EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY 
 EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS 
 
 FICTION 
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 BY HENRY FIELDING 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 GEORGE SAINTSBURY 
 
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MEN 
 
 < SIR?PH1LIP' ( SIDNEY 
 
HISTORY 
 gfffie/ldventuref 
 &* JOSEPH 
 ANDREWS 
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 ADAMS & BY 
 
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 LONDON STORONTO 
 J-M-DENT & SONS, LJP 
 NEWYORK:E-P-DUTTON 
 
FIRST ISSUE OF THIS EDITION . 1910 
 REPRINTED .... 1912, 1917, 1921 
 
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 PKINTJCD IN GKEAT BRITAlftk 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 A I '"HERE are few amusements more dangerous for 
 an author than the indulgence in ironic descrip- 
 tions of his own work. If the irony is de- 
 preciatory, posterity is but too likely to say, " Many a 
 true word is spoken in jest ; " if it is encomiastic, the 
 same ruthless and ungrateful critic is but too likely 
 to take it as an involuntary confession of folly and 
 vanity. But when Fielding, in one of his serio-comic 
 introductions to Tom Jones, described it as " this pro- 
 digious work," he all unintentionally (for he was the 
 least pretentious of men) anticipated the verdict which 
 posterity almost at once, and with ever-increasing 
 suffrage of the best judges as time went on, was about 
 to pass not merely upon this particular book, but upon 
 his whole genius and his whole production as a 
 novelist. His work in other kinds is of a very 
 different order of excellence. It is sufficiently inter- 
 esting at times in itself; and always more than suffi- 
 ciently interesting as his. Until the present occasion 
 vil 
 
 M798829 
 
viii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 came (which made it necessary that I should ac- 
 quaint myself with it) I own that my own knowledge 
 of these miscellaneous writings was by no means 
 thorough. It is now pretty complete ; but the idea 
 which I previously had of them at first and second 
 hand, though a little improved, has not very materially 
 altered. Though in all this hack-work Fielding dis- 
 played, partially and at intervals, the same qualities 
 which he displayed eminently and constantly in the 
 four great books here given, he was not, as the French 
 idiom expresses it, daru ton assiettc, in his own natural 
 and impregnable disposition and situation of character 
 and ability, when he was occupied on it. The novel 
 was for him that assiettc> 
 
 Although Henry Fielding lived in quite modern 
 times, although by family and connections he was of a 
 higher rank than most men of letters, and although his 
 genius was at once recognised by his contemporaries so 
 soon as it displayed itself in its proper sphere, his bio- 
 graphy until very recently was by no means full ; and 
 the most recent researches, including those of Mr 
 Austin Dobson a critic unsurpassed for combination 
 of literary faculty and knowledge of the eighteenth 
 century have not altogether sufficed to fill up the 
 gaps. His family, said to have descended from a 
 member of the great house of Hapsburg who came 
 to England in the reign of Henry II., distinguished 
 itself in the Wars of the Roses, and in the seventeenth 
 century was advanced to the peerages of Denbigh in 
 England and (later) of Desmond in Ireland. The 
 novelist was the grandson of John Fielding, Canon of 
 Salisbury, the fifth son of the first Earl of Desmond of 
 
Introduction ix 
 
 this creation. The canon's third son, Edmond, entered 
 the army, served under Marlborough, and married 
 Sarah Gold or Gould, daughter of a judge of the 
 King's Bench. Their eldest son was Henry, who was 
 born on April 22, 1707, and had an uncertain number 
 of brothers and sisters of the whole blood. After his 
 first wife's death, General Fielding (for he attained 
 that rank) married again. The most remarkable off- 
 spring of the first marriage, next to Henry, was his 
 wster Sarah, aJ*o a novelist, who wrote David Simple ; 
 of the second, John, afterwards Sir John Fielding, who, 
 though blind, succeeded his half-brother as a Bow 
 Street magistrate, and in that office combined an 
 equally honourable record with a longer tenure. 
 
 Fielding was born at Sharpham Park in Somerset- 
 shire, the seat of his maternal grandfather ; but most of 
 his early youth was spent at East Stour in Dorsetshire, 
 to which his father removed after the judge's death. 
 He is said to have received his first education under a 
 parson of the neighbourhood named Oliver, in whom 
 a very uncomplimentary tradition sees the original of 
 Parson Trulliber. He was then certainly sent to Eton, 
 tvhere he did oot waste his time as regards learn- 
 ing, and made several valuable friends. But the dates 
 of his entering and leaving school are alike unknown ; 
 and his subsequent sojourn at Leyden for two years 
 though there is no reason to doubt it depends even less 
 upon any positive documentary evidence. This famous 
 University still had a great repute as a training school 
 in law, for which profession he was intended ; but the 
 reason why he did not receive the even then far more 
 usual completion of a public school education by a 
 * 467 
 
x Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 sojourn at Oxford or Cambridge may be suspected to 
 be different. It may even have had something to do 
 with a curious escapade of his about which not very 
 much is known an attempt to carry off a pretty 
 heiress of Lyme, named Sarah Andrew. 
 
 Even at Leyden, however, General Fielding seems to 
 have been unable or unwilling to pay his son's expenses, 
 which must have been far less there than at an English 
 University ; and Henry's return to London in 1728-29 
 is said to have been due to sheer impecuniosity. When 
 he returned to England, his father was good enough to 
 make him an allowance of 38200 nominal, which ap- 
 pears to have been equivalent to &o actual. And as 
 practically nothing is known of him for the next six 
 or seven years, except the fact of his having worked 
 industriously enough at a large number of not very 
 good plays of the lighter kind, with a few poems and 
 miscellanies, it is reasonably enough supposed that he 
 lived by his pen. The only product of this period 
 which has kept (or indeed which ever received) com- 
 petent applause is Tom Thumb, or the Tragedy of 
 Tragedies, a following of course of the Rehearsal, 
 but full of humour and spirit. The most successful of 
 his other dramatic works were the Mock Doctor and 
 the Miser, adaptations of MoliSre's famous pieces. His 
 undoubted connection with the stage, and the fact of the 
 contemporary existence of a certain Timothy Fielding, 
 helped suggestions of less dignified occupations as actor, 
 booth-keeper, and so forth ; but these have long been 
 discredited and indeed disproved. 
 
 In or about 1735, w ^ en Fielding was twenty-eight, 
 we find him in a new, a more brilliant and agreeable, 
 
Introduction xi 
 
 but even a more transient phase. He had married (we 
 do not know when or where) Miss Charlotte Cradock, 
 one of three sisters who lived at Salisbury (it is to be 
 observed that Fielding's entire connections, both in life 
 and letters, are with the Western Counties and London), 
 who were certainly of competent means, and for whose 
 alleged illegitimacy there is no evidence but an unsup- 
 ported fling of that old maid of genius, Richardson. 
 The descriptions both of Sophia and of Amelia are said 
 to have been taken from this lady ; her good looks and 
 her amiability are as well established as anything of the 
 kind can be in the absence of photographs and affidavits ; 
 and it is certain that her husband was passionately 
 attached to her, during their too short married life. 
 His method, however, of showing his affection smacked 
 in some ways too much of the foibles which he has 
 attributed to Captain Booth, and of those which we 
 must suspect Mr Thomas Jones would also have 
 exhibited, if he had not been adopted as Mr All- 
 worthy's heir, and had not had Mr Western's fortune 
 to share and look forward to. It is true that grave 
 breaches have been made by recent criticism in the 
 very picturesque and circumstantial story told on the 
 subject by Murphy, the first of Fielding's biographers. 
 This legend was that Fielding, having succeeded by 
 the death of his mother to a small estate at East Stour, 
 worth about 200 a year, and having received i 500 
 in ready money as his wife's fortune, got through 
 the whole in three years by keeping open house, with 
 a large retinue in " costly yellow liveries," and so 
 forth. In details, this story has been simply riddled. 
 His mother had died long before; he was certainly 
 
xii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 not away from London three years, or anything like it ; 
 and so forth. At the same time, the best and soberest 
 judges agree that there is an intrinsic probability, a 
 consensus (if a vague one) of tradition, and a chain 
 of almost unmistakably personal references in the 
 novels, which plead for a certain amount of truth, at 
 the bottom of a much embellished legend. At any 
 rate, if Fielding established himself in the country, it 
 was not long before he returned to town ; for early in 
 1736 we find him back again, and not merely a play- 
 wright, but lessee of the " Little Theatre " in the 
 Haymarket. The plays which he produced here 
 satirico-political pieces, such as Pasquin and the 
 Historical Register were popular enough, but offended 
 the Government ; and in 1737 a new bill regulating 
 theatrical performances, and instituting the Lord 
 Chamberlain's control, was passed. This measure put 
 an end directly to the " Great Mogul's Company," 
 as Fielding had called his troop, and indirectly to its 
 manager's career as a playwright. He did indeed 
 write a few pieces in future years, but they were of 
 the smallest importance. 
 
 After this check he turned at last to a serious pro- 
 fession, entered himself of the Middle Temple in 
 November of the same year, and was called three years 
 later ; but during these years, and indeed for some time 
 afterwards, our information about him is still of the 
 vaguest character. Nobody doubts that he had a large 
 share in the Champion, an essay-periodical on the usual 
 eighteenth-century model, which began to appear in 
 1739, and which is still occasionally consulted for the 
 work that is certainly or probably his. He went the 
 
Introduction xiii 
 
 Western Circuit, and attended the Wiltshire Sessions, 
 after he was called, giving up his contributions to 
 periodicals soon after that event. But he soon re- 
 turned to literature proper, or rather made his debut 
 in it, with the immortal book now republished. The 
 History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews, and his 
 Friend Mr Abraham Adams, appeared in February 
 1742, and its author received from Andrew Millar, 
 the publisher, the sum of ^183, us. Even greater 
 works have fetched much smaller sums ; but it will be 
 admitted that Joseph Andrews was not dear. 
 
 The advantage, however, of presenting a survey of 
 an author's life uninterrupted by criticism is so clear, 
 that what has to be said about Joseph may be con- 
 veniently postponed for the moment. Immediately 
 after its publication the author fell back upon miscel- 
 laneous writing, and in the next year (1743) collected 
 and issued three volumes of Miscellanies. In the two 
 first volumes the only thing of much interest is the 
 unfinished and unequal, but in part powerful, Journey 
 from this World to the Next, an attempt of a kind 
 which Fontenelle and others, following Lucian, had 
 made very popular with the time. But the third 
 volume of the Miscellanies deserved a less modest and 
 gregarious appearance, for it contained, and is wholly 
 occupied by, the wonderful and terrible satire of 
 Jonathan Wild, the greatest piece of pure irony in 
 English out of Swift. Soon after the publication of 
 the book, a great calamity came on Fielding. Hi 
 wife had been very ill when he wrote the preface ; 
 soon afterwards she was dead. They had taken the 
 chance, had made the choice, that the more prudent 
 
xiv Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 and less wise student-hero and heroine of Mr Brown- 
 ing's Touth and Art had shunned ; they had no doubt 
 " sighed deep, laughed free, Starved, feasted, de- 
 spaired," and we need not question, that they had 
 also "been happy." 
 
 Except this sad event and its rather incongruous 
 sequel, Fielding's marriage to his wife's maid Mary 
 Daniel a marriage, however, which did not take 
 place till full four years later, and which by all 
 accounts supplied him with a faithful and excellent 
 companion and nurse, and his children with a kind 
 stepmother little or nothing is again known of this 
 elusive man of genius between the publication of the 
 Miscellanies in 1743, and that of Tom Jones in 1749. 
 The second marriage itself in November 1747; an 
 interview which Joseph Warton had with him rather 
 more than a year earlier (one of the very few direct 
 interviews we have) ; the publication of two anti- 
 Tacobite newspapers (Fielding was always a strong 
 Whig and Hanoverian), called the True Patriot and the 
 Jacobite's Journal, in 1 745 and the following years ; some 
 indistinct traditions about residences at Twickenham 
 and elsewhere, and some, more precise but not much 
 more authenticated, respecting patronage by the Duke of 
 Bedford, Mr Lyttelton, Mr Allen, and others, pretty 
 well sum up the whole. 
 
 Tom Jones was published in February (a favourite 
 month with Fielding or his publisher Millar) 1749; 
 and as it brought him the, for those days, very con- 
 siderable sum of s6oo, to which Millar added another 
 hundred later, the novelist must have been, for a time 
 at any rate, relieved from his chronic penury. But 
 
Introduction xv 
 
 he had already, by Lyttelton's interest, secured his 
 first and last piece of preferment, being made Justice 
 of the Peace for Westminster, an office on which he 
 entered with characteristic vigour. He was qualified 
 for it not merely by a solid knowledge of the law, 
 and by great natural abilities, but by his thorough 
 kindness of heart ; and, perhaps, it may also be added, 
 by his long years of queer experience on (as Mr Carlyle 
 would have said) the "burning marl" of the London 
 Bohemia. Very shortly afterwards he was chosen 
 Chairman of Quarter Sessions, and established himself 
 in Bow Street. The Bow Street magistrate of that 
 time occupied a most singular position, and was more 
 like a French Prefect of Police or even a Minister 
 of Public Safety than a mere justice. Yet he was ill 
 paid. Fielding says that the emoluments, which before 
 his accession had but been ,500 a year of "dirty" 
 money, were by his own action but ^300 of clean ; and 
 the work, if properly performed, was very severe. 
 
