter, that no part of thisdivine poem is destitute of manners. Indeed, I might affirm that thereis scarce a character in human nature untouched in some part or other. And, as there is no passion which he is not able to describe, so isthere none in his reader which he cannot raise. If he hath any superiorexcellence to the rest, I have been inclined to fancy it is in thepathetic. I am sure I never read with dry eyes the two episodes whereAndromache is introduced in the former lamenting the danger, and in thelatter the death, of Hector. The images are so extremely tender inthese, that I am convinced the poet had the worthiest and best heartimaginable. Nor can I help observing how Sophocles falls short of thebeauties of the original, in that imitation of the dissuasive speech ofAndromache which he hath put into the mouth of Tecmessa. And yetSophocles was the greatest genius who ever wrote tragedy; nor have anyof his successors in that art, that is to say, neither Euripides norSeneca the tragedian, been able to come near him. As to his sentimentsand diction, I need say nothing; the former are particularly remarkablefor the utmost perfection on that head, namely, propriety; and as tothe latter, Aristotle, whom doubtless you have read over and over, isvery diffuse. I shall mention but one thing more, which that greatcritic in his division of tragedy calls Opsis, or the scenery; andwhich is as proper to the epic as to the drama, with this difference, that in the former it falls to the share of the poet, and in the latterto that of the painter. But did ever painter imagine a scene like thatin the 13th and 14th Iliads? where the reader sees at one view theprospect of Troy, with the army drawn up before it; the Grecian army, camp, and fleet; Jupiter sitting on Mount Ida, with his head wrapt in acloud, and a thunderbolt in his hand, looking towards Thrace; Neptunedriving through the sea, which divides on each side to permit hispassage, and then seating himself on Mount Samos; the heavens opened, and the deities all seated on their thrones. This is sublime! This ispoetry!" Adams then rapt out a hundred Greek verses, and with such avoice, emphasis, and action, that he almost frightened the women; andas for the gentleman, he was so far from entertaining any furthersuspicion of Adams, that he now doubted whether he had not a bishop inhis house. He ran into the most extravagant encomiums on his learning;and the goodness of his heart began to dilate to all the strangers. Hesaid he had great compassion for the poor young woman, who looked paleand faint with her journey; and in truth he conceived a much higheropinion of her quality than it deserved. He said he was sorry he couldnot accommodate them all; but if they were contented with his fireside, he would sit up with the men; and the young woman might, if shepleased, partake his wife's bed, which he advised her to; for that theymust walk upwards of a mile to any house of entertainment, and that notvery good neither. Adams, who liked his seat, his ale, his tobacco, andhis company, persuaded Fanny to accept this kind proposal, in whichsollicitation he was seconded by Joseph. Nor was she very difficultlyprevailed on; for she had slept little the last night and not at allthe preceding; so that love itself was scarce able to keep her eyesopen any longer. The offer, therefore, being kindly accepted, the goodwoman produced everything eatable in her house on the table, and theguests, being heartily invited, as heartily regaled themselves, especially parson Adams. As to the other two, they were examples of thetruth of that physical observation, that love, like other sweet things, is no whetter of the stomach. Supper was no sooner ended, than Fanny at her own request retired, andthe good woman bore her company. The man of the house, Adams, andJoseph, who would modestly have withdrawn, had not the gentlemaninsisted on the contrary, drew round the fireside, where Adams (to usehis own words) replenished his pipe, and the gentleman produced a bottleof excellent beer, being the best liquor in his house. The modest behaviour of Joseph, with the gracefulness of his person, thecharacter which Adams gave of him, and the friendship he seemed toentertain for him, began to work on the gentleman's affections, andraised in him a curiosity to know the singularity which Adams hadmentioned in his history. This curiosity Adams was no sooner informed ofthan, with Joseph's consent, he agreed to gratify it; and accordinglyrelated all he knew, with as much tenderness as was possible for thecharacter of Lady Booby; and concluded with the long, faithful, andmutual passion between him and Fanny, not concealing the meanness of herbirth and education. These latter circumstances entirely cured ajealousy which had lately risen in the gentleman's mind, that Fanny wasthe daughter of some person of fashion, and that Joseph had run awaywith her, and Adams was concerned in the plot. He was now enamoured ofhis guests, drank their healths with great chearfulness, and returnedmany thanks to Adams, who had spent much breath, for he was acircumstantial teller of a story. Adams told him it was now in his power to return that favour; for hisextraordinary goodness, as well as that fund of literature he was masterof, [A] which he did not expect to find under such a roof, had raised inhim more curiosity than he had ever known. "Therefore, " said he, "if itbe not too troublesome, sir, your history, if you please. " [A] The author hath by some been represented to have made a blunder here: for Adams had indeed shown some learning (say they), perhaps all the author had; but the gentleman hath shown none, unless his approbation of Mr Adams be such: but surely it would be preposterous in him to call it so. I have, however, notwithstanding this criticism, which I am told came from the mouth of a great orator in a public coffee-house, left this blunder as it stood in the first edition. I will not have the vanity to apply to anything in this work the observation which M. Dacier makes in her preface to her Aristophanes: _Je tiens pour une maxime constante, qu'une beauté mediocré plait plus généralement qu'une beauté sans défaut. _ Mr Congreve hath made such another blunder in his Love for Love, where Tattle tells Miss Prue, "She should admire him as much for the beauty he commends in her as if he himself was possessed of it. " The gentleman answered, he could not refuse him what he had so muchright to insist on; and after some of the common apologies, which arethe usual preface to a story, he thus began. CHAPTER III. _In which the gentleman relates the history of his life. _ Sir, I am descended of a good family, and was born a gentleman. Myeducation was liberal, and at a public school, in which I proceeded sofar as to become master of the Latin, and to be tolerably versed in theGreek language. My father died when I was sixteen, and left me master ofmyself. He bequeathed me a moderate fortune, which he intended I shouldnot receive till I attained the age of twenty-five: for he constantlyasserted that was full early enough to give up any man entirely to theguidance of his own discretion. However, as this intention was soobscurely worded in his will that the lawyers advised me to contest thepoint with my trustees, I own I paid so little regard to theinclinations of my dead father, which were sufficiently certain to me, that I followed their advice, and soon succeeded, for the trustees didnot contest the matter very obstinately on their side. "Sir, " saidAdams, "may I crave the favour of your name?" The gentleman answered hisname was Wilson, and then proceeded. I stayed a very little while at school after his death; for, being aforward youth, I was extremely impatient to be in the world, for which Ithought my parts, knowledge, and manhood thoroughly qualified me. And tothis early introduction into life, without a guide, I impute all myfuture misfortunes; for, besides the obvious mischiefs which attendthis, there is one which hath not been so generally observed: the firstimpression which mankind receives of you will be very difficult toeradicate. How unhappy, therefore, must it be to fix your character inlife, before you can possibly know its value, or weigh the consequencesof those actions which are to establish your future reputation! A little under seventeen I left my school, and went to London with nomore than six pounds in my pocket; a great sum, as I then conceived; andwhich I was afterwards surprized to find so soon consumed. The character I was ambitious of attaining was that of a fine gentleman;the first requisites to which I apprehended were to be supplied by ataylor, a periwig-maker, and some few more tradesmen, who deal infurnishing out the human body. Notwithstanding the lowness of my purse, I found credit with them more easily than I expected, and was soonequipped to my wish. This I own then agreeably surprized me; but I havesince learned that it is a maxim among many tradesmen at the polite endof the town to deal as largely as they can, reckon as high as they can, and arrest as soon as they can. The next qualifications, namely, dancing, fencing, riding the greathorse, and music, came into my head: but, as they required expense andtime, I comforted myself, with regard to dancing, that I had learned alittle in my youth, and could walk a minuet genteelly enough; as tofencing, I thought my good-humour would preserve me from the danger of aquarrel; as to the horse, I hoped it would not be thought of; and formusic, I imagined I could easily acquire the reputation of it; for I hadheard some of my schoolfellows pretend to knowledge in operas, withoutbeing able to sing or play on the fiddle. Knowledge of the town seemed another ingredient; this I thought I shouldarrive at by frequenting public places. Accordingly I paid constantattendance to them all; by which means I was soon master of thefashionable phrases, learned to cry up the fashionable diversions, andknew the names and faces of the most fashionable men and women. Nothing now seemed to remain but an intrigue, which I was resolved tohave immediately; I mean the reputation of it; and indeed I was sosuccessful, that in a very short time I had half-a-dozen with the finestwomen in town. At these words Adams fetched a deep groan, and then, blessing himself, cried out, "Good Lord! what wicked times these are!" Not so wicked as you imagine, continued the gentleman; for I assure youthey were all vestal virgins for anything which I knew to the contrary. The reputation of intriguing with them was all I sought, and was what Iarrived at: and perhaps I only flattered myself even in that; for veryprobably the persons to whom I showed their billets knew as well as Ithat they were counterfeits, and that I had written them to myself. "Write letters to yourself!" said Adams, staring. O sir, answered thegentleman, it is the very error of the times. Half our modern plays haveone of these characters in them. It is incredible the pains I havetaken, and the absurd methods I employed, to traduce the character ofwomen of distinction. When another had spoken in raptures of any one, Ihave answered, "D--n her, she! We shall have her at H----d's very soon. "When he hath replied, "He thought her virtuous, " I have answered, "Ay, thou wilt always think a woman virtuous, till she is in the streets; butyou and I, Jack or Tom (turning to another in company), know better. " Atwhich I have drawn a paper out of my pocket, perhaps a taylor's bill, and kissed it, crying at the same time, "By Gad I was once fond of her. " "Proceed, if you please, but do not swear any more, " said Adams. Sir, said the gentleman, I ask your pardon. Well, sir, in this course oflife I continued full three years. --"What course of life?" answeredAdams; "I do not remember you have mentioned any. "--Your remark is just, said the gentleman, smiling; I should rather have said, in this courseof doing nothing. I remember some time afterwards I wrote the journal ofone day, which would serve, I believe, as well for any other during thewhole time. I will endeavour to repeat it to you. In the morning I arose, took my great stick, and walked out in my greenfrock, with my hair in papers (a groan from Adams), and sauntered abouttill ten. Went to the auction; told lady ---- she had a dirty face;laughed heartily at something captain ---- said, I can't remember what, for I did not very well hear it; whispered lord ----; bowed to the dukeof ----; and was going to bid for a snuff-box, but did not, for fear Ishould have had it. From 2 to 4, drest myself. _A groan. _ 4 to 6, dined. _A groan. _ 6 to 8, coffee-house. 8 to 9, Drury-lane playhouse. 9 to 10, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 10 to 12, Drawing-room. _A great groan. _ At all which places nothing happened worth remark. At which Adams said, with some vehemence, "Sir, this is below the lifeof an animal, hardly above vegetation: and I am surprized what couldlead a man of your sense into it. " What leads us into more follies thanyou imagine, doctor, answered the gentleman--vanity; for as contemptiblea creature as I was, and I assure you, yourself cannot have morecontempt for such a wretch than I now have, I then admired myself, andshould have despised a person of your present appearance (you willpardon me), with all your learning and those excellent qualities which Ihave remarked in you. Adams bowed, and begged him to proceed. After Ihad continued two years in this course of life, said the gentleman, anaccident happened which obliged me to change the scene. As I was one dayat St James's coffee-house, making very free with the character of ayoung lady of quality, an officer of the guards, who was present, thought proper to give me the lye. I answered I might possibly bemistaken, but I intended to tell no more than the truth. To which hemade no reply but by a scornful sneer. After this I observed a strangecoldness in all my acquaintance; none of them spoke to me first, andvery few returned me even the civility of a bow. The company I used todine with left me out, and within a week I found myself in as muchsolitude at St James's as if I had been in a desart. An honest elderlyman, with a great hat and long sword, at last told me he had acompassion for my youth, and therefore advised me to show the world Iwas not such a rascal as they thought me to be. I did not at firstunderstand him; but he explained himself, and ended with telling me, ifI would write a challenge to the captain, he would, out of pure charity, go to him with it. "A very charitable person, truly!" cried Adams. Idesired till the next day, continued the gentleman, to consider on it, and, retiring to my lodgings, I weighed the consequences on both sidesas fairly as I could. On the one, I saw the risk of this alternative, either losing my own life, or having on my hands the blood of a man withwhom I was not in the least angry. I soon determined that the good whichappeared on the other was not worth this hazard. I therefore resolved toquit the scene, and presently retired to the Temple, where I tookchambers. Here I soon got a fresh set of acquaintance, who knew nothingof what had happened to me. Indeed, they were not greatly to myapprobation; for the beaus of the Temple are only the shadows of theothers. They are the affectation of affectation. The vanity of these isstill more ridiculous, if possible, than of the others. Here I met withsmart fellows who drank with lords they did not know, and intrigued withwomen they never saw. Covent Garden was now the farthest stretch of myambition; where I shone forth in the balconies at the playhouses, visited whores, made love to orange-wenches, and damned plays. Thiscareer was soon put a stop to by my surgeon, who convinced me of thenecessity of confining myself to my room for a month. At the end ofwhich, having had leisure to reflect, I resolved to quit all fartherconversation with beaus and smarts of every kind, and to avoid, ifpossible, any occasion of returning to this place of confinement. "Ithink, " said Adams, "the advice of a month's retirement and reflectionwas very proper; but I should rather have expected it from a divine thana surgeon. " The gentleman smiled at Adams's simplicity, and, withoutexplaining himself farther on such an odious subject, went on thus: Iwas no sooner perfectly restored to health than I found my passion forwomen, which I was afraid to satisfy as I had done, made me very uneasy;I determined, therefore, to keep a mistress. Nor was I long before Ifixed my choice on a young woman, who had before been kept by twogentlemen, and to whom I was recommended by a celebrated bawd. I tookher home to my chambers, and made her a settlement during cohabitation. This would, perhaps, have been very ill paid: however, she did notsuffer me to be perplexed on that account; for, before quarter-day, Ifound her at my chambers in too familiar conversation with a youngfellow who was drest like an officer, but was indeed a city apprentice. Instead of excusing her inconstancy, she rapped out half-a-dozen oaths, and, snapping her fingers at me, swore she scorned to confine herself tothe best man in England. Upon this we parted, and the same bawdpresently provided her another keeper. I was not so much concerned atour separation as I found, within a day or two, I had reason to be forour meeting; for I was obliged to pay a second visit to my surgeon. Iwas now forced to do penance for some weeks, during which time Icontracted an acquaintance with a beautiful young girl, the daughter ofa gentleman who, after having been forty years in the army, and in allthe campaigns under the Duke of Marlborough, died a lieutenant onhalf-pay, and had left a widow, with this only child, in very distrestcircumstances: they had only a small pension from the government, withwhat little the daughter could add to it by her work, for she had greatexcellence at her needle. This girl was, at my first acquaintance withher, solicited in marriage by a young fellow in good circumstances. Hewas apprentice to a linendraper, and had a little fortune, sufficient toset up his trade. The mother was greatly pleased with this match, asindeed she had sufficient reason. However, I soon prevented it. Irepresented him in so low a light to his mistress, and made so good anuse of flattery, promises, and presents, that, not to dwell longer onthis subject than is necessary, I prevailed with the poor girl, andconveyed her away from her mother! In a word, I debauched her. --(Atwhich words Adams started up, fetched three strides across the room, andthen replaced himself in his chair. ) You are not more affected with thispart of my story than myself; I assure you it will never be sufficientlyrepented of in my own opinion: but, if you already detest it, how muchmore will your indignation be raised when you hear the fatalconsequences of this barbarous, this villanous action! If you please, therefore, I will here desist. --"By no means, " cries Adams; "go on, Ibeseech you; and Heaven grant you may sincerely repent of this and manyother things you have related!"--I was now, continued the gentleman, ashappy as the possession of a fine young creature, who had a goodeducation, and was endued with many agreeable qualities, could make me. We lived some months with vast fondness together, without any company orconversation, more than we found in one another: but this could notcontinue always; and, though I still preserved great affection for her, I began more and more to want the relief of other company, andconsequently to leave her by degrees--at last whole days to herself. Shefailed not to testify some uneasiness on these occasions, and complainedof the melancholy life she led; to remedy which, I introduced her intothe acquaintance of some other kept mistresses, with whom she used toplay at cards, and frequent plays and other diversions. She had notlived long in this intimacy before I perceived a visible alteration inher behaviour; all her modesty and innocence vanished by degrees, tillher mind became thoroughly tainted. She affected the company of rakes, gave herself all manner of airs, was never easy but abroad, or when shehad a party at my chambers. She was rapacious of money, extravagant toexcess, loose in her conversation; and, if ever I demurred to any of herdemands, oaths, tears, and fits were the immediate consequences. As thefirst raptures of fondness were long since over, this behaviour soonestranged my affections from her; I began to reflect with pleasure thatshe was not my wife, and to conceive an intention of parting with her;of which, having given her a hint, she took care to prevent me the painsof turning her out of doors, and accordingly departed herself, havingfirst broken open my escrutore, and taken with her all she could find, to the amount of about £200. In the first heat of my resentment Iresolved to pursue her with all the vengeance of the law: but, as shehad the good luck to escape me during that ferment, my passionafterwards cooled; and, having reflected that I had been the firstaggressor, and had done her an injury for which I could make her noreparation, by robbing her of the innocence of her mind; and hearing atthe same time that the poor old woman her mother had broke her heart onher daughter's elopement from her, I, concluding myself her murderer("As you very well might, " cries Adams, with a groan), was pleased thatGod Almighty had taken this method of punishing me, and resolved quietlyto submit to the loss. Indeed, I could wish I had never heard more ofthe poor creature, who became in the end an abandoned profligate; and, after being some years a common prostitute, at last ended her miserablelife in Newgate. --Here the gentleman fetched a deep sigh, which Mr Adamsechoed very loudly; and both continued silent, looking on each other forsome minutes. At last the gentleman proceeded thus: I had been perfectlyconstant to this girl during the whole time I kept her: but she hadscarce departed before I discovered more marks of her infidelity to methan the loss of my money. In short, I was forced to make a third visitto my surgeon, out of whose hands I did not get a hasty discharge. I now forswore all future dealings with the sex, complained loudly thatthe pleasure did not compensate the pain, and railed at the beautifulcreatures in as gross language as Juvenal himself formerly reviled themin. I looked on all the town harlots with a detestation not easy to beconceived, their persons appeared to me as painted palaces, inhabited byDisease and Death: nor could their beauty make them more desirableobjects in my eyes than gilding could make me covet a pill, or goldenplates a coffin. But though I was no longer the absolute slave, I foundsome reasons to own myself still the subject, of love. My hatred forwomen decreased daily; and I am not positive but time might havebetrayed me again to some common harlot, had I not been secured by apassion for the charming Sapphira, which, having once entered upon, madea violent progress in my heart. Sapphira was wife to a man of fashionand gallantry, and one who seemed, I own, every way worthy of heraffections; which, however, he had not the reputation of having. She wasindeed a coquette _achevée_. "Pray, sir, " says Adams, "what is acoquette? I have met with the word in French authors, but never couldassign any idea to it. I believe it is the same with _une sotte, _Anglicè, a fool. " Sir, answered the gentleman, perhaps you are not muchmistaken; but, as it is a particular kind of folly, I will endeavour todescribe it. Were all creatures to be ranked in the order of creationaccording to their usefulness, I know few animals that would not takeplace of a coquette; nor indeed hath this creature much pretence toanything beyond instinct; for, though sometimes we might imagine it wasanimated by the passion of vanity, yet far the greater part of itsactions fall beneath even that low motive; for instance, several absurdgestures and tricks, infinitely more foolish than what can be observedin the most ridiculous birds and beasts, and which would persuade thebeholder that the silly wretch was aiming at our contempt. Indeed itscharacteristic is affectation, and this led and governed by whim only:for as beauty, wisdom, wit, good-nature, politeness, and health aresometimes affected by this creature, so are ugliness, folly, nonsense, ill-nature, ill-breeding, and sickness likewise put on by it in theirturn. Its life is one constant lie; and the only rule by which you canform any judgment of them is, that they are never what they seem. If itwas possible for a coquette to love (as it is not, for if ever itattains this passion the coquette ceases instantly), it would wear theface of indifference, if not of hatred, to the beloved object; you maytherefore be assured, when they endeavour to persuade you of theirliking, that they are indifferent to you at least. And indeed this wasthe case of my Sapphira, who no sooner saw me in the number of heradmirers than she gave me what is commonly called encouragement: shewould often look at me, and, when she perceived me meet her eyes, wouldinstantly take them off, discovering at the same time as much surprizeand emotion as possible. These arts failed not of the success sheintended; and, as I grew more particular to her than the rest of heradmirers, she advanced, in proportion, more directly to me than to theothers. She affected the low voice, whisper, lisp, sigh, start, laugh, and many other indications of passion which daily deceive thousands. When I played at whist with her, she would look earnestly at me, and atthe same time lose deal or revoke; then burst into a ridiculous laughand cry, "La! I can't imagine what I was thinking of. " To detain you nolonger, after I had gone through a sufficient course of gallantry, as Ithought, and was thoroughly convinced I had raised a violent passion inmy mistress, I sought an opportunity of coming to an eclaircissementwith her. She avoided this as much as possible; however, great assiduityat length presented me one. I will not describe all the particulars ofthis interview; let it suffice that, when she could no longer pretendnot to see my drift, she first affected a violent surprize, andimmediately after as violent a passion: she wondered what I had seen inher conduct which could induce me to affront her in this manner; and, breaking from me the first moment she could, told me I had no other wayto escape the consequence of her resentment than by never seeing, or atleast speaking to her more. I was not contented with this answer; Istill pursued her, but to no purpose; and was at length convinced thather husband had the sole possession of her person, and that neither henor any other had made any impression on her heart. I was taken off fromfollowing this _ignis fatuus_ by some advances which were made me by thewife of a citizen, who, though neither very young nor handsome, was yettoo agreeable to be rejected by my amorous constitution. I accordinglysoon satisfied her that she had not cast away her hints on a barren orcold soil: on the contrary, they instantly produced her an eager anddesiring lover. Nor did she give me any reason to complain; she met thewarmth she had raised with equal ardour. I had no longer a coquette todeal with, but one who was wiser than to prostitute the noble passion oflove to the ridiculous lust of vanity. We presently understood oneanother; and, as the pleasures we sought lay in a mutual gratification, we soon found and enjoyed them. I thought myself at first greatly happyin the possession of this new mistress, whose fondness would havequickly surfeited a more sickly appetite; but it had a different effecton mine: she carried my passion higher by it than youth or beauty hadbeen able. But my happiness could not long continue uninterrupted. Theapprehensions we lay under from the jealousy of her husband gave usgreat uneasiness. "Poor wretch! I pity him, " cried Adams. He did indeeddeserve it, said the gentleman; for he loved his wife with greattenderness; and, I assure you, it is a great satisfaction to me that Iwas not the man who first seduced her affections from him. Theseapprehensions appeared also too well grounded, for in the end hediscovered us, and procured witnesses of our caresses. He thenprosecuted me at law, and recovered £3000 damages, which much distressedmy fortune to pay; and, what was worse, his wife, being divorced, cameupon my hands. I led a very uneasy life with her; for, besides that mypassion was now much abated, her excessive jealousy was verytroublesome. At length death rid me of an inconvenience which theconsideration of my having been the author of her misfortunes wouldnever suffer me to take any other method of discarding. I now bad adieu to love, and resolved to pursue other less dangerous andexpensive pleasures. I fell into the acquaintance of a set of jollycompanions, who slept all day and drank all night; fellows who mightrather be said to consume time than to live. Their best conversation wasnothing but noise: singing, hollowing, wrangling, drinking, toasting, sp--wing, smoaking were the chief ingredients of our entertainment. Andyet, bad as these were, they were more tolerable than our graver scenes, which were either excessive tedious narratives of dull common matters offact, or hot disputes about trifling matters, which commonly ended in awager. This way of life the first serious reflection put a period to;and I became member of a club frequented by young men of greatabilities. The bottle was now only called in to the assistance of ourconversation, which rolled on the deepest points of philosophy. Thesegentlemen were engaged in a search after truth, in the pursuit of whichthey threw aside all the prejudices of education, and governedthemselves only by the infallible guide of human reason. This greatguide, after having shown them the falsehood of that very ancient butsimple tenet, that there is such a being as a Deity in the universe, helped them to establish in his stead a certain rule of right, byadhering to which they all arrived at the utmost purity of morals. Reflection made me as much delighted with this society as it had taughtme to despise and detest the former. I began now to esteem myself abeing of a higher order than I had ever before conceived; and was themore charmed with this rule of right, as I really found in my own naturenothing repugnant to it. I held in utter contempt all persons who wantedany other inducement to virtue besides her intrinsic beauty andexcellence; and had so high an opinion of my present companions, withregard to their morality, that I would have trusted them with whateverwas nearest and dearest to me. Whilst I was engaged in this delightfuldream, two or three accidents happened successively, which at first muchsurprized me;--for one of our greatest philosophers, or rule-of-rightmen, withdrew himself from us, taking with him the wife of one of hismost intimate friends. Secondly, another of the same society left theclub without remembering to take leave of his bail. A third, havingborrowed a sum of money of me, for which I received no security, when Iasked him to repay it, absolutely denied the loan. These severalpractices, so inconsistent with our golden rule, made me begin tosuspect its infallibility; but when I communicated my thoughts to one ofthe club, he said, "There was nothing absolutely good or evil in itself;that actions were denominated good or bad by the circumstances of theagent. That possibly the man who ran away with his neighbour's wifemight be one of very good inclinations, but over-prevailed on by theviolence of an unruly passion; and, in other particulars, might be avery worthy member of society; that if the beauty of any woman createdin him an uneasiness, he had a right from nature to relievehimself;"--with many other things, which I then detested so much, that Itook leave of the society that very evening and never returned to itagain. Being now reduced to a state of solitude which I did not like, Ibecame a great frequenter of the playhouses, which indeed was always myfavourite diversion; and most evenings passed away two or three hoursbehind the scenes, where I met with several poets, with whom I madeengagements at the taverns. Some of the players were likewise of ourparties. At these meetings we were generally entertained by the poetswith reading their performances, and by the players with repeating theirparts: upon which occasions, I observed the gentleman who furnished ourentertainment was commonly the best pleased of the company; who, thoughthey were pretty civil to him to his face, seldom failed to take thefirst opportunity of his absence to ridicule him. Now I made someremarks which probably are too obvious to be worth relating. "Sir, " saysAdams, "your remarks if you please. " First then, says he, I concludedthat the general observation, that wits are most inclined to vanity, isnot true. Men are equally vain of riches, strength, beauty, honours, &c. But these appear of themselves to the eyes of the beholders, whereas thepoor wit is obliged to produce his performance to show you hisperfection; and on his readiness to do this that vulgar opinion I havebefore mentioned is grounded; but doth not the person who expends vastsums in the furniture of his house or the ornaments of his person, whoconsumes much time and employs great pains in dressing himself, or whothinks himself paid for self-denial, labour, or even villany, by a titleor a ribbon, sacrifice as much to vanity as the poor wit who is desirousto read you his poem or his play? My second remark was, that vanity isthe worst of passions, and more apt to contaminate the mind than anyother: for, as selfishness is much more general than we please to allowit, so it is natural to hate and envy those who stand between us and thegood we desire. Now, in lust and ambition these are few; and even inavarice we find many who are no obstacles to our pursuits; but the vainman seeks pre-eminence; and everything which is excellent orpraiseworthy in another renders him the mark of his antipathy. Adams nowbegan to fumble in his pockets, and soon cried out, "O la! I have it notabout me. " Upon this, the gentleman asking him what he was searchingfor, he said he searched after a sermon, which he thought hismasterpiece, against vanity. "Fie upon it, fie upon it!" cries he, "whydo I ever leave that sermon out of my pocket? I wish it was within fivemiles; I would willingly fetch it, to read it you. " The gentlemananswered that there was no need, for he was cured of the passion. "Andfor that very reason, " quoth Adams, "I would read it, for I am confidentyou would admire it: indeed, I have never been a greater enemy to anypassion than that silly one of vanity. " The gentleman smiled, andproceeded--From this society I easily passed to that of the gamesters, where nothing remarkable happened but the finishing my fortune, whichthose gentlemen soon helped me to the end of. This opened scenes of lifehitherto unknown; poverty and distress, with their horrid train of duns, attorneys, bailiffs, haunted me day and night. My clothes grew shabby, my credit bad, my friends and acquaintance of all kinds cold. In thissituation the strangest thought imaginable came into my head; and whatwas this but to write a play? for I had sufficient leisure: fear ofbailiffs confined me every day to my room: and, having always had alittle inclination and something of a genius that way, I set myself towork, and within a few months produced a piece of five acts, which wasaccepted of at the theatre. I remembered to have formerly taken ticketsof other poets for their benefits, long before the appearance of theirperformances; and, resolving to follow a precedent which was so wellsuited to my present circumstances, I immediately provided myself with alarge number of little papers. Happy indeed would be the state ofpoetry, would these tickets pass current at the bakehouse, theale-house, and the chandler's shop: but alas! far otherwise; no taylorwill take them in payment for buckram, canvas, stay-tape; nor no bailifffor civility money. They are, indeed, no more than a passport to begwith; a certificate that the owner wants five shillings, which induceswell-disposed Christians to charity. I now experienced what is worsethan poverty, or rather what is the worst consequence of poverty--I meanattendance and dependance on the great. Many a morning have I waitedhours in the cold parlours of men of quality; where, after seeing thelowest rascals in lace and embroidery, the pimps and buffoons infashion, admitted, I have been sometimes told, on sending in my name, that my lord could not possibly see me this morning; a sufficientassurance that I should never more get entrance into that house. Sometimes I have been at last admitted; and the great man hath thoughtproper to excuse himself, by telling me he was tied up. "Tied up, " saysAdams, "pray what's that?" Sir, says the gentleman, the profit whichbooksellers allowed authors for the best works was so very small, thatcertain men of birth and fortune some years ago, who were the patrons ofwit and learning, thought fit to encourage them farther by entering intovoluntary subscriptions for their encouragement. Thus Prior, Rowe, Pope, and some other men of genius, received large sums for their labours fromthe public. This seemed so easy a method of getting money, that many ofthe lowest scribblers of the times ventured to publish their works inthe same way; and many had the assurance to take in subscriptions forwhat was not writ, nor ever intended. Subscriptions in this mannergrowing infinite, and a kind of tax on the publick, some persons, finding it not so easy a task to discern good from bad authors, or toknow what genius was worthy encouragement and what was not, to preventthe expense of subscribing to so many, invented a method to excusethemselves from all subscriptions whatever; and this was to receive asmall sum of money in consideration of giving a large one if ever theysubscribed; which many have done, and many more have pretended to havedone, in order to silence all solicitation. The same method was likewisetaken with playhouse tickets, which were no less a public grievance; andthis is what they call being tied up from subscribing. "I can't say butthe term is apt enough, and somewhat typical, " said Adams; "for a man oflarge fortune, who ties himself up, as you call it, from theencouragement of men of merit, ought to be tied up in reality. " Well, sir, says the gentleman, to return to my story. Sometimes I havereceived a guinea from a man of quality, given with as ill a grace asalms are generally to the meanest beggar; and purchased too with as muchtime spent in attendance as, if it had been spent in honest industry, might have brought me more profit with infinitely more satisfaction. After about two months spent in this disagreeable way, with the utmostmortification, when I was pluming my hopes on the prospect of aplentiful harvest from my play, upon applying to the prompter to knowwhen it came into rehearsal, he informed me he had received orders fromthe managers to return me the play again, for that they could notpossibly act it that season; but, if I would take it and revise itagainst the next, they would be glad to see it again. I snatched it fromhim with great indignation, and retired to my room, where I threw myselfon the bed in a fit of despair. "You should rather have thrown yourselfon your knees, " says Adams, "for despair is sinful. " As soon, continuedthe gentleman, as I had indulged the first tumult of my