 That he performed it properly all competent evidence 
 shows, a foolish, inconclusive, and I fear it must be said 
 emphatically snobbish story of Walpole's notwithstanding. 
 In particular, he broke up a gang of cut-throat thieves, 
 which had been the terror of London. But his tenure 
 of the post was short enough, and scarcely extended 
 to five years. His health had long been broken, and 
 he was now constantly attacked by gout, so that he 
 had frequently to retreat on Bath from Bow Street, 
 or his suburban cottage of Fordhook, Haling. But 
 he did not relax his literary work. His pen was 
 active with pamphlets concerning his office; Amelia^ 
 his last novel, appeared towards the close of 1751 ; and 
 
xvi Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 next year saw the beginning of a new paper, the 
 Covent Garden Journal, which appeared twice a week, 
 ran for the greater part of the year, and died in 
 November. Its great author did not see that month 
 twice again. In the spring of 1753 he grew worse; 
 and after a year's struggle with ill health, hard work, 
 and hard weather, lesser measures being pronounced use- 
 less, was persuaded to try the " Portugal Voyage," of 
 which he has left so charming a record in the Journey to 
 Lisbon. He left Fordhook on June 26, 1754, reached 
 Lisbon in August, and, dying there on the 8th of 
 October, was buried in the cemetery of the Estrella. 
 
 Of not many writers perhaps does a clearer notion, 
 as far as their personality goes, exist in the general 
 mind that interests itself at all in literature than of 
 Fielding. Yet more than once a warning has been 
 sounded, especially by his best and most recent bio- 
 grapher* to the effect that this idea is founded upon 
 very little warranty of scripture. The truth is, that as 
 the foregoing record which, brief as it is, is a suffi- 
 ciently faithful summary will have shown, we know 
 very little about Fielding. We have hardly any letters 
 of his, and so lack the best by far and the most revealing 
 of all character- portraits ; we have but one important 
 autobiographic fragment, and though that is of the 
 highest interest and value, it was written far in the 
 valley of the shadow of death, it is not in the least re- 
 trospective, and it affords but dim and inferential light 
 on his younger, healthier, and happier days and ways. 
 He came, moreover, just short of one set of men of 
 letters, of whom we have a great deal of personal 
 knowledge, and just beyond another. He was neither 
 
Introduction xvii 
 
 of those about Addison, nor of those about Johnson. 
 No intimate friend of his has left us anything elaborate 
 about him. On the other hand, we have a far from 
 inconsiderable body of documentary evidence, of a kind 
 often by no means trustworthy. The best part of it 
 is contained in the letters of his cousin, Lady Mary 
 Wortley Montagu, and the reminiscences or family 
 traditions of her grand-daughter, Lady Louisa Stuart. 
 But Lady Mary, vivacious and agreeable as she is, 
 had with all her talent a very considerable knack of 
 writing for effect, of drawing strong contrasts and the 
 like ; and it is not quite certain that she saw very much 
 of Fielding in the last and most interesting third of his 
 life. Another witness, Horace Wai pole, to less know- 
 ledge and equally dubious accuracy, added decided ill- 
 will, which may have been due partly to the shrinking 
 of a dilettante and a fop from a burly Bohemian ; but 
 I fear is also consequent upon the fact that Horace 
 could not afford to despise Fielding's birth, and knew 
 him to be vastly his own superior in genius. We 
 hear something of him again from Richardson ; and 
 Richardson hated him with the hatred of dissimilar 
 genius, of inferior social position, and, lastly, of the 
 cat for the dog who touzles and worries her. Johnson 
 partly inherited or shared Richardson's aversion, partly 
 was blinded to Fielding's genius by his aggressive 
 Whiggery. I fear, too, that he was incapable ot 
 appreciating it for reasons other than political. It is 
 certain that Johnson, sane and robust as he was, was 
 never quite at ease before genius of the gigantic kind, 
 either in dead or living. Whether he did not like to 
 have to look up too much, or was actually unable 
 
xviii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 to do so, it is certain that Shakespeare, Milton, Swift, 
 and Fielding, those four Atlantes of English verse 
 and prose, all affected him with lukewarm admiration, 
 or with positive dislike, for which it is vain to attempt 
 to assign any uniform secondary cause, political or other. 
 It may be permitted to hint another reason. All 
 Johnson's most sharp-sighted critics have noticed, though 
 most have discreetly refrained from insisting on, his 
 " thorn-in-the-flesh," the combination in him of very 
 strong physical passions with the deepest sense of the 
 moral and religious duty of abstinence. It is perhaps 
 impossible to imagine anything more distasteful to a 
 man so buffeted, than the extreme indulgence with 
 which Fielding regards, and the easy freedom, not to 
 say gusto, with which he depicts, those who succumb 
 to similar temptation. Only by supposing the workings 
 of some subtle influence of this land is it possible to 
 explain, even in so capricious a humour as Johnson's, 
 the famous and absurd application of the term " barren 
 rascal" to a writer who, dying almost young, after 
 having for many years lived a life of pleasure, and then 
 for four or five one of laborious official duty, has left 
 work anything but small in actual bulk, and fertile with 
 the most luxuriant growth of intellectual originality. 
 
 Partly on the obiter dicta of persons like these, partly 
 on the still more tempting and still more treacherous 
 ground of indications drawn from his works, a Fielding 
 of fantasy has been constructed, which in Thackeray's 
 admirable sketch attains real life and immortality as a 
 creature of art, but which possesses rather dubious claims 
 as a historical character. It is astonishing how this 
 Fielding of fantasy sinks and shrivels when we begin 
 
Introduction xix 
 
 to apply the horrid tests of criticism to his component 
 parts. The eidolon, with inked ruffles and a towel 
 round his head, sits in the Temple and dashes off 
 articles for the Covent Garden Journal ; then comes 
 Criticism, hellish maid, and reminds us that when the 
 Covent Garden Journal appeared, Fielding's wild oats, 
 if ever sown at all, had been sown long ago ; that he 
 was a busy magistrate and householder in Bow Street ; 
 and that, if he had towels round his head, it was pro- 
 bably less because he had exceeded in liquor than 
 because his Grace of Newcastle had given him a 
 headache by wanting elaborate plans and schemes pre- 
 pared at an hour's notice. Lady Mary, apparently 
 with some envy, tells us that he could " feel rapture 
 with his cook-maid." "Which many has," as Mr 
 Ridley remarks, from Xanthias Phoceus downwards ; 
 but when we remember the historic fact that he married 
 this maid (not a " cook-maid " at all), and that though 
 he always speaks of her with warm affection and hearty 
 respect, such "raptures" as we have of his clearly 
 refer to a very different woman, who was both a lady 
 and a beautiful one, we begin a little to shake our 
 heads. Horace Walpole at second-hand draws us a 
 Fielding, pigging with low companions in a house kept 
 like a hedge tavern ; Fielding himself, within a year 
 or two, shows us more than half-undesignedly in the 
 Voyage to Lisbon that he was very careful about the 
 appointments and decency of his table, that he stood 
 rather upon ceremony in regard to his own treatment 
 of his family, and the treatment of them and himself 
 by others, and that he was altogether a person orderly, 
 correct, and even a little finikin. Nor is there the 
 
xx Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 slightest reasonable reason to regard this as a piece of 
 hypocrisy, a vice as alien from the Fielding of fancy 
 as from the Fielding of fact, and one the particular 
 manifestation of which, in this particular place, would 
 have been equally unlikely and unintelligible. 
 
 It may be asked whether I propose to substitute for 
 the traditional Fielding a quite different person, of 
 regular habits and methodical economy. Certainly not. 
 The traditional estimate of great men is rarely wrong 
 altogether, but it constantly has a habit of exaggerating 
 and dramatising their characteristics. For some things 
 in Fielding's career we have positive evidence of docu- 
 ment, and evidence hardly less certain of probability. 
 Although I believe the best judges are now of 
 opinion that his impecuniosity has been overcharged, he 
 certainly had experiences which did not often fall to 
 the lot of even a cadet of good family in the eighteenth 
 century. There can be no reasonable doubt that he was 
 a man who had a leaning towards pretty girls and bottles 
 of good wine ; and I should suppose that if the girl 
 were kind and fairly winsome, he would not have in- 
 sisted that she should possess Helen's beauty, that if 
 the bottle of good wine were not forthcoming, he would 
 have been very tolerant of a mug of good ale. He 
 may very possibly have drunk more than he should, 
 and lost more than he could conveniently pay. It may 
 be put down as morally ascertained that towards all 
 these weaknesses of humanity, and others like unto 
 tli em, he held an attitude which was less that of the 
 unassailable philosopher than that of the sympathiser, 
 indulgent and excusing. In regard more especially to 
 what are commonly called moral delinquencies, this 
 
Introduction xxi 
 
 attitude was so decided as to shock some people even 
 in those days, and many in these. Just when the first 
 sheets of this edition were passing through the press, 
 a violent attack was made in a newspaper corre- 
 spondence on the morality of Tom Jones by certain 
 notorious advocates of Purity, as some say, of Pruriency 
 and Prudery combined, according to less complimentary 
 estimates. Even midway between the two periods we 
 find the admirable Miss Ferrier, a sister of Fielding's 
 own craft, who sometimes had touches of nature and 
 satire not far inferior to his own, expressing by the 
 mouth of one of her characters with whom she seems 
 partly to agree, the sentiment that his works are 
 "vanishing like noxious exhalations." Towards any 
 misdoing by persons of the one sex towards persons 
 of the other, when it involved brutality or treachery, 
 Fielding was pitiless ; but when treachery and brutality 
 were not concerned, he was, to say the least, facile. 
 So, too, he probably knew by experience he certainly 
 knew by native shrewdness and acquired observation 
 that to look too much on the wine when it is red, or 
 on the cards when they are parti-coloured, is ruinous to 
 health and fortune ; but he thought not over badly of any 
 man who did these things. Still it is possible to admit 
 this in him, and to stop short of that idea of a careless 
 and reckless viveur which has so often been put forward. 
 In particular, Lady Mary's view of his childlike enjoy- 
 ment of the moment has been, I think, much exaggerated 
 by posterity, and was probably not a little mistaken by 
 the lady herself. There are two moods in which the 
 motto is Carps diem ; one a mood of simply childish 
 hurry, the other one where behind the enjoyment of 
 
xxii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 the moment lurks, and in which the enjoyment of the 
 moment is not a little heightened by, that vast ironic 
 consciousness of the before and after, which I at least 
 see everywhere in the background of Fielding's work. 
 
 The man, however, of whom we know so little, 
 concerns us much less than the author of the works, of 
 which it qnly rests with ourselves to know everything. 
 I have above classed Fielding as one of the four 
 Atlantes of English verse and prose, and I doubt not 
 that both the phrase and the application of it to him 
 will meet with question and demur. I have only to 
 interject, as the critic so often has to interject, a request 
 to the court to take what I say in the sense in which 
 I say it. I do not mean that Shakespeare, Milton, 
 Swift, and Fielding are in all or even in most respects 
 on a level. I do not mean that the three last are in 
 all respects of the greatest names in English literature. 
 I only mean that, in a certain quality, which for want 
 of a better word I have chosen to call Atlantean, they 
 stand alone. Each of them, for the metaphor is 
 applicable either way, carries a whole world on his 
 shoulders, or looks down on a whole world from his 
 natural altitude. The worlds are different, but they 
 are worlds ; and though the attitude of the giants is 
 different also, it agrees in all of them on the points of 
 competence and strength. Take whomsoever else we 
 may among our men of letters, and we shall find this 
 characteristic to be in comparison wanting. These 
 four carry their world, and are not carried by it ; and if 
 it, in the language so dear to Fielding himself, were to 
 crash and shatter, the inquiry, " Que vous reste-t-il ? " 
 could be answered by each, " Mot I " 
 
Introduction xxiii 
 
 The appearance which Fielding makes is no doubt 
 the most modest of the four. He has not Shake- 
 speare's absolute universality, and in fact not merely the 
 poet's tongue, but the poet's thought seems to have 
 been denied him. His sphere is not the ideal like 
 Milton's. His irony, splendid as it is, falls a little 
 short of that diabolical magnificence which exalts Swift 
 to the point whence, in his own way, he surveys all the 
 kingdoms of the world, and the glory or vainglory of 
 them. All Fielding's critics have noted the manner, in 
 a certain sense modest, in another ostentatious, in which 
 he seems to confine himself to the presentation of things 
 English. They might have added to the presentation 
 of things English as they appear in London, and on 
 the Western Circuit, and on the Bath Road. 
 
 But this apparent parochialism has never deceived 
 good judges. It did not deceive Lady Mary, who 
 had seen the men and manners of very many climes ; it 
 did not deceive Gibbon, who was not especially prone 
 to overvalue things English, and who could look down 
 from twenty centuries on things ephemeral. It deceives, 
 indeed, I am told, some excellent persons at the present 
 day, who think Fielding's microcosm a " toylike 
 world," and imagine that Russian Nihilists and French 
 Naturalists have gone beyond it. It will deceive no one 
 who has lived for some competent space of time a life 
 during which he has tried to regard his fellow- creatures 
 and himself, as nearly as a mortal may, sub spccii 
 eternitatis. 
 
 As this is in the main an introduction to Field- 
 ing's four great novels, the justification in detail 
 
xxiv Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 of the estimate just made or hinted of the novelist's 
 genius will be best and most fitly made by a brief 
 discussion of the four as presented ; and, indeed, 
 it is not fanciful to perceive in each book a some- 
 what different presentment of the author's genius, 
 though in no one of the four is any one of his 
 masterly qualities absent. There is tenderness even 
 in Jonathan Wild; there are touches in Joseph 
 Andrews of that irony of the Preacher, the last echo 
 of which is heard amid the kindly resignation of the 
 Journey to Lisbon, in the sentence, " Whereas envy of 
 all things most exposes us to danger from others, so 
 contempt of all things best secures us from them." 
 But on the whole it is safe to say that Joseph Andrews 
 best presents Fielding's mischievous and playful wit ; 
 Jonathan Wild his half-Lucianic half-Swiftian irony; 
 Tom Jones his unerring knowledge of human nature, 
 and his constructive faculty ; Amelia his tenderness, 
 his mitts sapientla, his observation of the details of life. 
 And first of the first. 
 
 The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and 
 his Friend Mr Abraham Adams was, as has been said 
 above, published in February 1742. In the agree- 
 ment between author and publisher, it is not unin- 
 teresting to observe that the witness, William Young, is 
 none other than the asserted original of the immortal 
 Mr Adams himself. He might, on Balzac's plea in a 
 tolerably well-known anecdote, have demanded half of 
 the ^183, us. Of the other origins of the book we 
 have a pretty full account, partly documentary. That 
 it is ( writ in the manner of Cervantes," and is intended 
 
Introduction xxv 
 
 as a kind of comic epic, is the author's own statement 
 no doubt as near the actual truth as is consistent with 
 comic-epic theory. That there are resemblances to 
 Scarron, to Le Sage, and to other practitioners of the 
 Picaresque novel is certain ; and it was inevitable that 
 there should be. Of directer and more immediate 
 models or starting-points one is undoubted ; the other, 
 though less generally admitted, not much less indubitable 
 to my mind. The parody of Richardson's Pamela, 
 which was little more than a year earlier (Nov. 1740), 
 is avowed, open, flagrant ; nor do I think that the author 
 wa so soon carried away by the greater and larger tide 
 of his own invention as some critics seem to hold. He 
 is always more or less returning to the ironic charge ; 
 and the multiplicity of the assailants of Joseph's virtue 
 only disguises the resemblance to the long-drawn dangers 
 of Pamela from a single ravisher. But Fielding waa 
 also well acquainted with Marivaux's Paysan Parvenu , 
 and the resemblances between that book and Joseph 
 Andrews are much stronger than Fielding's admirers 
 have always been willing to admit. This recalcitrance 
 has, I think, been mainly due to the erroneous conception 
 of Marivaux as, if not a mere fribble, yet a Dresden- 
 Shepherdess kind of writer, good at " preciousness " 
 and patch -and-powder manners, but nothing more. 
 There was, in fact, a very strong satiric and ironic touch 
 in the author of Marianne, and I do not think that I 
 was too rash when some years ago I ventured to speak 
 of him as " playing Fielding to his own Richardson " 
 in the Paysan Parvenu. 
 
 Origins, however, and indebtedness and the like, are, 
 when great work i* concerned, questions for the study 
 
xxvi Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 and the lecture-room, for the literary historian and 
 the professional critic, rather than for the reader, how- 
 ever intelligent and alert, who wishes to enjoy a master- 
 piece, and is content simply to enjoy it. It does not 
 really matter how close to anything else something which 
 possesses independent goodness is ; the very utmost 
 technical originality, the most spotless purity from the 
 faintest taint of suggestion, will not suffice to confer 
 merit on what does not otherwise possess it. Whether, 
 as I rather think, Fielding pursued the plan he had formed 
 ab incepto, or whether he cavalierly neglected it, or 
 whether the current of his own genius carried him off 
 his legs and landed him, half against his will, on the 
 shore of originality, are questions for the Schools, and, 
 as I venture to think, not for the higher forms in them. 
 We have Joseph Andrews as it is ; and we may be 
 abundantly thankful for it. The contents of it, as of all 
 Fielding's work in this kind, include certain things for 
 which the moderns are scantly grateful. Of late years, 
 and not of late years only, there has grown up a singular 
 and perhaps an ignorant impatience of digressions, of 
 episodes, of tales within a tale. The example of this 
 which has been most maltreated is the " Man of the 
 Hill " episode in Tom Jones ; but the stories of the 
 " Unfortunate Jilt " and of Mr Wilson in our present 
 subject, do not appear to me to be much less obnoxious 
 to the censure ; and Amelia contains more than one or 
 two things of the same kind. Me they do not greatly 
 disturb ; and I see many defences for them besides the 
 obvious, and at a pinch sufficient one, that divagations 
 of this kind existed in all Fielding's Spanish and French 
 models, that the public of the day expected them, and 
 
Introduction xxvii 
 
 so forth. This defence ia enough, but it is easy to 
 amplify and reintrench it. It is not by any means the 
 fact that the Picaresque novel of adventure is the only 
 or the chief form of fiction which prescribes or admits 
 these episodic excursions. All the classical epics have 
 them ; many eastern and other stories present them ; 
 they are common, if not invariable, in the abundant 
 mediaeval literature of prose and verse romance ; they 
 are not unknown by any means in the modern novel ; 
 and you will very rarely hear a story told orally at the 
 dinner-table or in the smoking-room without something 
 of the kind. There must, therefore, be something in 
 them corresponding to an inseparable accident of that 
 most unchanging of all things, human nature. And 
 I do not think the special form with which we are here 
 concerned by any means the worst that they have taken. 
 It has the grand and prominent virtue of being at once 
 and easily skippable. There is about Cervantes and 
 Le Sage, about Fielding and Smollett, none of the 
 treachery of the modern novelist, who induces the 
 conscientious reader to drag through pages, chapters, 
 and sometimes volumes which have nothing to do with 
 the action, for fear he should miss something that has 
 to do with it. These great men have a fearless frank- 
 ness, and almost tell you in so many words when and 
 what you may skip. Therefore, if the "Curious Imper- 
 tinent," and the " Baneful Marriage," and the " Man 
 of the Hill," and the " Lady of Quality," get in 
 the way, when you desire to " read for the story," you 
 have nothing to do but turn the page till Jinis comes. 
 The defence has already been made by an illustriout 
 hand for Fielding's inter-chapters and exordium*. 
 
xxviii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 It appears to me to be almost more applicable to his 
 insertions. 
 
 And so we need not trouble ourselves any more 
 either about the insertions or about the exordiums. 
 They both please me ; the second class has pleased 
 persons much better worth pleasing than I can pretend 
 to be ; but the making or marring of the book lies 
 elsewhere. I do not think that it lies in the construc- 
 tion, though Fielding's following of the ancients, both 
 sincere and satiric, has imposed a false air of regularity 
 upon that. The Odyssey of Joseph, of Fanny, and of 
 their ghostly mentor and bodily guard is, in truth, a 
 little haphazard, and might have been longer or shorter 
 without any discreet man approving it the more or the 
 less therefor. The real merits lie partly in the abound- 
 ing humour and satire of the artist's criticism, but even 
 more in the marvellous vivacity and fertility of his 
 creation. For the very first time in English prose 
 fiction every character is alive, every incident is capable 
 of having happened. There are lively touches in the 
 Elizabethan romances ; but they are buried in verbiage, 
 swathed in stage costume, choked and fettered by their 
 authors' want of art. The quality of Bunyan's know- 
 ledge of men was not much inferior to Shakespeare's, 
 or at least to Fielding's ; but the range and the results of 
 it were cramped by his single theological purpose, and 
 his unvaried allegoric or typical form. Why Defoe did 
 not discover the New World of Fiction, I at least have 
 never been able to put into any brief critical formula 
 that satisfies me, and I have never seen it put by any one 
 else. He had not only seen it afar off, he had made 
 landings and descents on it ; he had carried off and 
 
Introduction xxix 
 
 exhibited in triumph natives such as Robinson Crusoe, 
 as Man Friday, as Moll Flanders, as William the 
 Quaker ; but he had conquered, subdued, and settled 
 no province therein. I like Pamela ; I like it better 
 than some persons who admire Richardson on the whole 
 more than I do, seem to like it. But, as in all its 
 author's work, the handling seems to me academic the 
 working out on paper of an ingeniously conceived prob- 
 lem rather than the observation or evolution of actual 
 or possible life. I should not greatly fear to push the 
 comparison even into foreign countries ; but it is well 
 to observe limits. Let us be content with holding that 
 in England at least, without prejudice to anything fur- 
 ther, Fielding was the first to display the qualities of the 
 perfect novelist as distinguished from the romancer. 
 
 What are those qualities, as shown in Joseph 
 Andrews ? The faculty of arranging a probable and 
 interesting course of action is one, of course, and Field- 
 ing showed it here. But I do not think that it is at 
 any time the greatest one ; and nobody denies that he 
 made great advances in this direction later, The 
 faculty of lively dialogue is another ; and that he has 
 not often been refused; but much the same may be 
 said of it. The interspersing of appropriate description 
 is another ; but here also we shall not find him exactly 
 a paragon. It is in character the chief differentia of 
 the novel as distinguished not merely from its elder 
 sister the romance, and its cousin the drama, but still 
 more from every other kind of literature that Fielding 
 stands even here pre-eminent. No one that I can think 
 of, except his greatest successor in the present century, 
 has the same unfailing gift of breathing life into every 
 
xxx Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 character he creates or borrows; and even Thack- 
 eray draws, if I may use the phrase, his characters 
 more in the flat and less in the round than Fielding. 
 Whether in Blifil he once failed, we must discuss 
 hereafter ; he has failed nowhere in Joseph Andrew*. 
 Some of his sketches may require the caution that they 
 are eighteenth-century men and women ; some the 
 warning that they are obviously caricatured, or set in 
 designed profile, or merely sketched. But they are 
 all alive. The finical estimate of Gray (it is a horrid 
 joy to think how perfectly capable Fielding was of 
 having joined in that practical joke of the young 
 gentlemen of Cambridge, which made Gray change 
 his college), while dismissing these light things with 
 patronage, had to admit that* "parson Adams is per- 
 fectly well, so is Mrs Slipslop." "They tvere^ Mr 
 Gray," said some one once, " they were more perfectly 
 well, and in a higher kind, than anything you ever 
 did ; though you were a pretty workman too." 
 