passion, I beganto consider coolly what course I should take, in a situation withoutfriends, money, credit, or reputation of any kind. After revolving manythings in my mind, I could see no other possibility of furnishing myselfwith the miserable necessaries of life than to retire to a garret nearthe Temple, and commence hackney-writer to the lawyers, for which I waswell qualified, being an excellent penman. This purpose I resolved on, and immediately put it in execution. I had an acquaintance with anattorney who had formerly transacted affairs for me, and to him Iapplied; but, instead of furnishing me with any business, he laughed atmy undertaking, and told me, "He was afraid I should turn his deeds intoplays, and he should expect to see them on the stage. " Not to tire youwith instances of this kind from others, I found that Plato himself didnot hold poets in greater abhorrence than these men of business do. Whenever I durst venture to a coffeehouse, which was on Sundays only, awhisper ran round the room, which was constantly attended with asneer--That's poet Wilson; for I know not whether you have observed it, but there is a malignity in the nature of man, which, when not weededout, or at least covered by a good education and politeness, delights inmaking another uneasy or dissatisfied with himself. This abundantlyappears in all assemblies, except those which are filled by people offashion, and especially among the younger people of both sexes whosebirth and fortunes place them just without the polite circles; I meanthe lower class of the gentry, and the higher of the mercantile world, who are, in reality, the worst-bred part of mankind. Well, sir, whilst Icontinued in this miserable state, with scarce sufficient business tokeep me from starving, the reputation of a poet being my bane, Iaccidentally became acquainted with a bookseller, who told me, "It was apity a man of my learning and genius should be obliged to such a methodof getting his livelihood; that he had a compassion for me, and, if Iwould engage with him, he would undertake to provide handsomely for me. "A man in my circumstances, as he very well knew, had no choice. Iaccordingly accepted his proposal with his conditions, which were noneof the most favourable, and fell to translating with all my might. I hadno longer reason to lament the want of business; for he furnished mewith so much, that in half a year I almost writ myself blind. I likewisecontracted a distemper by my sedentary life, in which no part of my bodywas exercised but my right arm, which rendered me incapable of writingfor a long time. This unluckily happening to delay the publication of awork, and my last performance not having sold well, the booksellerdeclined any further engagement, and aspersed me to his brethren as acareless idle fellow. I had, however, by having half worked and halfstarved myself to death during the time I was in his service, saved afew guineas, with which I bought a lottery-ticket, resolving to throwmyself into Fortune's lap, and try if she would make me amends for theinjuries she had done me at the gaming-table. This purchase, being made, left me almost pennyless; when, as if I had not been sufficientlymiserable, a bailiff in woman's clothes got admittance to my chamber, whither he was directed by the bookseller. He arrested me at my taylor'ssuit for thirty-five pounds; a sum for which I could not procure bail;and was therefore conveyed to his house, where I was locked up in anupper chamber. I had now neither health (for I was scarce recovered frommy indisposition), liberty, money, or friends; and had abandoned allhopes, and even the desire, of life. "But this could not last long, "said Adams; "for doubtless the taylor released you the moment he wastruly acquainted with your affairs, and knew that your circumstanceswould not permit you to pay him. " "Oh, sir, " answered the gentleman, "heknew that before he arrested me; nay, he knew that nothing butincapacity could prevent me paying my debts; for I had been his customermany years, had spent vast sums of money with him, and had always paidmost punctually in my prosperous days; but when I reminded him of this, with assurances that, if he would not molest my endeavours, I would payhim all the money I could by my utmost labour and industry procure, reserving only what was sufficient to preserve me alive, he answered, his patience was worn out; that I had put him off from time to time;that he wanted the money; that he had put it into a lawyer's hands; andif I did not pay him immediately, or find security, I must die in gaoland expect no mercy. " "He may expect mercy, " cries Adams, starting fromhis chair, "where he will find none! How can such a wretch repeat theLord's Prayer; where the word, which is translated, I know not for whatreason, trespasses, is in the original, debts? And as surely as we donot forgive others their debts, when they are unable to pay them, sosurely shall we ourselves be unforgiven when we are in no condition ofpaying. " He ceased, and the gentleman proceeded. While I was in thisdeplorable situation, a former acquaintance, to whom I had communicatedmy lottery-ticket, found me out, and, making me a visit, with greatdelight in his countenance, shook me heartily by the hand, and wished mejoy of my good fortune: for, says he, your ticket is come up a prize of£3000. Adams snapped his fingers at these words in an ecstasy of joy;which, however, did not continue long; for the gentleman thusproceeded:--Alas! sir, this was only a trick of Fortune to sink me thedeeper; for I had disposed of this lottery-ticket two days before to arelation, who refused lending me a shilling without it, in order toprocure myself bread. As soon as my friend was acquainted with myunfortunate sale he began to revile me and remind me of all theill-conduct and miscarriages of my life. He said I was one whom Fortunecould not save if she would; that I was now ruined without any hopes ofretrieval, nor must expect any pity from my friends; that it would beextreme weakness to compassionate the misfortunes of a man who ranheadlong to his own destruction. He then painted to me, in as livelycolours as he was able, the happiness I should have now enjoyed, had Inot foolishly disposed of my ticket. I urged the plea of necessity; buthe made no answer to that, and began again to revile me, till I couldbear it no longer, and desired him to finish his visit. I soon exchangedthe bailiff's house for a prison; where, as I had not money sufficientto procure me a separate apartment, I was crouded in with a great numberof miserable wretches, in common with whom I was destitute of everyconvenience of life, even that which all the brutes enjoy, wholesomeair. In these dreadful circumstances I applied by letter to several ofmy old acquaintance, and such to whom I had formerly lent money withoutany great prospect of its being returned, for their assistance; but invain. An excuse, instead of a denial, was the gentlest answer Ireceived. Whilst I languished in a condition too horrible to bedescribed, and which, in a land of humanity, and, what is much more, Christianity, seems a strange punishment for a little inadvertency andindiscretion; whilst I was in this condition, a fellow came into theprison, and, enquiring me out, delivered me the following letter:-- "SIR, --My father, to whom you sold your ticket in the last lottery, died the same day in which it came up a prize, as you have possibly heard, and left me sole heiress of all his fortune. I am so much touched with your present circumstances, and the uneasiness you must feel at having been driven to dispose of what might have made you happy, that I must desire your acceptance of the enclosed, and am your humble servant, "HARRIET HEARTY. " And what do you think was enclosed? "I don't know, " cried Adams; "notless than a guinea, I hope. " Sir, it was a bank-note for £200. --"£200?"says Adams, in a rapture. No less, I assure you, answered the gentleman;a sum I was not half so delighted with as with the dear name of thegenerous girl that sent it me; and who was not only the best but thehandsomest creature in the universe, and for whom I had long had apassion which I never durst disclose to her. I kissed her name athousand times, my eyes overflowing with tenderness and gratitude; Irepeated--But not to detain you with these raptures, I immediatelyacquired my liberty; and, having paid all my debts, departed, withupwards of fifty pounds in my pocket, to thank my kind deliverer. Shehappened to be then out of town, a circumstance which, upon reflection, pleased me; for by that means I had an opportunity to appear before herin a more decent dress. At her return to town, within a day or two, Ithrew myself at her feet with the most ardent acknowledgments, which sherejected with an unfeigned greatness of mind, and told me I could notoblige her more than by never mentioning, or if possible thinking on, acircumstance which must bring to my mind an accident that might begrievous to me to think on. She proceeded thus: "What I have done is inmy own eyes a trifle, and perhaps infinitely less than would have becomeme to do. And if you think of engaging in any business where a largersum may be serviceable to you, I shall not be over-rigid either as tothe security or interest. " I endeavoured to express all the gratitude inmy power to this profusion of goodness, though perhaps it was my enemy, and began to afflict my mind with more agonies than all the miseries Ihad underwent; it affected me with severer reflections than poverty, distress, and prisons united had been able to make me feel; for, sir, these acts and professions of kindness, which were sufficient to haveraised in a good heart the most violent passion of friendship to one ofthe same, or to age and ugliness in a different sex, came to me from awoman, a young and beautiful woman; one whose perfections I had longknown, and for whom I had long conceived a violent passion, though witha despair which made me endeavour rather to curb and conceal, than tonourish or acquaint her with it. In short, they came upon me united withbeauty, softness, and tenderness: such bewitching smiles!--O Mr Adams, in that moment I lost myself, and, forgetting our different situations, nor considering what return I was making to her goodness by desiringher, who had given me so much, to bestow her all, I laid gently hold onher hand, and, conveying it to my lips, I prest it with inconceivableardour; then, lifting up my swimming eyes, I saw her face and neckoverspread with one blush; she offered to withdraw her hand, yet not soas to deliver it from mine, though I held it with the gentlest force. Weboth stood trembling; her eyes cast on the ground, and mine stedfastlyfixed on her. Good G--d, what was then the condition of my soul! burningwith love, desire, admiration, gratitude, and every tender passion, allbent on one charming object. Passion at last got the better of bothreason and respect, and, softly letting go her hand, I offered madly toclasp her in my arms; when, a little recovering herself, she startedfrom me, asking me, with some show of anger, "If she had any reason toexpect this treatment from me. " I then fell prostrate before her, andtold her, if I had offended, my life was absolutely in her power, whichI would in any manner lose for her sake. Nay, madam, said I, you shallnot be so ready to punish me as I to suffer. I own my guilt. I detestthe reflection that I would have sacrificed your happiness to mine. Believe me, I sincerely repent my ingratitude; yet, believe me too, itwas my passion, my unbounded passion for you, which hurried me so far: Ihave loved you long and tenderly, and the goodness you have shown mehath innocently weighed down a wretch undone before. Acquit me of allmean, mercenary views; and, before I take my leave of you for ever, which I am resolved instantly to do, believe me that Fortune could haveraised me to no height to which I could not have gladly lifted you. O, curst be Fortune!--"Do not, " says she, interrupting me with the sweetestvoice, "do not curse Fortune, since she hath made me happy; and, if shehath put your happiness in my power, I have told you you shall asknothing in reason which I will refuse. " Madam, said I, you mistake me ifyou imagine, as you seem, my happiness is in the power of Fortune now. You have obliged me too much already; if I have any wish, it is for someblest accident, by which I may contribute with my life to the leastaugmentation of your felicity. As for myself, the only happiness I canever have will be hearing of yours; and if Fortune will make thatcomplete, I will forgive her all her wrongs to me. "You may, indeed, "answered she, smiling, "for your own happiness must be included in mine. I have long known your worth; nay, I must confess, " said she, blushing, "I have long discovered that passion for me you profess, notwithstandingthose endeavours, which I am convinced were unaffected, to conceal it;and if all I can give with reason will not suffice, take reason away;and now I believe you cannot ask me what I will deny. "--She utteredthese words with a sweetness not to be imagined. I immediately started;my blood, which lay freezing at my heart, rushed tumultuously throughevery vein. I stood for a moment silent; then, flying to her, I caughther in my arms, no longer resisting, and softly told her she must giveme then herself. O, sir! can I describe her look? She remained silent, and almost motionless, several minutes. At last, recovering herself alittle, she insisted on my leaving her, and in such a manner that Iinstantly obeyed: you may imagine, however, I soon saw her again. --But Iask pardon: I fear I have detained you too long in relating theparticulars of the former interview. "So far otherwise, " said Adams, licking his lips, "that I could willingly hear it over again. " Well, sir, continued the gentleman, to be as concise as possible, within aweek she consented to make me the happiest of mankind. We were marriedshortly after; and when I came to examine the circumstances of my wife'sfortune (which, I do assure you, I was not presently at leisure enoughto do), I found it amounted to about six thousand pounds, most part ofwhich lay in effects; for her father had been a wine-merchant, and sheseemed willing, if I liked it, that I should carry on the same trade. Ireadily, and too inconsiderately, undertook it; for, not having beenbred up to the secrets of the business, and endeavouring to deal withthe utmost honesty and uprightness, I soon found our fortune in adeclining way, and my trade decreasing by little and little; for mywines, which I never adulterated after their importation, and were soldas neat as they came over, were universally decried by the vintners, towhom I could not allow them quite as cheap as those who gained doublethe profit by a less price. I soon began to despair of improving ourfortune by these means; nor was I at all easy at the visits andfamiliarity of many who had been my acquaintance in my prosperity, buthad denied and shunned me in my adversity, and now very forwardlyrenewed their acquaintance with me. In short, I had sufficiently seenthat the pleasures of the world are chiefly folly, and the business ofit mostly knavery, and both nothing better than vanity; the men ofpleasure tearing one another to pieces from the emulation of spendingmoney, and the men of business from envy in getting it. My happinessconsisted entirely in my wife, whom I loved with an inexpressiblefondness, which was perfectly returned; and my prospects were no otherthan to provide for our growing family; for she was now big of hersecond child: I therefore took an opportunity to ask her opinion ofentering into a retired life, which, after hearing my reasons andperceiving my affection for it, she readily embraced. We soon put oursmall fortune, now reduced under three thousand pounds, into money, withpart of which we purchased this little place, whither we retired soonafter her delivery, from a world full of bustle, noise, hatred, envy, and ingratitude, to ease, quiet, and love. We have here lived almosttwenty years, with little other conversation than our own, most of theneighbourhood taking us for very strange people; the squire of theparish representing me as a madman, and the parson as a presbyterian, because I will not hunt with the one nor drink with the other. "Sir, "says Adams, "Fortune hath, I think, paid you all her debts in this sweetretirement. " Sir, replied the gentleman, I am thankful to the greatAuthor of all things for the blessings I here enjoy. I have the best ofwives, and three pretty children, for whom I have the true tenderness ofa parent. But no blessings are pure in this world: within three years ofmy arrival here I lost my eldest son. (Here he sighed bitterly. ) "Sir, "says Adams, "we must submit to Providence, and consider death as commonto all. " We must submit, indeed, answered the gentleman; and if he haddied I could have borne the loss with patience; but alas! sir, he wasstolen away from my door by some wicked travelling people whom they callgipsies; nor could I ever, with the most diligent search, recover him. Poor child! he had the sweetest look--the exact picture of his mother;at which some tears unwittingly dropt from his eyes, as did likewisefrom those of Adams, who always sympathized with his friends on thoseoccasions. Thus, sir, said the gentleman, I have finished my story, inwhich if I have been too particular, I ask your pardon; and now, if youplease, I will fetch you another bottle: which proposal the parsonthankfully accepted. CHAPTER IV. _A description of Mr Wilson's way of living. The tragical adventure ofthe dog, and other grave matters. _ The gentleman returned with the bottle; and Adams and he sat some timesilent, when the former started up, and cried, "No, that won't do. " Thegentleman inquired into his meaning; he answered, "He had beenconsidering that it was possible the late famous king Theodore mighthave been that very son whom he had lost;" but added, "that his agecould not answer that imagination. However, " says he, "G-- disposes allthings for the best; and very probably he may be some great man, orduke, and may, one day or other, revisit you in that capacity. " Thegentleman answered, he should know him amongst ten thousand, for he hada mark on his left breast of a strawberry, which his mother had givenhim by longing for that fruit. That beautiful young lady the Morning now rose from her bed, and with acountenance blooming with fresh youth and sprightliness, like Miss----[A], with soft dews hanging on her pouting lips, began to take herearly walk over the eastern hills; and presently after, that gallantperson the Sun stole softly from his wife's chamber to pay his addressesto her; when the gentleman asked his guest if he would walk forth andsurvey his little garden, which he readily agreed to, and Joseph at thesame time awaking from a sleep in which he had been two hours buried, went with them. No parterres, no fountains, no statues, embellished thislittle garden. Its only ornament was a short walk, shaded on each sideby a filbert-hedge, with a small alcove at one end, whither in hotweather the gentleman and his wife used to retire and divert themselveswith their children, who played in the walk before them. But, thoughvanity had no votary in this little spot, here was variety of fruit andeverything useful for the kitchen, which was abundantly sufficient tocatch the admiration of Adams, who told the gentleman he had certainly agood gardener. Sir, answered he, that gardener is now before you:whatever you see here is the work solely of my own hands. Whilst I amproviding necessaries for my table, I likewise procure myself anappetite for them. In fair seasons I seldom pass less than six hours ofthe twenty-four in this place, where I am not idle; and by these means Ihave been able to preserve my health ever since my arrival here, withoutassistance from physic. Hither I generally repair at the dawn, andexercise myself whilst my wife dresses her children and prepares ourbreakfast; after which we are seldom asunder during the residue of theday, for, when the weather will not permit them to accompany me here, Iam usually within with them; for I am neither ashamed of conversing withmy wife nor of playing with my children: to say the truth, I do notperceive that inferiority of understanding which the levity of rakes, the dulness of men of business, or the austerity of the learned, wouldpersuade us of in women. As for my woman, I declare I have found none ofmy own sex capable of making juster observations on life, or ofdelivering them more agreeably; nor do I believe any one possessed of afaithfuller or braver friend. And sure as this friendship is sweetenedwith more delicacy and tenderness, so is it confirmed by dearer pledgesthan can attend the closest male alliance; for what union can be so fastas our common interest in the fruits of our embraces? Perhaps, sir, youare not yourself a father; if you are not, be assured you cannotconceive the delight I have in my little ones. Would you not despise meif you saw me stretched on the ground, and my children playing round me?"I should reverence the sight, " quoth Adams; "I myself am now the fatherof six, and have been of eleven, and I can say I never scourged a childof my own, unless as his schoolmaster, and then have felt every strokeon my own posteriors. And as to what you say concerning women, I haveoften lamented my own wife did not understand Greek. "--The gentlemansmiled, and answered, he would not be apprehended to insinuate that hisown had an understanding above the care of her family; on the contrary, says he, my Harriet, I assure you, is a notable housewife, and fewgentlemen's housekeepers understand cookery or confectionery better; butthese are arts which she hath no great occasion for now: however, thewine you commended so much last night at supper was of her own making, as is indeed all the liquor in my house, except my beer, which falls tomy province. "And I assure you it is as excellent, " quoth Adams, "asever I tasted. " We formerly kept a maid-servant, but since my girls havebeen growing up she is unwilling to indulge them in idleness; for as thefortunes I shall give them will be very small, we intend not to breedthem above the rank they are likely to fill hereafter, nor to teach themto despise or ruin a plain husband. Indeed, I could wish a man of my owntemper, and a retired life, might fall to their lot; for I haveexperienced that calm serene happiness, which is seated in content, isinconsistent with the hurry and bustle of the world. He was proceedingthus when the little things, being just risen, ran eagerly towards himand asked him blessing. They were shy to the strangers, but the eldestacquainted her father, that her mother and the young gentlewoman wereup, and that breakfast was ready. They all went in, where the gentlemanwas surprized at the beauty of Fanny, who had now recovered herself fromher fatigue, and was entirely clean drest; for the rogues who had takenaway her purse had left her her bundle. But if he was so much amazed atthe beauty of this young creature, his guests were no less charmed atthe tenderness which appeared in the behaviour of the husband and wifeto each other, and to their children, and at the dutiful andaffectionate behaviour of these to their parents. These instancespleased the well-disposed mind of Adams equally with the readiness whichthey exprest to oblige their guests, and their forwardness to offer themthe best of everything in their house; and what delighted him still morewas an instance or two of their charity; for whilst they were atbreakfast the good woman was called for to assist her sick neighbour, which she did with some cordials made for the public use, and the goodman went into his garden at the same time to supply another withsomething which he wanted thence, for they had nothing which those whowanted it were not welcome to. These good people were in the utmostcheerfulness, when they heard the report of a gun, and immediatelyafterwards a little dog, the favourite of the eldest daughter, camelimping in all bloody and laid himself at his mistress's feet: the poorgirl, who was about eleven years old, burst into tears at the sight; andpresently one of the neighbours came in and informed them that the youngsquire, the son of the lord of the manor, had shot him as he past by, swearing at the same time he would prosecute the master of him forkeeping a spaniel, for that he had given notice he would not suffer onein the parish. The dog, whom his mistress had taken into her lap, diedin a few minutes, licking her hand. She exprest great agony at his loss, and the other children began to cry for their sister's misfortune; norcould Fanny herself refrain. Whilst the father and mother attempted tocomfort her, Adams grasped his crabstick and would have sallied outafter the squire had not Joseph withheld him. He could not howeverbridle his tongue--he pronounced the word rascal with great emphasis;said he deserved to be hanged more than a highwayman, and wished he hadthe scourging him. The mother took her child, lamenting and carrying thedead favourite in her arms, out of the room, when the gentleman saidthis was the second time this squire had endeavoured to kill the littlewretch, and had wounded him smartly once before; adding, he could haveno motive but ill-nature, for the little thing, which was not near asbig as one's fist, had never been twenty yards from the house in the sixyears his daughter had had it. He said he had done nothing to deservethis usage, but his father had too great a fortune to contend with: thathe was as absolute as any tyrant in the universe, and had killed all thedogs and taken away all the guns in the neighbourhood; and not onlythat, but he trampled down hedges and rode over corn and gardens, withno more regard than if they were the highway. "I wish I could catch himin my garden, " said Adams, "though I would rather forgive him ridingthrough my house than such an ill-natured act as this. " The cheerfulness of their conversation being interrupted by thisaccident, in which the guests could be of no service to their kindentertainer; and as the mother was taken up in administering consolationto the poor girl, whose disposition was too good hastily to forget thesudden loss of her little favourite, which had been fondling with hera few minutes before; and as Joseph and Fanny were impatient to get homeand begin those previous ceremonies to their happiness which Adams hadinsisted on, they now offered to take their leave. The gentlemanimportuned them much to stay dinner; but when he found their eagernessto depart he summoned his wife; and accordingly, having performed allthe usual ceremonies of bows and curtsies more pleasant to be seen thanto be related, they took their leave, the gentleman and his wifeheartily wishing them a good journey, and they as heartily thanking themfor their kind entertainment. They then departed, Adams declaring thatthis was the manner in which the people had lived in the golden age. [A] Whoever the reader pleases. CHAPTER V. _A disputation on schools held on the road between Mr Abraham Adams andJoseph; and a discovery not unwelcome to them both. _ Our travellers, having well refreshed themselves at the gentleman'shouse, Joseph and Fanny with sleep, and Mr Abraham Adams with ale andtobacco, renewed their journey with great alacrity; and pursuing theroad into which they were directed, travelled many miles before theymet with any adventure worth relating. In this interval we shallpresent our readers with a very curious discourse, as we apprehend it, concerning public schools, which passed between Mr Joseph Andrews andMr Abraham Adams. They had not gone far before Adams, calling to Joseph, asked him, "Ifhe had attended to the gentleman's story?" He answered, "To all theformer part. "--"And don't you think, " says he, "he was a very unhappyman in his youth?"--"A very unhappy man, indeed, " answered the other. "Joseph, " cries Adams, screwing up his mouth, "I have found it; I havediscovered the cause of all the misfortunes which befel him: a publicschool, Joseph, was the cause of all the calamities which heafterwards suffered. Public schools are the nurseries of all vice andimmorality. All the wicked fellows whom I remember at the universitywere bred at them. --Ah, Lord! I can remember as well as if it was butyesterday, a knot of them; they called them King's scholars, I forgetwhy--very wicked fellows! Joseph, you may thank the Lord you were notbred at a public school; you would never have preserved your virtue asyou have. The first care I always take is of a boy's morals; I hadrather he should be a blockhead than an atheist or a presbyterian. What is all the learning in the world compared to his immortal soul?What shall a man take in exchange for his soul? But the masters ofgreat schools trouble themselves about no such thing. I have known alad of eighteen at the university, who hath not been able to say hiscatechism; but for my own part, I always scourged a lad sooner formissing that than any other lesson. Believe me, child, all thatgentleman's misfortunes arose from his being educated at a publicschool. " "It doth not become me, " answered Joseph, "to dispute anything, sir, with you, especially a matter of this kind; for to be sure you must beallowed by all the world to be the best teacher of a school in all ourcounty. " "Yes, that, " says Adams, "I believe, is granted me; that I maywithout much vanity pretend to--nay, I believe I may go to the nextcounty too--but _gloriari non est meum_. "--"However, sir, as you arepleased to bid me speak, " says Joseph, "you know my late master, SirThomas Booby, was bred at a public school, and he was the finestgentleman in all the neighbourhood. And I have often heard him say, ifhe had a hundred boys he would breed them all at the same place. It washis opinion, and I have often heard him deliver it, that a boy takenfrom a public school and carried into the world, will learn more in oneyear there than one of a private education will in five. He used to saythe school itself initiated him a great way (I remember that was hisvery expression), for great schools are little societies, where a boyof any observation may see in epitome what he will afterwards find inthe world at large. "--"_Hinc illae lachrymae_: for that very reason, "quoth Adams, "I prefer a private school, where boys may be kept ininnocence and ignorance; for, according to that fine passage in theplay of Cato, the only English tragedy I ever read-- "'If knowledge of the world must make men villains May Juba ever live in ignorance!' "Who would not rather preserve the purity of his child than wish him toattain the whole circle of arts and sciences? which, by the bye, he maylearn in the classes of a private school; for I would not be vain, but Iesteem myself to be second to none, _nulli secundum_, in teaching thesethings; so that a lad may have as much learning in a private as in apublic education. "--"And, with submission, " answered Joseph, "he may getas much vice: witness several country gentlemen, who were educatedwithin five miles of their own houses, and are as wicked as if they hadknown the world from their infancy. I remember when I was in the stable, if a young horse was vicious in his nature, no correction would make himotherwise: I take it to be equally the same among men: if a boy be of amischievous wicked inclination, no school, though ever so private, willever make him good: on the contrary, if he be of a righteous temper, youmay trust him to London, or wherever else you please--he will be in nodanger of being corrupted. Besides, I have often heard my master saythat the discipline practised in public schools was much better thanthat in private. "--"You talk like a jackanapes, " says Adams, "and so didyour master. Discipline indeed! Because one man scourges twenty orthirty boys more in a morning than another, is he therefore a betterdisciplinarian? I do presume to confer in this point with all who havetaught from Chiron's time to this day; and, if I was master of six boysonly, I would preserve as good discipline amongst them as the master ofthe greatest school in the world. I say nothing, young man; remember Isay nothing; but if Sir Thomas himself had been educated nearer home, and under the tuition of somebody--remember I name nobody--it might havebeen better for him:--but his father must institute him in the knowledgeof the world. _Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit_. " Joseph, seeing himrun on in this manner, asked pardon many times, assuring him he had nointention to offend. "I believe you had not, child, " said he, "and I amnot angry with you; but for maintaining good discipline in a school; forthis. "--And then he ran on as before, named all the masters who arerecorded in old books, and preferred himself to them all. Indeed, ifthis good man had an enthusiasm, or what the vulgar call a blind side, it was this: he thought a schoolmaster the greatest character in theworld, and himself the greatest of all schoolmasters: neither of whichpoints he would have given up to Alexander the Great at the head ofhis army. Adams continued his subject till they came to one of the beautifullestspots of ground in the universe. It was a kind of natural amphitheatre, formed by the winding of a small rivulet, which was planted with thickwoods, and the trees rose gradually above each other by the naturalascent of the ground they stood on; which ascent as they hid with theirboughs, they seemed to have been disposed by the design of the mostskilful planter. The soil was spread with a verdure which no paint couldimitate; and the whole place might have raised romantic ideas in elderminds than those of Joseph and Fanny, without the assistance of love. Here they arrived about noon, and Joseph proposed to Adams that theyshould rest awhile in this delightful place, and refresh themselves withsome provisions which the good-nature of Mrs Wilson had provided themwith. Adams made no objection to the proposal; so down they sat, and, pulling out a cold fowl and a bottle of wine, they made a repast with acheerfulness which might have attracted the envy of more splendidtables. I should not omit that they found among their provision a littlepaper containing a piece of gold, which Adams imagining had been putthere by mistake, would have returned back to restore it; but he was atlast convinced by Joseph that Mr Wilson had taken this handsome way offurnishing them with a supply for their journey, on his having relatedthe distress which they had been in, when they were relieved by thegenerosity of the pedlar. Adams said he was glad to see such an instanceof goodness, not so much for the conveniency which it brought them asfor the sake of the doer, whose reward would be great in heaven. Helikewise comforted himself with a reflection that he should shortly havean opportunity of returning it him; for the gentleman was within a weekto make a journey into Somersetshire, to pass through Adams's parish, and had faithfully promised to call on him; a circumstance which wethought too immaterial to mention before; but which those who have asgreat an affection for that gentleman as ourselves will rejoice at, asit may give them hopes of seeing him again. Then Joseph made a speech oncharity, which the reader, if he is so disposed, may see in the nextchapter; for we scorn to betray him into any such reading, without firstgiving him warning. CHAPTER VI. _Moral reflections by Joseph Andrews; with the hunting adventure, andparson Adams's miraculous escape. _ "I have often wondered, sir, " said Joseph, "to observe so few instancesof charity among mankind; for though the goodness of a man's heart didnot incline him to relieve the distresses of his fellow-creatures, methinks the desire of honour should move him to it. What inspires a manto build fine houses, to purchase fine furniture, pictures, clothes, andother things, at a great expense, but an ambition to be respected morethan other people? Now, would not one great act of charity, one instanceof redeeming a poor family from all the miseries of poverty, restoringan unfortunate tradesman by a sum of money to the means of procuring alivelihood by his industry, discharging an undone debtor from his debtsor a gaol, or any suchlike example of goodness, create a man more honourand respect than he could acquire by the finest house, furniture, pictures, or clothes, that were ever beheld? For not only the objecthimself who was thus relieved, but all who heard the name of such aperson, must, I imagine, reverence him infinitely more than thepossessor of all those other things; which when we so admire, we ratherpraise the builder, the workman, the painter, the lace-maker, thetaylor, and the rest, by whose ingenuity they are produced, than theperson who by his money makes them his own. For my own part, when I havewaited behind my lady in a room hung with fine pictures, while I havebeen looking at them I have never once thought of their owner, nor hathany one else, as I ever observed; for when it hath been asked whosepicture that was, it was never once answered the master's of the house;but Ammyconni, Paul Varnish, Hannibal Scratchi, or Hogarthi, which Isuppose were the names of the painters; but if it was asked--Whoredeemed such a one out of prison? Who lent such a ruined tradesmanmoney to set up? Who clothed that family of poor small children? it isvery plain what must be the answer. And besides, these great folks aremistaken if they imagine they get any honour at all by these means; forI do not remember I ever was with my lady at any house where shecommended the house or furniture but I have heard her at her return homemake sport and jeer at whatever she had before commended; and I havebeen told by other gentlemen in livery that it is the same in theirfamilies: but I defy the wisest man in the world to turn a true goodaction into ridicule. I defy him to do it. He who should endeavour itwould be laughed at himself, instead of making others laugh. Nobodyscarce doth any good, yet they all agree in praising those who do. Indeed, it is strange that all men should consent in commendinggoodness, and no man endeavour to deserve that commendation; whilst, onthe contrary, all rail at wickedness, and all are as eager to be whatthey abuse. This I know not the reason of; but it is as plain asdaylight to those who converse in the world, as I have done these threeyears. " "Are all the great folks wicked then?" says Fanny. "To be surethere are some exceptions, " answered Joseph. "Some gentlemen of ourcloth report charitable actions done by their lords and masters; and Ihave heard Squire Pope, the great poet, at my lady's table, tell storiesof a man that lived at a place called Ross, and another at the Bath, oneAl--Al--I forget his name, but it is in the book of verses. Thisgentleman hath built up a stately house too, which the squire likes verywell; but his charity is seen farther than his house, though it standson a hill, --ay, and brings him more honour too. It was his charity thatput him in the book, where the squire says he puts all those who deserveit; and to be sure, as he lives among all the great people, if therewere any such, he would know them. " This was all of Mr Joseph Andrews'sspeech which I could get him to recollect, which I have delivered asnear as was possible in his own words, with a very small embellishment. But I believe the reader hath not been a little surprized at the longsilence