 Yes, parson Adams is perfectly well, and so is Mrs 
 Slipslop. But so are they all. Even the hero and 
 heroine, tied and bound as they are by the necessity 
 under which their maker lay of preserving Joseph's 
 Joseph -hood, and of making Fanny the example of a 
 franker and less interested virtue than her sister-in-law 
 that might have been, are surprisingly human where 
 most writers would have made them sticks. And the 
 rest require no allowance. Lady Booby, few as are 
 the strokes given to her, is not much less alive than 
 Lady Bellaston. Mr Trulliber, monster and not at 
 all delicate monster as he is, is also a man, and when 
 he lays it down that no one even in his own house 
 
Introduction xxxi 
 
 shall drink when he " caaled vurst," one can but pay 
 his maker the tribute of that silent shudder of admira- 
 tion which hails the addition of one more everlasting 
 entity to the world of thought and fancy. And Mr 
 Tow-wouse is real, and Mrs Tow-wouse is more real 
 still, and Betty is real ; and the coachman, and Miss 
 Grave-airs, and all the wonderful crew from first to last. 
 The dresses they wear, the manners they exhibit, the 
 laws they live under, the very foods and drinks they 
 live upon, are " past like the shadows on glasses " 
 to the comfort and rejoicing of some, to the greater or 
 less sorrow of others. But they are there alive, full of 
 blood, full of breath as we are, and, in truth, I fear a 
 little more so. For some purposes a century is a gap 
 harder to cross and more estranging than a couple of 
 millenniums. But in their case the gap is nothing ; and 
 it is not too much to say that as they have stood the 
 harder test, they will stand the easier. There are very 
 striking differences between Nausicaa and Mrs Slipslop ; 
 there are differences not less striking between Mrs 
 Slipslop and Beatrice. But their likeness is a stranger 
 and more wonderful thing than any of their unl ike- 
 nesses. It is that they are all women, that they are all 
 live citizenesses of the Land of Matters Unforgot, the 
 fashion whereof passeth not away, and the franchise 
 >vhereof, once acquired, assures immortality. 
 
xxxii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 The following is a list of the works of Henry 
 Fielding : 
 
 DRAMATIC WORKS: Love in several Masques, 1728; 
 The Temple Beau, 1730; Author's Farce, 1730; Pleasures 
 of the Town, 1730; The Coffee-house Politician, 1730; Tom 
 Thumb: a Tragedy, 1730; Grub-street Opera, 1731; Letter 
 Writers, or a New Way to keep a Wife at Home, 1731 ; The 
 Lottery, 1732; The Modern Husband, 1732; The Covent 
 Garden Tragedy, 1732; Debauchees, or the Jesuit caught, 
 1732; The Mock Doctor, 1732; The Miser, 1733; Deborah, 
 or a Wife for you all, 1733; The Intriguing Chambermaid, 
 1734; Don Quixote in England, 1734; An old Man taught 
 Wisdom, 1735; T v e Universal Gallant, 1735; Pasquin: a 
 Dramatick Satire on the Times, 1736; Historical Register 
 for the Year 1736, 1737; Eurydice, 1737; Eurydice Hissed, 
 or a Word to the Wise, 1737; Tumble-down Dick, or 
 Phaeton in the Suds, 1737; Miss Lucy in Town (only in 
 part by Fielding), 1742; The Wedding Day, 1743. 
 
 OTHER WORKS: Of True Greatness, 1741 ; The Vernoniad 
 (burlesque epic), 1741; The Opposition: a Vision, 1741; 
 The Crisis: a Sermon, 1741; The History of the Adventures 
 of Joseph Andrews and of his friend Mr. Abraham Adams, 
 1742; A full Vindication of the Duchess Dowager of Marl- 
 borough, 1742; Plutus, the God of Riches, from Aristo- 
 phanes (with W. Young); Preface to his sister's novel, 
 David Simple, 1744; Preface to subsequent collection of 
 Familiar Letters between the Principal Characters in David 
 Simple and some others, 1747; The History of Tom Jones, 
 a Foundling, 1749; Charge to the Grand Jury of West- 
 minster, 1749; A true State of the Case of Bosavern Penlez, 
 1749; An Enquiry into the Causes of the late Increase of 
 Robbers, etc., 1751; Amelia, 1751; Examples of the Inter- 
 position of Providence in the Detection and Punishment of 
 Murder, 1752; Proposals for making an Effectual Provision 
 for the Poor, 1753; A clear State of the Case of Elizabeth 
 Canning, 1753; Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, by the late 
 Henry Fielding, with Fragment of a Comment on Lord 
 Bolingbroke's Essays, 1755. 
 
 Fielding edited the Champion (with James Ralph), 1739- 
 40; The True Patriot, 1745-46; the Jacobite's Journal, 
 1747-1748; and the Covent Garden Journal, 1752. 
 
 In 1743 he published Miscellanies, 3 vols., containing 
 Poems, Essays, Journey from this World to the Next, and 
 The Life of Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great. A play, The 
 Fathers, or a good-natured Man, was published posthum- 
 ously; Garrick wrote a prologue and epilogue for it, and 
 it was acted in 1798. 
 
Introduction xxxiii 
 
 WORKS: Ed. by Arthur Murphy, 1762 (with Memoir); 
 Among later editions: In 10 vols., ed. with biographical 
 *ssay by Leslie Stephen, 1882; by Saintsbury, 12 vols., 
 1^93, 1902, (Temple Fielding); with Introduction by E. 
 Uo^se, 1898-9; by Sidney Lee, 1905, etc. 
 
 The Novels were published with Memoir by Sir W. Scott, 
 1821; Miscellanies and Poems, cd. J. P. Browne, 1872. 
 
 LIFE: Essay on his Life and Genius, by Murphy, prefixed 
 to Works, 1762; W. Watson, 1807; T. Roscoe, prefixed to 
 one volume edition, 1840; Frederick Lawrence, Life of 
 Henry Fielding, with notes of his Writings, his Times, and 
 his Contemporaries, 1855; Thomas Keightley, On the Life 
 and Writings of Henry Fielding (Fraser's Magazine, 
 January and February, 1858); H. Austin Dobson, 1900, 
 and in English Men of Letters, 1907 (first published, 1883). 
 Sec also above (Sir W. Scott, Leslie Stephen) under Edition! 
 of Works. 
 
xxxiv Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 NOTE TO GENERAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The text of this issue in the main follows that of 
 the standard or first collected edition of 1762. The 
 variants which the author introduced in successive editions 
 during his lifetime are not inconsiderable ; but for the 
 purposes of the present issue it did not seem necessary or 
 indeed desirable to take account of them. In the case of 
 prose fiction, more than in any other department of liter a- 
 turf 9 if is desirable that work should be read in the form 
 which represents the completest intention and execution of the 
 author. Nor have any notes been attempted ; for again 
 such things, in the case of prose fiction, are of very doubtful 
 use, and supply pretty certain stumbling-blocks to enjoy- 
 ment ; while in the particular case of Fielding, the anno- 
 tation, unless extremely capricious, would have to be 
 Disgustingly full. Far be it at any rate from the present 
 editor to bury these delightful creations under an ugly crust 
 of parallel passages and miscellaneous erudition.} The 
 sheets, however, have been carefully read in order to 
 prevent the casual errors which are wont to creep into 
 frequently reprinted texts ; and the editor hopes that if 
 any such have escaped him, the escape will not be attri- 
 buted to wilful negligence. A few obvious errors, ir. 
 spelling of proper names, &c., which occur in the 1762 
 version have been corrected : but wherever the readings 
 of that version are possible they have been preferred. 
 The embellishments of the edition are partly fanciful ana 
 partly "documentary ;" so that it is hoped both claest. 
 of taste may have something to feed upon. 
 
AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 A) it is possible the mere English reader may have 
 a different idea of romance from the author 
 of these little * volumes, and may consequently 
 expect a kind of entertainment not to be found, nor 
 which was even intended, in the following pages, it may 
 not be improper to premise a few words concerning 
 this kind of writing, which I do not remember to 
 have seen hitherto attempted in our language. 
 
 The EPIC, as well as the DRAMA, is divided into 
 tragedy and comedy. HOMER, who was the father 
 of this species of poetry, gave us a pattern of both 
 these, though that of the latter kind is entirely lost ; 
 which Aristotle tells us, bore the same relation to 
 comedy which his Iliad bears to tragedy. And per- 
 haps, that we have no more instances of it among the 
 writers of antiquity, is owing to the loss of this great 
 pattern, which, had it survived, would have found its 
 imitators equally with the other poems of this great 
 original. 
 
 And farther, as this poetry may be tragic or comic, 
 
 I will not scruple to say it may be likewise either in 
 
 verse or prose: for though it wants one particular, 
 
 * Joseph Andrews was originally published in a vols. 
 
 XXXV 
 
xxxvi Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 which the critic enumerates in the constituent parts of 
 an epic poem, namely metre ; yet, when any kind of 
 writing contains all its other parts, such as fable, action, 
 characters, sentiments, and diction, and is deficient in 
 metre only, it seems, I think, reasonable to refer it 
 to the epic ; at least, as no critic hath thought proper 
 to range it under any other head, or to assign it a 
 particular name to itself. 
 
 Thus the Telemachus of the archbishop of Cambray 
 appears to me of the epic kind, as well as the Odyssey 
 of Homer ; indeed, it is much fairer and more reason- 
 able to give it a name common with that species from 
 which it differs only in a single instance, than to con- 
 found it with those which it resembles in no other. 
 Such are those voluminous works, commonly called 
 Romances, namely, Clelia, Cleopatra, Astraea, Cas- 
 sandra, the Grand Cyrus, and innumerable others, 
 which contain, as I apprehend, very little instruction 
 or entertainment. 
 
 Now, a comic romance is a comic epic poem in 
 prose ; differing from comedy, as the serious epic from 
 tragedy : its action being more extended and compre- 
 hensive ; containing a much larger circle of incidents, 
 and introducing a greater variety of characters. It 
 differs from the serious romance in its fable and action, 
 in this ; that as in the one these are grave and solemn, 
 so in the other they are light and ridiculous : it diffen 
 in its characters by introducing persons of inferior rank, 
 and consequently, of inferior manners, whereas the 
 grave romance sets the highest before UB : lastly, in 
 its sentiments and diction ; by preserving the ludi- 
 crous instead of the sublime. In the diction, I think, 
 
Author's Preface xxxvii 
 
 burlesque itself may be sometimes admitted ; of which 
 many instances will occur in this work, as in the 
 description of the battles, and some other places, not 
 necessary to be pointed out to the classical reader, for 
 whose entertainment those parodies or burlesque imita- 
 tions are chiefly calculated. 
 
 But though we have sometimes admitted this in our 
 diction, we have carefully excluded it from our senti- 
 ments and characters; for there it is never properly 
 introduced, unless in writings of the burlesque kind, 
 which this is not intended to be. Indeed, no two 
 species of writing can differ more widely than the 
 comic and the burlesque ; for as the latter is ever the 
 exhibition of what is monstrous and unnatural, and 
 where our delight, if we examine it, arises from the 
 surprizing absurdity, as in appropriating the manners of 
 the highest to the lowest, or e coiwcrso ; so in the 
 former we should ever confine ourselves strictly to 
 nature, from the just imitation of which will flow all 
 the pleasure we can this way convey to a sensible 
 reader. And perhaps there is one reason why a comic 
 writer should of all others be the least excused for 
 deviating from nature, since it may not be always so 
 easy for a serious poet to meet with the great and the 
 admirable ; but life everywhere furnishes an accurate 
 observer with the ridiculous. 
 
 I have hinted this little concerning burlesque, because 
 I have often heard that name given to performances 
 which have been truly of the comic kind, from the 
 author's having sometimes admitted it in his diction 
 only ; which, as it is the dress of poetry, doth, like the 
 dress of men, establish characters (the one of the whole 
 
xxxviii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 poem, and the other of the whole man), in vulgar 
 opinion, beyond any of their greater excellences : but 
 surely, a certain drollery in stile, where characters and 
 sentiments are perfectly natural, no more constitutes the 
 burlesque, than an empty pomp and dignity of words, 
 where everything else is mean and low, can entitle any 
 performance to the appellation of the true sublime. 
 
 And I apprehend my Lord Shaftesbury's opinion of 
 mere burlesque agrees with mine, when he asserts, 
 There is no such thing to be found in the writings of 
 the ancients. But perhaps I have less abhorrence than 
 he professes for it ; and that, not because I have had 
 some little success on the stage this way, but rather as 
 it contributes more to exquisite mirth and laughter than 
 any other ; and these are probably more wholesome 
 physic for the mind, and conduce better to purge away 
 spleen, melancholy, and ill affections, than is generally 
 imagined. Nay, I will appeal to common observation, 
 whether the same companies are not found more full of 
 good-humour and benevolence, after they have been 
 sweetened for two or three hours with entertainments 
 of this kind, than when soured by a tragedy or a grave 
 lecture. 
 
 But to illustrate all this by another science, in which, 
 perhaps, we shall see the distinction more clearly and 
 plainly, let us examine the works of a comic history 
 painter, with those performances which the Italians call 
 Caricatura, where we shall find the true excellence of 
 the former to consist in the exactest copying of nature ; 
 insomuch that a judicious eye instantly rejects anything 
 outre, any liberty which the painter hath taken with the 
 features of that alma mater ; whereas in the Caricatura 
 
Author's Preface xxxix 
 
 we allow all licence its aim is to exhibit monsters, not 
 men ; and all distortions and exaggerations whatever 
 are within its proper province. 
 
 Now, what Caricatura is in painting, Burlesque is in 
 writing ; and in the same manner the comic writer and 
 painter correlate to each other. And here I shall ob- 
 serve, that, as in the former the painter seems to have 
 the advantage ; so it is in the latter infinitely on the 
 side of the writer ; for the Monstrous is much easier 
 to paint than describe, and the Ridiculous to describe 
 than paint. 
 
 And though perhaps this latter species doth not in 
 either science so strongly affect and agitate the muscles 
 as the other ; yet it will be owned, I believe, that a 
 more rational and useful pleasure arises to us from 
 it. He who should call the ingenious Hogarth a bur- 
 lesque painter, would, in my opinion, do him very little 
 honour; for sure it is much easier, much less the 
 subject of admiration, to paint a man with a nose, or any 
 other feature, of a preposterous size, or to expose him 
 in some absurd or monstrous attitude, than to express the 
 affections of men on canvas. It hath been thought a 
 vast commendation of a painter to say his figures seem 
 to breathe ; but surely it is a much greater and nobler 
 applause, that they appear to think. 
 