of parson Adams, especially as so many occasions offeredthemselves to exert his curiosity and observation. The truth is, he wasfast asleep, and had so been from the beginning of the precedingnarrative; and, indeed, if the reader considers that so many hours hadpassed since he had closed his eyes, he will not wonder at his repose, though even Henley himself, or as great an orator (if any such be), hadbeen in his rostrum or tub before him. Joseph, who whilst he was speaking had continued in one attitude, withhis head reclining on one side, and his eyes cast on the ground, nosooner perceived, on looking up, the position of Adams, who wasstretched on his back, and snored louder than the usual braying of theanimal with long ears, than he turned towards Fanny, and, taking herby the hand, began a dalliance, which, though consistent with thepurest innocence and decency, neither he would have attempted nor shepermitted before any witness. Whilst they amused themselves in thisharmless and delightful manner they heard a pack of hounds approachingin full cry towards them, and presently afterwards saw a hare popforth from the wood, and, crossing the water, land within a few yardsof them in the meadows. The hare was no sooner on shore than it seateditself on its hinder legs, and listened to the sound of the pursuers. Fanny was wonderfully pleased with the little wretch, and eagerlylonged to have it in her arms that she might preserve it from thedangers which seemed to threaten it; but the rational part of thecreation do not always aptly distinguish their friends from their foes;what wonder then if this silly creature, the moment it beheld her, fled from the friend who would have protected it, and, traversing themeadows again, passed the little rivulet on the opposite side? It was, however, so spent and weak, that it fell down twice or thrice in itsway. This affected the tender heart of Fanny, who exclaimed, with tearsin her eyes, against the barbarity of worrying a poor innocentdefenceless animal out of its life, and putting it to the extremesttorture for diversion. She had not much time to make reflections ofthis kind, for on a sudden the hounds rushed through the wood, whichresounded with their throats and the throats of their retinue, whoattended on them on horseback. The dogs now past the rivulet, andpursued the footsteps of the hare; five horsemen attempted to leapover, three of whom succeeded, and two were in the attempt thrown fromtheir saddles into the water; their companions, and their own horsestoo, proceeded after their sport, and left their friends and riders toinvoke the assistance of Fortune, or employ the more active means ofstrength and agility for their deliverance. Joseph, however, was notso unconcerned on this occasion; he left Fanny for a moment to herself, and ran to the gentlemen, who were immediately on their legs, shakingtheir ears, and easily, with the help of his hand, obtained the bank(for the rivulet was not at all deep); and, without staying to thanktheir kind assister, ran dripping across the meadow, calling to theirbrother sportsmen to stop their horses; but they heard them not. The hounds were now very little behind their poor reeling, staggeringprey, which, fainting almost at every step, crawled through the wood, and had almost got round to the place where Fanny stood, when it wasovertaken by its enemies, and being driven out of the covert, wascaught, and instantly tore to pieces before Fanny's face, who was unableto assist it with any aid more powerful than pity; nor could she prevailon Joseph, who had been himself a sportsman in his youth, to attemptanything contrary to the laws of hunting in favour of the hare, which hesaid was killed fairly. The hare was caught within a yard or two of Adams, who lay asleep atsome distance from the lovers; and the hounds, in devouring it, andpulling it backwards and forwards, had drawn it so close to him, thatsome of them (by mistake perhaps for the hare's skin) laid hold of theskirts of his cassock; others at the same time applying their teeth tohis wig, which he had with a handkerchief fastened to his head, began topull him about; and had not the motion of his body had more effect onhim than seemed to be wrought by the noise, they must certainly havetasted his flesh, which delicious flavour might have been fatal to him;but being roused by these tuggings, he instantly awaked, and with a jerkdelivering his head from his wig, he with most admirable dexterityrecovered his legs, which now seemed the only members he could entrusthis safety to. Having, therefore, escaped likewise from at least a thirdpart of his cassock, which he willingly left as his _exuviae_ or spoilsto the enemy, he fled with the utmost speed he could summon to hisassistance. Nor let this be any detraction from the bravery of hischaracter: let the number of the enemies, and the surprize in which hewas taken, be considered; and if there be any modern so outrageouslybrave that he cannot admit of flight in any circumstance whatever, I say(but I whisper that softly, and I solemnly declare without any intentionof giving offence to any brave man in the nation), I say, or rather Iwhisper, that he is an ignorant fellow, and hath never read Homer norVirgil, nor knows he anything of Hector or Turnus; nay, he isunacquainted with the history of some great men living, who, though asbrave as lions, ay, as tigers, have run away, the Lord knows how far, and the Lord knows why, to the surprize of their friends and theentertainment of their enemies. But if persons of such heroicdisposition are a little offended at the behaviour of Adams, we assurethem they shall be as much pleased with what we shall immediately relateof Joseph Andrews. The master of the pack was just arrived, or, as thesportsmen call it, come in, when Adams set out, as we have beforementioned. This gentleman was generally said to be a great lover ofhumour; but, not to mince the matter, especially as we are upon thissubject, he was a great hunter of men; indeed, he had hitherto followedthe sport only with dogs of his own species; for he kept two or threecouple of barking curs for that use only. However, as he thought he hadnow found a man nimble enough, he was willing to indulge himself withother sport, and accordingly, crying out, "Stole away, " encouraged thehounds to pursue Mr Adams, swearing it was the largest jack-hare he eversaw; at the same time hallooing and hooping as if a conquered foe wasflying before him; in which he was imitated by these two or three coupleof human or rather two-legged curs on horseback which we have mentionedbefore. Now, thou, whoever thou art, whether a muse, or by what other name soeverthou choosest to be called, who presidest over biography, and hastinspired all the writers of lives in these our times: thou who didstinfuse such wonderful humour into the pen of immortal Gulliver; who hastcarefully guided the judgment whilst thou hast exalted the nervous manlystyle of thy Mallet: thou who hadst no hand in that dedication andpreface, or the translations, which thou wouldst willingly have struckout of the life of Cicero: lastly, thou who, without the assistance ofthe least spice of literature, and even against his inclination, hast, in some pages of his book, forced Colley Cibber to write English; dothou assist me in what I find myself unequal to. Do thou introduce onthe plain the young, the gay, the brave Joseph Andrews, whilst men shallview him with admiration and envy, tender virgins with love and anxiousconcern for his safety. No sooner did Joseph Andrews perceive the distress of his friend, whenfirst the quick-scenting dogs attacked him, than he grasped his cudgelin his right hand--a cudgel which his father had of his grandfather, towhom a mighty strong man of Kent had given it for a present in that daywhen he broke three heads on the stage. It was a cudgel of mightystrength and wonderful art, made by one of Mr Deard's best workmen, whomno other artificer can equal, and who hath made all those sticks whichthe beaus have lately walked with about the Park in a morning; but thiswas far his masterpiece. On its head was engraved a nose and chin, whichmight have been mistaken for a pair of nutcrackers. The learned haveimagined it designed to represent the Gorgon; but it was in fact copiedfrom the face of a certain long English baronet, of infinite wit, humour, and gravity. He did intend to have engraved here many histories: as thefirst night of Captain B----'s play, where you would have seen criticsin embroidery transplanted from the boxes to the pit, whose ancientinhabitants were exalted to the galleries, where they played oncatcalls. He did intend to have painted an auction room, where Mr Cockwould have appeared aloft in his pulpit, trumpeting forth the praises ofa china basin, and with astonishment wondering that "Nobody bids morefor that fine, that superb--" He did intend to have engraved many otherthings, but was forced to leave all out for want of room. No sooner had Joseph grasped his cudgel in his hands than lightningdarted from his eyes; and the heroick youth, swift of foot, ran with theutmost speed to his friend's assistance. He overtook him just asRockwood had laid hold of the skirt of his cassock, which, being torn, hung to the ground. Reader, we would make a simile on this occasion, butfor two reasons: the first is, it would interrupt the description, whichshould be rapid in this part; but that doth not weigh much, manyprecedents occurring for such an interruption: the second and much thegreater reason is, that we could find no simile adequate to our purpose:for indeed, what instance could we bring to set before our reader's eyesat once the idea of friendship, courage, youth, beauty, strength, andswiftness? all which blazed in the person of Joseph Andrews. Let those, therefore, that describe lions and tigers, and heroes fiercer than both, raise their poems or plays with the simile of Joseph Andrews, who ishimself above the reach of any simile. Now Rockwood had laid fast hold on the parson's skirts, and stopt hisflight; which Joseph no sooner perceived than he levelled his cudgel athis head and laid him sprawling. Jowler and Ringwood then fell on hisgreatcoat, and had undoubtedly brought him to the ground, had notJoseph, collecting all his force, given Jowler such a rap on the back, that, quitting his hold, he ran howling over the plain. A harder fateremained for thee, O Ringwood! Ringwood the best hound that ever pursueda hare, who never threw his tongue but where the scent was undoubtedlytrue; good at trailing, and sure in a highway; no babler, no overrunner;respected by the whole pack, who, whenever he opened, knew the game wasat hand. He fell by the stroke of Joseph. Thunder and Plunder, andWonder and Blunder, were the next victims of his wrath, and measuredtheir lengths on the ground. Then Fairmaid, a bitch which Mr John Templehad bred up in his house, and fed at his own table, and lately sent thesquire fifty miles for a present, ran fiercely at Joseph and bit him bythe leg: no dog was ever fiercer than she, being descended from anAmazonian breed, and had worried bulls in her own country, but now wagedan unequal fight, and had shared the fate of those we have mentionedbefore, had not Diana (the reader may believe it or not if he pleases)in that instant interposed, and, in the shape of the huntsman, snatchedher favourite up in her arms. The parson now faced about, and with his crabstick felled many to theearth, and scattered others, till he was attacked by Caesar and pulledto the ground. Then Joseph flew to his rescue, and with such mightfell on the victor, that, O eternal blot to his name! Caesar ranyelping away. The battle now raged with the most dreadful violence, when, lo! thehuntsman, a man of years and dignity, lifted his voice, and called hishounds from the fight, telling them, in a language they understood, thatit was in vain to contend longer, for that fate had decreed the victoryto their enemies. Thus far the muse hath with her usual dignity related this prodigiousbattle, a battle we apprehend never equalled by any poet, romance orlife writer whatever, and, having brought it to a conclusion, sheceased; we shall therefore proceed in our ordinary style with thecontinuation of this history. The squire and his companions, whom thefigure of Adams and the gallantry of Joseph had at first thrown into aviolent fit of laughter, and who had hitherto beheld the engagement withmore delight than any chase, shooting-match, race, cock-fighting, bullor bear baiting, had ever given them, began now to apprehend the dangerof their hounds, many of which lay sprawling in the fields. The squire, therefore, having first called his friends about him, as guards forsafety of his person, rode manfully up to the combatants, and, summoningall the terror he was master of into his countenance, demanded with anauthoritative voice of Joseph what he meant by assaulting his dogs inthat manner? Joseph answered, with great intrepidity, that they hadfirst fallen on his friend; and if they had belonged to the greatest manin the kingdom, he would have treated them in the same way; for, whilsthis veins contained a single drop of blood, he would not stand idle byand see that gentleman (pointing to Adams) abused either by man orbeast; and, having so said, both he and Adams brandished their woodenweapons, and put themselves into such a posture, that the squire and hiscompany thought proper to preponderate before they offered to revengethe cause of their four-footed allies. At this instant Fanny, whom the apprehension of Joseph's danger hadalarmed so much that, forgetting her own, she had made the utmostexpedition, came up. The squire and all the horsemen were sosurprized with her beauty, that they immediately fixed both theireyes and thoughts solely on her, every one declaring he had neverseen so charming a creature. Neither mirth nor anger engaged them amoment longer, but all sat in silent amaze. The huntsman only wasfree from her attraction, who was busy in cutting the ears of thedogs, and endeavouring to recover them to life; in which he succeededso well, that only two of no great note remained slaughtered on thefield of action. Upon this the huntsman declared, "'Twas well it wasno worse; for his part he could not blame the gentleman, and wonderedhis master would encourage the dogs to hunt Christians; that it wasthe surest way to spoil them, to make them follow vermin instead ofsticking to a hare. " The squire, being informed of the little mischief that had been done, and perhaps having more mischief of another kind in his head, accostedMr Adams with a more favourable aspect than before: he told him he wassorry for what had happened; that he had endeavoured all he could toprevent it the moment he was acquainted with his cloth, and greatlycommended the courage of his servant, for so he imagined Joseph to be. He then invited Mr Adams to dinner, and desired the young woman mightcome with him. Adams refused a long while; but the invitation wasrepeated with so much earnestness and courtesy, that at length he wasforced to accept it. His wig and hat, and other spoils of the field, being gathered together by Joseph (for otherwise probably they wouldhave been forgotten), he put himself into the best order he could; andthen the horse and foot moved forward in the same pace towards thesquire's house, which stood at a very little distance. Whilst they were on the road the lovely Fanny attracted the eyes of all:they endeavoured to outvie one another in encomiums on her beauty; whichthe reader will pardon my not relating, as they had not anything new oruncommon in them: so must he likewise my not setting down the manycurious jests which were made on Adams; some of them declaring thatparson-hunting was the best sport in the world; others commending hisstanding at bay, which they said he had done as well as any badger; withsuch like merriment, which, though it would ill become the dignity ofthis history, afforded much laughter and diversion to the squire and hisfacetious companions. CHAPTER VII. _A scene of roasting, very nicely adapted to the present tasteand times. _ They arrived at the squire's house just as his dinner was ready. Alittle dispute arose on the account of Fanny, whom the squire, who was abachelor, was desirous to place at his own table; but she would notconsent, nor would Mr Adams permit her to be parted from Joseph; so thatshe was at length with him consigned over to the kitchen, where theservants were ordered to make him drunk; a favour which was likewiseintended for Adams; which design being executed, the squire thought heshould easily accomplish what he had when he first saw her intended toperpetrate with Fanny. It may not be improper, before we proceed farther, to open a little thecharacter of this gentleman, and that of his friends. The master of thishouse, then, was a man of a very considerable fortune; a bachelor, as wehave said, and about forty years of age: he had been educated (if we mayuse the expression) in the country, and at his own home, under the careof his mother, and a tutor who had orders never to correct him, nor tocompel him to learn more than he liked, which it seems was very little, and that only in his childhood; for from the age of fifteen he addictedhimself entirely to hunting and other rural amusements, for which hismother took care to equip him with horses, hounds, and all othernecessaries; and his tutor, endeavouring to ingratiate himself with hisyoung pupil, who would, he knew, be able handsomely to provide for him, became his companion, not only at these exercises, but likewise over abottle, which the young squire had a very early relish for. At the ageof twenty his mother began to think she had not fulfilled the duty of aparent; she therefore resolved to persuade her son, if possible, to thatwhich she imagined would well supply all that he might have learned at apublic school or university--this is what they commonly call travelling;which, with the help of the tutor, who was fixed on to attend him, sheeasily succeeded in. He made in three years the tour of Europe, as theyterm it, and returned home well furnished with French clothes, phrases, and servants, with a hearty contempt for his own country; especiallywhat had any savour of the plain spirit and honesty of our ancestors. His mother greatly applauded herself at his return. And now, beingmaster of his own fortune, he soon procured himself a seat inParliament, and was in the common opinion one of the finest gentlemen ofhis age: but what distinguished him chiefly was a strange delight whichhe took in everything which is ridiculous, odious, and absurd in his ownspecies; so that he never chose a companion without one or more of theseingredients, and those who were marked by nature in the most eminentdegree with them were most his favourites. If he ever found a man whoeither had not, or endeavoured to conceal, these imperfections, he tookgreat pleasure in inventing methods of forcing him into absurditieswhich were not natural to him, or in drawing forth and exposing thosethat were; for which purpose he was always provided with a set offellows, whom we have before called curs, and who did, indeed, no greathonour to the canine kind; their business was to hunt out and displayeverything that had any savour of the above-mentioned qualities, andespecially in the gravest and best characters; but if they failed intheir search, they were to turn even virtue and wisdom themselves intoridicule, for the diversion of their master and feeder. The gentlemen ofcurlike disposition who were now at his house, and whom he had broughtwith him from London, were, an old half-pay officer, a player, a dullpoet, a quack-doctor, a scraping fiddler, and a lame Germandancing-master. As soon as dinner was served, while Mr Adams was saying grace, thecaptain conveyed his chair from behind him; so that when he endeavouredto seat himself he fell down on the ground, and this completed joke thefirst, to the great entertainment of the whole company. The second jokewas performed by the poet, who sat next him on the other side, and tookan opportunity, while poor Adams was respectfully drinking to the masterof the house, to overturn a plate of soup into his breeches; which, withthe many apologies he made, and the parson's gentle answers, caused muchmirth in the company. Joke the third was served up by one of thewaiting-men, who had been ordered to convey a quantity of gin into MrAdams's ale, which he declaring to be the best liquor he ever drank, butrather too rich of the malt, contributed again to their laughter. MrAdams, from whom we had most of this relation, could not recollect allthe jests of this kind practised on him, which the inoffensivedisposition of his own heart made him slow in discovering; and indeed, had it not been for the information which we received from a servant ofthe family, this part of our history, which we take to be none of theleast curious, must have been deplorably imperfect; though we must ownit probable that some more jokes were (as they call it) cracked duringtheir dinner; but we have by no means been able to come at the knowledgeof them. When dinner was removed, the poet began to repeat some verses, which, he said, were made extempore. The following is a copy of them, procured with the greatest difficulty:-- _An extempore Poem on parson Adams. _ Did ever mortal such a parson view? His cassock old, his wig not over-new, Well might the hounds have him for fox mistaken, In smell more like to that than rusty bacon[A]; But would it not make any mortal stare To see this parson taken for a hare? Could Phoebus err thus grossly, even he For a good player might have taken thee. [A] All hounds that will hunt fox or other vermin will hunt a piece of rusty bacon trailed on the ground. At which words the bard whipt off the player's wig, and received theapprobation of the company, rather perhaps for the dexterity of his handthan his head. The player, instead of retorting the jest on the poet, began to display his talents on the same subject. He repeated manyscraps of wit out of plays, reflecting on the whole body of the clergy, which were received with great acclamations by all present. It was nowthe dancing-master's turn to exhibit his talents; he therefore, addressing himself to Adams in broken English, told him, "He was a manver well made for de dance, and he suppose by his walk dat he had learnof some great master. " He said, "It was ver pretty quality in clergymanto dance;" and concluded with desiring him to dance a minuet, tellinghim, "his cassock would serve for petticoats; and that he would himselfbe his partner. " At which words, without waiting for an answer, hepulled out his gloves, and the fiddler was preparing his fiddle. Thecompany all offered the dancing-master wagers that the parson out-dancedhim, which he refused, saying "he believed so too, for he had never seenany man in his life who looked de dance so well as de gentleman:" hethen stepped forwards to take Adams by the hand, which the latterhastily withdrew, and, at the same time clenching his fist, advised himnot to carry the jest too far, for he would not endure being put upon. The dancing-master no sooner saw the fist than he prudently retired outof its reach, and stood aloof, mimicking Adams, whose eyes were fixed onhim, not guessing what he was at, but to avoid his laying hold on him, which he had once attempted. In the meanwhile, the captain, perceivingan opportunity, pinned a cracker or devil to the cassock, and thenlighted it with their little smoking-candle. Adams, being a stranger tothis sport, and believing he had been blown up in reality, started fromhis chair, and jumped about the room, to the infinite joy of thebeholders, who declared he was the best dancer in the universe. As soonas the devil had done tormenting him, and he had a little recovered hisconfusion, he returned to the table, standing up in the posture of onewho intended to make a speech. They all cried out, "Hear him, hear him;"and he then spoke in the following manner: "Sir, I am sorry to see oneto whom Providence hath been so bountiful in bestowing his favours makeso ill and ungrateful a return for them; for, though you have notinsulted me yourself, it is visible you have delighted in those that doit, nor have once discouraged the many rudenesses which have been showntowards me; indeed, towards yourself, if you rightly understood them;for I am your guest, and by the laws of hospitality entitled to yourprotection. One gentleman had thought proper to produce some poetry uponme, of which I shall only say, that I had rather be the subject than thecomposer. He hath pleased to treat me with disrespect as a parson. Iapprehend my order is not the subject of scorn, nor that I can becomeso, unless by being a disgrace to it, which I hope poverty will never becalled. Another gentleman, indeed, hath repeated some sentences, wherethe order itself is mentioned with contempt. He says they are taken fromplays. I am sure such plays are a scandal to the government whichpermits them, and cursed will be the nation where they are represented. How others have treated me I need not observe; they themselves, whenthey reflect, must allow the behaviour to be as improper to my years asto my cloth. You found me, sir, travelling with two of my parishioners(I omit your hounds falling on me; for I have quite forgiven it, whetherit proceeded from the wantonness or negligence of the huntsman): myappearance might very well persuade you that your invitation was an actof charity, though in reality we were well provided; yes, sir, if we hadhad an hundred miles to travel, we had sufficient to bear our expensesin a noble manner. " (At which words he produced the half-guinea whichwas found in the basket. ) "I do not show you this out of ostentation ofriches, but to convince you I speak truth. Your seating me at your tablewas an honour which I did not ambitiously affect. When I was here, Iendeavoured to behave towards you with the utmost respect; if I havefailed, it was not with design; nor could I, certainly, so far be guiltyas to deserve the insults I have suffered. If they were meant, therefore, either to my order or my poverty (and you see I am not verypoor), the shame doth not lie at my door, and I heartily pray that thesin may be averted from yours. " He thus finished, and received a generalclap from the whole company. Then the gentleman of the house told him, "He was sorry for what had happened; that he could not accuse him of anyshare in it; that the verses were, as himself had well observed, so bad, that he might easily answer them; and for the serpent, it wasundoubtedly a very great affront done him by the dancing-master, forwhich, if he well thrashed him, as he deserved, he should be very muchpleased to see it" (in which, probably, he spoke truth). Adams answered, "Whoever had done it, it was not his profession to punish him that way;but for the person whom he had accused, I am a witness, " says he, "ofhis innocence; for I had my eye on him all the while. Whoever he was, God forgive him, and bestow on him a little more sense as well ashumanity. " The captain answered with a surly look and accent, "That hehoped he did not mean to reflect upon him; d--n him, he had as muchimanity as another, and, if any man said he had not, he would convincehim of his mistake by cutting his throat. " Adams, smiling, said, "Hebelieved he had spoke right by accident. " To which the captain returned, "What do you mean by my speaking right? If you was not a parson, I wouldnot take these words; but your gown protects you. If any man who wears asword had said so much, I had pulled him by the nose before this. " Adamsreplied, "If he attempted any rudeness to his person, he would not findany protection for himself in his gown;" and, clenching his fist, declared "he had thrashed many a stouter man. " The gentleman did all hecould to encourage this warlike disposition in Adams, and was in hopesto have produced a battle, but he was disappointed; for the captain madeno other answer than, "It is very well you are a parson;" and so, drinking off a bumper to old mother Church, ended the dispute. Then the doctor, who had hitherto been silent, and who was the gravestbut most mischievous dog of all, in a very pompous speech highlyapplauded what Adams had said, and as much discommended the behaviourto him. He proceeded to encomiums on the Church and poverty; and, lastly, recommended forgiveness of what had passed to Adams, whoimmediately answered, "That everything was forgiven;" and in the warmthof his goodness he filled a bumper of strong beer (a liquor hepreferred to wine), and drank a health to the whole company, shakingthe captain and the poet heartily by the hand, and addressing himselfwith great respect to the doctor; who, indeed, had not laughedoutwardly at anything that past, as he had a perfect command of hismuscles, and could laugh inwardly without betraying the least symptomsin his countenance. The doctor now began a second formal speech, inwhich he declaimed against all levity of conversation, and what isusually called mirth. He said, "There were amusements fitted forpersons of all ages and degrees, from the rattle to the discussing apoint of philosophy; and that men discovered themselves in nothing morethan in the choice of their amusements; for, " says he, "as it mustgreatly raise our expectation of the future conduct in life of boyswhom in their tender years we perceive, instead of taw or balls, orother childish playthings, to chuse, at their leisure hours, toexercise their genius in contentions of wit, learning, and such like;so must it inspire one with equal contempt of a man, if we shoulddiscover him playing at taw or other childish play. " Adams highlycommended the doctor's opinion, and said, "He had often wondered atsome passages in ancient authors, where Scipio, Laelius, and other greatmen were represented to have passed many hours in amusements of themost trifling kind. " The doctor replied, "He had by him an old Greekmanuscript where a favourite diversion of Socrates was recorded. " "Ay!"says the parson eagerly; "I should be most infinitely obliged to youfor the favour of perusing it. " The doctor promised to send it him, andfarther said, "That he believed he could describe it. I think, " sayshe, "as near as I can remember, it was this: there was a throneerected, on one side of which sat a king and on the other a queen, withtheir guards and attendants ranged on both sides; to them wasintroduced an ambassador, which part Socrates always used to performhimself; and when he was led up to the footsteps of the throne headdressed himself to the monarchs in some grave speech, full of virtue, and goodness, and morality, and such like. After which, he was seatedbetween the king and queen, and royally entertained. This I think wasthe chief part. Perhaps I may have forgot some particulars; for it islong since I read it. " Adams said, "It was, indeed, a diversion worthythe relaxation of so great a man; and thought something resembling itshould be instituted among our great men, instead of cards and otheridle pastime, in which, he was informed, they trifled away too much oftheir lives. " He added, "The Christian religion was a nobler subjectfor these speeches than any Socrates could have invented. " Thegentleman of the house approved what Mr Adams said, and declared "hewas resolved to perform the ceremony this very evening. " To which thedoctor objected, as no one was prepared with a speech, "unless, " saidhe (turning to Adams with a gravity of countenance which would havedeceived a more knowing man), "you have a sermon about you, doctor. ""Sir, " said Adams, "I never travel without one, for fear of what mayhappen. " He was easily prevailed on by his worthy friend, as he nowcalled the doctor, to undertake the part of the ambassador; so that thegentleman sent immediate orders to have the throne erected, which wasperformed before they had drank two bottles; and, perhaps, the readerwill hereafter have no great reason to admire the nimbleness of theservants. Indeed, to confess the truth, the throne was no more thanthis: there was a great tub of water provided, on each side of whichwere placed two stools raised higher than the surface of the tub, andover the whole was laid a blanket; on these stools were placed the kingand queen, namely, the master of the house and the captain. And now theambassador was introduced between the poet and the doctor; who, havingread his sermon, to the great entertainment of all present, was led upto his place and seated between their majesties. They immediately roseup, when the blanket, wanting its supports at either end, gave way, andsoused Adams over head and ears in the water. The captain made hisescape, but, unluckily, the gentleman himself not being as nimble as heought, Adams caught hold of him before he descended from his throne, and pulled him in with him, to the entire secret satisfaction of allthe company. Adams, after ducking the squire twice or thrice, leapt outof the tub, and looked sharp for the doctor, whom he would certainlyhave conveyed to the same place of honour; but he had wisely withdrawn:he then searched for his crabstick, and having found that, as well ashis fellow travellers, he declared he would not stay a moment longer insuch a house. He then departed, without taking leave of his host, whomhe had exacted a more severe revenge on than he intended; for, as hedid not use sufficient care to dry himself in time, he caught a cold bythe accident which threw him into a fever that had like to have costhim his life. CHAPTER VIII. _Which some readers will think too short and others too long. _ Adams, and Joseph, who was no less enraged than his friend at thetreatment he met with, went out with their sticks in their hands, andcarried off Fanny, notwithstanding the opposition of the servants, whodid all, without proceeding to violence, in their power to detain them. They walked as fast as they could, not so much from any apprehension ofbeing pursued as that Mr Adams might, by exercise, prevent any harm fromthe water. The gentleman, who had given such orders to his servantsconcerning Fanny that he did not in the least fear her getting away, nosooner heard that she was gone, than he began to rave, and immediatelydespatched several with orders either to bring her back or never return. The poet, the player, and all but the dancing-master and doctor, went onthis errand. The night was very dark in which our friends began their journey;however, they made such expedition, that they soon arrived at an innwhich was at seven miles' distance. Here they unanimously consented topass the evening, Mr Adams being now as dry as he was before he had setout on his embassy. This inn, which indeed we might call an ale-house, had not the words, The New Inn, been writ on the sign, afforded them no better provisionthan bread and cheese and ale; on which, however, they made a verycomfortable meal; for hunger is better than a French cook. They had no sooner supped, than Adams, returning thanks to the Almightyfor his food, declared he had eat his homely commons with much greatersatisfaction than his splendid dinner; and expressed great contempt forthe folly of mankind, who sacrificed their hopes of heaven to theacquisition of vast wealth, since so much comfort was to be found in thehumblest state and the lowest provision. "Very true, sir, " says a graveman who sat smoaking his pipe by the fire, and who was a traveller aswell as himself. "I have often been as much surprized as you are, when Iconsider the value which mankind in general set on riches, since everyday's experience shows us how little is in their power; for what, indeed, truly desirable, can they bestow on us? Can they give beauty tothe deformed, strength to the weak, or health to the infirm? Surely ifthey could we should not see so many ill-favoured faces haunting theassemblies of the great, nor would such numbers of feeble wretcheslanguish in their coaches and palaces. No, not the wealth of a kingdomcan purchase any paint to dress pale Ugliness in the bloom of that youngmaiden, nor any drugs to equip Disease with the vigour of that youngman. Do not riches bring us to solicitude instead of rest, envy insteadof affection, and danger instead of safety? Can they prolong their ownpossession, or lengthen his days who enjoys them? So far otherwise, thatthe sloth, the luxury, the care which attend them, shorten the lives ofmillions, and bring them with pain and misery to an untimely grave. Where, then, is their value if they can neither embellish nor strengthenour forms, sweeten nor prolong our lives?--Again: Can they adorn themind more than the body? Do they not rather swell the heart with vanity, puff up the cheeks with pride, shut our ears to every call of virtue, and our bowels to every motive of compassion?" "Give me your hand, brother, " said Adams, in a rapture, "for I suppose you are aclergyman. "--"No, truly, " answered the other (indeed, he was a priest ofthe Church of Rome; but those who understand our laws will not wonder hewas not over-ready to own it). --"Whatever you are, " cries Adams, "youhave spoken my sentiments: I believe I have preached every syllable ofyour speech twenty times over; for it hath always appeared to me easierfor a cable-rope (which by the way is the true rendering of that word wehave translated camel) to go through the eye of a needle than for a richman to get into the kingdom of heaven. "--"That, sir, " said the other, "will be easily granted you by divines, and is deplorably true; but asthe prospect of our good at a distance doth not so forcibly affect us, it might be of some service to mankind to be made thoroughlysensible--which I think they might be with very little seriousattention--that even the blessings of this world are not to be purchasedwith riches; a doctrine, in my opinion, not only metaphysically, but, ifI may so say, mathematically demonstrable; and which I have been alwaysso perfectly convinced of that I have a contempt for nothing so much asfor gold. " Adams now began a long discourse: but as most which he saidoccurs among many authors who have treated this subject, I shall omitinserting it. During its continuance Joseph and Fanny retired to rest, and the host likewise left the room. When the English parson hadconcluded, the Romish resumed the discourse, which he continued withgreat bitterness and invective; and at last ended by desiring Adams tolend him eighteen-pence to pay his reckoning; promising, if he neverpaid him, he might be assured of his prayers. The good man answered thateighteen-pence would be too little to carry him any very long journey;that he had half a guinea in his pocket, which he would divide with him. He then fell to searching his pockets, but could find no money; forindeed the company with whom he dined had passed one jest upon him whichwe did not then enumerate, and had picked his pocket of all thattreasure which he had so ostentatiously produced. "Bless me!" cried Adams, "I have certainly lost it; I can never havespent it. Sir, as I am a Christian, I had a whole half-guinea in mypocket this morning, and have not now a single halfpenny of it left. Sure the devil must have taken it from me!"--"Sir, " answered the priest, smiling, "you need make no excuses; if you are not willing to lend methe money, I am contented. "--"Sir, " cries Adams, "if I had the greatestsum in the world--aye, if I had ten pounds about me--I would bestow itall to rescue any Christian from distress. I am more vexed at my loss onyour account than my own. Was ever anything so unlucky? Because I haveno money in my pocket I shall be suspected to be no Christian. "--"I ammore unlucky, " quoth the other, "if you are as generous as you say; forreally a crown would have made me happy, and conveyed me in plenty tothe place I am going, which is not above twenty miles off, and where Ican arrive by to-morrow night. I assure you I am not accustomed totravel pennyless. I am but just arrived in England; and we were forcedby a storm in our passage to throw all we had overboard. I don't suspectbut this fellow will take my word for the trifle I owe him; but I hateto appear so mean as to confess myself without a shilling to suchpeople; for these, and indeed too many others, know little difference intheir estimation between a beggar and a thief. " However, he thought heshould deal better with the host that evening than the next morning: hetherefore resolved to set out immediately, notwithstanding the darkness;and accordingly, as soon as the host returned, he communicated to himthe situation of his affairs; upon which the host, scratching his head, answered, "Why, I do not know, master; if it be so, and you have nomoney, I must trust, I think, though I had rather always have readymoney if I could; but, marry, you look like so honest a gentleman that Idon't fear your paying me if it was twenty times as much. " The priestmade no reply, but, taking leave of him and Adams as fast as he could, not without confusion, and perhaps with some distrust of Adams'ssincerity, departed. He was no sooner gone than the host fell a-shaking his head, anddeclared, if he had suspected the fellow had no money, he would not havedrawn him a single drop of drink, saying he despaired of ever seeing hisface again, for that he looked like a confounded rogue. "Rabbit the fellow, " cries he, "I thought, by his talking so much aboutriches, that he had a hundred pounds at least in his pocket. " Adams chidhim for his suspicions, which, he said, were not becoming a Christian;and then, without reflecting on his loss, or considering how he himselfshould depart in the morning, he retired to a very homely bed, as hiscompanions had before; however, health and fatigue gave them a sweeterrepose than is often in the power of velvet and down to bestow. CHAPTER IX. _Containing as surprizing and bloody adventures as can be found in thisor perhaps any other authentic history. _ It was almost morning when Joseph Andrews, whose eyes the thoughts ofhis dear Fanny had opened, as he lay fondly meditating on that lovelycreature, heard a violent knocking at the door over which he lay. Hepresently jumped out of bed, and, opening the window, was asked if therewere no travellers in the house? and presently, by another voice, if twomen and a woman had not taken up there their lodging that night? Thoughhe knew not the voices, he began to entertain a suspicion of thetruth--for indeed he had received some information from one of theservants of the squire's house of his design--and answered in thenegative. One of the servants, who knew the host well, called out to himby his name just as he had opened another window, and asked him the samequestion; to which he answered in the affirmative. O ho! said another, have we found you? and ordered the host to come down and open his door. Fanny, who was as wakeful as Joseph, no sooner heard all this than sheleaped from her bed, and, hastily putting on her gown and petticoats, ran as fast as possible to Joseph's room, who then was almost drest. Heimmediately let her in, and, embracing her with the most passionatetenderness, bid her fear nothing, for he would die in her defence. "Isthat a reason why I should not fear, " says she, "when I should lose whatis dearer to me than the whole world?" Joseph, then kissing her hand, said, "He could almost thank the occasion which had extorted from her atenderness she would never indulge him with before. " He then ran andwaked his bedfellow Adams, who was yet fast asleep, notwithstanding manycalls from Joseph; but was no sooner made sensible of their danger thanhe leaped from his bed, without considering the presence of Fanny, whohastily turned her face from him, and enjoyed a double benefit from thedark, which, as it would have prevented any offence, to an innocenceless pure, or a modesty less delicate, so it concealed even thoseblushes which were raised in her. Adams had soon put on all his clothes but his breeches, which, in thehurry, he forgot; however, they were pretty well supplied by the lengthof his other garments; and now, the house-door being opened, thecaptain, the poet, the player, and three servants came in. The captaintold the host that two fellows, who were in his house, had run away witha young woman, and desired to know in which room she lay. The host, whopresently believed the story, directed them, and instantly the captainand poet, justling one another, ran up. The poet, who was the nimblest, entering the chamber first, searched the bed, and every other part, butto no purpose; the bird was flown, as the impatient reader, who mightotherwise have been in pain for her, was before advertised. They thenenquired where the men lay, and were approaching the chamber, whenJoseph roared out, in a loud voice, that he would shoot the first manwho offered to attack the door. The captain enquired what fire-arms theyhad; to which the host answered, he believed they had none; nay, he wasalmost convinced of it, for he had heard one ask the other in theevening what they should have done if they had been overtaken, when theyhad no arms; to which the other answered, they would have defendedthemselves with their sticks as long as they were able, and God wouldassist a just cause. This satisfied the captain, but not the poet, whoprudently retreated downstairs, saying, it was his business to recordgreat actions, and not to do them. The captain was no sooner wellsatisfied that there were no fire-arms than, bidding defiance togunpowder, and swearing he loved the smell of it, he ordered theservants to follow him, and, marching boldly up, immediately attemptedto force the door, which the servants soon helped him to accomplish. When it was opened, they discovered the enemy drawn up three deep; Adamsin the front, and Fanny in the rear. The captain told Adams that if theywould go all back to the house again they should be civilly treated; butunless they consented he had orders to carry the young lady with him, whom there was great reason to believe they had stolen from her parents;for, notwithstanding her disguise, her air, which she could not conceal, sufficiently discovered her birth to be infinitely superior to theirs. Fanny, bursting into tears, solemnly assured him he was mistaken; thatshe was a poor helpless foundling, and had no relation in the worldwhich she knew of; and, throwing herself on her knees, begged that hewould not attempt to take her from her friends, who, she was convinced, would die before they would lose her; which Adams confirmed with wordsnot far from amounting to an oath. The captain swore he had no leisureto talk, and, bidding them thank themselves for what happened, heordered the servants to fall on, at the same time endeavouring to passby Adams, in order to lay hold on Fanny; but the parson, interruptinghim, received a blow from one of them, which, without considering whenceit came, he returned to the captain, and gave him so dexterous a knockin that part of the stomach which is vulgarly called the pit, that hestaggered some paces backwards. The captain, who was not accustomed tothis kind of play, and who wisely apprehended the consequence of suchanother blow, two of them seeming to him equal to a thrust through thebody, drew forth his hanger, as Adams approached him, and was levellinga blow at his head, which would probably have silenced the preacher forever, had not Joseph in that instant lifted up a certain huge stone potof the chamber with one hand, which six beaus could not have lifted withboth, and discharged it, together with the contents, full in thecaptain's face. The uplifted hanger dropped from his hand, and he fellprostrated on the floor with a lumpish noise, and his halfpence rattledin his pocket; the red liquor which his veins contained, and the whiteliquor which the pot contained, ran in one stream down his face and hisclothes. Nor had Adams quite escaped, some of the water having in itspassage shed its honours on his head, and began to trickle down thewrinkles or rather furrows of his cheeks, when one of the servants, snatching a mop out of a pail of water, which had already done its dutyin washing the house, pushed it in the parson's face; yet could not hebear him down, for the parson, wresting the mop from the fellow with onehand, with the other brought his enemy as low as the earth, having givenhim a stroke over that part of the face where, in some men of pleasure, the natural and artificial noses are conjoined. Hitherto, Fortune seemed to incline the victory on the travellers' side, when, according to her custom, she began to show the fickleness of herdisposition; for now the host, entering the field, or rather chamber ofbattle, flew directly at Joseph, and, darting his head into his stomach(for he was a stout fellow and an expert boxer), almost staggered him:but Joseph, stepping one leg back, did with his left hand so chuck himunder the chin that he reeled. The youth was pursuing his blow with hisright hand when he received from one of the servants such a stroke witha cudgel on his temples, that it instantly deprived him of sense, and hemeasured his length on the ground. Fanny rent the air with her cries, and Adams was coming to theassistance of Joseph; but the two serving-men and the host now fell onhim, and soon subdued him, though he fought like a madman, and looked soblack with the impressions he had received from the mop, that DonQuixote would certainly have taken him for an inchanted Moor. But nowfollows the most tragical part; for the captain was risen again, and, seeing Joseph on the floor, and Adams secured, he instantly laid hold onFanny, and, with the assistance of the poet and player, who, hearing thebattle was over, were now come up, dragged her, crying and tearing herhair, from the sight of her Joseph, and, with a perfect deafness to allher entreaties, carried her downstairs by violence, and fastened her onthe player's horse; and the captain, mounting his own, and leading thaton which this poor miserable wretch was, departed, without any moreconsideration of her cries than a butcher hath of those of a lamb; forindeed his thoughts were entertained only with the degree of favourwhich he promised himself from the squire on the success of thisadventure. The servants, who were ordered to secure Adams and Joseph as safe aspossible, that the squire might receive no interruption to his design onpoor Fanny, immediately, by the poet's advice, tied Adams to one of thebed-posts, as they did Joseph on the other side, as soon as they couldbring him to himself; and then, leaving them together, back to back, anddesiring the host not to set them at liberty, nor to go near them, tillhe had further orders, they departed towards their master; but happenedto take a different road from that which the captain had fallen into. CHAPTER X. _A discourse between the poet and the player; of no other use in thishistory but to divert the reader. _ Before we proceed any farther in this tragedy we shall leave Mr Josephand Mr Adams to themselves, and imitate the wise conductors of thestage, who in the midst of a grave action entertain you with someexcellent piece of satire or humour called a dance. Which piece, indeed, is therefore danced, and not spoke, as it is delivered to the audienceby persons whose thinking faculty is by most people held to lie in theirheels; and to whom, as well as heroes, who think with their hands, Nature hath only given heads for the sake of conformity, and as they areof use in dancing, to hang their hats on. The poet, addressing the player, proceeded thus, "As I was saying" (forthey had been at this discourse all the time of the engagementabove-stairs), "the reason you have no good new plays is evident; it isfrom your discouragement of authors. Gentlemen will not write, sir, theywill not write, without the expectation of fame or profit, or perhapsboth. Plays are like trees, which will not grow without nourishment; butlike mushrooms, they shoot up spontaneously, as it were, in a rich soil. The muses, like vines, may be pruned, but not with a hatchet. The town, like a peevish child, knows not what it desires, and is always bestpleased with a rattle. A farce-writer hath indeed some chance forsuccess: but they have lost all taste for the sublime. Though I believeone reason of their depravity is the badness of the actors. If a manwrites like an angel, sir, those fellows know not how to give asentiment utterance. "--"Not so fast, " says the player: "the modernactors are as good at least as their authors, nay, they come nearertheir illustrious predecessors; and I expect a Booth on the stage again, sooner than a Shakespear or an Otway; and indeed I may turn yourobservation against you, and with truth say, that the reason no authorsare encouraged is because we have no good new plays. "--"I have notaffirmed the contrary, " said the poet; "but I am surprized you grow sowarm; you cannot imagine yourself interested in this dispute; I hope youhave a better opinion of my taste than to apprehend I squinted atyourself. No, sir, if we had six such actors as you, we should soonrival the Bettertons and Sandfords of former times; for, without acompliment to you, I think it impossible for any one to have excelledyou in most of your parts. Nay, it is solemn truth, and I have heardmany, and all great judges, express as much; and, you will pardon me ifI tell you, I think every time I have seen you lately you haveconstantly acquired some new excellence, like a snowball. You havedeceived me in my estimation of perfection, and have outdone what Ithought inimitable. "--"You are as little interested, " answered theplayer, "in what I have said of other poets; for d--n me if there arenot many strokes, ay, whole scenes, in your last tragedy, which at leastequal Shakespear. There is a delicacy of sentiment, a dignity ofexpression in it, which I will own many of our gentlemen did not doadequate justice to. To confess the truth, they are bad enough, and Ipity an author who is present at the murder of his works. "--"Nay, it isbut seldom that it can happen, " returned the poet; "the works of mostmodern authors, like dead-born children, cannot be murdered. It is suchwretched half-begotten, half-writ, lifeless, spiritless, low, grovellingstuff, that I almost pity the actor who is obliged to get it by heart, which must be almost as difficult to remember as words in a language youdon't understand. "--"I am sure, " said the player, "if the sentences havelittle meaning when they are writ, when they are spoken they have less. I know scarce one who ever lays an emphasis right, and much less adaptshis action to his character. I have seen a tender lover in an attitudeof fighting with his mistress, and a brave hero suing to his enemy withhis sword in his hand. I don't care to abuse my profession, but rot meif in my heart I am not inclined to the poet's side. "--"It is rathergenerous in you than just, " said the poet; "and, though I hate to speakill of any person's production--nay, I never do it, nor will--but yet, to do justice to the actors, what could Booth or Betterton have made ofsuch horrible stuff as Fenton's Mariamne, Frowd's Philotas, or Mallet'sEurydice; or those low, dirty, last-dying-speeches, which a fellow inthe city of Wapping, your Dillo or Lillo, what was his name, calledtragedies?"--"Very well, " says the player; "and pray what do you thinkof such fellows as Quin and Delane, or that face-making puppy youngCibber, that ill-looked dog Macklin, or that saucy slut Mrs Clive? Whatwork would they make with your Shakespears, Otways, and Lees? How wouldthose harmonious lines of the last come from their tongues?-- "'--No more; for I disdain All pomp when thou art by: far be the noise Of kings and crowns from us, whose gentle souls Our kinder fates have steer'd another way. Free as the forest birds we'll pair together, Without rememb'ring who our fathers were: Fly to the arbors, grots, and flow'ry meads; There in soft murmurs interchange our souls; Together drink the crystal of the stream, Or taste the yellow fruit which autumn yields, And, when the golden evening calls us home, Wing to our downy nests, and sleep till morn. ' "Or how would this disdain of Otway-- "'Who'd be that foolish sordid thing call'd man?'" "Hold! hold! hold!" said the poet: "Do repeat that tender speech in thethird act of my play which you made such a figure in. "--"I wouldwillingly, " said the player, "but I have forgot it. "--"Ay, you was notquite perfect in it when you played it, " cries the poet, "or you wouldhave had such an applause as was never given on the stage; an applause Iwas extremely concerned for your losing. "--"Sure, " says the player, "ifI remember, that was hissed more than any passage in the wholeplay. "--"Ay, your speaking it was hissed, " said the poet. --"My speakingit!" said the player. --"I mean your not speaking it, " said the poet. "You was out, and then they hissed. "--"They hissed, and then I was out, if I remember, " answered the player; "and I must say this for myself, that the whole audience allowed I did your part justice; so don't laythe damnation of your play to my account. "--"I don't know what you meanby damnation, " replied the poet. --"Why, you know it was acted but onenight, " cried the player. --"No, " said the poet, "you and the whole townwere enemies; the pit were all my enemies, fellows that would cut mythroat, if the fear of hanging did not restrain them. All taylors, sir, all taylors. "--"Why should the taylors be so angry with you?" cries theplayer. "I suppose you don't employ so many in making your clothes. "--"Iadmit your jest, " answered the poet; "but you remember the affair aswell as myself; you know there was a party in the pit and upper gallerythat would not suffer it to be given out again; though much, ayinfinitely, the majority, all the boxes in particular, were desirous ofit; nay, most of the ladies swore they never would come to the housetill it was acted again. Indeed, I must own their policy was good in notletting it be given out a second time: for the rascals knew if it hadgone a second night it would have run fifty; for if ever there wasdistress in a tragedy--I am not fond of my own performance; but if Ishould tell you what the best judges said of it--Nor was it entirelyowing to my enemies neither that it did not succeed on the stage as wellas it hath since among the polite readers; for you can't say it hadjustice done it by the performers. "--"I think, " answered the player, "the performers did the distress of it justice; for I am sure we were indistress enough, who were pelted with oranges all the last act: we allimagined it would have been the last act of our lives. " The poet, whose fury was now raised, had just attempted to answer whenthey were interrupted, and an end put to their discourse, by anaccident, which if the reader is impatient to know, he must skip overthe next chapter, which is a sort of counterpart to this, and containssome of the best and gravest matters in the whole book, being adiscourse between parson Abraham Adams and Mr Joseph Andrews. CHAPTER XI. _Containing the exhortations of parson Adams to his friend inaffliction; calculated for the instruction and improvement of thereader. _ Joseph no sooner came perfectly to himself than, perceiving his mistressgone, he bewailed her loss with groans which would have pierced anyheart but those which are possessed by some people, and are made of acertain composition not unlike flint in its hardness and otherproperties; for you may strike fire from them, which will dart throughthe eyes, but they can never distil one drop of water the same way. Hisown, poor youth! was of a softer composition; and at those words, "O mydear Fanny! O my love! shall I never, never see thee more?" his eyesoverflowed with tears, which would have become any but a hero. In aword, his despair was more easy to be conceived than related. Mr Adams, after many groans, sitting with his back to Joseph, began thusin a sorrowful tone: "You cannot imagine, my good child, that I entirelyblame these first agonies of your grief; for, when misfortunes attack usby surprize, it must require infinitely more learning than you aremaster of to resist them; but it is the business of a man and aChristian to summon Reason as quickly as he can to his aid; and she willpresently teach him patience and submission. Be comforted, therefore, child; I say be comforted. It is true, you have lost the prettiest, kindest, loveliest, sweetest young woman, one with whom you might haveexpected to have lived in happiness, virtue, and innocence; by whom youmight have promised yourself many little darlings, who would have beenthe delight of your youth and the comfort of your age. You have not onlylost her, but have reason to fear the utmost violence which lust andpower can inflict upon her. Now, indeed, you may easily raise ideas ofhorror, which might drive you to despair. "--"O I shall run mad!" criesJoseph. "O that I could but command my hands to tear my eyes out and myflesh off!"--"If you would use them to such purposes, I am glad youcan't, " answered Adams. "I have stated your misfortune as strong as Ipossibly can; but, on the other side, you are to consider you are aChristian, that no accident happens to us without the Divine permission, and that it is the duty of a man, and a Christian, to submit. We did notmake ourselves; but the same power which made us rules over us, and weare absolutely at his disposal; he may do with us what he pleases, norhave we any right to complain. A second reason against our complaint isour ignorance; for, as we know not future events, so neither can we tellto what purpose any accident tends; and that which at first threatens uswith evil may in the end produce our good. I should indeed have said ourignorance is twofold (but I have not at present time to divideproperly), for, as we know not to what purpose any event is ultimatelydirected, so neither can we affirm from what cause it originally sprung. You are a man, and consequently a sinner; and this may be a punishmentto you for your sins: indeed in this sense it may be esteemed as a good, yea, as the greatest good, which satisfies the anger of Heaven, andaverts that wrath which cannot continue without our destruction. Thirdly, our impotency of relieving ourselves demonstrates the folly andabsurdity of our complaints: for whom do we resist, or against whom dowe complain, but a power from whose shafts no armour can guard us, nospeed can fly?--a power which leaves us no hope but in submission. " "Osir!" cried Joseph, "all this is very true, and very fine, and I couldhear you all day if I was not so grieved at heart as now I am. "--"Wouldyou take physic, " says Adams, "when you are well, and refuse it when youare sick? Is not comfort to be administered to the afflicted, and not tothose who rejoice or those who are at ease?" "O! you have not spoken oneword of comfort to me yet!" returned Joseph. "No!" cries Adams; "what amI then doing? what can I say to comfort you?" "O tell me, " cries Joseph, "that Fanny will escape back to my arms, that they shall again enclosethat lovely creature, with all her sweetness, all her untaintedinnocence about her!" "Why, perhaps you may, " cries Adams, "but I can'tpromise you what's to come. You must, with perfect resignation, wait theevent: if she be restored to you again, it is your duty to be thankful, and so it is if she be not. Joseph, if you are wise and truly know yourown interest, you will peaceably and quietly submit to all thedispensations of Providence, being thoroughly assured that all themisfortunes, how great soever, which happen to the righteous, happen tothem for their own good. Nay, it is not your interest only, but yourduty, to abstain from immoderate grief; which if you indulge, you arenot worthy the name of a Christian. " He spoke these last words with anaccent a little severer than usual; upon which Joseph begged him not tobe angry, saying, he mistook him if he thought he denied it was hisduty, for he had known that long ago. "What signifies knowing your duty, if you do not perform it?" answered Adams. "Your knowledge increasesyour guilt. O Joseph! I never thought you had this stubbornness in yourmind. " Joseph replied, "He fancied he misunderstood him; which I assureyou, " says he, "you do, if you imagine I endeavour to grieve; upon mysoul I don't. " Adams rebuked him for swearing, and then proceeded toenlarge on the folly of grief, telling him, all the wise men andphilosophers, even among the heathens, had written against it, quotingseveral passages from Seneca, and the Consolation, which, though it wasnot Cicero's, was, he said, as good almost as any of his works; andconcluded all by hinting that immoderate grief in this case mightincense that power which alone could restore him his Fanny. This reason, or indeed rather the idea which it raised of the restoration of hismistress, had more effect than all which the parson had said before, andfor a moment abated his agonies; but, when his fears sufficiently setbefore his eyes the danger that poor creature was in, his grief returnedagain with repeated violence, nor could Adams in the least asswage it;though it may be doubted in his behalf whether Socrates himself couldhave prevailed any better. They remained some time in silence, and groans and sighs issued fromthem both; at length Joseph burst out into the following soliloquy:-- "Yes, I will bear my sorrows like a man, But I must also feel them as a man. I cannot but remember such things were, And were most dear to me. " Adams asked him what stuff that was he repeated? To which he answered, they were some lines he had gotten by heart out of a play. "Ay, there isnothing but heathenism to be learned from plays, " replied he. "I neverheard of any plays fit for a Christian to read, but Cato and theConscious Lovers; and, I must own, in the latter there are some thingsalmost solemn enough for a sermon. " But we shall now leave them alittle, and enquire after the subject of their conversation. CHAPTER XII. _More adventures, which we hope will as much please as surprizethe reader. _ Neither the facetious dialogue which passed between the poet and theplayer, nor the grave and truly solemn discourse of Mr Adams, will, weconceive, make the reader sufficient amends for the anxiety which hemust have felt on the account of poor Fanny, whom we left in sodeplorable a condition. We shall therefore now proceed to the relationof what happened to that beautiful and innocent virgin, after she fellinto the wicked hands of the captain. The man of war, having conveyed his charming prize out of the inn alittle before day, made the utmost expedition in his power towards thesquire's house, where this delicate creature was to be offered up asacrifice to the lust of a ravisher. He was not only deaf to all herbewailings and entreaties on the road, but accosted her ears withimpurities which, having been never before accustomed to them, shehappily for herself very little understood. At last he changed his note, and attempted to soothe and mollify her, by setting forth the splendorand luxury which would be her fortune with a man who would have theinclination, and power too, to give her whatever her utmost wishes coulddesire; and told her he doubted not but she would soon look kinder onhim, as the instrument of her happiness, and despise that pitiful fellowwhom her ignorance only could make her fond of. She answered, she knewnot whom he meant; she never was fond of any pitiful fellow. "Are youaffronted, madam, " says he, "at my calling him so? But what better canbe said of one in a livery, notwithstanding your fondness for him?" Shereturned, that she did not understand him, that the man had been herfellow-servant, and she believed was as honest a creature as any alive;but as for fondness for men--"I warrant ye, " cries the captain, "weshall find means to persuade you to be fond; and I advise you to yieldto gentle ones, for you may be assured that it is not in your power, byany struggles whatever, to preserve your virginity two hours longer. Itwill be your interest to consent; for the squire will be much kinder toyou if he enjoys you willingly than by force. " At which words she beganto call aloud for assistance (for it was now open day), but, findingnone, she lifted her eyes to heaven, and supplicated the Divineassistance to preserve her innocence. The captain told her, if shepersisted in her vociferation, he would find a means of stopping hermouth. And now the poor wretch, perceiving no hopes of succour, abandoned herself to despair, and, sighing out the name of Joseph!Joseph! a river of tears ran down her lovely cheeks, and wet thehandkerchief which covered her bosom. A horseman now appeared in theroad, upon which the captain threatened her violently if she complained;however, the moment they approached each other she begged him with theutmost earnestness to relieve a distressed creature who was in the handsof a ravisher. The fellow stopt at those words, but the captain assuredhim it was his wife, and that he was carrying her home from heradulterer, which so satisfied the fellow, who was an old one (andperhaps a married one too), that he wished him a good journey, and rodeon. He was no sooner past than the captain abused her violently forbreaking his commands, and threatened to gagg her, when two morehorsemen, armed with pistols, came into the road just before them. Sheagain solicited their assistance, and the captain told the same story asbefore. Upon which one said to the other, "That's a charming wench, Jack; I wish I had been in the fellow's place, whoever he is. " But theother, instead of answering him, cried out, "Zounds, I know her;" andthen, turning to her, said, "Sure you are not Fanny Goodwill?"--"Indeed, indeed, I am, " she cried--"O John, I know you now-Heaven hath sent youto my assistance, to deliver me from this wicked man, who is carrying meaway for his vile purposes--O for God's sake rescue me from him!" Afierce dialogue immediately ensued between the captain and these twomen, who, being both armed with pistols, and the chariot which theyattended being now arrived, the captain saw both force and stratagemwere vain, and endeavoured to make his escape, in which however he couldnot succeed. The gentleman who rode in the chariot ordered it to stop, and with an air of authority examined into the merits of the cause; ofwhich being advertised by Fanny, whose credit was confirmed by thefellow who knew her, he ordered the captain, who was all bloody from hisencounter at the inn, to be conveyed as a prisoner behind the chariot, and very gallantly took Fanny into it; for, to say the truth, thisgentleman (who was no other than the celebrated Mr Peter Pounce, and whopreceded the Lady Booby only a few miles, by setting out earlier in themorning) was a very gallant person, and loved a pretty girl better thananything besides his own money or the money of other people. The chariot now proceeded towards the inn, which, as Fanny was informed, lay in their way, and where it arrived at that very time while the poetand player were disputing below-stairs, and Adams and Joseph werediscoursing back to back above; just at that period to which we broughtthem both in the two preceding chapters the chariot stopt at the door, and in an instant Fanny, leaping from it, ran up to her Joseph. --Oreader! conceive if thou canst the joy which fired the breasts of theselovers on this meeting; and if thy own heart doth not sympatheticallyassist thee in this conception, I pity thee sincerely from my own; forlet the hard-hearted villain know this, that there is a pleasure in atender sensation beyond any which he is capable of tasting. Peter, being informed by Fanny of the presence of Adams, stopt to seehim, and receive his homage; for, as Peter was an hypocrite, a sort ofpeople whom Mr Adams never saw through, the one paid that respect to hisseeming goodness which the other believed to be paid to his riches;hence Mr Adams was so much his favourite, that he once lent him fourpounds thirteen shillings and sixpence to prevent his going to gaol, onno greater security than a bond and judgment, which probably he wouldhave made no use of, though the money had not been (as it was) paidexactly at the time. It is not perhaps easy to describe the figure of Adams; he had risen insuch a hurry, that he had on neither breeches, garters, nor stockings;nor had he taken from his head a red spotted handkerchief, which bynight bound his wig, turned inside out, around his head. He had on historn cassock and his greatcoat; but, as the remainder of his cassockhung down below his greatcoat, so did a small stripe of white, or ratherwhitish, linen appear below that; to which we may add the severalcolours which appeared on his face, where a long piss-burnt beard servedto retain the liquor of the stone-pot, and that of a blacker hue whichdistilled from the mop. --This figure, which Fanny had delivered from hiscaptivity, was no sooner spied by Peter than it disordered the composedgravity of his muscles; however, he advised him immediately to makehimself clean, nor would accept his homage in that pickle. The poet and player no sooner saw the captain in captivity than theybegan to consider of their own safety, of which flight presented itselfas the only means; they therefore both of them mounted the poet's horse, and made the most expeditious retreat in their power. The host, who well knew Mr Pounce and Lady Booby's livery, was not alittle surprized at this change of the scene; nor was his confusion muchhelped by his wife, who was now just risen, and, having heard from himthe account of what had passed, comforted him with a decent number offools and blockheads; asked him why he did not consult her, and told himhe would never leave following the nonsensical dictates of his ownnumskull till she and her family were ruined. Joseph, being informed of the captain's arrival, and seeing his Fannynow in safety, quitted her a moment, and, running downstairs, wentdirectly to him, and stripping off his coat, challenged him to fight;but the captain refused, saying he did not understand boxing. He thengrasped a cudgel in one hand, and, catching the captain by the collarwith the other, gave him a most severe drubbing, and ended with tellinghim he had now had some revenge for what his dear Fanny had suffered. When Mr Pounce had a little regaled himself with some provision which hehad in his chariot, and Mr Adams had put on the best appearance hisclothes would allow him, Pounce ordered the captain into his presence, for he said he was guilty of felony, and the next justice of peaceshould commit him; but the servants (whose appetite for revenge is soonsatisfied), being sufficiently contented with the drubbing which Josephhad inflicted on him, and which was indeed of no very moderate kind, hadsuffered him to go off, which he did, threatening a severe revengeagainst Joseph, which I have never heard he thought proper to take. The mistress of the house made her voluntary appearance before MrPounce, and with a thousand curtsies told him, "She hoped his honourwould pardon her husband, who was a very nonsense man, for the sake ofhis poor family; that indeed if he could be ruined alone, she should bevery willing of it; for because as why, his worship very well knew hedeserved it; but she had three poor small children, who were not capableto get their own living; and if her husband was sent to gaol, they mustall come to the parish; for she was a poor weak woman, continuallya-breeding, and had no time to work for them. She therefore hoped hishonour would take it into his worship's consideration, and forgive herhusband this time; for she was sure he never intended any harm to man, woman, or child; and if it was not for that block-head of his own, theman in some things was well enough; for she had had three children byhim in less than three years, and was almost ready to cry out the fourthtime. " She would have proceeded in this manner much longer, had notPeter stopt her tongue, by telling her he had nothing to say to herhusband nor her neither. So, as Adams and the rest had assured her offorgiveness, she cried and curtsied out of the room. Mr Pounce was desirous that Fanny should continue her journey with himin the chariot; but she absolutely refused, saying she would ride behindJoseph on a horse which one of Lady Booby's servants had equipped himwith. But, alas! when the horse appeared, it was found to be no otherthan that identical beast which Mr Adams had left behind him at the inn, and which these honest fellows, who knew him, had redeemed. Indeed, whatever horse they had provided for Joseph, they would have prevailedwith him to mount none, no, not even to ride before his beloved Fanny, till the parson was supplied; much less would he deprive his friend ofthe beast which belonged to him, and which he knew the moment he saw, though Adams did not; however, when he was reminded of the affair, andtold that they had brought the horse with them which he left behind, heanswered--Bless me! and so I did. Adams was very desirous that Joseph and Fanny should mount this horse, and declared he could very easily walk home. "If I walked alone, " sayshe, "I would wage a shilling that the pedestrian outstripped theequestrian travellers; but, as I intend to take the company of a pipe, peradventure I may be an hour later. " One of the servants whisperedJoseph to take him at his word, and suffer the old put to walk if hewould: this proposal was answered with an angry look and a peremptoryrefusal by Joseph, who, catching Fanny up in his arms, averred he wouldrather carry her home in that manner, than take away Mr Adams's horseand permit him to walk on foot. Perhaps, reader, thou hast seen a contest between two gentlemen, or twoladies, quickly decided, though they have both asserted they would noteat such a nice morsel, and each insisted on the other's accepting it;but in reality both were very desirous to swallow it themselves. Do nottherefore conclude hence that this dispute would have come to a speedydecision: for here both parties were heartily in earnest, and it is veryprobable they would have remained in the inn-yard to this day, had notthe good Peter Pounce put a stop to it; for, finding he had no longerhopes of satisfying his old appetite with Fanny, and being desirous ofhaving some one to whom he might communicate his grandeur, he told theparson he would convey him home in his chariot. This favour was byAdams, with many bows and acknowledgments, accepted, though heafterwards said, "he ascended the chariot rather that he might notoffend than from any desire of riding in it, for that in his heart hepreferred the pedestrian even to the vehicular expedition. " All mattersbeing now settled, the chariot, in which rode Adams and Pounce, movedforwards; and Joseph having borrowed a pillion from the host, Fanny hadjust seated herself thereon, and had laid hold of the girdle which herlover wore for that purpose, when the wise beast, who concluded that oneat a time was sufficient, that two to one were