 But to return. The Ridiculous only, as I have 
 before said, falls within my province in the present 
 work. Nor will some explanation of this word be 
 thought impertinent by the reader, if he considers how 
 wonderfully it hath been mistaken, even by writers who 
 have professed it: for to what but such a mistake can 
 we attribute the many attempts to ridicule the blackest 
 
xl Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 villanies, and, what is yet worse, the most dreadful 
 calamities ? What could exceed the absurdity of an 
 author, who should write the comedy of Nero, with 
 the merry incident of ripping up his mother's belly ? or 
 what would give a greater shock to humanity than an 
 attempt to expose the miseries of poverty and distress 
 to ridicule? And yet the reader will not want much 
 learning to suggest such instances to himself. 
 
 Besides, it may seem remarkable, that Aristotle, 
 who is so fond and free of definitions, hath not thought 
 proper to define the Ridiculous. Indeed, where he tells 
 us it is proper to comedy, he hath remarked that villany 
 is not its object : but he hath not, as I remember, posi- 
 tively asserted what is. Nor doth the Abbe Belle- 
 garde, who hath written a treatise on this subject, 
 though he shows us many species of it, once trace it to 
 its fountain. 
 
 The only source of the true Ridiculous (as it appears 
 to me) is affectation. But though it arises from one 
 spring only, when we consider the infinite streams into 
 which this one branches, we shall presently cease to 
 admire at the copious field it affords to an observer. 
 Now, affectation proceeds from one of these two causes, 
 vanity or hypocrisy : for as vanity puts us on affecting 
 false characters, in order to purchase applause ; so 
 hypocrisy sets us on an endeavour to avoid censure, by 
 concealing our vices under an appearance of their 
 opposite virtues. And though these two causes are 
 often confounded (for there is some difficulty in dis- 
 tinguishing them), yet, as they proceed from very 
 different motives, so they are as clearly distinct in their 
 operations : for indeed, the affectation which arises 
 
Author's Preface xli 
 
 
 
 from Tanity is nearer to truth than the other, as it hath 
 not that violent repugnancy of nature to struggle with, 
 which that of the hypocrite hath. It may be likewise 
 noted, that affectation doth not imply an absolute nega- 
 tion of those qualities which are affected ; and, there- 
 fore, though, when it proceeds from hypocrisy, it be 
 nearly allied to deceit ; yet when it comes from vanity 
 only, it partakes of the nature of ostentation : for in- 
 stance, the affectation of liberality in a vain man differs 
 visibly from the same affectation in the avaricious ; for 
 though the vain man is not what he would appear, or 
 hath not the virtue he affects, to the degree he would 
 be thought to have it ; yet it sits less awkwardly on 
 him than on the avaricious man, who is the very reverse 
 of what he would seem to be. 
 
 From the discovery of this affectation arises the 
 Ridiculous, which always strikes the reader with sur- 
 prize and pleasure ; and that in a higher and stronger 
 degree when the affectation arises from hypocrisy, than 
 when from vanity ; for to discover any one to be the 
 exact reverse of what he affects, is more surprizing, 
 and consequently more ridiculous, than to find him a 
 little deficient in the quality he desires the reputation 
 of. I might observe that our Ben Jonson, who of all 
 men understood the Ridiculous the best, hath chiefly 
 used the hypocritical affectation. 
 
 Now, from affectation only, the misfortunes and 
 calamities of life, or the imperfections of nature, may 
 become the objects of ridicule. Surely he hath a very 
 ill-framed mind who can look on ugliness, infirmity, or 
 poverty, as ridiculous in themselves : nor do I believe 
 any man living, who meets a dirty fellow riding through 
 
xlii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 the streets in a cart, is struck with an idea of the 
 Ridiculous from it; but if he should see the same 
 figure descend from his coach and six, or bolt from hii 
 chair with his hat under his arm, he would then begin 
 to laugh, and with justice. In the same manner, were 
 we to enter a poor house and behold a wretched family 
 shivering with cold and languishing with hunger, it 
 would not incline us to laughter (at least we must have 
 very diabolical natures if it would) ; but should we 
 discover there a grate, instead of coals, adorned with 
 flowers, empty plate or china dishes on the sideboard, 
 or any other affectation of riches and finery, either on 
 their persons or in their furniture, we might then indeed 
 be excused for ridiculing so fantastical an appearance. 
 Much less are natural imperfections the object of de- 
 rision ; but when ugliness aims at the applause of beauty, 
 or lameness endeavours to display agility, it is then that 
 these unfortunate circumstances, which at first moved 
 our compassion, tend only to raise our mirth. 
 The poet carries this very far : 
 
 None are for being what they are in fault, 
 But for not being what they would be thought. 
 
 Where if the metre would suffer the word Ridiculous 
 to close the first line, the thought would be rather more 
 proper. Great vices are the proper objects of our 
 detestation, smaller faults, of our pity ; but affectation 
 appears to me the only true source of the Ridiculous. 
 
 But perhaps it may be objected to me, that I have 
 against my own rules introduced vices, and of a very 
 black kind, into this work. To which I shall answer : 
 first, that it is very difficult to pursue a series of human 
 
Author's Preface xliii 
 
 actions, and keep clear from them. Secondly, that the 
 vices to be found here are rather the accidental con- 
 sequences of some human frailty or foible, than causes 
 habitually existing in the mind. Thirdly, that they are 
 never set forth as the objects of ridicule, but detestation. 
 Fourthly, that they are never the principal figure at that 
 time on the scene : and, lastly, they never produce the 
 intended evil. 
 
 Having thus distinguished Joseph Andrews from the 
 productions of romance writers on the one hand and 
 burlesque writers on the other, and given some few very 
 short hints (for I intended no more) of this species of 
 writing, which I have affirmed to be hitherto unattempted 
 in our language ; I shall leave to my good-natured 
 reader to apply my piece to my observations, and will 
 detain him no longer than with a word concerning the 
 characters in this work. 
 
 And here I solemnly protest I have no intention to 
 vilify or asperse any one ; for though everything is 
 copied from the book of nature, and scarce a character 
 or action produced which I have not taken from my 
 own observations and experience ; yet I have used the 
 utmost care to obscure the persons by such different 
 circumstances, degrees, and colours, that it will be im- 
 possible to guess at them with any degree of certainty ; 
 and if it ever happens otherwise, it is only where the 
 failure characterized is so minute, that it is a foible only 
 which the party himself may laugh at as well as any 
 other. 
 
 As to the character of Adams, as it is the most glaring 
 in the whole, so I conceive it is not to be found in any 
 book now extant. It is designed a character of perfect 
 
xliv Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 simplicity ; and as the goodness of his heart will recom- 
 mend him to the good-natured, so I hope it will excuse 
 me to the gentlemen of his cloth ; for whom, while they 
 are worthy of their sacred order, no man can possibly 
 have a greater respect. They will therefore excuse me, 
 notwithstanding the low adventures in which he is en- 
 gaged, that I have made him a clergyman ; since no 
 other office could have given him so many opportunities 
 of displaying his worthy inclinations. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION . 
 PREFACE , 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . vii 
 xxxv 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Of writing lives in general, and particularly of Pamela ; 
 
 with a word by the bye of Colley Gibber and others . I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Of Mr Joseph Andrews, his birth, parentage, education, 
 and great endowments ; with a word or two concerning 
 ancestors 3 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Of Mr Abraham Adams the curate, Mrs Slipslop the 
 chambermaid^ and others ...... 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 What happened after their journey to London . . n 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The death of Sir Thomas Booby, with the affectionate and 
 mournful behaviour of his widow, and the great purity 
 of Joseph Andrews 13 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 How Joseph Andrews writ a letter to his sister Pamela . 16 
 xlv 
 
xlvi Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 CHAPTER VII. PAGE 
 
 Sayings of wise men. A dialogue between the lady and her 
 maid ; and a panegyric ; or rather satire, on the passion 
 of love, in the sublime style ...... 20 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 In which, after some very fine writing, the history goes on, 
 and relates the interview between the lady and Joseph ; 
 where the latter hath set an example which we despair 
 of seeing followed by his sex in this vicious age . . 24 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 What passed between the lady and Mrs Slipslop ; in which 
 we prophesy there are some strokes which every one will 
 not truly comprehend at the first reading . . . 29 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Joseph writes another letter: his transactions with Mr Peter 
 
 Pounce, &c. , with his departure from Lady Booby . 34 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Of several new matters not expected . . . . . 36 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Containing many surprizing adventures which Joseph 
 Andrews met with on the road, scarce credible to those 
 who have never travelled in a stage-coach . . ,40 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "What happened to Joseph during his sickness at the inn, with 
 the curious discourse between him and Mr Barnabas, the 
 parson of the parish . 47 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Bding very full of adventiires which succeeded each other at 
 
 the inn .......... 51 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Showing how Mrs Tow-wouse was a little mollified; and 
 how officious Mr Barnabas and the surgeon were to 
 prosecute the thief: with a dissertation accounting for 
 their zeal, and that of many other persons not mentioned 
 in this history 57 
 
Contents xlvii 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. PAG 
 
 The escape of the thief. Mr Adams's disappointment. The 
 arrival of two very extraordinary personages, and the 
 introduction of parson Adams to parson Barnabas . 62 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 A pleasant discourse between the two parsons and the book- 
 seller, which was broke of by an unlucky accident 
 happening in the inn, which, produced a dialogue be- 
 tween Mrs Tow-wouse and her maid of no gentle kind . 72 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The history of Betty the chambermaid, and an account of 
 what occasioned the violent scene in the preceding 
 chapter 78 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Of Divisions in Authors 82 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A surprizing instance of Mr Adams's short memory, with 
 
 the unfortunate consequences which it brought on Joseph 85 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The opinion of two lawyers concerning the same gentleman, 
 
 with Mr Adams's inquiry into the religion of his host . 90 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 The history of Leonora, or the unfortunate jilt . . -97 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A dreadful quarrel which happened at the inn where the 
 company dined, with its bloody consequences to Mr 
 Adams 116 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Conclusion of the unfortunate jilt 126 
 
xlviii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 CHAPTER VII. PAGB 
 
 A very short chapter, in which parson Adams went a great 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A notable dissertation by Mr Abraham Adams ; wherein 
 
 that gentleman appears in a political light . . . 134 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 In which the gentleman discants on bravery and heroic virtue, 
 
 till an unlucky accident puts an end to the discourse . 138 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Giving an account of the strange catastrophe of the preceding 
 adventure, which drew poor Adams into fresh calami- 
 ties ; and who the woman was who owed the preserva- 
 tion of her chastity to his victorious arm . . . 143 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 What happened to them while before the justice. A chapter 
 very full of learning ....... 149 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A very delightful adventure ', as well to the persons concerned 
 
 as to the good-natured reader ..... 157 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A dissertation concerning high people and low people, with 
 Mrs Slipslop's departure in no very good temper of mind, 
 and the evil plight in which she left Adams and his 
 company ......... 161 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 An interview between parson Adams and parson Trul- 
 
 libcr ........ 168 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 An adventure, the consequence af a new instance which 
 
 parson Adams gave of his for getfulness . . 176 
 
Contents xlix 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. PAGE 
 
 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 179 
 
 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 . . 188 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Matter prefatory in praise of biography . . . 196 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A night scene, wherein several wonderful adventures befel 
 
 Adams and his fellow-travellers .... 202 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 In which the gentleman relates the history of his life . 213 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A description of Mr Wilson's way of living. The 
 
 tragical adventure of the dog, and other grave matters 241 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A disputation on schools held on the road between Mr 
 Abraham Adams and Joseph; and a discovery not 
 unwelcome to them both . . . . . 246 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Moral reflections by Joseph Andrews ; with the hunting 
 
 adventure, and parson Adams's miraculous escape 251 
 
1 Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 CHAPTER VII. PAGE 
 
 A scene of roasting, very nicely adapted to the present 
 
 taste and times ....... 262 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Which some readers will think too short and others too long 271 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Containing as surprizing and bloody adventures as can bt. 
 
 found in thi-s or perhaps any other authentic history 276 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A discourse between the poet and the player ; of no other 
 
 use in this history but to divert the reader . .281 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Containing the exhortations of parson A dams to his friend 
 in affliction ; calculated for the instruction and im- 
 provement of the reader . . . . .286 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 More adventures, which we hope will as much please as 
 
 surprize the reader ago 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A curious dialogue which passed between Mr Abraham 
 Adams and Mr Peter Pounce, better worth reading 
 than all the works of Colley Gibber and many others 298 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The arrival of Lady Booby and the rest at Booby-hatt . 30* 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and the Lady 
 
 Booby 307 
 
Contents li 
 
 CHAPTER III. PAGE 
 
 What passed between the lady and lawyer Scout . 311 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A short chapter, but very full of matter ; particularly the 
 
 arrival of Mr Booby and his lady . . .314 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Containing justice business ; curious precedents of de- 
 positions, and other matters necessary to be perused 
 by all justices of the peace and their clerks . .316 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Of which you are desired to read no more than you like . 323 
 
 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 . . 329 
 
 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 . 339 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A visit which the polite Lady Booby and her polite friend 
 
 paid to the parson ...... 346 
 
 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 . . . 350 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 In which the history is continued .... 357 
 
lii Adventures of Joseph Andrews 
 
 CHAPTER XII. PAGB 
 
 Where the good-natured reader will see something which 
 
 will give him no great pleasure . . . .361 
 
 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 364 
 
 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 369 
 
 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 ... 376 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Being the last. In which this true history is brought to a 
 
 happy conclusion . . . . 381 
 
THE HISTORY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Htoenture* of 3osepb Hnfcrews 
 
 AND 
 
 HIS FRIEND MR ABRAHAM ADAMS 
 
 BOOK I. 
 Chapter i. 
 