odds, &c. , discoveredmuch uneasiness at his double load, and began to consider his hinder ashis fore legs, moving the direct contrary way to that which is calledforwards. Nor could Joseph, with all his horsemanship, persuade him toadvance; but, without having any regard to the lovely part of the lovelygirl which was on his back, he used such agitations, that, had not oneof the men come immediately to her assistance, she had, in plainEnglish, tumbled backwards on the ground. This inconvenience waspresently remedied by an exchange of horses; and then Fanny being againplaced on her pillion, on a better-natured and somewhat a better-fedbeast, the parson's horse, finding he had no longer odds to contendwith, agreed to march; and the whole procession set forwards forBooby-hall, where they arrived in a few hours without anythingremarkable happening on the road, unless it was a curious dialoguebetween the parson and the steward: which, to use the language of a lateApologist, a pattern to all biographers, "waits for the reader in thenext chapter. " CHAPTER XIII. _A curious dialogue which passed between Mr Abraham Adams and Mr PeterPounce, better worth reading than all the works of Colley Cibber andmany others. _ The chariot had not proceeded far before Mr Adams observed it was a veryfine day. "Ay, and a very fine country too, " answered Pounce. --"I shouldthink so more, " returned Adams, "if I had not lately travelled over theDowns, which I take to exceed this and all other prospects in theuniverse. "--"A fig for prospects!" answered Pounce; "one acre here isworth ten there; and for my own part, I have no delight in the prospectof any land but my own. "--"Sir, " said Adams, "you can indulge yourselfwith many fine prospects of that kind. "--"I thank God I have a little, "replied the other, "with which I am content, and envy no man: I have alittle, Mr Adams, with which I do as much good as I can. " Adamsanswered, "That riches without charity were nothing worth; for that theywere a blessing only to him who made them a blessing to others. "--"Youand I, " said Peter, "have different notions of charity. I own, as it isgenerally used, I do not like the word, nor do I think it becomes one ofus gentlemen; it is a mean parson-like quality; though I would not infermany parsons have it neither. "--"Sir, " said Adams, "my definition ofcharity is, a generous disposition to relieve the distressed. "--"Thereis something in that definition, " answered Peter, "which I like wellenough; it is, as you say, a disposition, and does not so much consistin the act as in the disposition to do it. But, alas! Mr Adams, who aremeant by the distressed? Believe me, the distresses of mankind aremostly imaginary, and it would be rather folly than goodness to relievethem. "--"Sure, sir, " replied Adams, "hunger and thirst, cold andnakedness, and other distresses which attend the poor, can never be saidto be imaginary evils. "--"How can any man complain of hunger, " saidPeter, "in a country where such excellent salads are to be gathered inalmost every field? or of thirst, where every river and stream producessuch delicious potations? And as for cold and nakedness, they are evilsintroduced by luxury and custom. A man naturally wants clothes no morethan a horse or any other animal; and there are whole nations who gowithout them; but these are things perhaps which you, who do not knowthe world"--"You will pardon me, sir, " returned Adams; "I have read ofthe Gymnosophists. "--"A plague of your Jehosaphats!" cried Peter; "thegreatest fault in our constitution is the provision made for the poor, except that perhaps made for some others. Sir, I have not an estatewhich doth not contribute almost as much again to the poor as to theland-tax; and I do assure you I expect to come myself to the parish inthe end. " To which Adams giving a dissenting smile, Peter thusproceeded: "I fancy, Mr Adams, you are one of those who imagine I am alump of money; for there are many who, I fancy, believe that not only mypockets, but my whole clothes, are lined with bank-bills; but I assureyou, you are all mistaken; I am not the man the world esteems me. If Ican hold my head above water it is all I can. I have injured myself bypurchasing. I have been too liberal of my money. Indeed, I fear my heirwill find my affairs in a worse situation than they are reputed to be. Ah! he will have reason to wish I had loved money more and land less. Pray, my good neighbour, where should I have that quantity of riches theworld is so liberal to bestow on me? Where could I possibly, without Ihad stole it, acquire such a treasure?" "Why, truly, " says Adams, "Ihave been always of your opinion; I have wondered as well as yourselfwith what confidence they could report such things of you, which have tome appeared as mere impossibilities; for you know, sir, and I have oftenheard you say it, that your wealth is of your own acquisition; and canit be credible that in your short time you should have amassed such aheap of treasure as these people will have you worth? Indeed, had youinherited an estate like Sir Thomas Booby, which had descended in yourfamily for many generations, they might have had a colour for theirassertions. " "Why, what do they say I am worth?" cries Peter, with amalicious sneer. "Sir, " answered Adams, "I have heard some aver you arenot worth less than twenty thousand pounds. " At which Peter frowned. "Nay, sir, " said Adams, "you ask me only the opinion of others; for myown part, I have always denied it, nor did I ever believe you couldpossibly be worth half that sum. " "However, Mr Adams, " said he, squeezing him by the hand, "I would not sell them all I am worth fordouble that sum; and as to what you believe, or they believe, I care nota fig, no not a fart. I am not poor because you think me so, nor becauseyou attempt to undervalue me in the country. I know the envy of mankindvery well; but I thank Heaven I am above them. It is true, my wealth isof my own acquisition. I have not an estate, like Sir Thomas Booby, thathas descended in my family through many generations; but I know heirs ofsuch estates who are forced to travel about the country like some peoplein torn cassocks, and might be glad to accept of a pitiful curacy forwhat I know. Yes, sir, as shabby fellows as yourself, whom no man of myfigure, without that vice of good-nature about him, would suffer to ridein a chariot with him. " "Sir, " said Adams, "I value not your chariot ofa rush; and if I had known you had intended to affront me, I would havewalked to the world's end on foot ere I would have accepted a place init. However, sir, I will soon rid you of that inconvenience;" and, sosaying, he opened the chariot door, without calling to the coachman, andleapt out into the highway, forgetting to take his hat along with him;which, however, Mr Pounce threw after him with great violence. Josephand Fanny stopt to bear him company the rest of the way, which was notabove a mile. BOOK IV. CHAPTER I. _The arrival of Lady Booby and the rest at Booby-hall. _ The coach and six, in which Lady Booby rode, overtook the othertravellers as they entered the parish. She no sooner saw Joseph than hercheeks glowed with red, and immediately after became as totally pale. She had in her surprize almost stopt her coach; but recollected herselftimely enough to prevent it. She entered the parish amidst the ringingof bells and the acclamations of the poor, who were rejoiced to seetheir patroness returned after so long an absence, during which time allher rents had been drafted to London, without a shilling being spentamong them, which tended not a little to their utter impoverishing; for, if the court would be severely missed in such a city as London, how muchmore must the absence of a person of great fortune be felt in a littlecountry village, for whose inhabitants such a family finds a constantemployment and supply; and with the offals of whose table the infirm, aged, and infant poor are abundantly fed, with a generosity which hathscarce a visible effect on their benefactors' pockets! But, if their interest inspired so public a joy into everycountenance, how much more forcibly did the affection which they boreparson Adams operate upon all who beheld his return! They flockedabout him like dutiful children round an indulgent parent, and vyedwith each other in demonstrations of duty and love. The parson on hisside shook every one by the hand, enquired heartily after the healthsof all that were absent, of their children, and relations; and expresta satisfaction in his face which nothing but benevolence made happy byits objects could infuse. Nor did Joseph and Fanny want a hearty welcome from all who saw them. Inshort, no three persons could be more kindly received, as, indeed, noneever more deserved to be universally beloved. Adams carried his fellow-travellers home to his house, where he insistedon their partaking whatever his wife, whom, with his children, he foundin health and joy, could provide:--where we shall leave them enjoyingperfect happiness over a homely meal, to view scenes of greatersplendour, but infinitely less bliss. Our more intelligent readers will doubtless suspect, by this secondappearance of Lady Booby on the stage, that all was not ended by thedismission of Joseph; and, to be honest with them, they are in theright: the arrow had pierced deeper than she imagined; nor was the woundso easily to be cured. The removal of the object soon cooled her rage, but it had a different effect on her love; that departed with hisperson, but this remained lurking in her mind with his image. Restless, interrupted slumbers, and confused horrible dreams were her portion thefirst night. In the morning, fancy painted her a more delicious scene;but to delude, not delight her; for, before she could reach the promisedhappiness, it vanished, and left her to curse, not bless, the vision. She started from her sleep, her imagination being all on fire with thephantom, when, her eyes accidentally glancing towards the spot whereyesterday the real Joseph had stood, that little circumstance raised hisidea in the liveliest colours in her memory. Each look, each word, eachgesture rushed back on her mind with charms which all his coldness couldnot abate. Nay, she imputed that to his youth, his folly, his awe, hisreligion, to everything but what would instantly have produced contempt, want of passion for the sex, or that which would have roused her hatred, want of liking to her. Reflection then hurried her farther, and told her she must see thisbeautiful youth no more; nay, suggested to her that she herself haddismissed him for no other fault than probably that of too violent anawe and respect for herself; and which she ought rather to have esteemeda merit, the effects of which were besides so easily and surely to havebeen removed; she then blamed, she cursed the hasty rashness of hertemper; her fury was vented all on herself, and Joseph appeared innocentin her eyes. Her passion at length grew so violent, that it forced heron seeking relief, and now she thought of recalling him: but prideforbad that; pride, which soon drove all softer passions from her soul, and represented to her the meanness of him she was fond of. That thoughtsoon began to obscure his beauties; contempt succeeded next, and thendisdain, which presently introduced her hatred of the creature who hadgiven her so much uneasiness. These enemies of Joseph had no soonertaken possession of her mind than they insinuated to her a thousandthings in his disfavour; everything but dislike of her person; a thoughtwhich, as it would have been intolerable to bear, she checked the momentit endeavoured to arise. Revenge came now to her assistance; and sheconsidered her dismission of him, stript, and without a character, withthe utmost pleasure. She rioted in the several kinds of misery which herimagination suggested to her might be his fate; and, with a smilecomposed of anger, mirth, and scorn, viewed him in the rags in which herfancy had drest him. Mrs Slipslop, being summoned, attended her mistress, who had now in herown opinion totally subdued this passion. Whilst she was dressing sheasked if that fellow had been turned away according to her orders. Slipslop answered, she had told her ladyship so (as indeed shehad). --"And how did he behave?" replied the lady. "Truly, madam, " criesSlipslop, "in such a manner that infected everybody who saw him. Thepoor lad had but little wages to receive; for he constantly allowed hisfather and mother half his income; so that, when your ladyship's liverywas stript off, he had not wherewithal to buy a coat, and must have gonenaked if one of the footmen had not incommodated him with one; andwhilst he was standing in his shirt (and, to say truth, he was anamorous figure), being told your ladyship would not give him acharacter, he sighed, and said he had done nothing willingly to offend;that for his part, he should always give your ladyship a good characterwherever he went; and he prayed God to bless you; for you was the bestof ladies, though his enemies had set you against him. I wish you hadnot turned him away; for I believe you have not a faithfuller servant inthe house. "--"How came you then, " replied the lady, "to advise me toturn him away?"--"I, madam!" said Slipslop; "I am sure you will do methe justice to say, I did all in my power to prevent it; but I saw yourladyship was angry; and it is not the business of us upper servants tohinterfear on these occasions. " "And was it not you, audacious wretch!"cried the lady, "who made me angry? Was it not your tittle-tattle, inwhich I believe you belyed the poor fellow, which incensed me againsthim? He may thank you for all that hath happened; and so may I for theloss of a good servant, and one who probably had more merit than all ofyou. Poor fellow! I am charmed with his goodness to his parents. Why didnot you tell me of that, but suffer me to dismiss so good a creaturewithout a character? I see the reason of your whole behaviour now aswell as your complaint; you was jealous of the wenches. " "I jealous!"said Slipslop; "I assure you, I look upon myself as his betters; I amnot meat for a footman, I hope. " These words threw the lady into aviolent passion, and she sent Slipslop from her presence, who departed, tossing her nose, and crying, "Marry, come up! there are some peoplemore jealous than I, I believe. " Her lady affected not to hear thewords, though in reality she did, and understood them too. Now ensued asecond conflict, so like the former, that it might savour of repetitionto relate it minutely. It may suffice to say that Lady Booby found goodreason to doubt whether she had so absolutely conquered her passion asshe had flattered herself; and, in order to accomplish it quite, took aresolution, more common than wise, to retire immediately into thecountry. The reader hath long ago seen the arrival of Mrs Slipslop, whomno pertness could make her mistress resolve to part with; lately, thatof Mr Pounce, her forerunners; and, lastly, that of the lady herself. The morning after her arrival being Sunday, she went to church, to thegreat surprize of everybody, who wondered to see her ladyship, being novery constant church-woman, there so suddenly upon her journey. Josephwas likewise there; and I have heard it was remarked that she fixed hereyes on him much more than on the parson; but this I believe to be onlya malicious rumour. When the prayers were ended Mr Adams stood up, andwith a loud voice pronounced, "I publish the banns of marriage betweenJoseph Andrews and Frances Goodwill, both of this parish, " &c. Whetherthis had any effect on Lady Booby or no, who was then in her pew, whichthe congregation could not see into, I could never discover: butcertain it is that in about a quarter of an hour she stood up, anddirected her eyes to that part of the church where the women sat, andpersisted in looking that way during the remainder of the sermon in soscrutinizing a manner, and with so angry a countenance, that most ofthe women were afraid she was offended at them. The moment she returnedhome she sent for Slipslop into her chamber, and told her she wonderedwhat that impudent fellow Joseph did in that parish? Upon whichSlipslop gave her an account of her meeting Adams with him on the road, and likewise the adventure with Fanny. At the relation of which thelady often changed her countenance; and when she had heard all, sheordered Mr Adams into her presence, to whom she behaved as the readerwill see in the next chapter. CHAPTER II. _A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and the Lady Booby. _ Mr Adams was not far off, for he was drinking her ladyship's healthbelow in a cup of her ale. He no sooner came before her than she beganin the following manner: "I wonder, sir, after the many greatobligations you have had to this family" (with all which the reader hathin the course of this history been minutely acquainted), "that you willungratefully show any respect to a fellow who hath been turned out of itfor his misdeeds. Nor doth it, I can tell you, sir, become a man of yourcharacter, to run about the country with an idle fellow and wench. Indeed, as for the girl, I know no harm of her. Slipslop tells me shewas formerly bred up in my house, and behaved as she ought, till shehankered after this fellow, and he spoiled her. Nay, she may still, perhaps, do very well, if he will let her alone. You are, therefore, doing a monstrous thing in endeavouring to procure a match between thesetwo people, which will be to the ruin of them both. "--"Madam, " saidAdams, "if your ladyship will but hear me speak, I protest I never heardany harm of Mr Joseph Andrews; if I had, I should have corrected him forit; for I never have, nor will, encourage the faults of those under mycare. As for the young woman, I assure your ladyship I have as good anopinion of her as your ladyship yourself or any other can have. She isthe sweetest-tempered, honestest, worthiest young creature; indeed, asto her beauty, I do not commend her on that account, though all menallow she is the handsomest woman, gentle or simple, that ever appearedin the parish. "--"You are very impertinent, " says she, "to talk suchfulsome stuff to me. It is mighty becoming truly in a clergyman totrouble himself about handsome women, and you are a delicate judge ofbeauty, no doubt. A man who hath lived all his life in such a parish asthis is a rare judge of beauty! Ridiculous! beauty indeed! a countrywench a beauty! I shall be sick whenever I hear beauty mentioned again. And so this wench is to stock the parish with beauties, I hope. But, sir, our poor is numerous enough already; I will have no more vagabondssettled here. "--"Madam, " says Adams, "your ladyship is offended with me, I protest, without any reason. This couple were desirous to consummatelong ago, and I dissuaded them from it; nay, I may venture to say, Ibelieve I was the sole cause of their delaying it. "--"Well, " says she, "and you did very wisely and honestly too, notwithstanding she is thegreatest beauty in the parish. "--"And now, madam, " continued he, "I onlyperform my office to Mr Joseph. "--"Pray, don't mister such fellows tome, " cries the lady. "He, " said the parson, "with the consent of Fanny, before my face, put in the banns. " "Yes, " answered the lady, "I supposethe slut is forward enough; Slipslop tells me how her head runs uponfellows; that is one of her beauties, I suppose. But if they have put inthe banns, I desire you will publish them no more without myorders. "--"Madam, " cries Adams, "if any one puts in a sufficientcaution, and assigns a proper reason against them, I am willing tosurcease. "--"I tell you a reason, " says she: "he is a vagabond, and heshall not settle here, and bring a nest of beggars into the parish; itwill make us but little amends that they will be beauties. "--"Madam, "answered Adams, "with the utmost submission to your ladyship, I have beeninformed by lawyer Scout that any person who serves a year gains asettlement in the parish where he serves. "--"Lawyer Scout, " replied thelady, "is an impudent coxcomb; I will have no lawyer Scout interferewith me. I repeat to you again, I will have no more incumbrances broughton us: so I desire you will proceed no farther. "--"Madam, " returnedAdams, "I would obey your ladyship in everything that is lawful; butsurely the parties being poor is no reason against their marrying. Godforbid there should be any such law! The poor have little share enoughof this world already; it would be barbarous indeed to deny them thecommon privileges and innocent enjoyments which nature indulges to theanimal creation. "--"Since you understand yourself no better, " cries thelady, "nor the respect due from such as you to a woman of mydistinction, than to affront my ears by such loose discourse, I shallmention but one short word; it is my orders to you that you publishthese banns no more; and if you dare, I will recommend it to yourmaster, the doctor, to discard you from his service. I will, sir, notwithstanding your poor family; and then you and the greatest beautyin the parish may go and beg together. "--"Madam, " answered Adams, "Iknow not what your ladyship means by the terms master and service. I amin the service of a Master who will never discard me for doing my duty;and if the doctor (for indeed I have never been able to pay for alicence) thinks proper to turn me from my cure, God will provide me, Ihope, another. At least, my family, as well as myself, have hands; andhe will prosper, I doubt not, our endeavours to get our bread honestlywith them. Whilst my conscience is pure, I shall never fear what man cando unto me. "--"I condemn my humility, " said the lady, "for demeaningmyself to converse with you so long. I shall take other measures; for Isee you are a confederate with them. But the sooner you leave me thebetter; and I shall give orders that my doors may no longer be open toyou. I will suffer no parsons who run about the country with beauties tobe entertained here. "--"Madam, " said Adams, "I shall enter into nopersons' doors against their will; but I am assured, when you haveenquired farther into this matter, you will applaud, not blame, myproceeding; and so I humbly take my leave:" which he did with many bows, or at least many attempts at a bow. CHAPTER III. _What passed between the lady and lawyer Scout. _ In the afternoon the lady sent for Mr Scout, whom she attacked mostviolently for intermeddling with her servants, which he denied, andindeed with truth, for he had only asserted accidentally, and perhapsrightly, that a year's service gained a settlement; and so far he ownedhe might have formerly informed the parson and believed it was law. "Iam resolved, " said the lady, "to have no discarded servants of minesettled here; and so, if this be your law, I shall send to anotherlawyer. " Scout said, "If she sent to a hundred lawyers, not one or allof them could alter the law. The utmost that was in the power of alawyer was to prevent the law's taking effect; and that he himself coulddo for her ladyship as well as any other; and I believe, " says he, "madam, your ladyship, not being conversant in these matters, hathmistaken a difference; for I asserted only that a man who served a yearwas settled. Now there is a material difference between being settled inlaw and settled in fact; and as I affirmed generally he was settled, andlaw is preferable to fact, my settlement must be understood in law andnot in fact. And suppose, madam, we admit he was settled in law, whatuse will they make of it? how doth that relate to fact? He is notsettled in fact; and if he be not settled in fact, he is not aninhabitant; and if he is not an inhabitant, he is not of this parish;and then undoubtedly he ought not to be published here; for Mr Adamshath told me your ladyship's pleasure, and the reason, which is a verygood one, to prevent burdening us with the poor; we have too manyalready, and I think we ought to have an act to hang or transport halfof them. If we can prove in evidence that he is not settled in fact, itis another matter. What I said to Mr Adams was on a supposition that hewas settled in fact; and indeed, if that was the case, I shoulddoubt. "--"Don't tell me your facts and your ifs, " said the lady; "Idon't understand your gibberish; you take too much upon you, and arevery impertinent, in pretending to direct in this parish; and you shallbe taught better, I assure you, you shall. But as to the wench, I amresolved she shall not settle here; I will not suffer such beauties asthese to produce children for us to keep. "--"Beauties, indeed! yourladyship is pleased to be merry, " answered Scout. --"Mr Adams describedher so to me, " said the lady. "Pray, what sort of dowdy is it, MrScout?"--"The ugliest creature almost I ever beheld; a poor dirty drab, your ladyship never saw such a wretch. "--"Well, but, dear Mr Scout, lether be what she will, these ugly women will bring children, you know; sothat we must prevent the marriage. "--"True, madam, " replied Scout, "forthe subsequent marriage co-operating with the law will carry law intofact. When a man is married he is settled in fact, and then he is notremovable. I will see Mr Adams, and I make no doubt of prevailing withhim. His only objection is, doubtless, that he shall lose his fee; butthat being once made easy, as it shall be, I am confident no fartherobjection will remain. No, no, it is impossible; but your ladyship can'tdiscommend his unwillingness to depart from his fee. Every man ought tohave a proper value for his fee. As to the matter in question, if yourladyship pleases to employ me in it, I will venture to promise yousuccess. The laws of this land are not so vulgar to permit a mean fellowto contend with one of your ladyship's fortune. We have one sure card, which is, to carry him before Justice Frolick, who, upon hearing yourladyship's name, will commit him without any farther questions. As forthe dirty slut, we shall have nothing to do with her; for, if we get ridof the fellow, the ugly jade will--"--"Take what measures you please, good Mr Scout, " answered the lady: "but I wish you could rid the parishof both; for Slipslop tells me such stories of this wench, that I abhorthe thoughts of her; and, though you say she is such an ugly slut, yetyou know, dear Mr Scout, these forward creatures, who run after men, will always find some as forward as themselves; so that, to prevent theincrease of beggars, we must get rid of her. "--"Your ladyship is verymuch in the right, " answered Scout; "but I am afraid the law is a littledeficient in giving us any such power of prevention; however, thejustice will stretch it as far as he is able, to oblige your ladyship. To say truth, it is a great blessing to the country that he is in thecommission, for he hath taken several poor off our hands that the lawwould never lay hold on. I know some justices who think as much ofcommitting a man to Bridewell as his lordship at 'size would of hanginghim; but it would do a man good to see his worship, our justice, commita fellow to Bridewell, he takes so much pleasure in it; and when once weha'um there, we seldom hear any more o'um. He's either starved or eat upby vermin in a month's time. "--Here the arrival of a visitor put an endto the conversation, and Mr Scout, having undertaken the cause andpromised it success, departed. This Scout was one of those fellows who, without any knowledge of thelaw, or being bred to it, take upon them, in defiance of an act ofParliament, to act as lawyers in the country, and are called so. Theyare the pests of society, and a scandal to a profession, to which indeedthey do not belong, and which owes to such kind of rascallions theill-will which weak persons bear towards it. With this fellow, to whom alittle before she would not have condescended to have spoken, did acertain passion for Joseph, and the jealousy and the disdain of poorinnocent Fanny, betray the Lady Booby into a familiar discourse, inwhich she inadvertently confirmed many hints with which Slipslop, whosegallant he was, had pre-acquainted him; and whence he had taken anopportunity to assert those severe falsehoods of little Fanny whichpossibly the reader might not have been well able to account for if wehad not thought proper to give him this information. CHAPTER IV. _A short chapter, but very full of matter; particularly the arrival ofMr Booby and his lady. _ All that night, and the next day, the Lady Booby past with the utmostanxiety; her mind was distracted and her soul tossed up and down by manyturbulent and opposite passions. She loved, hated, pitied, scorned, admired, despised the same person by fits, which changed in a very shortinterval. On Tuesday morning, which happened to be a holiday, she wentto church, where, to her surprize, Mr Adams published the banns againwith as audible a voice as before. It was lucky for her that, as therewas no sermon, she had an immediate opportunity of returning home tovent her rage, which she could not have concealed from the congregationfive minutes; indeed, it was not then very numerous, the assemblyconsisting of no more than Adams, his clerk, his wife, the lady, and oneof her servants. At her return she met Slipslop, who accosted her inthese words:--"O meam, what doth your ladyship think? To be sure, lawyerScout hath carried Joseph and Fanny both before the justice. All theparish are in tears, and say they will certainly be hanged; for nobodyknows what it is for"--"I suppose they deserve it, " says the lady. "What! dost thou mention such wretches to me?"--"O dear madam, " answeredSlipslop, "is it not a pity such a graceless young man should die avirulent death? I hope the judge will take commensuration on his youth. As for Fanny, I don't think it signifies much what becomes of her; andif poor Joseph hath done anything, I could venture to swear she traducedhim to it: few men ever come to a fragrant punishment, but by thosenasty creatures, who are a scandal to our sect. " The lady was no morepleased at this news, after a moment's reflection, than Slipslopherself; for, though she wished Fanny far enough, she did not desire theremoval of Joseph, especially with her. She was puzzled how to act orwhat to say on this occasion, when a coach and six drove into the court, and a servant acquainted her with the arrival of her nephew Booby andhis lady. She ordered them to be conducted into a drawing-room, whithershe presently repaired, having composed her countenance as well as shecould, and being a little satisfied that the wedding would by thesemeans be at least interrupted, and that she should have an opportunityto execute any resolution she might take, for which she saw herselfprovided with an excellent instrument in Scout. The Lady Booby apprehended her servant had made a mistake when hementioned Mr Booby's lady; for she had never heard of his marriage: buthow great was her surprize when, at her entering the room, her nephewpresented his wife to her; saying, "Madam, this is that charming Pamela, of whom I am convinced you have heard so much. " The lady received herwith more civility than he expected; indeed with the utmost; for she wasperfectly polite, nor had any vice inconsistent with good-breeding. Theypast some little time in ordinary discourse, when a servant came andwhispered Mr Booby, who presently told the ladies he must desert them alittle on some business of consequence; and, as their discourse duringhis absence would afford little improvement or entertainment to thereader, we will leave them for a while to attend Mr Booby. CHAPTER V. _Containing justice business; curious precedents of depositions, andother matters necessary to be perused by all justices of the peace andtheir clerks. _ The young squire and his lady were no sooner alighted from their coachthan the servants began to inquire after Mr Joseph, from whom they saidtheir lady had not heard a word, to her great surprize, since he hadleft Lady Booby's. Upon this they were instantly informed of what hadlately happened, with which they hastily acquainted their master, whotook an immediate resolution to go himself, and endeavour to restore hisPamela her brother, before she even knew she had lost him. The justice before whom the criminals were carried, and who lived withina short mile of the lady's house, was luckily Mr Booby's acquaintance, by his having an estate in his neighbourhood. Ordering therefore hishorses to his coach, he set out for the judgment-seat, and arrived whenthe justice had almost finished his business. He was conducted into ahall, where he was acquainted that his worship would wait on him in amoment; for he had only a man and a woman to commit to Bridewell first. As he was now convinced he had not a minute to lose, he insisted on theservant's introducing him directly into the room where the justice wasthen executing his office, as he called it. Being brought thither, andthe first compliments being passed between the squire and his worship, the former asked the latter what crime those two young people had beenguilty of? "No great crime, " answered the justice; "I have only orderedthem to Bridewell for a month. " "But what is their crime?" repeated thesquire. "Larceny, an't please your honour, " said Scout. "Ay, " says thejustice, "a kind of felonious larcenous thing. I believe I must orderthem a little correction too, a little stripping and whipping. " (PoorFanny, who had hitherto supported all with the thoughts of Joseph'scompany, trembled at that sound; but, indeed, without reason, for nonebut the devil himself would have executed such a sentence on her. )"Still, " said the squire, "I am ignorant of the crime--the fact I mean. ""Why, there it is in peaper, " answered the justice, showing him adeposition which, in the absence of his clerk, he had writ himself, ofwhich we have with great difficulty procured an authentic copy; and hereit follows _verbatim et literatim:_-- _The depusition of James Scout, layer, and Thomas Trotter, yeoman, taken before mee, one of his magesty's justasses of the piece for Zumersetshire. _ "These deponants saith, and first Thomas Trotter for himself saith, that on the -- of this instant October, being Sabbath-day, betwin the ours of 2 and 4 in the afternoon, he zeed Joseph Andrews and Francis Goodwill walk akross a certane felde belunging to layer Scout, and out of the path which ledes thru the said felde, and there he zede Joseph Andrews with a nife cut one hassel twig, of the value, as he believes, of three half-pence, or thereabouts; and he saith that the said Francis Goodwill was likewise walking on the grass out of the said path in the said felde, and did receive and karry in her hand the said twig, and so was cumfarting, eading, and abatting to the said Joseph therein. And the said James Scout for himself says that he verily believes the said twig to be his own proper twig, " &c. "Jesu!" said the squire, "would you commit two persons to Bridewell fora twig?" "Yes, " said the lawyer, "and with great lenity too; for if wehad called it a young tree, they would have been both hanged. " "Harkee, "says the justice, taking aside the squire; "I should not have been sosevere on this occasion, but Lady Booby desires to get them out of theparish; so lawyer Scout will give the constable orders to let them runaway, if they please: but it seems they intend to marry together, andthe lady hath no other means, as they are legally settled there, toprevent their bringing an incumbrance on her own parish. " "Well, " saidthe squire, "I will take care my aunt shall be satisfied in this point;and likewise I promise you, Joseph here shall never be any incumbranceon her. I shall be obliged to you, therefore, if, instead of Bridewell, you will commit them to my custody. " "O! to be sure, sir, if you desireit, " answered the justice; and without more ado Joseph and Fanny weredelivered over to Squire Booby, whom Joseph very well knew, but littleguessed how nearly he was related to him. The justice burnt hismittimus, the constable was sent about his business, the lawyer made nocomplaint for want of justice; and the prisoners, with exulting hearts, gave a thousand thanks to his honour Mr Booby; who did not intend theirobligations to him should cease here; for, ordering his man to produce acloak-bag, which he had caused to be brought from Lady Booby's onpurpose, he desired the justice that he might have Joseph with him intoa room; where, ordering his servant to take out a suit of his ownclothes, with linnen and other necessaries, he left Joseph to dresshimself, who, not yet knowing the cause of all this civility, excusedhis accepting such a favour as long as decently he could. Whilst Josephwas dressing, the squire repaired to the justice, whom he found talkingwith Fanny; for, during the examination, she had flopped her hat overher eyes, which were also bathed in tears, and had by that meansconcealed from his worship what might perhaps have rendered the arrivalof Mr Booby unnecessary, at least for herself. The justice no sooner sawher countenance cleared up, and her bright eyes shining through hertears, than he secretly cursed himself for having once thought ofBridewell for her. He would willingly have sent his own wife thither, tohave had Fanny in her place. And, conceiving almost at the same instantdesires and schemes to accomplish them, he employed the minutes whilstthe squire was absent with Joseph in assuring her how sorry he was forhaving treated her so roughly before he knew her merit; and told her, that since Lady Booby was unwilling that she should settle in herparish, she was heartily welcome to his, where he promised her hisprotection, adding that he would take Joseph and her into his ownfamily, if she liked it; which assurance he confirmed with a squeeze bythe hand. She thanked him very kindly, and said, "She would acquaintJoseph with the offer, which he would certainly be glad to accept; forthat Lady Booby was angry with them both; though she did not know eitherhad done anything to offend her, but imputed it to Madam Slipslop, whohad always been her enemy. " The squire now returned, and prevented any farther continuance of thisconversation; and the justice, out of a pretended respect to his guest, but in reality from an apprehension of a rival (for he knew nothing ofhis marriage), ordered Fanny into the kitchen, whither she gladlyretired; nor did the squire, who declined the trouble of explaining thewhole matter, oppose it. It would be unnecessary, if I was able, which indeed I am not, torelate the conversation between these two gentlemen, which rolled, asI have been informed, entirely on the subject of horse-racing. Josephwas soon drest in the plainest dress he could find, which was a bluecoat and breeches, with a gold edging, and a red waistcoat with thesame: and as this suit, which was rather too large for the squire, exactly fitted him, so he became it so well, and looked so genteel, that no person would have doubted its being as well adapted to hisquality as his shape; nor have suspected, as one might, when my Lord----, or Sir ----, or Mr ----, appear in lace or embroidery, that thetaylor's man wore those clothes home on his back which he should havecarried under his arm. The squire now took leave of the justice; and, calling for Fanny, madeher and Joseph, against their wills, get into the coach with him, whichhe then ordered to drive to Lady Booby's. It had moved a few yards only, when the squire asked Joseph if he knew who that man was crossing thefield; for, added he, I never saw one take such strides before. Josephanswered eagerly, "O, sir, it is parson Adams!" "O la, indeed, and so itis, " said Fanny; "poor man, he is coming to do what he could for us. Well, he is the worthiest, best-natured creature. "--"Ay, " said Joseph;"God bless him! for there is not such another in the universe. " "Thebest creature living sure, " cries Fanny. "Is he?" says the squire; "thenI am resolved to have the best creature living in my coach;" and sosaying, he ordered it to stop, whilst Joseph, at his request, hallowedto the parson, who, well knowing his voice, made all the hasteimaginable, and soon came up with them. He was desired by the master, who could scarce refrain from laughter at his figure, to mount into thecoach, which he with many thanks refused, saying he could walk by itsside, and he'd warrant he kept up with it; but he was at lengthover-prevailed on. The squire now acquainted Joseph with his marriage;but he might have spared himself that labour; for his servant, whilstJoseph was dressing, had performed that office before. He continued toexpress the vast happiness he enjoyed in his sister, and the value hehad for all who belonged to her. Joseph made many bows, and exprest asmany acknowledgments: and parson Adams, who now first perceived Joseph'snew apparel, burst into tears with joy, and fell to rubbing his handsand snapping his fingers as if he had been mad. They were now arrived at the Lady Booby's, and the squire, desiring themto wait a moment in the court, walked in to his aunt, and calling herout from his wife, acquainted her with Joseph's arrival; saying, "Madam, as I have married a virtuous and worthy woman, I am resolved to own herrelations, and show them all a proper respect; I shall think myselftherefore infinitely obliged to all mine who will do the same. It istrue, her brother hath been your servant, but he is now become mybrother; and I have one happiness, that neither his character, hisbehaviour, or appearance, give me any reason to be ashamed of callinghim so. In short, he is now below, dressed like a gentleman, in whichlight I intend he shall hereafter be seen; and you will oblige me beyondexpression if you will admit him to be of our party; for I know it willgive great pleasure to my wife, though she will not mention it. " This was a stroke of fortune beyond the Lady Booby's hopes orexpectation; she answered him eagerly, "Nephew, you know how easily I amprevailed on to do anything which Joseph Andrews desires--Phoo, I meanwhich you desire me; and, as he is now your relation, I cannot refuse toentertain him as such. " The squire told her he knew his obligation toher for her compliance; and going three steps, returned and told her--hehad one more favour, which he believed she would easily grant, as shehad accorded him the former. "There is a young woman--"--"Nephew, " saysshe, "don't let my good-nature make you desire, as is too commonly thecase, to impose on me. Nor think, because I have with so muchcondescension agreed to suffer your brother-in-law to come to my table, that I will submit to the company of all my own servants, and all thedirty trollops in the country. " "Madam, " answered the squire, "I believeyou never saw this young creature. I never beheld such sweetness andinnocence joined with such beauty, and withal so genteel. " "Upon my soulI won't admit her, " replied the lady in a passion; "the whole worldshan't prevail on me; I resent even the desire as an affront, and--" Thesquire, who knew her inflexibility, interrupted her, by asking pardon, and promising not to mention it more. He then returned to Joseph, andshe to Pamela. He took Joseph aside, and told him he would carry him tohis sister, but could not prevail as yet for Fanny. Joseph begged thathe might see his sister alone, and then be with his Fanny; but thesquire, knowing the pleasure his wife would have in her brother'scompany, would not admit it, telling Joseph there would be nothing in soshort an absence from Fanny, whilst he was assured of her safety;adding, he hoped he could not so easily quit a sister whom he had notseen so long, and who so tenderly loved him. Joseph immediatelycomplied; for indeed no brother could love a sister more; and, recommending Fanny, who rejoiced that she was not to go before LadyBooby, to the care of Mr Adams, he attended the squire upstairs, whilstFanny repaired with the parson to his house, where she thought herselfsecure of a kind reception. CHAPTER VI. _Of which you are desired to read no more than you like. _ The meeting between Joseph and Pamela was not without tears of joy onboth sides; and their embraces were full of tenderness and affection. They were, however, regarded with much more pleasure by the nephew thanby the aunt, to whose flame they were fuel only; and this was increasedby the addition of dress, which was indeed not wanted to set off thelively colours in which Nature had drawn health, strength, comeliness, and youth. In the afternoon Joseph, at their request, entertained themwith an account of his adventures: nor could Lady Booby conceal herdissatisfaction at those parts in which Fanny was concerned, especiallywhen Mr Booby launched forth into such rapturous praises of her beauty. She said, applying to her niece, that she wondered her nephew, who hadpretended to marry for love, should think such a subject proper toamuse his wife with; adding, that, for her part, she should be jealousof a husband who spoke so warmly in praise of another woman. Pamelaanswered, indeed, she thought she had cause; but it was an instance ofMr Booby's aptness to see more beauty in women than they weremistresses of. At which words both the women fixed their eyes on twolooking-glasses; and Lady Booby replied, that men were, in the general, very ill judges of beauty; and then, whilst both contemplated onlytheir own faces, they paid a cross compliment to each other's charms. When the hour of rest approached, which the lady of the house deferredas long as decently she could, she informed Joseph (whom for the futurewe shall call Mr Joseph, he having as good a title to that appellationas many others--I mean that incontested one of good clothes) that shehad ordered a bed to be provided for him. He declined this favour tohis utmost; for his heart had long been with his Fanny; but sheinsisted on his accepting it, alledging that the parish had no properaccommodation for such a person as he was now to esteem himself. Thesquire and his lady both joining with her, Mr Joseph was at last forcedto give over his design of visiting Fanny that evening; who, on herside, as impatiently expected him till midnight, when, in complacenceto Mr Adams's family, who had sat up two hours out of respect to her, she retired to bed, but not to sleep; the thoughts of her love kept herwaking, and his not returning according to his promise filled her withuneasiness; of which, however, she could not assign any other causethan merely that of being absent from him. Mr Joseph rose early in the morning, and visited her in whom his souldelighted. She no sooner heard his voice in the parson's parlour thanshe leapt from her bed, and, dressing herself in a few minutes, wentdown to him. They passed two hours with inexpressible happinesstogether; and then, having appointed Monday, by Mr Adams's permission, for their marriage, Mr Joseph returned, according to his promise, tobreakfast at the Lady Booby's, with whose behaviour, since the evening, we shall now acquaint the reader. She was no sooner retired to her chamber than she asked Slipslop "Whatshe thought of this wonderful creature her nephew had married?"--"Madam?" said Slipslop, not yet sufficiently understanding what answershe was to make. "I ask you, " answered the lady, "what you think of thedowdy, my niece, I think I am to call her?" Slipslop, wanting no furtherhint, began to pull her to pieces, and so miserably defaced her, that itwould have been impossible for any one to have known the person. Thelady gave her all the assistance she could, and ended with saying, "Ithink, Slipslop, you have done her justice; but yet, bad as she is, sheis an angel compared to this Fanny. " Slipslop then fell on Fanny, whomshe hacked and hewed in the like barbarous manner, concluding with anobservation that there was always something in those low-life creatureswhich must eternally extinguish them from their betters. "Really, " saidthe lady, "I think there is one exception to your rule; I am certain youmay guess who I mean. "--"Not I, upon my word, madam, " said Slipslop. "Imean a young fellow; sure you are the dullest wretch, " said the lady. "Ola! I am indeed. Yes, truly, madam, he is an accession, " answeredSlipslop. "Ay, is he not, Slipslop?" returned the lady. "Is he not sogenteel that a prince might, without a blush, acknowledge him for hisson? His behaviour is such that would not shame the best education. Heborrows from his station a condescension in everything to his superiors, yet unattended by that mean servility which is called good behaviour insuch persons. Everything he doth hath no mark of the base motive offear, but visibly shows some respect and gratitude, and carries with itthe persuasion of love. And then for his virtues: such piety to hisparents, such tender affection to his sister, such integrity in hisfriendship, such bravery, such goodness, that, if he had been born agentleman, his wife would have possessed the most invaluableblessing. "--"To be sure, ma'am, " says Slipslop. "But as he is, " answeredthe lady, "if he had a thousand more good qualities, it must render awoman of fashion contemptible even to be suspected of thinking of him;yes, I should despise myself for such a thought. "--"To be sure, ma'am, "said Slipslop. "And why to be sure?" replied the lady; "thou art alwaysone's echo. Is he not more worthy of affection than a dirty countryclown, though born of a family as old as the flood? or an idle worthlessrake, or little puisny beau of quality? And yet these we must condemnourselves to, in order to avoid the censure of the world; to shun thecontempt of others, we must ally ourselves to those we despise; we mustprefer birth, title, and fortune, to real merit. It is a tyranny ofcustom, a tyranny we must comply with; for we people of fashion are theslaves of custom. "--"Marry come up!" said Slipslop, who now knew wellwhich party to take. "If I was a woman of your ladyship's fortune andquality, I would be a slave to nobody. "--"Me, " said the lady; "I amspeaking if a young woman of fashion, who had seen nothing of the world, should happen to like such a fellow. --Me, indeed! I hope thou dost notimagine--"--"No, ma'am, to be sure, " cries Slipslop. "No! what no?"cried the lady. "Thou art always ready to answer before thou hast heardone. So far I must allow he is a charming fellow. Me, indeed! No, Slipslop, all thoughts of men are over with me. I have lost a husbandwho--but if I should reflect I should run mad. My future ease mustdepend upon forgetfulness. Slipslop, let me hear some of thy nonsense, to turn my thoughts another way. What dost thou think of MrAndrews?"--"Why, I think, " says Slipslop, "he is the handsomest, mostproperest man I ever saw; and if I was a lady of the greatest degree itwould be well for some folks. Your ladyship may talk of custom, if youplease: but I am confidous there is no more comparison between young MrAndrews and most of the young gentlemen who come to your ladyship'shouse in London; a parcel of whipper-snapper sparks: I would soonermarry our old parson Adams. Never tell me what people say, whilst I amhappy in the arms of him I love. Some folks rail against other folksbecause other folks have what some folks would be glad of. "--"And so, "answered the lady, "if you was a woman of condition, you would reallymarry Mr Andrews?"--"Yes, I assure your ladyship, " replied Slipslop, "ifhe would have me. "--"Fool, idiot!" cries the lady; "if he would have awoman of fashion! is that a question?"--"No, truly, madam, " saidSlipslop, "I believe it would be none if Fanny was out of the way; and Iam confidous, if I was in your ladyship's place, and liked Mr JosephAndrews, she should not stay in the parish a moment. I am sure lawyerScout would send her packing if your ladyship would but say the word. "This last speech of Slipslop raised a tempest in the mind of hermistress. She feared Scout had betrayed her, or rather that she hadbetrayed herself. After some silence, and a double change of hercomplexion, first to pale and then to red, she thus spoke: "I amastonished at the liberty you give your tongue. Would you insinuate thatI employed Scout against this wench on account of the fellow?"--"La, ma'am, " said Slipslop, frighted out of her wits, "I assassinate such athing!"--"I think you dare not, " answered the lady; "I believe myconduct may defy malice itself to assert so cursed a slander. If I hadever discovered any wantonness, any lightness in my behaviour; if I hadfollowed the example of some whom thou hast, I believe, seen, inallowing myself indecent liberties, even with a husband; but the dearman who is gone" (here she began to sob), "was he alive again" (then sheproduced tears), "could not upbraid me with any one act of tenderness orpassion. No, Slipslop, all the time I cohabited with him he neverobtained even a kiss from me without my expressing reluctance in thegranting it. I am sure he himself never suspected how much I loved him. Since his death, thou knowest, though it is almost six weeks (it wantsbut a day) ago, I have not admitted one visitor till this fool my nephewarrived. I have confined myself quite to one party of friends. And cansuch a conduct as this fear to be arraigned? To be accused, not only ofa passion which I have always despised, but of fixing it on such anobject, a creature so much beneath my notice!"--"Upon my word, ma'am, "says Slipslop, "I do not understand your ladyship; nor know I anythingof the matter. "--"I believe indeed thou dost not understand me. Thoseare delicacies which exist only in superior minds; thy coarse ideascannot comprehend them. Thou art a low creature, of the Andrews breed, areptile of a lower order, a weed that grows in the common garden of thecreation. "--"I assure your ladyship, " says Slipslop, whose passions werealmost of as high an order as her lady's, "I have no more to do withCommon Garden than other folks. Really, your ladyship talks of servantsas if they were not born of the Christian specious. Servants have fleshand blood as well as quality; and Mr Andrews himself is a proof thatthey have as good, if not better. And for my own part, I can't perceivemy dears[A] are coarser than other people's; and I am sure, if MrAndrews was a dear of mine, I should not be ashamed of him in companywith gentlemen; for whoever hath seen him in his new clothes mustconfess he looks as much like a gentleman as anybody. Coarse, quotha! Ican't bear to hear the poor young fellow run down neither; for I willsay this, I never heard him say an ill word of anybody in his life. I amsure his coarseness doth not lie in his heart, for he is thebest-natured man in the world; and as for his skin, it is no coarserthan other people's, I am sure. His bosom, when a boy, was as white asdriven snow; and, where it is not covered with hairs, is so still. Ifakins! if I was Mrs Andrews, with a hundred a year, I should not envythe best she who wears a head. A woman that could not be happy with sucha man ought never to be so; for if he can't make a woman happy, I neveryet beheld the man who could. I say again, I wish I was a great lady forhis sake. I believe, when I had made a gentleman of him, he'd behave sothat nobody should deprecate what I had done; and I fancy few wouldventure to tell him he was no gentleman to his face, nor to mineneither. " At which words, taking up the candles, she asked her mistress, who had been some time in her bed, if she had any farther commands? whomildly answered, she had none; and, telling her she was a comicalcreature, bid her good-night. [A] Meaning perhaps ideas. CHAPTER VII. _Philosophical reflections, the like not to be found in any lightFrench romance. Mr Booby's grave advice to Joseph, and Fanny'sencounter with a beau. _ Habit, my good reader, hath so vast a prevalence over the human mind, that there is scarce anything too strange or too strong to be assertedof it. The story of the miser, who, from long accustoming to cheatothers, came at last to cheat himself, and with great delight andtriumph picked his own pocket of a guinea to convey to his hoard, is notimpossible or improbable. In like manner it fares with the practisers ofdeceit, who, from having long deceived their acquaintance, gain at lasta power of deceiving themselves, and acquire that very opinion (howeverfalse) of their own abilities, excellencies, and virtues, into whichthey have for years perhaps endeavoured to betray their neighbours. Now, reader, to apply this observation to my present purpose, thou must know, that as the passion generally called love exercises most of the talentsof the female or fair world, so in this they now and then discover asmall inclination to deceit; for which thou wilt not be angry with thebeautiful creatures when thou hast considered that at the age of seven, or something earlier, miss is instructed by her mother that master is avery monstrous kind of animal, who will, if she suffers him to come toonear her, infallibly eat her up and grind her to pieces: that, so farfrom kissing or toying with him of her own accord, she must not admithim to kiss or toy with her: and, lastly, that she must never have anyaffection towards him; for if she should, all her friends in petticoatswould esteem her a traitress, point at her, and hunt her out of theirsociety. These impressions, being first received, are farther and deeperinculcated by their school-mistresses and companions; so that by the ageof ten they have contracted such a dread and abhorrence of theabove-named monster, that whenever they see him they fly from him as theinnocent hare doth from the greyhound. Hence, to the age of fourteen orfifteen, they entertain a mighty antipathy to master; they resolve, andfrequently profess, that they will never have any commerce with him, andentertain fond hopes of passing their lives out of his reach, of thepossibility of which they have so visible an example in their goodmaiden aunt. But when they arrive at this period, and have now passedtheir second climacteric, when their wisdom, grown riper, begins to seea little farther, and, from almost daily falling in master's way, toapprehend the great difficulty of keeping out of it; and when theyobserve him look often at them, and sometimes very eagerly and earnestlytoo (for the monster seldom takes any notice of them till at this age), they then begin to think of their danger; and, as they perceive theycannot easily avoid him, the wiser part bethink themselves of providingby other means for their security. They endeavour, by all methods theycan invent, to render themselves so amiable in his eyes, that he mayhave no inclination to hurt them; in which they generally succeed sowell, that his eyes, by frequent languishing, soon lessen their idea ofhis fierceness, and so far abate their fears, that they venture toparley with him; and when they perceive him so different from what hehath been described, all gentleness, softness, kindness, tenderness, fondness, their dreadful apprehensions vanish in a moment; and now (itbeing usual with the human mind to skip from one extreme to itsopposite, as easily, and almost as suddenly, as a bird from one bough toanother) love instantly succeeds to fear: but, as it happens to personswho have in their infancy been thoroughly frightened with certainno-persons called ghosts, that they retain their dread of those beingsafter they are convinced that there are no such things, so these youngladies, though they no longer apprehend devouring, cannot so entirelyshake off all that hath been instilled into them; they still entertainthe idea of that censure which was so strongly imprinted on their tenderminds, to which the declarations of abhorrence they every day hear fromtheir companions greatly contribute. To avoid this censure, therefore, is now their only care; for which purpose they still pretend the sameaversion to the monster: and the more they love him, the more ardentlythey counterfeit the antipathy. By the continual and constant practiceof which deceit on others, they at length impose on themselves, andreally believe they hate what they love. Thus, indeed, it happened toLady Booby, who loved Joseph long before she knew it; and now loved himmuch more than she suspected. She had indeed, from the time of hissister's arrival in the quality of her niece, and from the instant sheviewed him in the dress and character of a gentleman, began to conceivesecretly a design which love had concealed from herself till a dreambetrayed it to her. She had no sooner risen than she sent for her nephew. When he came toher, after many compliments on his choice, she told him, "He mightperceive, in her condescension to admit her own servant to her table, that she looked on the family of Andrews as his relations, and indeedhers; that, as he had married into such a family, it became him toendeavour by all methods to raise it as much as possible. At length sheadvised him to use all his heart to dissuade Joseph from his intendedmatch, which would still enlarge their relation to meanness and poverty;concluding that, by a commission in the army, or some other genteelemployment, he might soon put young Mr Andrews on the foot of agentleman; and, that being once done, his accomplishments might quicklygain him an alliance which would not be to their discredit. " Her nephew heartily embraced this proposal, and, finding Mr Joseph withhis wife, at his return to her chamber, he immediately began thus: "Mylove to my dear Pamela, brother, will extend to all her relations; norshall I show them less respect than if I had married into the family ofa duke. I hope I have given you some early testimonies of this, andshall continue to give you daily more. You will excuse me therefore, brother, if my concern for your interest makes me mention what may be, perhaps, disagreeable to you to hear: but I must insist upon it, that, if you have any value for my alliance or my friendship, you will declineany thoughts of engaging farther with a girl who is, as you are arelation of mine, so much beneath you. I know there may be at first somedifficulty in your compliance, but that will daily diminish; and youwill in the end sincerely thank me for my advice. I own, indeed, thegirl is handsome; but beauty alone is a poor ingredient, and will makebut an uncomfortable marriage. "--"Sir, " said Joseph, "I assure you herbeauty is her least perfection; nor do I know a virtue which that youngcreature is not possesst of. "--"As to her virtues, " answered Mr Booby, "you can be yet but a slender judge of them; but, if she had never somany, you will find her equal in these among her superiors in birth andfortune, which now you are to esteem on a footing with yourself; atleast I will take care they shall shortly be so, unless you prevent meby degrading yourself with such a match, a match I have hardly patienceto think of, and which would break the hearts of your parents, who nowrejoice in the expectation of seeing you make a figure in theworld. "--"I know not, " replied Joseph, "that my parents have any powerover my inclinations; nor am I obliged to sacrifice my happiness totheir whim or ambition: besides, I shall be very sorry to see that theunexpected advancement of my sister should so suddenly inspire them withthis wicked pride, and make them despise their equals. I am resolved onno account to quit my dear Fanny; no, though I could raise her as highabove her present station as you have raised my sister. "--"Your sister, as well as myself, " said Booby, "are greatly obliged to you for thecomparison: but, sir, she is not worthy to be compared in beauty to myPamela; nor hath she half her merit. And besides, sir, as you civillythrow my marriage with your sister in my teeth, I must teach you thewide difference between us: my fortune enabled me to please myself; andit would have been as overgrown a folly in me to have omitted it as inyou to do it. "--"My fortune enables me to please myself likewise, " saidJoseph; "for all my pleasure is centered in Fanny; and whilst I havehealth I shall be able to support her with my labour in that station towhich she was born, and with which she is content. "--"Brother, " saidPamela, "Mr Booby advises you as a friend; and no doubt my papa andmamma will be of his opinion, and will have great reason to be angrywith you for destroying what his goodness hath done, and throwing downour family again, after he hath raised it. It would become you better, brother, to pray for the assistance of grace against such a passion thanto indulge it. "--"Sure, sister, you are not in earnest; I am sure she isyour equal, at least. "--"She was my equal, " answered Pamela; "but I amno longer Pamela Andrews; I am now this gentleman's lady, and, as such, am above her. --I hope I shall never behave with an unbecoming pride:but, at the same time, I shall always endeavour to know myself, andquestion not the assistance of grace to that purpose. " They were nowsummoned to breakfast, and thus ended their discourse for the present, very little to the satisfaction of any of the parties. Fanny was now walking in an avenue at some distance from the house, where Joseph had promised to take the first opportunity of coming toher. She had not a shilling in the world, and had subsisted ever sinceher return entirely on the charity of parson Adams. A young gentleman, attended by many servants, came up to her, and asked her if that was notthe Lady Booby's house before him? This, indeed, he well knew; but hadframed the question for no other reason than to make her look up, anddiscover if her face was equal to the delicacy of her shape. He nosooner saw it than he was struck with amazement. He stopt his horse, andswore she was the most beautiful creature he ever beheld. Then, instantly alighting and delivering his horse to his servant, he rapt outhalf-a-dozen oaths that he would kiss her; to which she at firstsubmitted, begging he would not be rude; but he was not satisfied withthe civility of a salute, nor even with the rudest attack he could makeon her lips, but caught her in his arms, and endeavoured to kiss herbreasts, which with all her strength she resisted, and, as our spark wasnot of the Herculean race, with some difficulty prevented. The younggentleman, being soon out of breath in the struggle, quitted her, and, remounting his horse, called one of his servants to him, whom he orderedto stay behind with her, and make her any offers whatever to prevail onher to return home with him in the evening; and to assure her he wouldtake her into keeping. He then rode on with his other servants, andarrived at the lady's house, to whom he was a distant relation, and wascome to pay a visit. The trusty fellow, who was employed in an office he had been longaccustomed to, discharged his part with all the fidelity and dexterityimaginable, but to no purpose. She was entirely deaf to his offers, andrejected them with the utmost disdain. At last the pimp, who had perhapsmore warm blood about him than his master, began to sollicit forhimself; he told her, though he was a servant, he was a man of somefortune, which he would make her mistress of; and this without anyinsult to her virtue, for that he would marry her. She answered, if hismaster himself, or the greatest lord in the land, would marry her, shewould refuse him. At last, being weary with persuasions, and on firewith charms which would have almost kindled a flame in the bosom of anancient philosopher or modern divine, he fastened his horse to theground, and attacked her with much more force than the gentleman hadexerted. Poor Fanny would not have been able to resist his rudeness ashort time, but the deity who presides over chaste love sent her Josephto her assistance. He no sooner came within sight, and perceived herstruggling with a man, than, like a cannon-ball, or like lightning, oranything that is swifter, if anything be, he ran towards her, and, coming up just as the ravisher had torn her handkerchief from herbreast, before his lips had touched that seat of innocence and bliss, hedealt him so lusty a blow in that part of his neck which a rope wouldhave become with the utmost propriety, that the fellow staggeredbackwards, and, perceiving he had to do with something rougher than thelittle, tender, trembling hand of Fanny, he quitted her, and, turningabout, saw his rival, with fire flashing from his eyes, again ready toassail him; and, indeed, before he could well defend himself, or returnthe first blow, he received a second, which, had it fallen on that partof the stomach to which it was directed, would have been probably thelast he would have had any occasion for; but the ravisher, lifting uphis hand, drove the blow upwards to his mouth, whence it dislodged threeof his teeth; and now, not conceiving any extraordinary affection forthe beauty of Joseph's person, nor being extremely pleased with thismethod of salutation, he collected all his force, and aimed a blow atJoseph's breast, which he artfully parried with one fist, so that itlost its force entirely in air; and, stepping one foot backward, hedarted his fist so fiercely at his enemy, that, had he not caught it inhis hand (for he was a boxer of no inferior fame), it must have tumbledhim on the ground. And now the ravisher meditated another blow, which heaimed at that part of the breast where the heart is lodged; Joseph didnot catch it as before, yet so prevented its aim that it fell directlyon his nose, but with abated force. Joseph then, moving both fist andfoot forwards at the same time, threw his head so dexterously into thestomach of the ravisher that he fell a lifeless lump on the field, wherehe lay many minutes breathless and motionless. When Fanny saw her Joseph receive a blow in his face, and blood runningin a stream from him, she began to tear her hair and invoke all humanand divine power to his assistance. She was not, however, long underthis affliction before Joseph, having conquered his enemy, ran to her, and assured her he was not hurt; she then instantly fell on her knees, and thanked God that he had made Joseph the means of her rescue, and atthe same time preserved him from being injured in attempting it. Sheoffered, with her handkerchief, to wipe his blood from his face; but he, seeing his rival attempting to recover his legs, turned to him, andasked him if he had enough? To which the other answered he had; for hebelieved he had fought with the devil instead of a man; and, looseninghis horse, said he should not have attempted the wench if he had knownshe had been so well provided for. Fanny now begged Joseph to return with her to parson Adams, and topromise that he would leave her no more. These were propositions soagreeable to Joseph, that, had he heard them, he would have given animmediate assent; but indeed his eyes were now his only sense; for youmay remember, reader, that the ravisher had tore her handkerchief fromFanny's neck, by which he had discovered such a sight, that Joseph hathdeclared all the statues he ever beheld were so much inferior to it inbeauty, that it was more capable of converting a man into a statue thanof being imitated by the greatest master of that art. This modestcreature, whom no warmth in summer could ever induce to expose hercharms to the wanton sun, a modesty to which, perhaps, they owed theirinconceivable whiteness, had stood many minutes bare-necked in thepresence of Joseph before her apprehension of his danger and the horrorof seeing his blood would suffer her once to reflect on what concernedherself; till at last, when the cause of her concern had vanished, anadmiration at his silence, together with observing the fixed positionof his eyes, produced an idea in the lovely maid which brought moreblood into her face than had flowed from Joseph's nostrils. The snowyhue of her bosom was likewise changed to vermilion at the instant whenshe clapped her handkerchief round her neck. Joseph saw the uneasinessshe suffered, and immediately removed his eyes from an object, insurveying which he had felt the greatest delight which the organs ofsight were capable of conveying to his soul;--so great was his fear ofoffending her, and so truly did his passion for her deserve the noblename of love. Fanny, being recovered from her confusion, which was almost equalled bywhat Joseph had felt from observing it, again mentioned her request;this was instantly and gladly complied with; and together they crossedtwo or three fields, which brought them to the habitation of Mr Adams. CHAPTER VIII. _A discourse which happened between Mr Adams, Mrs Adams, Joseph, andFanny; with some behaviour of Mr Adams which will be called by some fewreaders very low, absurd, and unnatural. _ The parson and his wife had just ended a long dispute when the loverscame to the door. Indeed, this young couple had been the subject of thedispute; for Mrs Adams was one of those prudent people who never doanything to injure their families, or, perhaps, one of those goodmothers who would even stretch their conscience to serve their children. She had long entertained hopes of seeing her eldest daughter succeed MrsSlipslop, and of making her second son an exciseman by Lady Booby'sinterest. These were expectations she could not endure the thoughts ofquitting, and was, therefore, very uneasy to see her husband so resoluteto oppose the lady's intention in Fanny's affair. She told him, "Itbehoved every man to take the first care of his family; that he had awife and six children, the maintaining and providing for whom would bebusiness enough for him without intermeddling in other folks' affairs;that he had always preached up submission to superiors, and would do illto give an example of the contrary behaviour in his own conduct; that ifLady Booby did wrong she must answer for it herself, and the sin wouldnot lie at their door; that Fanny had been a servant, and bred up in thelady's own family, and consequently she must have known more of her thanthey did, and it was very improbable, if she had behaved herself well, that the lady would have been so bitterly her enemy; that perhaps he wastoo much inclined to think well of her because she was handsome, buthandsome women were often no better than they should be; that G-- madeugly women as well as handsome ones; and that if a woman had virtue itsignified nothing whether she had beauty or no. " For all which reasonsshe concluded he should oblige the lady, and stop the future publicationof the banns. But all these excellent arguments had no effect on theparson, who persisted in doing his duty without regarding theconsequence it might have on his worldly interest. He endeavoured toanswer her as well as he could; to which she had just finished her reply(for she had always the last word everywhere but at church) when Josephand Fanny entered their kitchen, where the parson and his wife then satat breakfast over some bacon and cabbage. There was a coldness in thecivility of Mrs Adams which persons of accurate speculation might haveobserved, but escaped her present guests; indeed, it was a good dealcovered by the heartiness of Adams, who no sooner heard that Fanny hadneither eat nor drank that morning than he presented her a bone of baconhe had just been gnawing, being the only remains of his provision, andthen ran nimbly to the tap, and produced a mug of small beer, which hecalled ale; however, it was the best in his house. Joseph, addressinghimself to the parson, told him the discourse which had past betweenSquire Booby, his sister, and himself concerning Fanny; he thenacquainted him with the dangers whence he had rescued her, andcommunicated some apprehensions on her account. He concluded that heshould never have an easy moment till Fanny was absolutely his, andbegged that he might be suffered to fetch a licence, saying he couldeasily borrow the money. The parson answered, That he had already givenhis sentiments concerning a licence, and that a very few days would makeit unnecessary. "Joseph, " says he, "I wish this haste doth not ariserather from your impatience than your fear; but, as it certainly springsfrom one of these causes, I will examine both. Of each of thesetherefore in their turn; and first for the first of these, namely, impatience. Now, child, I must inform you that, if in your purposedmarriage with this young woman you have no intention but the indulgenceof carnal appetites, you are guilty of a very heinous sin. Marriage wasordained for nobler purposes, as you will learn when you hear theservice provided on that occasion read to you. Nay, perhaps, if you area good lad, I, child, shall give you a sermon gratis, wherein I shalldemonstrate how little regard ought to be had to the flesh on suchoccasions. The text will be Matthew the 5th, and part of the 28thverse--_Whosoever looketh on a woman, so as to lust after her_. Thelatter part I shall omit, as foreign to my purpose. Indeed, all suchbrutal lusts and affections are to be greatly subdued, if not totallyeradicated, before the vessel can be said to be consecrated to honour. To marry with a view of gratifying those inclinations is a prostitutionof that holy ceremony, and must entail a curse on all who so lightlyundertake it. If, therefore, this haste arises from impatience, you areto correct, and not give way to it. Now, as to the second head which Iproposed to speak to, namely, fear: it argues a diffidence, highlycriminal, of that Power in which alone we should put our trust, seeingwe may be well assured that he is able, not only to defeat the designsof our enemies, but even to turn their hearts. Instead of taking, therefore, any unjustifiable or desperate means to rid ourselves offear, we should resort to prayer only on these occasions; and we may bethen certain of obtaining what is best for us. When any accidentthreatens us we are not to despair, nor, when it overtakes us, togrieve; we must submit in all things to the will of Providence, and setour affections so much on nothing here that we cannot quit it withoutreluctance. You are a young man, and can know but little of this world;I am older, and have seen a great deal. All passions are criminal intheir excess; and even love itself, if it is not subservient to ourduty, may render us blind to it. Had Abraham so loved his son Isaac asto refuse the sacrifice required, is there any of us who would notcondemn him? Joseph, I know your many good qualities, and value you forthem; but, as I am to render an account of your soul, which is committedto my cure, I cannot see any fault without reminding you of it. You aretoo much inclined to passion, child, and have set your affections soabsolutely on this young woman, that, if G-- required her at your hands, I fear you would reluctantly part with her. Now, believe me, noChristian ought so to set his heart on any person or thing in thisworld, but that, whenever it shall be required or taken from him in anymanner by Divine Providence, he may be able, peaceably, quietly, andcontentedly to resign it. " At which words one came hastily in, andacquainted Mr Adams that his youngest son was drowned. He stood silent amoment, and soon began to stamp about the room and deplore his loss withthe bitterest agony. Joseph, who was overwhelmed with concern likewise, recovered himself sufficiently to endeavour to comfort the parson; inwhich attempt he used many arguments that he had at several timesremembered out of his own discourses, both in private and public (for hewas a great enemy to the passions, and preached nothing more than theconquest of them by reason and grace), but he was not at leisure now tohearken to his advice. "Child, child, " said he, "do not go aboutimpossibilities. Had it been any other of my children I could have borneit with patience; but my little prattler, the darling and comfort of myold age--the little wretch, to be snatched out of life just at hisentrance into it; the sweetest, best-tempered boy, who never did a thingto offend me. It was but this morning I gave him his first lesson in_Que Genus_. This was the very book he learnt; poor child! it is of nofurther use to thee now. He would have made the best scholar, and havebeen an ornament to the Church;--such parts and such goodness never metin one so young. " "And the handsomest lad too, " says Mrs Adams, recovering from a swoon in Fanny's arms. "My poor Jacky, shall I neversee thee more?" cries the parson. "Yes, surely, " says Joseph, "and in abetter place; you will meet again, never to part more. " I believe theparson did not hear these words, for he paid little regard to them, butwent on lamenting, whilst the tears trickled down into his bosom. Atlast he cried out, "Where is my little darling?" and was sallying out, when to his great surprize and joy, in which I hope the reader willsympathize, he met his son in a wet condition indeed, but alive andrunning towards him. The person who brought the news of his misfortunehad been a little too eager, as people sometimes are, from, I believe, no very good principle, to relate ill news; and, seeing him fall intothe river, instead of running to his assistance, directly ran toacquaint his father of a fate which he had concluded to be inevitable, but whence the child was relieved by the same poor pedlar who hadrelieved his father before from a less distress. The parson's joy wasnow as extravagant as his grief had been before; he kissed and embracedhis son a thousand times, and danced about the room like one frantic;but as soon as he discovered the face of his old friend the pedlar, andheard the fresh obligation he had to him, what were his sensations? notthose which two courtiers feel in one another's embraces; not those withwhich a great man receives the vile treacherous engines of his wickedpurposes, not those with which a worthless younger brother wishes hiselder joy of a son, or a man congratulates his rival on his obtaining amistress, a place, or an honour. --No, reader; he felt the ebullition, the overflowings of a full, honest, open heart, towards the person whohad conferred a real obligation, and of which, if thou canst notconceive an idea within, I will not vainly endeavour to assist thee. When these tumults were over, the parson, taking Joseph aside, proceededthus--"No, Joseph, do not give too much way to thy passions, if thoudost expect happiness. " The patience of Joseph, nor perhaps of Job, could bear no longer; he interrupted the parson, saying, "It was easierto give advice than take it; nor did he perceive he could so entirelyconquer himself, when he apprehended he had lost his son, or when hefound him recovered. "--"Boy, " replied Adams, raising his voice, "it dothnot become green heads to advise grey hairs. --Thou art ignorant of thetenderness of fatherly affection; when thou art a father thou wilt becapable then only of knowing what a father can feel. No man is obligedto impossibilities; and the loss of a child is one of those great trialswhere our grief may be allowed to become immoderate. "--"Well, sir, "cries Joseph, "and if I love a mistress as well as you your child, surely her loss would grieve me equally. "--"Yes, but such love isfoolishness and wrong in itself, and ought to be conquered, " answeredAdams; "it savours too much of the flesh. "--"Sure, sir, " says Joseph, "it is not sinful to love my wife, no, not even to doat on her todistraction!"