 Of 'writing lives in genera/, and particularly of Pamela ; 
 with a ivord by the bye of Colley Gibber and others. 
 
 IT is a trite but true observation, that examples work 
 more forcibly on the mind than precepts : and if 
 this be just in what is odious and blameable, it is 
 more strongly so in what is amiable and praiseworthy. 
 Here emulation most effectually operates upon us, and 
 inspires our imitation in an irresistible manner. A 
 good man therefore is a standing lesson to all his ac- 
 quaintance, and of far greater use in that narrow circle 
 than a good book. 
 
 But as it often happens that the best men are but 
 little known, and consequently cannot extend the use- 
 fulness of their examples a great way ; the writer may / 
 be called in aid to spread their history farther, and to * 
 present the amiable pictures to those who have not the 
 
2 The Adventures of 
 
 happiness of knowing the originals ; and so, by com- 
 municating such valuable patterns to the world, he may 
 perhaps do a more extensive service to mankind than 
 the person whose life originally afforded the pattern. 
 
 In this light I have always regarded those biographers 
 who have recorded the actions of great and worthy per- 
 sons of both sexes. Not to mention those antient 
 writers which of late days are little read, being written 
 in obsolete, and as they are generally thought, unin- 
 telligible languages, such as Plutarch, Nepos, and others 
 which I heard of in my youth ; our own language 
 affords many of excellent use and instruction, finely 
 calculated to sow the seeds of virtue in youth, and 
 very easy to be comprehended by persons of moderate 
 capacity. Such as the history of John the Great, who, 
 by his brave and heroic actions against men of large and 
 athletic bodies, obtained the glorious appellation of the 
 Giant-killer ; that of an Earl of Warwick, whose 
 Christian name was Guy ; the lives of Argalus and 
 Parthenia ; and above all, the history of those seven 
 worthy personages, the Champions of Christendom. In 
 all these delight is mixed with instruction, and the 
 reader is almost as much improved as entertained. 
 
 But I pass by these and many others to mention two 
 books lately published, which represent an admirable 
 pattern of the amiable in either sex. The former of 
 these, which deals in male virtue, was written by the 
 great person himself, who lived the life he hath re- 
 corded, and is by many thought to have lived such a 
 life only in order to write it. The other is communi- 
 cated to us by an historian who borrows his lights, as 
 the common method is, from authentic papers and 
 records. The reader, I believe, already conjectures, 
 I mean the lives of Mr Colley Gibber and of Mrs 
 Pamela Andrews. How artfully doth the former, by 
 insinuating that he escaped being promoted to the 
 
Joseph Andrews 3 
 
 highest stations in Church and State, teach us a con- 
 tempt of worldly grandeur ! how strongly doth he in- 
 culcate an absolute submission to our superiors ! Lastly, 
 how completely doth he arm us against so uneasy, so 
 wretched a passion as the fear of shame ! how clearly 
 doth he expose the emptiness and vanity of that 
 phantom, reputation ! 
 
 What the female readers are taught by the memoirs 
 of Mrs Andrews is so well set forth in the excellent 
 essays or letters prefixed to the second and subsequent 
 editions of that work, that it would be here a needless 
 repetition. The authentic history with which I now 
 present the public is an instance of the great good that 
 book is likely to do, and of the prevalence of example 
 which I have just observed : since it will appear that 
 it was by keeping the excellent pattern of his sister's 
 virtues before his eyes, that Mr Joseph Andrews was 
 chiefly enabled to preserve his purity in the midst of 
 such great temptations. I shall only add that this char- 
 acter of male chastity, though doubtless as desirable 
 and becoming in one part of the human species as in 
 the other, is almost the only virtue which the great 
 apologist hath not given himself for the sake of giving 
 the example to his readers. 
 
 Chapter tj, 
 
 Of Mr Joseph Andrews, his birth, parentage, education, 
 and great endowments; ivith a 'word or ttvo con" 
 cerning ancestors. 
 
 MR JOSEPH ANDREWS, the hero of our ensuing 
 history, was esteemed to be the only son of 
 GafFar and Gammer Andrews, and brother 
 to the illustrious Pamela, whose virtue is at present 
 
4 The Adventures of 
 
 GO famous. As to his ancestors, we have searched 
 with great diligence, but little success ; being unable 
 to trace them farther than his great-grandfather, 
 who, as an elderly person in the parish remembers to 
 have heard his father say, was an excellent cudgel- 
 player. Whether he had any ancestors before this, 
 we must leave to the opinion of our curious reader, 
 finding nothing of sufficient certainty to rely on. How- 
 ever, we cannot omit inserting an epitaph which an 
 ingenious friend of ours hath communicated : 
 
 Stay, traveller, for underneath this pew 
 Lies fast asleep that merry man Andrew : 
 When the last day's great sun shall gild the skies, 
 Then he shall from his tomb get up and rise. 
 Be merry while thou canst : for surely thou 
 Shalt shortly be as sad as he is now. 
 
 The words are almost out of the stone with antiquity. 
 But it is needless to observe that Andrew here is writ 
 without an s 9 and is, besides, a Christian name. My 
 friend, moreover, conjectures this to have been the 
 founder of that sect of laughing philosophers since 
 called Merry-andrews. 
 
 To waive, therefore, a circumstance which, though 
 mentioned in conformity to the exact rules of biography, 
 is not greatly material, I proceed to things of more 
 consequence. Indeed, it is sufficiently certain that he 
 had as many ancestors as the best man living, and, 
 perhaps, if we look five or six hundred years back- 
 wards, might be related to some persons of very great 
 figure at present, whose ancestors within half the last 
 century are buried in as great obscurity. But suppose, 
 for argument's sake, we should admit that he had no 
 ancestors at all, but had sprung up, according to the 
 modern phrase, out of a dunghill, as the Athenians 
 pretended they themselves did from the earth, would 
 not this autokopros* have been justly entitled to aU 
 * In English, sprung from a dunghill. 
 
Joseph Andrews 5 
 
 the praise arising from his own virtues ? Would it not 
 be hard that a man who hath no ancestors should 
 therefore be rendered incapable of acquiring honour ; 
 when we see so many who have no virtues enjoying 
 the honour of their forefathers ? At ten years old 
 (by which time his education was advanced to writing 
 and reading) he was bound an apprentice, according to 
 the statute, to Sir Thomas Booby, an uncle of Mr 
 Booby's by the father's side. Sir Thomas having 
 then an estate in his own hands, the young Andrews 
 was at first employed in what in the country they call 
 Keeping birds. His office was to perform the part the 
 ancients assigned to the god Priapus, which deity the 
 moderns call by the name of Jack o' Lent ; but his 
 voice being so extremely musical, that it rather allured 
 the birds than terrified them, he was soon transplanted 
 from the fields into the dog-kennel, where he was 
 placed under the huntsman, and made what the sports- 
 men term whipper - in. For this place likewise the 
 sweetness of his voice disqualified him ; the dogs 
 preferring the melody of his chiding to all the alluring 
 notes of the huntsman, who soon became so incensed 
 at it, that he desired Sir Thomas to provide otherwise 
 for him, and constantly laid every fault the dogs were 
 at to the account of the poor boy, who was now trans- 
 planted to the stable. Here he soon gave proofs of 
 strength and agility beyond his years, and constantly 
 rode the most spirited and vicious horses to water, with 
 an intrepidity which surprized every one. While he 
 was in this station, he rode several races for Sir 
 Thomas, and this with such expertness and success, 
 that the neighbouring gentlemen frequently solicited 
 the knight to permit little Joey (for so he was called) 
 to ride their matches. The best gamesters, before 
 they laid their money, always inquired which horse 
 little Joey was to ride ; and the bets were rather 
 
6 The Adventures of 
 
 proportioned by the rider than by the horse himself; 
 especially after he had scornfully refused a considerable 
 bribe to play booty on such an occasion. This ex- 
 tremely raised his character, and so pleased the Lady 
 Booby, that she desired to have him (being now seven- 
 teen years of age) for her own footboy. 
 
 Joey was now preferred from the stable to attend on 
 his lady, to go on her errands, stand behind her chair, 
 wait at her tea-table, and carry her prayer-book to 
 church ; at which place his voice gave him an oppor- 
 tunity of distinguishing himself by singing psalms : he 
 behaved likewise in every other respect so well at 
 Divine service, that it recommended him to the notice 
 of Mr Abraham Adams, the curate, who took an 
 opportunity one day, as he was drinking a cup of ale 
 in Sir Thomas's kitchen, to ask the young man several 
 questions concerning religion ; with his answers to 
 which he was wonderfully pleased. 
 
 Chapter tij* 
 
 Of Mr Abraham Adams the curate, Mrs Slipslop the 
 chambermaid, and others. 
 
 MR ABRAHAM ADAMS was an excellent scholar. 
 He was a perfect master of the Greek and 
 Latin languages ; to which he added a great 
 share of knowledge in the Oriental tongues ; and could 
 read and translate French, Italian, and Spanish. He 
 had applied many years to the most severe study, and 
 had treasured up a fund of learning rarely to be met 
 with in a university. He was, besides, a man of good 
 sense, good parts, and good nature ; but was at the 
 same time as entirely ignorant of the ways of this world 
 *s an infant just entered into it could possibly be. As 
 
Joseph Andrews 7 
 
 he had never any intention to deceive, so he never sus- 
 pected such a design in others. He was generous, 
 friendly, and brave to an excess ; but simplicity was 
 his characteristick : he did, no more than Mr Colley 
 Gibber, apprehend any such passions as malice and envy 
 to exist in mankind ; which was indeed less remarkable 
 in a country parson than in a gentleman who hath passed 
 his life behind the scenes, a place which hath been 
 seldom thought the school of innocence, and where a 
 very little observation would have convinced the great 
 apologist that those passions have a real existence in 
 the human mind. 
 
 His virtue, and his other qualifications, as they 
 rendered him equal to his office, so they made him an 
 agreeable and valuable companion, and had so much 
 endeared and well recommended him to a bishop, that 
 at the age of fifty he was provided with a handsome 
 income of twenty-three pounds a year ; which, how- 
 ever, he could not make any great figure with, because 
 he lived in a dear country, and was a little encumbered 
 with a wife and six children. 
 
 It was this gentleman, who having, as I have said, 
 observed the singular devotion of young Andrews, had 
 found means to question him concerning several par- 
 ticulars ; as, how many books there were in the New 
 Testament ? which were they ? how many chapters 
 they contained ? and such like : to all which, Mr 
 Adams privately said, he answered much better than 
 Sir Thomas, or two other neighbouring justices of the 
 peace could probably have done. 
 
 Mr Adams was wonderfully solicitous to know at 
 what time, and by what opportunity, the youth became 
 acquainted with these matters : Joey told him that ht 
 had very early learnt to read and write by the goodness 
 of his father, who, though he had not interest enough 
 to get him into a charity school, because a cousin of 
 
8 The Adventures of 
 
 his father's landlord did not vote on the right side for 
 a churchwarden in a borough town, yet had been him- 
 self at the expense of sixpence a week for his learning. 
 He told him likewise, that ever since he was in Sir 
 Thomas's family he had employed all his hours of 
 leisure in reading good books ; that he had read the 
 Bible, the Whole Duty of Man, and Thomas a 
 Kempis ; and that as often as he could, without being 
 perceived, he had studied a great good book which lay 
 open in the hall window, where he had read, " as how 
 the devil carried away half a church in sermon-time, 
 without hurting one of the congregation ; and as how 
 a field of corn ran away down a hill with all the trees 
 upon it, and covered another man's meadow." This 
 sufficiently assured Mr Adams that the good book 
 meant could be no other than Baker's Chronicle. 
 