--"Indeed but it is, " says Adams. "Every man ought to lovehis wife, no doubt; we are commanded so to do; but we ought to love herwith moderation and discretion. "--"I am afraid I shall be guilty of somesin in spite of all my endeavours, " says Joseph; "for I shall lovewithout any moderation, I am sure. "--"You talk foolishly andchildishly, " cries Adams. --"Indeed, " says Mrs Adams, who had listened tothe latter part of their conversation, "you talk more foolishly yourself. I hope, my dear, you will never preach any such doctrine as thathusbands can love their wives too well. If I knew you had such a sermonin the house I am sure I would burn it, and I declare, if I had not beenconvinced you had loved me as well as you could, I can answer formyself, I should have hated and despised you. Marry come up! Finedoctrine, indeed! A wife hath a right to insist on her husband's lovingher as much as ever he can; and he is a sinful villain who doth not. Doth he not promise to love her, and to comfort her, and to cherish her, and all that? I am sure I remember it all as well as if I had repeatedit over but yesterday, and shall never forget it. Besides, I am certainyou do not preach as you practise; for you have been a loving and acherishing husband to me; that's the truth on't; and why you shouldendeavour to put such wicked nonsense into this young man's head Icannot devise. Don't hearken to him, Mr Joseph; be as good a husband asyou are able, and love your wife with all your body and soul too. " Herea violent rap at the door put an end to their discourse, and produced ascene which the reader will find in the next chapter. CHAPTER IX. _A visit which the polite Lady Booby and her polite friend paid tothe parson. _ The Lady Booby had no sooner had an account from the gentleman of hismeeting a wonderful beauty near her house, and perceived the raptureswith which he spoke of her, than, immediately concluding it must beFanny, she began to meditate a design of bringing them betteracquainted; and to entertain hopes that the fine clothes, presents, andpromises of this youth, would prevail on her to abandon Joseph: shetherefore proposed to her company a walk in the fields before dinner, when she led them towards Mr Adams's house; and, as she approached it, told them if they pleased she would divert them with one of the mostridiculous sights they had ever seen, which was an old foolish parson, who, she said, laughing, kept a wife and six brats on a salary of abouttwenty pounds a year; adding, that there was not such another raggedfamily in the parish. They all readily agreed to this visit, and arrivedwhilst Mrs Adams was declaiming as in the last chapter. Beau Didapper, which was the name of the young gentleman we have seen riding towardsLady Booby's, with his cane mimicked the rap of a London footman at thedoor. The people within, namely, Adams, his wife and three children, Joseph, Fanny, and the pedlar, were all thrown into confusion by thisknock, but Adams went directly to the door, which being opened, the LadyBooby and her company walked in, and were received by the parson withabout two hundred bows, and by his wife with as many curtsies; thelatter telling the lady "She was ashamed to be seen in such a pickle, and that her house was in such a litter; but that if she had expectedsuch an honour from her ladyship she should have found her in a bettermanner. " The parson made no apologies, though he was in his half-cassockand a flannel nightcap. He said "They were heartily welcome to his poorcottage, " and turning to Mr Didapper, cried out, "_Non mea renidet indomo lacunar_. " The beau answered, "He did not understand Welsh;" atwhich the parson stared and made no reply. Mr Didapper, or beau Didapper, was a young gentleman of about four footfive inches in height. He wore his own hair, though the scarcity of itmight have given him sufficient excuse for a periwig. His face was thinand pale; the shape of his body and legs none of the best, for he hadvery narrow shoulders and no calf; and his gait might more properly becalled hopping than walking. The qualifications of his mind were welladapted to his person. We shall handle them first negatively. He was notentirely ignorant; for he could talk a little French and sing two orthree Italian songs; he had lived too much in the world to be bashful, and too much at court to be proud: he seemed not much inclined toavarice, for he was profuse in his expenses; nor had he all the featuresof prodigality, for he never gave a shilling: no hater of women, for healways dangled after them; yet so little subject to lust, that he had, among those who knew him best, the character of great moderation in hispleasures; no drinker of wine; nor so addicted to passion but that a hotword or two from an adversary made him immediately cool. Now, to give him only a dash or two on the affirmative side: though hewas born to an immense fortune, he chose, for the pitiful and dirtyconsideration of a place of little consequence, to depend entirely onthe will of a fellow whom they call a great man; who treated him withthe utmost disrespect, and exacted of him a plenary obedience to hiscommands, which he implicitly submitted to, at the expense of hisconscience, his honour, and of his country, in which he had himself sovery large a share. And to finish his character; as he was entirely wellsatisfied with his own person and parts, so he was very apt to ridiculeand laugh at any imperfection in another. Such was the little person, orrather thing, that hopped after Lady Booby into Mr Adams's kitchen. The parson and his company retreated from the chimney-side, where theyhad been seated, to give room to the lady and hers. Instead of returningany of the curtsies or extraordinary civility of Mrs Adams, the lady, turning to Mr Booby, cried out, "_Quelle Bête! Quel Animal!_" Andpresently after discovering Fanny (for she did not need the circumstanceof her standing by Joseph to assure the identity of her person), sheasked the beau "Whether he did not think her a pretty girl?"--"Begad, madam, " answered he, "'tis the very same I met. " "I did not imagine, "replied the lady, "you had so good a taste. "--"Because I never likedyou, I warrant, " cries the beau. "Ridiculous!" said she: "you know youwas always my aversion. " "I would never mention aversion, " answered thebeau, "with that face[A]; dear Lady Booby, wash your face before youmention aversion, I beseech you. " He then laughed, and turned about tocoquet it with Fanny. [A] Lest this should appear unnatural to some readers, we think proper to acquaint them, that it is taken verbatim from very polite conversation. Mrs Adams had been all this time begging and praying the ladies to sitdown, a favour which she at last obtained. The little boy to whom theaccident had happened, still keeping his place by the fire, was chid byhis mother for not being more mannerly: but Lady Booby took his part, and, commending his beauty, told the parson he was his very picture. Shethen, seeing a book in his hand, asked "If he could read?"--"Yes, " criedAdams, "a little Latin, madam: he is just got into Quae Genus. "--"A figfor quere genius!" answered she; "let me hear him read a littleEnglish. "--"Lege, Dick, lege, " said Adams: but the boy made no answer, till he saw the parson knit his brows, and then cried, "I don'tunderstand you, father. "--"How, boy!" says Adams; "what doth lego makein the imperative mood? Legito, doth it not?"--"Yes, " answeredDick. --"And what besides ?" says the father. "Lege, " quoth the son, after some hesitation. "A good boy, " says the father: "and now, child, what is the English of lego?"--To which the boy, after long puzzling, answered, he could not tell. "How!" cries Adams, in a passion;--"what, hath the water washed away your learning? Why, what is Latin for theEnglish verb read? Consider before you speak. " The child considered sometime, and then the parson cried twice or thrice, "Le--, Le--. " Dickanswered, "Lego. "--"Very well;--and then what is the English, " says theparson, "of the verb lego?"--"To read, " cried Dick. --"Very well, " saidthe parson; "a good boy: you can do well if you will take pains. --Iassure your ladyship he is not much above eight years old, and is out ofhis Propria quae Maribus already. --Come, Dick, read to herladyship;"--which she again desiring, in order to give the beau time andopportunity with Fanny, Dick began as in the following chapter. CHAPTER X. _The history of two friends, which may afford an useful lesson to allthose persons who happen to take up their residence in marriedfamilies. _ "Leonard and Paul were two friends. "--"Pronounce it Lennard, child, "cried the parson. --"Pray, Mr Adams, " says Lady Booby, "let your son readwithout interruption. " Dick then proceeded. "Lennard and Paul were twofriends, who, having been educated together at the same school, commenced a friendship which they preserved a long time for each other. It was so deeply fixed in both their minds, that a long absence, duringwhich they had maintained no correspondence, did not eradicate norlessen it: but it revived in all its force at their first meeting, whichwas not till after fifteen years' absence, most of which time Lennardhad spent in the East Indi-es. "--"Pronounce it short, Indies, " saysAdams. --"Pray? sir, be quiet, " says the lady. --The boy repeated--"in theEast Indies, whilst Paul had served his king and country in the army. Inwhich different services they had found such different success, thatLennard was now married, and retired with a fortune of thirty thousandpounds; and Paul was arrived to the degree of a lieutenant of foot; andwas not worth a single shilling. "The regiment in which Paul was stationed happened to be ordered intoquarters within a small distance from the estate which Lennard hadpurchased, and where he was settled. This latter, who was now become acountry gentleman, and a justice of peace, came to attend the quartersessions in the town where his old friend was quartered, soon after hisarrival. Some affair in which a soldier was concerned occasioned Paul toattend the justices. Manhood, and time, and the change of climate had somuch altered Lennard, that Paul did not immediately recollect thefeatures of his old acquaintance: but it was otherwise with Lennard. Heknew Paul the moment he saw him; nor could he contain himself fromquitting the bench, and running hastily to embrace him. Paul stood atfirst a little surprized; but had soon sufficient information from hisfriend, whom he no sooner remembered than he returned his embrace with apassion which made many of the spectators laugh, and gave to some few amuch higher and more agreeable sensation. "Not to detain the reader with minute circumstances, Lennard insisted onhis friend's returning with him to his house that evening; which requestwas complied with, and leave for a month's absence for Paul obtained ofthe commanding officer. "If it was possible for any circumstance to give any addition to thehappiness which Paul proposed in this visit, he received that additionalpleasure by finding, on his arrival at his friend's house, that his ladywas an old acquaintance which he had formerly contracted at hisquarters, and who had always appeared to be of a most agreeable temper;a character she had ever maintained among her intimates, being of thatnumber, every individual of which is called quite the best sort of womanin the world. "But, good as this lady was, she was still a woman; that is to say, anangel, and not an angel. "--"You must mistake, child, " cries the parson, "for you read nonsense. "--"It is so in the book, " answered the son. MrAdams was then silenced by authority, and Dick proceeded--"For thoughher person was of that kind to which men attribute the name of angel, yet in her mind she was perfectly woman. Of which a great degree ofobstinacy gave the most remarkable and perhaps most pernicious instance. "A day or two passed after Paul's arrival before any instances of thisappeared; but it was impossible to conceal it long. Both she and herhusband soon lost all apprehension from their friend's presence, andfell to their disputes with as much vigour as ever. These were stillpursued with the utmost ardour and eagerness, however trifling thecauses were whence they first arose. Nay, however incredible it mayseem, the little consequence of the matter in debate was frequentlygiven as a reason for the fierceness of the contention, as thus: 'If youloved me, sure you would never dispute with me such a trifle as this. 'The answer to which is very obvious; for the argument would hold equallyon both sides, and was constantly retorted with some addition, as--'I amsure I have much more reason to say so, who am in the right. ' During allthese disputes, Paul always kept strict silence, and preserved an evencountenance, without showing the least visible inclination to eitherparty. One day, however, when madam had left the room in a violent fury, Lennard could not refrain from referring his cause to his friend. Wasever anything so unreasonable, says he, as this woman? What shall I dowith her? I doat on her to distraction; nor have I any cause to complainof, more than this obstinacy in her temper; whatever she asserts, shewill maintain against all the reason and conviction in the world. Praygive me your advice. --First, says Paul, I will give my opinion, whichis, flatly, that you are in the wrong; for, supposing she is in thewrong, was the subject of your contention any ways material? Whatsignified it whether you was married in a red or a yellow waistcoat? forthat was your dispute. Now, suppose she was mistaken; as you love heryou say so tenderly, and I believe she deserves it, would it not havebeen wiser to have yielded, though you certainly knew yourself in theright, than to give either her or yourself any uneasiness. For my ownpart, if ever I marry, I am resolved to enter into an agreement with mywife, that in all disputes (especially about trifles) that party who ismost convinced they are right shall always surrender the victory; bywhich means we shall both be forward to give up the cause. I own, saidLennard, my dear friend, shaking him by the hand, there is great truthand reason in what you say; and I will for the future endeavour tofollow your advice. They soon after broke up the conversation, andLennard, going to his wife, asked her pardon, and told her his friendhad convinced him he had been in the wrong. She immediately began a vastencomium on Paul, in which he seconded her, and both agreed he was theworthiest and wisest man upon earth. When next they met, which was atsupper, though she had promised not to mention what her husband toldher, she could not forbear casting the kindest and most affectionatelooks on Paul, and asked him, with the sweetest voice, whether sheshould help him to some potted woodcock? Potted partridge, my dear, youmean, says the husband. My dear, says she, I ask your friend if he willeat any potted woodcock; and I am sure I must know, who potted it. Ithink I should know too, who shot them, replied the husband, and I amconvinced that I have not seen a woodcock this year; however, though Iknow I am in the right, I submit, and the potted partridge is pottedwoodcock if you desire to have it so. It is equal to me, says she, whether it is one or the other; but you would persuade one out of one'ssenses; to be sure, you are always in the right in your own opinion; butyour friend, I believe, knows which he is eating. Paul answered nothing, and the dispute continued, as usual, the greatest part of the evening. The next morning the lady, accidentally meeting Paul, and beingconvinced he was her friend, and of her side, accosted him thus:--I amcertain, sir, you have long since wondered at the unreasonableness of myhusband. He is indeed, in other respects, a good sort of man, but sopositive, that no woman but one of my complying temper could possiblylive with him. Why, last night, now, was ever any creature sounreasonable? I am certain you must condemn him. Pray, answer me, was henot in the wrong? Paul, after a short silence, spoke as follows: I amsorry, madam, that, as good manners obliges me to answer against mywill, so an adherence to truth forces me to declare myself of adifferent opinion. To be plain and honest, you was entirely in thewrong; the cause I own not worth disputing, but the bird was undoubtedlya partridge. O sir! replyed the lady, I cannot possibly help your taste. Madam, returned Paul, that is very little material; for, had it beenotherwise, a husband might have expected submission. --Indeed! sir, saysshe, I assure you!--Yes, madam, cryed he, he might, from a person ofyour excellent understanding; and pardon me for saying, such acondescension would have shown a superiority of sense even to yourhusband himself. --But, dear sir, said she, why should I submit when I amin the right?--For that very reason, answered he; it would be thegreatest instance of affection imaginable; for can anything be a greaterobject of our compassion than a person we love in the wrong? Ay, but Ishould endeavour, said she, to set him right. Pardon me, madam, answeredPaul: I will apply to your own experience if you ever found yourarguments had that effect. The more our judgments err, the less we arewilling to own it: for my own part, I have always observed the personswho maintain the worst side in any contest are the warmest. Why, saysshe, I must confess there is truth in what you say, and I will endeavourto practise it. The husband then coming in, Paul departed. And Leonard, approaching his wife with an air of good humour, told her he was sorryfor their foolish dispute the last night; but he was now convinced ofhis error. She answered, smiling, she believed she owed hiscondescension to his complacence; that she was ashamed to think a wordhad passed on so silly an occasion, especially as she was satisfyed shehad been mistaken. A little contention followed, but with the utmostgood-will to each other, and was concluded by her asserting that Paulhad thoroughly convinced her she had been in the wrong. Upon which theyboth united in the praises of their common friend. "Paul now passed his time with great satisfaction, these disputes beingmuch less frequent, as well as shorter than usual; but the devil, orsome unlucky accident in which perhaps the devil had no hand, shortlyput an end to his happiness. He was now eternally the private referee ofevery difference; in which, after having perfectly, as he thought, established the doctrine of submission, he never scrupled to assure bothprivately that they were in the right in every argument, as before hehad followed the contrary method. One day a violent litigation happenedin his absence, and both parties agreed to refer it to his decision. Thehusband professing himself sure the decision would be in his favour; thewife answered, he might be mistaken; for she believed his friend wasconvinced how seldom she was to blame; and that if he knew all--Thehusband replied, My dear, I have no desire of any retrospect; but Ibelieve, if you knew all too, you would not imagine my friend soentirely on your side. Nay, says she, since you provoke me, I willmention one instance. You may remember our dispute about sending Jackeyto school in cold weather, which point I gave up to you from merecompassion, knowing myself to be in the right; and Paul himself told meafterwards he thought me so. My dear, replied the husband, I will notscruple your veracity; but I assure you solemnly, on my applying to him, he gave it absolutely on my side, and said he would have acted in thesame manner. They then proceeded to produce numberless other instances, in all which Paul had, on vows of secresy, given his opinion on bothsides. In the conclusion, both believing each other, they fell severelyon the treachery of Paul, and agreed that he had been the occasion ofalmost every dispute which had fallen out between them. They then becameextremely loving, and so full of condescension on both sides, that theyvyed with each other in censuring their own conduct, and jointly ventedtheir indignation on Paul, whom the wife, fearing a bloody consequence, earnestly entreated her husband to suffer quietly to depart the nextday, which was the time fixed for his return to quarters, and then drophis acquaintance. "However ungenerous this behaviour in Lennard may be esteemed, his wifeobtained a promise from him (though with difficulty) to follow heradvice; but they both expressed such unusual coldness that day to Paul, that he, who was quick of apprehension, taking Lennard aside, pressedhim so home, that he at last discovered the secret. Paul acknowledgedthe truth, but told him the design with which he had done it. --To whichthe other answered, he would have acted more friendly to have let himinto the whole design; for that he might have assured himself of hissecresy. Paul replyed, with some indignation, he had given him asufficient proof how capable he was of concealing a secret from hiswife. Lennard returned with some warmth--he had more reason to upbraidhim, for that he had caused most of the quarrels between them by hisstrange conduct, and might (if they had not discovered the affair toeach other) have been the occasion of their separation. Paul thensaid"--But something now happened which put a stop to Dick's reading, and of which we shall treat in the next chapter. CHAPTER XI. _In which the history is continued. _ Joseph Andrews had borne with great uneasiness the impertinence of beauDidapper to Fanny, who had been talking pretty freely to her, andoffering her settlements; but the respect to the company had restrainedhim from interfering whilst the beau confined himself to the use of histongue only; but the said beau, watching an opportunity whilst theladies' eyes were disposed another way, offered a rudeness to her withhis hands; which Joseph no sooner perceived than he presented him withso sound a box on the ear, that it conveyed him several paces from wherehe stood. The ladies immediately screamed out, rose from their chairs;and the beau, as soon as he recovered himself, drew his hanger: whichAdams observing, snatched up the lid of a pot in his left hand, and, covering himself with it as with a shield, without any weapon of offencein his other hand, stept in before Joseph, and exposed himself to theenraged beau, who threatened such perdition and destruction, that itfrighted the women, who were all got in a huddle together, out of theirwits, even to hear his denunciations of vengeance. Joseph was of adifferent complexion, and begged Adams to let his rival come on; for hehad a good cudgel in his hand, and did not fear him. Fanny now faintedinto Mrs Adams's arms, and the whole room was in confusion, when MrBooby, passing by Adams, who lay snug under the pot-lid, came up toDidapper, and insisted on his sheathing the hanger, promising he shouldhave satisfaction; which Joseph declared he would give him, and fighthim at any weapon whatever. The beau now sheathed his hanger, and takingout a pocket-glass, and vowing vengeance all the time, re-adjusted hishair; the parson deposited his shield; and Joseph, running to Fanny, soon brought her back to life. Lady Booby chid Joseph for his insult onDidapper; but he answered, he would have attacked an army in the samecause. "What cause?" said the lady. "Madam, " answered Joseph, "he wasrude to that young woman. "--"What, " says the lady, "I suppose he wouldhave kissed the wench; and is a gentleman to be struck for such anoffer? I must tell you, Joseph, these airs do not become you. "--"Madam, "said Mr Booby, "I saw the whole affair, and I do not commend my brother;for I cannot perceive why he should take upon him to be this girl'schampion. "--"I can commend him, " says Adams: "he is a brave lad; and itbecomes any man to be the champion of the innocent; and he must be thebasest coward who would not vindicate a woman with whom he is on thebrink of marriage. "--"Sir, " says Mr Booby, "my brother is not a propermatch for such a young woman as this. "--"No, " says Lady Booby; "nor doyou, Mr Adams, act in your proper character by encouraging any suchdoings; and I am very much surprized you should concern yourself in it. I think your wife and family your properer care. "--"Indeed, madam, yourladyship says very true, " answered Mrs Adams: "he talks a pack ofnonsense, that the whole parish are his children. I am sure I don'tunderstand what he means by it; it would make some women suspect he hadgone astray, but I acquit him of that; I can read Scripture as well ashe, and I never found that the parson was obliged to provide for otherfolks' children; and besides, he is but a poor curate, and hath littleenough, as your ladyship knows, for me and mine. "--"You say very well, Mrs Adams, " quoth the Lady Booby, who had not spoke a word to her before;"you seem to be a very sensible woman; and I assure you, your husband isacting a very foolish part, and opposing his own interest, seeing mynephew is violently set against this match: and indeed I can't blamehim; it is by no means one suitable to our family. " In this manner thelady proceeded with Mrs Adams, whilst the beau hopped about the room, shaking his head, partly from pain and partly from anger; and Pamela waschiding Fanny for her assurance in aiming at such a match as herbrother. Poor Fanny answered only with her tears, which had long sincebegun to wet her handkerchief; which Joseph perceiving, took her by thearm, and wrapping it in his carried her off, swearing he would own norelation to any one who was an enemy to her he loved more than all theworld. He went out with Fanny under his left arm, brandishing a cudgelin his right, and neither Mr Booby nor the beau thought proper to opposehim. Lady Booby and her company made a very short stay behind him; forthe lady's bell now summoned them to dress; for which they had just timebefore dinner. Adams seemed now very much dejected, which his wife perceiving, began toapply some matrimonial balsam. She told him he had reason to beconcerned, for that he had probably ruined his family with his tricksalmost; but perhaps he was grieved for the loss of his two children, Joseph and Fanny. His eldest daughter went on: "Indeed, father, it isvery hard to bring strangers here to eat your children's bread out oftheir mouths. You have kept them ever since they came home; and, foranything I see to the contrary, may keep them a month longer; are youobliged to give her meat, tho'f she was never so handsome? But I don'tsee she is so much handsomer than other people. If people were to bekept for their beauty, she would scarce fare better than her neighbours, I believe. As for Mr Joseph, I have nothing to say; he is a young man ofhonest principles, and will pay some time or other for what he hath; butfor the girl--why doth she not return to her place she ran away from? Iwould not give such a vagabond slut a halfpenny though I had a millionof money; no, though she was starving. " "Indeed but I would, " crieslittle Dick; "and, father, rather than poor Fanny shall be starved, Iwill give her all this bread and cheese"--(offering what he held in hishand). Adams smiled on the boy, and told him he rejoiced to see he was aChristian; and that if he had a halfpenny in his pocket, he would havegiven it him; telling him it was his duty to look upon all hisneighbours as his brothers and sisters, and love them accordingly. "Yes, papa, " says he, "I love her better than my sisters, for she is handsomerthan any of them. " "Is she so, saucebox?" says the sister, giving him abox on the ear; which the father would probably have resented, had notJoseph, Fanny, and the pedlar at that instant returned together. Adamsbid his wife prepare some food for their dinner; she said, "Truly shecould not, she had something else to do. " Adams rebuked her fordisputing his commands, and quoted many texts of Scripture to prove"That the husband is the head of the wife, and she is to submit andobey. " The wife answered, "It was blasphemy to talk Scripture out ofchurch; that such things were very proper to be said in the pulpit, butthat it was profane to talk them in common discourse. " Joseph told MrAdams "He was not come with any design to give him or Mrs Adams anytrouble; but to desire the favour of all their company to the George (anale-house in the parish), where he had bespoke a piece of bacon andgreens for their dinner. " Mrs Adams, who was a very good sort of woman, only rather too strict in oeconomies, readily accepted this invitation, as did the parson himself by her example; and away they all walkedtogether, not omitting little Dick, to whom Joseph gave a shilling whenhe heard of his intended liberality to Fanny. CHAPTER XII. _Where the good-natured reader will see something which will give him nogreat pleasure. _ The pedlar had been very inquisitive from the time he had first heardthat the great house in this parish belonged to the Lady Booby, and hadlearnt that she was the widow of Sir Thomas, and that Sir Thomas hadbought Fanny, at about the age of three or four years, of a travellingwoman; and, now their homely but hearty meal was ended, he told Fannyhe believed he could acquaint her with her parents. The whole company, especially she herself, started at this offer of the pedlar's. He thenproceeded thus, while they all lent their strictest attention:--"ThoughI am now contented with this humble way of getting my livelihood, I wasformerly a gentleman; for so all those of my profession are called. Ina word, I was a drummer in an Irish regiment of foot. Whilst I was inthis honourable station I attended an officer of our regiment intoEngland a-recruiting. In our march from Bristol to Froome (for sincethe decay of the woollen trade the clothing towns have furnished thearmy with a great number of recruits) we overtook on the road a woman, who seemed to be about thirty years old or thereabouts, not veryhandsome, but well enough for a soldier. As we came up to her, shemended her pace, and falling into discourse with our ladies (for everyman of the party, namely, a serjeant, two private men, and a drum, wereprovided with their woman except myself), she continued to travel onwith us. I, perceiving she must fall to my lot, advanced presently toher, made love to her in our military way, and quickly succeeded to mywishes. We struck a bargain within a mile, and lived together as manand wife to her dying day. " "I suppose, " says Adams, interrupting him, "you were married with a licence; for I don't see how you couldcontrive to have the banns published while you were marching from placeto place. " "No, sir, " said the pedlar, "we took a licence to go to bedtogether without any banns. " "Ay! ay!" said the parson; "_exnecessitate_, a licence may be allowable enough; but surely, surely, the other is the more regular and eligible way. " The pedlar proceededthus: "She returned with me to our regiment, and removed with us fromquarters to quarters, till at last, whilst we lay at Galloway, she fellill of a fever and died. When she was on her death-bed she called me toher, and, crying bitterly, declared she could not depart this worldwithout discovering a secret to me, which, she said, was the only sinwhich sat heavy on her heart. She said she had formerly travelled in acompany of gypsies, who had made a practice of stealing away children;that for her own part, she had been only once guilty of the crime;which, she said, she lamented more than all the rest of her sins, sinceprobably it might have occasioned the death of the parents; for, addedshe, it is almost impossible to describe the beauty of the youngcreature, which was about a year and a half old when I kidnapped it. Wekept her (for she was a girl) above two years in our company, when Isold her myself, for three guineas, to Sir Thomas Booby, inSomersetshire. Now, you know whether there are any more of that name inthis county. " "Yes, " says Adams, "there are several Boobys who aresquires, but I believe no baronet now alive; besides, it answers soexactly in every point, there is no room for doubt; but you have forgotto tell us the parents from whom the child was stolen. " "Their name, "answered the pedlar, "was Andrews. They lived about thirty miles fromthe squire; and she told me that I might be sure to find them out byone circumstance; for that they had a daughter of a very strange name, Pamela, or Pam_e_la; some pronounced it one way, and some the other. "Fanny, who had changed colour at the first mention of the name, nowfainted away; Joseph turned pale, and poor Dicky began to roar; theparson fell on his knees, and ejaculated many thanksgivings that thisdiscovery had been made before the dreadful sin of incest wascommitted; and the pedlar was struck with amazement, not being able toaccount for all this confusion; the cause of which was presently openedby the parson's daughter, who was the only unconcerned person (for themother was chafing Fanny's temples, and taking the utmost care of her):and, indeed, Fanny was the only creature whom the daughter would nothave pitied in her situation; wherein, though we compassionate herourselves, we shall leave her for a little while, and pay a short visitto Lady Booby. CHAPTER XIII. _The history, returning to the Lady Booby, gives some account of theterrible conflict in her breast between love and pride; with whathappened on the present discovery. _ The lady sat down with her company to dinner, but eat nothing. As soonas her cloth was removed she whispered Pamela that she was taken alittle ill, and desired her to entertain her husband and beau Didapper. She then went up into her chamber, sent for Slipslop, threw herself onthe bed in the agonies of love, rage, and despair; nor could she concealthese boiling passions longer without bursting. Slipslop now approachedher bed, and asked how her ladyship did; but, instead of revealing herdisorder, as she intended, she entered into a long encomium on thebeauty and virtues of Joseph Andrews; ending, at last, with expressingher concern that so much tenderness should be thrown away on sodespicable an object as Fanny. Slipslop, well knowing how to humour hermistress's frenzy, proceeded to repeat, with exaggeration, if possible, all her mistress had said, and concluded with a wish that Joseph hadbeen a gentleman, and that she could see her lady in the arms of such ahusband. The lady then started from the bed, and, taking a turn or twoacross the room, cryed out, with a deep sigh, "Sure he would make anywoman happy!"--"Your ladyship, " says she, "would be the happiest womanin the world with him. A fig for custom and nonsense! What 'vails whatpeople say? Shall I be afraid of eating sweetmeats because people maysay I have a sweet tooth? If I had a mind to marry a man, all the worldshould not hinder me. Your ladyship hath no parents to tutelar yourinfections; besides, he is of your ladyship's family now, and as good agentleman as any in the country; and why should not a woman follow hermind as well as man? Why should not your ladyship marry the brother aswell as your nephew the sister. I am sure, if it was a fragrant crime, Iwould not persuade your ladyship to it. "--"But, dear Slipslop, " answeredthe lady, "if I could prevail on myself to commit such a weakness, thereis that cursed Fanny in the way, whom the idiot--O how I hate anddespise him!"