 The curate, surprized to find such instances of in- 
 dustry and application in a young man who had never 
 met with the least encouragement, asked him, If he did 
 not extremely regret the want of a liberal education, 
 and the not having been born of parents who might 
 have indulged his talents and desire of knowledge ? 
 To which he answered, " He hoped he had profited 
 somewhat better from the books he had read than to 
 lament his condition in this world. That, for his 
 ,rt, he was perfectly content with the state to which 
 ie was called ; that he should endeavour to improve 
 his talent, which was all required of him ; but not 
 repine at his own lot, nor envy those of his betters." 
 " Well said, my lad," replied the curate ; " and 1 
 wish some who have read many more good books, 
 nay, and some who have written good books themselves* 
 had profited so much by them." 
 
 Adams had no nearer access to Sir Thomas or my 
 lady than through the waiting-gentlewoman ; for Sir 
 Thomas was too apt to estimate men merely by their 
 
Joseph Andrews 9 
 
 dress or fortune ; and my lady was a woman of gaiety, 
 who had been blest with a town education, and never 
 spoke of any of her country neighbours by any other 
 appellation than that of the brutes. They both regarded 
 the curate as a kind of domestic only, belonging to the 
 parson of the parish, who was at this time at variance 
 with the knight ; for the parson had for many years 
 lived in a constant state of civil war, or, which is 
 perhaps as bad> of civil law, with Sir Thomas himself 
 and the tenants of his manor. The foundation of this 
 quarrel was a modus, by setting which aside an advantage 
 of several shillings per annum would have accrued to the 
 rector ; but he had not yet been able to accomplish his 
 purpose, and had reaped hitherto nothing better from 
 the suits than the pleasure (which he used indeed fre- 
 quently to say was no small one) of reflecting that he 
 had utterly undone many of the poor tenants, though 
 he had at the same time greatly impoverished himself. 
 
 Mrs Slipslop, the waiting-gentlewoman, being her- 
 self the daughter of a curate, preserved some respect 
 for Adams : she professed great regard for his learning, 
 and would frequently dispute with him on points of 
 theology ; but always insisted on a deference to be 
 paid to her understanding, as she had been frequently 
 at London, and knew more of the world than a country 
 parson could pretend to. 
 
 She had in these disputes a particular advantage over 
 Adams : for she was a mighty afFecter of hard words, 
 which she used in such a manner that the parson, who 
 durst not offend her by calling her words in question, 
 was frequently at some loss to guess her meaning, and 
 would have been much less puzzled by an Arabian 
 manuscript. 
 
 Adams therefore took an opportunity one day, after 
 a pretty long discourse with her on the essence (or, as 
 she pleased to term it, the incence) of matter, to mention 
 
io The Adventures of 
 
 the case of young Andrews ; desiring her to recommend 
 him to her lady as a youth very susceptible of learning, 
 and one whose instruction in Latin he would himself 
 undertake ; by which means he might be qualified for 
 a higher station than that of a footman ; and added, she 
 knew it was in his master's power easily to provide for 
 him in a better manner. He therefore desired that the 
 boy might be left behind under his care. 
 
 " La ! Mr Adams," said Mrs Slipslop, " do you 
 think my lady will suffer any preambles about any such 
 matter ? She is going to London very concisely, and 
 I am confidous would not leave Joey behind her on 
 any account; for he is one of the genteelest young 
 fellows you may see in a summer's day ; and I am 
 confidous she would as soon think of parting with a 
 pair of her grey mares, for she values herself as much 
 on one as the other." Adams would have interrupted, 
 but she proceeded : " And why is Latin more neces- 
 sitous for a footman than a gentleman ? It is very 
 proper that you clergymen must learn it, because you 
 can't preach without it : but I have heard gentlemen 
 Bay in London, that it is fit for nobody else. I am 
 confidous my lady would be angry with me for men- 
 cioning it ; and I shall draw myself into no such delemy." 
 At which words her lady's bell rung, and Mr Adams 
 was forced to retire ; nor could he gain a second 
 opportunity with her before their London journey, 
 which happened a few days afterwards. However, 
 Andrews behaved very thankfully and gratefully to 
 him for his intended kindness, which he told him he 
 never would forget, and at the same time received from 
 the good man many admonitions concerning the regu- 
 lation of his future conduct, and his perseverance in 
 innocence and industry. 
 
Joseph Andrews 1 1 
 
 What happened after their journey to London. 
 
 NO sooner was young Andrews arrived at London 
 than he began to scrape an acquaintance with 
 his party-coloured brethren, who endeavoured 
 to make him despise his former course of life. His 
 hair was cut after the newest fashion, and became his 
 chief care; he went abroad with it all the morning in 
 papers, and drest it out in the afternoon. They could 
 not, however, teach him to game, swear, drink, nor any 
 other genteel vice the town abounded with. He applied 
 most of his leisure hours to music, in which he greatly 
 improved himself; and became so perfect a connoisseur 
 in that art, that he led the opinion of all the other foot- 
 men at an opera, and they never condemned or applauded 
 a single song contrary to his approbation or dislike. He 
 was a little too forward in riots at the play-houses and 
 assemblies ; and when he attended his lady at church 
 (which was but seldom) he behaved with less seeming 
 devotion than formerly : however, if he was outwardly a 
 pretty fellow, his morals remained entirely uncorrupted, 
 though he was at the same time smarter and genteeler 
 than any of the beaus in town, either in or out of livery. 
 His lady, who had often said of him that Joey was 
 the handsomest and genteelest footman in the kingdom, 
 but that it was pity he wanted spirit, began now to find 
 that fault no longer ; on the contrary, she was frequently 
 heard to cry out, "Ay, there is some life in this fellow." 
 She plainly saw the effects which the town air hath on 
 the soberest constitutions. She would now walk out 
 with him into Hyde Park in a morning, and when 
 tired, which happened almost every minute, would lean 
 on his arm, and converse with him in great familiarity. 
 Whenever she stept out of her coach, she would take 
 
r 2 The Adventures of 
 
 him by the hand, and sometimes, for fear of stumbling, 
 press it very hard ; she admitted him to deliver messages 
 at her bedside in a morning, leered at him at table, and 
 indulged him in all those innocent freedoms which 
 women of figure may permit without the least sully of 
 their virtue. 
 
 But though their virtue remains unsullied, yet now 
 and then some small arrows will glance on the shadow 
 of it, their reputation ; and so it fell out to Lady 
 Booby, who happened to be walking arm-in-arm with 
 Joey one morning in Hyde Park, when Lady Tittle 
 and Lady Tattle came accidentally by in their coach. 
 " Bless me," says Lady Tittle, " can I believe my 
 eyes ? Is that Lady Booby ? " " Surely," says 
 Tattle. " But what makes you surprized ? " " Why, 
 is not that her footman ? " replied Tittle. At which 
 Tattle laughed, and cried, "An old business, I assure 
 you : is it possible you should not have heard it ? The 
 whole town hath known it this half-year." The con- 
 sequence of this interview was a whisper through a 
 hundred visits, which were separately performed by 
 the two ladies* the same afternoon, and might have 
 had a mischievous effect, had it not been stopt by two 
 fresh reputations which were published the day after- 
 wards, and engrossed the whole talk of the town. 
 
 But, whatever opinion or suspicion the scandalous 
 inclination of defamers might entertain of Lady Booby's 
 innocent freedoms, it is certain they made no impression 
 on young Andrews, who never offered to encroach 
 beyond the liberties which his lady allowed him, a 
 behaviour which she imputed to the violent respect he 
 preserved for her, and which served only to heighten a 
 
 * It may seem an absurdity that Tattle should visit, as she 
 actually did, to spread a known scandal : but the reader may 
 reconcile this by supposing, with me, that, notwithstanding 
 what she says, this was her first acquaintance with it. 
 
Joseph Andrews 13 
 
 something she began to conceive, and which the next 
 chapter will open a little farther. 
 
 Chapter b* 
 
 The death of Sir Thomas Booby, with the affectionate 
 and mournful behaviour of his widow, and the 
 great purity of Joseph Andrews. 
 
 AT this time an accident happened which put a 
 stop to those agreeable walks, which probably 
 would have soon puffed up the cheeks of Fame, 
 and caused her to blow her brazen trumpet through the 
 town ; and this was no other than the death of Sir 
 Thomas Booby, who, departing this life, left his dis- 
 consolate lady confined to her house, as closely as if 
 she herself had been attacked by some violent disease. 
 During the first six days the poor lady admitted none 
 but Mrs Slipslop, and three female friends, who made 
 a party at cards : but on the seventh she ordered Joey, 
 whom, for a good reason, we shall hereafter call JOSEPH, 
 to bring up her tea-kettle. The lady being in bed, 
 called Joseph to her, bade him sit down, and, having 
 accidentally laid her hand on his, she asked him if he 
 had ever been in love. Joseph answered, with some 
 confusion, it was time enough for one so young as him- 
 self to think on such things. " As young as you are," 
 replied the lady, " I am convinced you are no stranger 
 to that passion. Come, Joey," says she, " tell me 
 truly, who is the happy girl whose eyes have made a 
 conquest of you ? " Joseph returned, that all the 
 women he had ever seen were equally indifferent to 
 him. " Oh then," said the lady, " you are a general 
 lover. Indeed, you handsome fellows, like handsome 
 women, are very long and difficult iii fixing ; but 
 
14 The Adventures of 
 
 yet you shall never persuade me that your heart ia 
 so insusceptible of affection ; I rather impute what 
 you say to your secrecy, a very commendable quality, 
 and what I am far from being angry with you for. 
 Nothing can be more unworthy in a young man, than 
 to betray any intimacies with the ladies. " " Ladies ! 
 madam," said Joseph, " I am sure I never had the 
 impudence to think of any that deserve that name." 
 " Don't pretend to too much modesty," said she, 
 "for that sometimes may be impertinent: but pray 
 answer me this question. Suppose a lady should 
 happen to like you ; suppose she should prefer you 
 to all your -sex, and admit you to the same familiarities 
 as you might have hoped for if you had been born her 
 equal, are you certain that no vanity could tempt you 
 to discover her ? Answer me honestly, Joseph ; have 
 you so much more sense and so much more virtue than 
 you handsome young fellows generally have, who make 
 no scruple of sacrincing our dear reputation to your 
 pride, without considering the great obligation we lay 
 on you by our condescension and confidence ? Can you 
 keep a secret, my Joey?" "Madam," says he, "I 
 hope your ladyship can't tax me with ever betraying 
 the secrets of the family ; and I hope, if you was to 
 turn me away, I might have that character of you." 
 " I don't intend to turn you away, Joey," said she, and 
 sighed ; "I am afraid it is not in my power." She 
 then raised herself a little in her bed, and discovered 
 one of the whitest necks that ever was seen ; at which 
 Joseph blushed. " La ! " says she, in an affected 
 surprize, " what am I doing ? I have trusted myself 
 with a man alone, naked in bed ; suppose you should 
 have any wicked intentions upon my honour, how 
 should I defend myself?" Joseph protested that he 
 never had the least evil design against her. "No," 
 says she, "perhaps you may not call your designs 
 
Joseph Andrews 15 
 
 wicked; and perhaps they are not so." He swore 
 they were not. " You misunderstand me," says she ; 
 " I mean if they were against my honour, they may not 
 be wicked ; but the world calls them so. But then, 
 say you, the world will never know anything of the 
 matter ; yet would not that be trusting to your secrecy ? 
 Must not my reputation be then in your power ? 
 Would you not then be my master ? " Joseph begged 
 her ladyship to be comforted ; for that he would 
 never imagine the least wicked thing against her, and 
 that he had rather die a thousand deaths than give 
 her any reason to suspect him. " Yes," said she, "I 
 must have reason to suspect you. Are you not a man ? 
 and, without vanity, I may pretend to some charms. 
 But perhaps you may fear I should prosecute you ; 
 indeed I hope you do ; and yet Heaven knows I 
 should never have the confidence to appear before a 
 court of justice ; and you know, Joey, I am of a for- 
 giving temper. Tell me, Joey, don't you think I 
 should forgive you ? " " Indeed, madam," says Joseph, 
 " I will never do anything to disoblige your ladyship." 
 " How," says she, " do you think it would not dis- 
 oblige me then ? Do you think I would willingly 
 suffer you ? " " I don't understand you, madam," says 
 Joseph. " Don't you ? " said she, " then you are 
 either a fool, or pretend to be so ; I find I was 
 mistaken in you. So get you downstairs, and never 
 let me see your face again ; your pretended innocence 
 cannot impose on me." " Madam," said Joseph, " I 
 would not have your ladyship think any evil of me. 
 I have always endeavoured to be a dutiful servant both 
 to you and my master." " O thou villain ! " answered 
 my lady ; " why didst thou mention the name of that 
 dear man, unless to torment me, to bring his precious 
 memory to my mind?" (and then she burst into a fit 
 of tears. ) " Get thee from my sight ! I shall never 
 
1 6 The Adventures of 
 
 endure thee more." At which words she turned away 
 from him ; and Joseph retreated from the room in a 
 most disconsolate condition, and writ that letter which 
 the reader will find in the next chapter. 
 
 in, 
 
 How Joseph Andrews writ a letter to his sister Pamela. 
 