--"She! a little ugly mynx, " cries Slipslop; "leave her tome. I suppose your ladyship hath heard of Joseph's fitting with one ofMr Didapper's servants about her; and his master hath ordered them tocarry her away by force this evening. I'll take care they shall not wantassistance. I was talking with this gentleman, who was below, just whenyour ladyship sent for me. "--"Go back, " says the Lady Booby, "thisinstant, for I expect Mr Didapper will soon be going. Do all you can;for I am resolved this wench shall not be in our family: I willendeavour to return to the company; but let me know as soon as she iscarried off. " Slipslop went away; and her mistress began to arraign herown conduct in the following manner:-- "What am I doing? How do I suffer this passion to creep imperceptiblyupon me? How many days are past since I could have submitted to askmyself the question?--Marry a footman! Distraction! Can I afterwardsbear the eyes of my acquaintance? But I can retire from them; retirewith one in whom I propose more happiness than the world without himcan give me! Retire-to feed continually on beauties which my inflamedimagination sickens with eagerly gazing on; to satisfy every appetite, every desire, with their utmost wish. Ha! and do I doat thus on afootman? I despise, I detest my passion. --Yet why? Is he not generous, gentle, kind?--Kind! to whom? to the meanest wretch, a creature below myconsideration. Doth he not--yes, he doth prefer her. Curse his beauties, and the little low heart that possesses them; which can basely descendto this despicable wench, and be ungratefully deaf to all the honours Ido him. And can I then love this monster? No, I will tear his image frommy bosom, tread on him, spurn him. I will have those pitiful charms, which now I despise, mangled in my sight; for I will not suffer thelittle jade I hate to riot in the beauties I contemn. No; though Idespise him myself, though I would spurn him from my feet, was he tolanguish at them, no other should taste the happiness I scorn. Why do Isay happiness? To me it would be misery. To sacrifice my reputation, mycharacter, my rank in life, to the indulgence of a mean and a vileappetite! How I detest the thought! How much more exquisite is thepleasure resulting from the reflection of virtue and prudence than thefaint relish of what flows from vice and folly! Whither did I sufferthis improper, this mad passion to hurry me, only by neglecting tosummon the aids of reason to my assistance? Reason, which hath now setbefore me my desires in their proper colours, and immediately helped meto expel them. Yes, I thank Heaven and my pride, I have now perfectlyconquered this unworthy passion; and if there was no obstacle in itsway, my pride would disdain any pleasures which could be the consequenceof so base, so mean, so vulgar--" Slipslop returned at this instant in aviolent hurry, and with the utmost eagerness cryed out, "O madam! I havestrange news. Tom the footman is just come from the George; where, itseems, Joseph and the rest of them are a jinketting; and he says thereis a strange man who hath discovered that Fanny and Joseph are brotherand sister. "--"How, Slipslop?" cries the lady, in a surprize. --"I hadnot time, madam, " cries Slipslop, "to enquire about particles, but Tomsays it is most certainly true. " This unexpected account entirely obliterated all those admirablereflections which the supreme power of reason had so wisely made justbefore. In short, when despair, which had more share in producing theresolutions of hatred we have seen taken, began to retreat, the ladyhesitated a moment, and then, forgetting all the purport of hersoliloquy, dismissed her woman again, with orders to bid Tom attend herin the parlour, whither she now hastened to acquaint Pamela with thenews. Pamela said she could not believe it; for she had never heard thather mother had lost any child, or that she had ever had any more thanJoseph and herself. The lady flew into a violent rage with her, andtalked of upstarts and disowning relations who had so lately been on alevel with her. Pamela made no answer; but her husband, taking up hercause, severely reprimanded his aunt for her behaviour to his wife: hetold her, if it had been earlier in the evening she should not havestaid a moment longer in her house; that he was convinced, if this youngwoman could be proved her sister, she would readily embrace her as such, and he himself would do the same. He then desired the fellow might besent for, and the young woman with him, which Lady Booby immediatelyordered; and, thinking proper to make some apology to Pamela for whatshe had said, it was readily accepted, and all things reconciled. The pedlar now attended, as did Fanny and Joseph, who would not quither; the parson likewise was induced, not only by curiosity, of which hehad no small portion, but his duty, as he apprehended it, to followthem; for he continued all the way to exhort them, who were now breakingtheir hearts, to offer up thanksgivings, and be joyful for so miraculousan escape. When they arrived at Booby-Hall they were presently called into theparlour, where the pedlar repeated the same story he had told before, and insisted on the truth of every circumstance; so that all who heardhim were extremely well satisfied of the truth, except Pamela, whoimagined, as she had never heard either of her parents mention such anaccident, that it must be certainly false; and except the Lady Booby, who suspected the falsehood of the story from her ardent desire that itshould be true; and Joseph, who feared its truth, from his earnestwishes that it might prove false. Mr Booby now desired them all to suspend their curiosity and absolutebelief or disbelief till the next morning, when he expected old MrAndrews and his wife to fetch himself and Pamela home in his coach, andthen they might be certain of certainly knowing the truth or falsehoodof this relation; in which, he said, as there were many strongcircumstances to induce their credit, so he could not perceive anyinterest the pedlar could have in inventing it, or in endeavouring toimpose such a falsehood on them. The Lady Booby, who was very little used to such company, entertainedthem all--_viz_. Her nephew, his wife, her brother and sister, the beau, and the parson, with great good humour at her own table. As to thepedlar, she ordered him to be made as welcome as possible by herservants. All the company in the parlour, except the disappointedlovers, who sat sullen and silent, were full of mirth; for Mr Booby hadprevailed on Joseph to ask Mr Didapper's pardon, with which he wasperfectly satisfied. Many jokes passed between the beau and the parson, chiefly on each other's dress; these afforded much diversion to thecompany. Pamela chid her brother Joseph for the concern which he exprestat discovering a new sister. She said, if he loved Fanny as he ought, with a pure affection, he had no reason to lament being related toher. --Upon which Adams began to discourse on Platonic love; whence hemade a quick transition to the joys in the next world, and concludedwith strongly asserting that there was no such thing as pleasure inthis. At which Pamela and her husband smiled on one another. This happy pair proposing to retire (for no other person gave the leastsymptom of desiring rest), they all repaired to several beds providedfor them in the same house; nor was Adams himself suffered to go home, it being a stormy night. Fanny indeed often begged she might go homewith the parson; but her stay was so strongly insisted on, that she atlast, by Joseph's advice, consented. CHAPTER XIV. _Containing several curious night-adventures, in which Mr Adams fellinto many hair-breadth 'scapes, partly owing to his goodness, and partlyto his inadvertency. _ About an hour after they had all separated (it being now past three inthe morning), beau Didapper, whose passion for Fanny permitted him notto close his eyes, but had employed his imagination in contrivances howto satisfy his desires, at last hit on a method by which he hoped toeffect it. He had ordered his servant to bring him word where Fanny lay, and had received his information; he therefore arose, put on hisbreeches and nightgown, and stole softly along the gallery which led toher apartment; and, being come to the door, as he imagined it, he openedit with the least noise possible and entered the chamber. A savour nowinvaded his nostrils which he did not expect in the room of so sweet ayoung creature, and which might have probably had no good effect on acooler lover. However, he groped out the bed with difficulty, for therewas not a glimpse of light, and, opening the curtains, he whispered inJoseph's voice (for he was an excellent mimic), "Fanny, my angel! I amcome to inform thee that I have discovered the falsehood of the story welast night heard. I am no longer thy brother, but the lover; nor will Ibe delayed the enjoyment of thee one moment longer. You have sufficientassurances of my constancy not to doubt my marrying you, and it would bewant of love to deny me the possession of thy charms. "--So saying, hedisencumbered himself from the little clothes he had on, and, leapinginto bed, embraced his angel, as he conceived her, with great rapture. If he was surprized at receiving no answer, he was no less pleased tofind his hug returned with equal ardour. He remained not long in thissweet confusion; for both he and his paramour presently discovered theirerror. Indeed it was no other than the accomplished Slipslop whom he hadengaged; but, though she immediately knew the person whom she hadmistaken for Joseph, he was at a loss to guess at the representative ofFanny. He had so little seen or taken notice of this gentlewoman, thatlight itself would have afforded him no assistance in his conjecture. Beau Didapper no sooner had perceived his mistake than he attempted toescape from the bed with much greater haste than he had made to it; butthe watchful Slipslop prevented him. For that prudent woman, beingdisappointed of those delicious offerings which her fancy had promisedher pleasure, resolved to make an immediate sacrifice to her virtue. Indeed she wanted an opportunity to heal some wounds, which her lateconduct had, she feared, given her reputation; and, as she had awonderful presence of mind, she conceived the person of the unfortunatebeau to be luckily thrown in her way to restore her lady's opinion ofher impregnable chastity. At that instant, therefore, when he offered toleap from the bed, she caught fast hold of his shirt, at the same timeroaring out, "O thou villain! who hast attacked my chastity, and, Ibelieve, ruined me in my sleep; I will swear a rape against thee, I willprosecute thee with the utmost vengeance. " The beau attempted to getloose, but she held him fast, and when he struggled she cried out"Murder! murder! rape! robbery! ruin!" At which words, parson Adams, wholay in the next chamber, wakeful, and meditating on the pedlar'sdiscovery, jumped out of bed, and, without staying to put a rag ofclothes on, hastened into the apartment whence the cries proceeded. Hemade directly to the bed in the dark, where, laying hold of the beau'sskin (for Slipslop had torn his shirt almost off), and finding his skinextremely soft, and hearing him in a low voice begging Slipslop to lethim go, he no longer doubted but this was the young woman in danger ofravishing, and immediately falling on the bed, and laying hold onSlipslop's chin, where he found a rough beard, his belief was confirmed;he therefore rescued the beau, who presently made his escape, and then, turning towards Slipslop, received such a cuff on his chops, that, hiswrath kindling instantly, he offered to return the favour so stoutly, that had poor Slipslop received the fist, which in the dark passed byher and fell on the pillow, she would most probably have given up theghost. Adams, missing his blow, fell directly on Slipslop, who cuffedand scratched as well as she could; nor was he behindhand with her inhis endeavours, but happily the darkness of the night befriended her. She then cried she was a woman; but Adams answered, she was rather thedevil, and if she was he would grapple with him; and, being againirritated by another stroke on his chops, he gave her such a remembrancein the guts, that she began to roar loud enough to be heard all over thehouse. Adams then, seizing her by the hair (for her double-clout hadfallen off in the scuffle), pinned her head down to the bolster, andthen both called for lights together. The Lady Booby, who was as wakefulas any of her guests, had been alarmed from the beginning; and, being awoman of a bold spirit, she slipt on a nightgown, petticoat, andslippers, and taking a candle, which always burnt in her chamber, in herhand, she walked undauntedly to Slipslop's room; where she entered justat the instant as Adams had discovered, by the two mountains whichSlipslop carried before her, that he was concerned with a female. Hethen concluded her to be a witch, and said he fancied those breasts gavesuck to a legion of devils. Slipslop, seeing Lady Booby enter the room, cried help! or I am ravished, with a most audible voice: and Adams, perceiving the light, turned hastily, and saw the lady (as she did him)just as she came to the feet of the bed; nor did her modesty, when shefound the naked condition of Adams, suffer her to approach farther. Shethen began to revile the parson as the wickedest of all men, andparticularly railed at his impudence in chusing her house for the sceneof his debaucheries, and her own woman for the object of his bestiality. Poor Adams had before discovered the countenance of his bedfellow, and, now first recollecting he was naked, he was no less confounded than LadyBooby herself, and immediately whipt under the bedclothes, whence thechaste Slipslop endeavoured in vain to shut him out. Then putting forthhis head, on which, by way of ornament, he wore a flannel nightcap, heprotested his innocence, and asked ten thousand pardons of Mrs Slipslopfor the blows he had struck her, vowing he had mistaken her for a witch. Lady Booby, then casting her eyes on the ground, observed somethingsparkle with great lustre, which, when she had taken it up, appeared tobe a very fine pair of diamond buttons for the sleeves. A little farthershe saw lie the sleeve itself of a shirt with laced ruffles. "Heyday!"says she, "what is the meaning of this?" "O, madam, " says Slipslop, "Idon't know what hath happened, I have been so terrified. Here may havebeen a dozen men in the room. " "To whom belongs this laced shirt andjewels?" says the lady. "Undoubtedly, " cries the parson, "to the younggentleman whom I mistook for a woman on coming into the room, whenceproceeded all the subsequent mistakes; for if I had suspected him for aman, I would have seized him, had he been another Hercules, though, indeed, he seems rather to resemble Hylas. " He then gave an account ofthe reason of his rising from bed, and the rest, till the lady came intothe room; at which, and the figures of Slipslop and her gallant, whoseheads only were visible at the opposite corners of the bed, she couldnot refrain from laughter; nor did Slipslop persist in accusing theparson of any motions towards a rape. The lady therefore desired him toreturn to his bed as soon as she was departed, and then orderingSlipslop to rise and attend her in her own room, she returned herselfthither. When she was gone, Adams renewed his petitions for pardon toMrs Slipslop, who, with a most Christian temper, not only forgave, butbegan to move with much courtesy towards him, which he taking as a hintto begin, immediately quitted the bed, and made the best of his waytowards his own; but unluckily, instead of turning to the right, heturned to the left, and went to the apartment where Fanny lay, who (asthe reader may remember) had not slept a wink the preceding night, andwho was so hagged out with what had happened to her in the day, that, notwithstanding all thoughts of her Joseph, she was fallen into soprofound a sleep, that all the noise in the adjoining room had not beenable to disturb her. Adams groped out the bed, and, turning the clothesdown softly, a custom Mrs Adams had long accustomed him to, crept in, and deposited his carcase on the bed-post, a place which that good womanhad always assigned him. As the cat or lap-dog of some lovely nymph, for whom ten thousand loverslanguish, lies quietly by the side of the charming maid, and, ignorantof the scene of delight on which they repose, meditates the futurecapture of a mouse, or surprisal of a plate of bread and butter: soAdams lay by the side of Fanny, ignorant of the paradise to which he wasso near; nor could the emanation of sweets which flowed from her breathoverpower the fumes of tobacco which played in the parson's nostrils. And now sleep had not overtaken the good man, when Joseph, who hadsecretly appointed Fanny to come to her at the break of day, rappedsoftly at the chamber-door, which when he had repeated twice, Adamscryed, "Come in, whoever you are. " Joseph thought he had mistaken thedoor, though she had given him the most exact directions; however, knowing his friend's voice, he opened it, and saw some female vestmentslying on a chair. Fanny waking at the same instant, and stretching outher hand on Adams's beard, she cried out, --"O heavens! where am I?""Bless me! where am I?" said the parson. Then Fanny screamed, Adamsleapt out of bed, and Joseph stood, as the tragedians call it, like thestatue of Surprize. "How came she into my room?" cryed Adams. "How cameyou into hers?" cryed Joseph, in an astonishment. "I know nothing of thematter, " answered Adams, "but that she is a vestal for me. As I am aChristian, I know not whether she is a man or woman. He is an infidelwho doth not believe in witchcraft. They as surely exist now as in thedays of Saul. My clothes are bewitched away too, and Fanny's broughtinto their place. " For he still insisted he was in his own apartment;but Fanny denied it vehemently, and said his attempting to persuadeJoseph of such a falsehood convinced her of his wicked designs. "How!"said Joseph in a rage, "hath he offered any rudeness to you?" Sheanswered--She could not accuse him of any more than villanously stealingto bed to her, which she thought rudeness sufficient, and what no manwould do without a wicked intention. Joseph's great opinion of Adams was not easily to be staggered, and whenhe heard from Fanny that no harm had happened he grew a little cooler;yet still he was confounded, and, as he knew the house, and that thewomen's apartments were on this side Mrs Slipslop's room, and the men'son the other, he was convinced that he was in Fanny's chamber. AssuringAdams therefore of this truth, he begged him to give some account how hecame there. Adams then, standing in his shirt, which did not offendFanny, as the curtains of the bed were drawn, related all that hadhappened; and when he had ended Joseph told him, --It was plain he hadmistaken by turning to the right instead of the left. "Odso!" criesAdams, "that's true: as sure as sixpence, you have hit on the verything. " He then traversed the room, rubbing his hands, and beggedFanny's pardon, assuring her he did not know whether she was man orwoman. That innocent creature firmly believing all he said, told him shewas no longer angry, and begged Joseph to conduct him into his ownapartment, where he should stay himself till she had put her clothes on. Joseph and Adams accordingly departed, and the latter soon was convincedof the mistake he had committed; however, whilst he was dressinghimself, he often asserted he believed in the power of witchcraftnotwithstanding, and did not see how a Christian could deny it. CHAPTER XV. _The arrival of Gaffar and Gammar Andrews, with another person notmuch expected; and a perfect solution of the difficulties raised bythe pedlar. _ As soon as Fanny was drest Joseph returned to her, and they had a longconversation together, the conclusion of which was, that, if they foundthemselves to be really brother and sister, they vowed a perpetualcelibacy, and to live together all their days, and indulge a Platonicfriendship for each other. The company were all very merry at breakfast, and Joseph and Fannyrather more chearful than the preceding night. The Lady Booby producedthe diamond button, which the beau most readily owned, and alledged thathe was very subject to walk in his sleep. Indeed, he was far from beingashamed of his amour, and rather endeavoured to insinuate that more thanwas really true had passed between him and the fair Slipslop. Their tea was scarce over when news came of the arrival of old MrAndrews and his wife. They were immediately introduced, and kindlyreceived by the Lady Booby, whose heart went now pit-a-pat, as did thoseof Joseph and Fanny. They felt, perhaps, little less anxiety in thisinterval than Oedipus himself, whilst his fate was revealing. Mr Booby first opened the cause by informing the old gentleman that hehad a child in the company more than he knew of, and, taking Fanny bythe hand, told him, this was that daughter of his who had been stolenaway by gypsies in her infancy. Mr Andrews, after expressing someastonishment, assured his honour that he had never lost a daughter bygypsies, nor ever had any other children than Joseph and Pamela. Thesewords were a cordial to the two lovers; but had a different effect onLady Booby. She ordered the pedlar to be called, who recounted his storyas he had done before. --At the end of which, old Mrs Andrews, running toFanny, embraced her, crying out, "She is, she is my child!" The companywere all amazed at this disagreement between the man and his wife; andthe blood had now forsaken the cheeks of the lovers, when the old woman, turning to her husband, who was more surprized than all the rest, andhaving a little recovered her own spirits, delivered herself as follows:"You may remember, my dear, when you went a serjeant to Gibraltar, youleft me big with child; you stayed abroad, you know, upwards of threeyears. In your absence I was brought to bed, I verily believe, of thisdaughter, whom I am sure I have reason to remember, for I suckled her atthis very breast till the day she was stolen from me. One afternoon, when the child was about a year, or a year and a half old, orthereabouts, two gypsy-women came to the door and offered to tell myfortune. One of them had a child in her lap. I showed them my hand, anddesired to know if you was ever to come home again, which I remember aswell as if it was but yesterday: they faithfully promised me youshould. --I left the girl in the cradle and went to draw them a cup ofliquor, the best I had: when I returned with the pot (I am sure I wasnot absent longer than whilst I am telling it to you) the women weregone. I was afraid they had stolen something, and looked and looked, butto no purpose, and, Heaven knows, I had very little for them to steal. At last, hearing the child cry in the cradle, I went to take it up--but, O the living! how was I surprized to find, instead of my own girl that Ihad put into the cradle, who was as fine a fat thriving child as youshall see in a summer's day, a poor sickly boy, that did not seem tohave an hour to live. I ran out, pulling my hair off and crying like anymad after the women, but never could hear a word of them from that dayto this. When I came back the poor infant (which is our Joseph there, asstout as he now stands) lifted up its eyes upon me so piteously, that, to be sure, notwithstanding my passion, I could not find in my heart todo it any mischief. A neighbour of mine, happening to come in at thesame time, and hearing the case, advised me to take care of this poorchild, and God would perhaps one day restore me my own. Upon which Itook the child up, and suckled it to be sure, all the world as if it hadbeen born of my own natural body; and as true as I am alive, in a littletime I loved the boy all to nothing as if it had been my owngirl. --Well, as I was saying, times growing very hard, I having twochildren and nothing but my own work, which was little enough, Godknows, to maintain them, was obliged to ask relief of the parish; but, instead of giving it me, they removed me, by justices' warrants, fifteenmiles, to the place where I now live, where I had not been long settledbefore you came home. Joseph (for that was the name I gave himmyself--the Lord knows whether he was baptized or no, or by what name), Joseph, I say, seemed to me about five years old when you returned; forI believe he is two or three years older than our daughter here (for Iam thoroughly convinced she is the same); and when you saw him you saidhe was a chopping boy, without ever minding his age; and so I, seeingyou did not suspect anything of the matter, thought I might e'en as wellkeep it to myself, for fear you should not love him as well as I did. And all this is veritably true, and I will take my oath of it before anyjustice in the kingdom. " The pedlar, who had been summoned by the order of Lady Booby, listenedwith the utmost attention to Gammar Andrews's story; and, when she hadfinished, asked her if the supposititious child had no mark on itsbreast? To which she answered, "Yes, he had as fine a strawberry as evergrew in a garden. " This Joseph acknowledged, and, unbuttoning his coat, at the intercession of the company, showed to them. "Well, " says GaffarAndrews, who was a comical sly old fellow, and very likely desired tohave no more children than he could keep, "you have proved, I think, very plainly, that this boy doth not belong to us; but how are youcertain that the girl is ours?" The parson then brought the pedlarforward, and desired him to repeat the story which he had communicatedto him the preceding day at the ale-house; which he complied with, andrelated what the reader, as well as Mr Adams, hath seen before. He thenconfirmed, from his wife's report, all the circumstances of theexchange, and of the strawberry on Joseph's breast. At the repetition ofthe word strawberry, Adams, who had seen it without any emotion, startedand cried, "Bless me! something comes into my head. " But before he hadtime to bring anything out a servant called him forth. When he was gonethe pedlar assured Joseph that his parents were persons of much greatercircumstances than those he had hitherto mistaken for such; for that hehad been stolen from a gentleman's house by those whom they callgypsies, and had been kept by them during a whole year, when, looking onhim as in a dying condition, they had exchanged him for the otherhealthier child, in the manner before related. He said, As to the nameof his father, his wife had either never known or forgot it; but thatshe had acquainted him he lived about forty miles from the place wherethe exchange had been made, and which way, promising to spare no painsin endeavouring with him to discover the place. But Fortune, which seldom doth good or ill, or makes men happy ormiserable, by halves, resolved to spare him this labour. The reader mayplease to recollect that Mr Wilson had intended a journey to the west, in which he was to pass through Mr Adams's parish, and had promised tocall on him. He was now arrived at the Lady Booby's gates for thatpurpose, being directed thither from the parson's house, and had sent inthe servant whom we have above seen call Mr Adams forth. This had nosooner mentioned the discovery of a stolen child, and had uttered theword strawberry, than Mr Wilson, with wildness in his looks, and theutmost eagerness in his words, begged to be shewed into the room, wherehe entered without the least regard to any of the company but Joseph, and, embracing him with a complexion all pale and trembling, desired tosee the mark on his breast; the parson followed him capering, rubbinghis hands, and crying out, _Hic est quem quaeris; inventus est, &c_. Joseph complied with the request of Mr Wilson, who no sooner saw themark than, abandoning himself to the most extravagant rapture ofpassion, he embraced Joseph with inexpressible ecstasy, and cried out intears of joy, "I have discovered my son, I have him again in my arms!"Joseph was not sufficiently apprized yet to taste the same delight withhis father (for so in reality he was); however, he returned some warmthto his embraces: but he no sooner perceived, from his father's account, the agreement of every circumstance, of person, time, and place, than hethrew himself at his feet, and, embracing his knees, with tears beggedhis blessing, which was given with much affection, and received withsuch respect, mixed with such tenderness on both sides, that it affectedall present; but none so much as Lady Booby, who left the room in anagony, which was but too much perceived, and not very charitablyaccounted for by some of the company. CHAPTER XVI. _Being the last in which this true history is brought to a happyconclusion. _ Fanny was very little behind her Joseph in the duty she exprest towardsher parents, and the joy she evidenced in discovering them. GammarAndrews kissed her, and said, She was heartily glad to see her; but forher part, she could never love any one better than Joseph. GaffarAndrews testified no remarkable emotion: he blessed and kissed her, butcomplained bitterly that he wanted his pipe, not having had a whiffthat morning. Mr Booby, who knew nothing of his aunt's fondness, imputed her abruptdeparture to her pride, and disdain of the family into which he wasmarried; he was therefore desirous to be gone with the utmost celerity;and now, having congratulated Mr Wilson and Joseph on the discovery, hesaluted Fanny, called her sister, and introduced her as such to Pamela, who behaved with great decency on the occasion. He now sent a message to his aunt, who returned that she wished him agood journey, but was too disordered to see any company: he thereforeprepared to set out, having invited Mr Wilson to his house; and Pamelaand Joseph both so insisted on his complying, that he at lastconsented, having first obtained a messenger from Mr Booby to acquainthis wife with the news; which, as he knew it would render hercompletely happy, he could not prevail on himself to delay a moment inacquainting her with. The company were ranged in this manner: the two old people, with theirtwo daughters, rode in the coach; the squire, Mr Wilson, Joseph, parsonAdams, and the pedlar, proceeded on horseback. In their way, Joseph informed his father of his intended match withFanny; to which, though he expressed some reluctance at first, on theeagerness of his son's instances he consented; saying, if she was sogood a creature as she appeared, and he described her, he thought thedisadvantages of birth and fortune might be compensated. He howeverinsisted on the match being deferred till he had seen his mother; inwhich, Joseph perceiving him positive, with great duty obeyed him, tothe great delight of parson Adams, who by these means saw anopportunity of fulfilling the Church forms, and marrying hisparishioners without a licence. Mr Adams, greatly exulting on this occasion (for such ceremonies werematters of no small moment with him), accidentally gave spurs to hishorse, which the generous beast disdaining--for he was of high mettle, and had been used to more expert riders than the gentleman who atpresent bestrode him, for whose horsemanship he had perhaps somecontempt--immediately ran away full speed, and played so many antictricks that he tumbled the parson from his back; which Josephperceiving, came to his relief. This accident afforded infinite merriment to the servants, and no lessfrighted poor Fanny, who beheld him as he passed by the coach; but themirth of the one and terror of the other were soon determined, when theparson declared he had received no damage. The horse having freed himself from his unworthy rider, as he probablythought him, proceeded to make the best of his way; but was stopped by agentleman and his servants, who were travelling the opposite way, andwere now at a little distance from the coach. They soon met; and as oneof the servants delivered Adams his horse, his master hailed him, andAdams, looking up, presently recollected he was the justice of peacebefore whom he and Fanny had made their appearance. The parson presentlysaluted him very kindly; and the justice informed him that he had foundthe fellow who attempted to swear against him and the young woman thevery next day, and had committed him to Salisbury gaol, where he wascharged with many robberies. Many compliments having passed between the parson and the justice, thelatter proceeded on his journey; and the former, having with somedisdain refused Joseph's offer of changing horses, and declared he wasas able a horseman as any in the kingdom, remounted his beast; and nowthe company again proceeded, and happily arrived at their journey'send, Mr Adams, by good luck, rather than by good riding, escaping asecond fall. The company, arriving at Mr Booby's house, were all received by him inthe most courteous and entertained in the most splendid manner, afterthe custom of the old English hospitality, which is still preserved insome very few families in the remote parts of England. They all passedthat day with the utmost satisfaction; it being perhaps impossible tofind any set of people more solidly and sincerely happy. Joseph andFanny found means to be alone upwards of two hours, which were theshortest but the sweetest imaginable. In the morning Mr Wilson proposed to his son to make a visit with him tohis mother; which, notwithstanding his dutiful inclinations, and alonging desire he had to see her, a little concerned him, as he must beobliged to leave his Fanny; but the goodness of Mr Booby relieved him;for he proposed to send his own coach and six for Mrs Wilson, whomPamela so very earnestly invited, that Mr Wilson at length agreed withthe entreaties of Mr Booby and Joseph, and suffered the coach to goempty for his wife. On Saturday night the coach returned with Mrs Wilson, who added one moreto this happy assembly. The reader may imagine much better and quickertoo than I can describe the many embraces and tears of joy whichsucceeded her arrival. It is sufficient to say she was easily prevailedwith to follow her husband's example in consenting to the match. On Sunday Mr Adams performed the service at the squire's parish church, the curate of which very kindly exchanged duty, and rode twenty miles tothe Lady Booby's parish so to do; being particularly charged not to omitpublishing the banns, being the third and last time. At length the happy day arrived which was to put Joseph in thepossession of all his wishes. He arose, and drest himself in a neat butplain suit of Mr Booby's, which exactly fitted him; for he refused allfinery; as did Fanny likewise, who could be prevailed on by Pamela toattire herself in nothing richer than a white dimity nightgown. Hershift indeed, which Pamela presented her, was of the finest kind, andhad an edging of lace round the bosom. She likewise equipped her with apair of fine white thread stockings, which were all she would accept;for she wore one of her own short round-eared caps, and over it alittle straw hat, lined with cherry-coloured silk, and tied with acherry-coloured ribbon. In this dress she came forth from her chamber, blushing and breathing sweets; and was by Joseph, whose eyes sparkledfire, led to church, the whole family attending, where Mr Adamsperformed the ceremony; at which nothing was so remarkable as theextraordinary and unaffected modesty of Fanny, unless the trueChristian piety of Adams, who publickly rebuked Mr Booby and Pamela forlaughing in so sacred a place, and on so solemn an occasion. Our parsonwould have done no less to the highest prince on earth; for, though hepaid all submission and deference to his superiors in other matters, where the least spice of religion intervened he immediately lost allrespect of persons. It was his maxim, that he was a servant of theHighest, and could not, without departing from his duty, give up theleast article of his honour or of his cause to the greatest earthlypotentate. Indeed, he always asserted that Mr Adams at church with hissurplice on, and Mr Adams without that ornament in any other place, were two very different persons. When the church rites were over Joseph led his blooming bride back to MrBooby's (for the distance was so very little they did not think properto use a coach); the whole company attended them likewise on foot; andnow a most magnificent entertainment was provided, at which parson Adamsdemonstrated an appetite surprizing as well as surpassing every onepresent. Indeed the only persons who betrayed any deficiency on thisoccasion were those on whose account the feast was provided. Theypampered their imaginations with the much more exquisite repast whichthe approach of night promised them; the thoughts of which filled boththeir minds, though with different sensations; the one all desire, whilethe other had her wishes tempered with fears. At length, after a day passed with the utmost merriment, corrected bythe strictest decency, in which, however, parson Adams, being wellfilled with ale and pudding, had given a loose to more facetiousnessthan was usual to him, the happy, the blest moment arrived when Fannyretired with her mother, her mother-in-law, and her sister. She was soon undrest; for she had no jewels to deposit in their caskets, nor fine laces to fold with the nicest exactness. Undressing to her wasproperly discovering, not putting off, ornaments; for, as all her charmswere the gifts of nature, she could divest herself of none. How, reader, shall I give thee an adequate idea of this lovely young creature? thebloom of roses and lilies might a little illustrate her complexion, ortheir smell her sweetness; but to comprehend her entirely, conceiveyouth, health, bloom, neatness, and innocence, in her bridal bed;conceive all these in their utmost perfection, and you may place thecharming Fanny's picture before your eyes. Joseph no sooner heard she was in bed than he fled with the utmosteagerness to her. A minute carried him into her arms, where we shallleave this happy couple to enjoy the private rewards of their constancy;rewards so great and sweet, that I apprehend Joseph neither envied thenoblest duke, nor Fanny the finest duchess, that night. The third day Mr Wilson and his wife, with their son and daughter, returned home; where they now live together in a state of bliss scarceever equalled. Mr Booby hath, with unprecedented generosity, given Fannya fortune of two thousand pounds, which Joseph hath laid out in a littleestate in the same parish with his father, which he now occupies (hisfather having stocked it for him); and Fanny presides with mostexcellent management in his dairy; where, however, she is not at presentvery able to bustle much, being, as Mr Wilson informs me in his lastletter, extremely big with her first child. Mr Booby hath presented Mr Adams with a living of one hundred andthirty pounds a year. He at first refused it, resolving not to quithis parishioners, with whom he had lived so long; but, onrecollecting he might keep a curate at this living, he hath beenlately inducted into it. The pedlar, besides several handsome presents, both from Mr Wilson andMr Booby, is, by the latter's interest, made an exciseman; a trust whichhe discharges with such justice, that he is greatly beloved in hisneighbourhood. As for the Lady Booby, she returned to London in a few days, where ayoung captain of dragoons, together with eternal parties at cards, soonobliterated the memory of Joseph. Joseph remains blest with his Fanny, whom he doats on with the utmosttenderness, which is all returned on her side. The happiness of thiscouple is a perpetual fountain of pleasure to their fond parents; and, what is particularly remarkable, he declares he will imitate them intheir retirement, nor will be prevailed on by any booksellers, or theirauthors, to make his appearance in high life. THE END.