 " To MRS PAMELA ANDREWS, LIVING WITH 
 SQUIRE BOOBY. 
 
 DEAR SISTER, Since I received your letter of 
 your good lady's death, we have had a mis- 
 fortune of the same kind in our family. My 
 worthy master Sir Thomas died about four days 
 ago ; and, what is worse, my poor lady is certainly 
 gone distracted. None of the servants expected her 
 to take it so to heart, because they quarrelled almost 
 every day of their lives : but no more of that, because 
 you know, Pamela, I never loved to tell the secrets 
 of my master's family ; but to be sure you must have 
 known they never loved one another ; and I have heard 
 her ladyship wish his honour dead above a thousand 
 times ; but nobody knows what it is to lose a friend 
 till they have lost him. 
 
 " Don't tell anybody what I write, because I should 
 not care to have folks say I discover what passes in our 
 family ; but if it had not been so great a lady, I should 
 have thought she had had a mind to me. Dear Pamela, 
 don't tell anybody ; but she ordered me to sit down by 
 her bedside, when she was in naked bed ; and she held 
 my hand, and talked exactly as a lady does to her sweet- 
 heart in a stage-play, which I have seen in Covent 
 
Joseph Andrews 17 
 
 Garden, while she wanted him to be no better than 
 he should be. 
 
 " If madam be mad, I shall not care for staying 
 long in the family ; so I heartily wish you could get 
 me a place, either at the squire's, or some other neigh- 
 bouring gentleman's, unless it be true that you are going 
 to be married to parson Williams, as folks talk, and then I 
 should be very willing to be his clerk ; for which you know 
 I am qualified, being able to read and to set a psalm. 
 
 " I fancy I shall be discharged very soon ; and the 
 moment I am, unless I hear from you, I shall return 
 to my old master's country-seat, if it be only to see 
 parson Adams, who is the best man in the world. 
 London is a bad place, and there is so little good 
 fellowship, that the next-door neighbours don't know 
 one another. Pray give my service to all friends that 
 inquire for me. So I rest 
 
 Your loving brother, 
 
 " JOSEPH ANDREWS." 
 
 As soon as Joseph had sealed and directed this letter 
 he walked downstairs, where he met Mrs Slipslop, 
 with whom we shall take this opportunity to bring the 
 reader a little better acquainted. She was a maiden 
 gentlewoman of about forty-five years of age, who, 
 having made a small slip in her youth, had continued 
 a good maid ever since. She was not at this time 
 remarkably handsome ; being very short, and rather too 
 corpulent in body, and somewhat red, with the addition 
 of pimples in the face. Her nose was likewise rather 
 too large, and her eyes too little ; nor did she resemble 
 a cow so much in her breath as in two brown globes 
 which she carried before her ; one of her legs was also a 
 little shorter than the other, which occasioned her to 
 limp as she walked. This fair creature had long cast the 
 eyes of affection on Joseph, in which she had not met 
 
1 8 The Adventures of 
 
 with quite so good success as she probably wished, though, 
 besides the allurements of her native charms, she had given 
 him tea, sweetmeats, wine, and many other delicacies, 
 of which, by keeping the keys, she had the absolute 
 command. Joseph, however, had not returned the least 
 gratitude to all these favours, not even so much as a kiss ; 
 though I would not insinuate she was so easily to be 
 satisfied ; for surely then he would have been highly 
 blameable. The truth is, she was arrived at an age when 
 she thought she might indulge herself in any liberties with 
 a man, without the danger of bringing a third person 
 into the world to betray them. She imagined that by so 
 long a self-denial she had not only made amends for the 
 small slip of her youth above hinted at, but had likewise 
 laid up a quantity of merit to excuse any future failings. 
 In a word, she resolved to give a loose to her amorous 
 inclinations, and to pay off the debt of pleasure which 
 she found she owed herself, as fast as possible. 
 
 With these charms of person, and in this disposition 
 of mind, she encountered poor Joseph at the bottom of 
 the stairs, and asked him if he would drink a glass of 
 something good this morning. Joseph, whose spirits 
 were not a little cast down, very readily and thankfully 
 accepted the offer ; and together they went into a closet, 
 where, having delivered him a full glass of ratafia, and 
 desired him to sit down, Mrs Slipslop thus began : 
 
 " Sure nothing can be a more simple contract in a 
 woman than to place her affections on a boy. If I 
 had ever thought it would have been my fate, I should 
 have wished to die a thousand deaths rather than live 
 to see that day. If we like a man, the lightest hint 
 sophisticates. Whereas a boy proposes upon us to 
 break through all the regulations of modesty, before we 
 can make any oppression upon him." Joseph, who 
 did not understand a word she said, answered, " Yes, 
 madam." " Yes, madam ! " replied Mrs Slipslop with 
 
Joseph Andrews 19 
 
 some warmth, " Do you intend to result my passion ? 
 Is it not enough, ungrateful as you are, to make no 
 return to all the favours I have done you ; but you 
 must treat me with ironing ? Barbarous monster ! how 
 have I deserved that my passion should be resulted and 
 treated with ironing?" "Madam," answered Joseph, 
 " I don't understand your hard words ; but I am certain 
 you have no occasion to call me ungrateful, for, so far 
 from intending you any wrong, I have always loved you 
 as well as if you had been my own mother." " How, 
 sirrah ! " says Mrs Slipslop in a rage ; " your own 
 mother ? Do you assinuate that I am old enough to be 
 your mother ? I don't know what a stripling may think, 
 but I believe a man would refer me to any green-sickness 
 silly girl whatsomdever : but I ought to despise you rather 
 than be angry with you, for referring the conversation of 
 girls to that of a woman of sense." " Madam," sayi 
 Joseph, " I am sure I have always valued the honour 
 you did me by your conversation, for I know you are 
 a woman of learning." " Yes, but, Joseph," said she, 
 a little softened by the compliment to her learning, " if 
 you had a value for me, you certainly would have found 
 some method of showing it me ; for I am convicted 
 you must see the value I have for you. Yes, Joseph, 
 my eyes, whether I would or no, must have declared a 
 passion I cannot conquer. Oh ! Joseph ! " 
 
 As when a hungry tigress, who long has traversed the 
 woods in fruitless search, sees within the reach of her 
 claws a lamb, she prepares to leap on her prey ; or as a 
 voracious pike, of immense size, surveys through the 
 liquid element a roach or gudgeon, which cannot escape 
 her jaws, opens them wide to swallow the little fish ; 
 ao did Mrs Slipslop prepare to lay her violent amorous 
 hands on the poor Joseph, when luckily her mistress's 
 bell rung, and delivered the intended martyr from her 
 clutches. She was obliged to leave him abruptly, and 
 
20 The Adventures of 
 
 to defer the execution of her purpose till some other time. 
 We shall therefore return to the Lady Booby, and give 
 our reader some account of her behaviour, after she was 
 left by Joseph in a temper of mind not greatly different 
 from that of the inflamed Slipslop. 
 
 C&apter Hit. 
 
 Sayings of wise men. A Dialogue between the lady and 
 her maid ; and a panegyric , or rather satire -, on the 
 passion of love , in the sublime style. 
 
 IT is the observation of some antient sage, whose 
 name I have forgot, that passions operate differ- 
 ently on the human mind, as diseases on the body, 
 in proportion to the strength or weakness, soundness or 
 rottenness, of the one and the other. 
 
 We hope, therefore, a judicious reader will give him- 
 self some pains to observe, what we have so greatly 
 laboured to describe, the different operations of this 
 passion of love in the gentle and cultivated mind of the 
 Lady Booby, from those which it effected in the less 
 polished and coarser disposition of Mrs Slipslop. 
 
 Another philosopher, whose name also at present 
 escapes my memory, hath somewhere said, that resolu- 
 tions taken in the absence of the beloved object are 
 very apt to vanish in its presence ; on both which wise 
 sayings the following chapter may serve as a comment. 
 
 No sooner had Joseph left the room in the manner 
 we have before related than the lady, enraged at her 
 disappointment, began to reflect with severity on her 
 conduct. Her love was now changed to disdain, which 
 pride assisted to torment her. She despised herself for 
 the meanness of her passion, and Joseph for its ill suc- 
 cess. However, she had now got the better of it in 
 
Joseph Andrews 21 
 
 her own opinion, and determined immediately to dismiss 
 the object. After much tossing and turning in her bed, 
 and many soliloquies, which if we had no better matter 
 for our reader we would give him, she at last rung the 
 bell as above mentioned, and was presently attended by 
 Mrs Slipslop, who was not much better pleased with 
 Joseph than the lady herself. 
 
 " Slipslop," said Lady Booby, " when did you see 
 Joseph ? " The poor woman was so surprized at the 
 unexpected sound of his name at so critical a time, that 
 she had the greatest difficulty to conceal the confusion 
 she was under from her mistress ; whom she answered, 
 nevertheless, with pretty good confidence, though not 
 entirely void of fear of suspicion, that she had not seen 
 him that morning. " I am afraid," said Lady Booby, 
 " he is a wild young fellow. " That he is," said Slip- 
 slop, " and a wicked one too. To my knowledge he 
 games, drinks, swears, and fights eternally ; besides, he 
 is horribly indicted to wenching." " Ay ! " said the 
 lady, " I never heard that of him." " O madam ! " 
 answered the other, "he is so lewd a rascal, that if 
 your ladyship keeps him much longer, you will not 
 have one virgin in your house except myself. And 
 yet I can't conceive what the wenches see in him, to 
 be so foolishly fond as they are ; in my eyes, he is as 
 ugly a scarecrow as I ever upheld." " Nay," said the 
 lady, " the boy is well enough." " La ! ma'am," 
 cries Slipslop, " I think him the ragmaticallest fellow 
 in the family." "Sure, Slipslop," says she, "you are 
 mistaken: but which of the women do you most 
 suspect ? " " Madam," says Slipslop, " there is Betty 
 the chambermaid, I am almost convicted, is with child 
 by him." " Ay ! " says the lady, " then pray pay 
 her her wages instantly. I will keep no such sluts in 
 my family. And as for Joseph, you may discard 
 him too." " Would your ladyship have him paid off 
 
22 The Adventures of 
 
 immediately ? " cries Slipslop, " for perhaps, when Betty 
 is gone he may mend : and really the boy is a good 
 servant, and a strong healthy luscious boy enough." 
 " This morning," answered the lady with some vehem- 
 ence. '* I wish, madam," cries Slipslop, " your lady- 
 ship would be so good as to try him a little longer." 
 " I will not have my commands disputed," said the 
 lady ; " sure you are not fond of him yourself? " " I, 
 madam ! " cries Slipslop, reddening, if not blushing, 
 " I should be sorry to think your ladyship had any 
 reason to respect me of fondness for a fellow ; and if 
 it be your pleasure, I shall fulfil it with as much re- 
 luctance as possible." "As little, I suppose you 
 mean," said the lady ; " and so about it instantly." 
 Mrs Slipslop went out, and the lady had scarce taken 
 two turns before she fell to knocking and ringing with 
 great violence. Slipslop, who did not travel post haste, 
 soon returned, and was countermanded as to Joseph, but 
 ordered to send Betty about her business without delay. 
 She went out a second time with much greater alacrity 
 than before ; when the lady began immediately to accuse 
 herself of want of resolution, and to apprehend the re- 
 turn of her affection, with its pernicious consequences ; 
 she therefore applied herself again to the bell, and re- 
 summoned Mrs Slipslop into her presence ; who again 
 returned, and was told by her mistress that she had 
 considered better of the matter, and was absolutely 
 resolved to turn away Joseph ; which she ordered her 
 to do immediately. Slipslop, who knew the violence 
 of her lady's temper, and would not venture her place 
 for any Adonis or Hercules in the universe, left her a 
 third time ; which she had no sooner done, than the 
 little god Cupid, fearing he had not yet done the lady's 
 business, took a fresh arrow with the sharpest point out 
 of his quiver, and shot it directly into her heart ; in 
 other and plainer language, the lady's passion got the 
 
Joseph Andrews 23 
 
 better of her reason. She called back Slipslop once 
 more, and told her she had resolved to see the boy, and 
 examine him herself; therefore bid her send him up. 
 This wavering in her mistress's temper probably put 
 something into the waiting-gentlewoman's head not 
 necessary to mention to the sagacious reader. 
 
 Lady Booby was going to call her back again, but 
 could not prevail with herself. The next consideration 
 therefore was, how she should behave to Joseph when 
 he came in. She resolved to preserve all the dignity 
 of the woman of fashion to her servant, and to indulge 
 herself in this last view of Joseph (for that she was 
 most certainly resolved it should be) at his own expense, 
 by first insulting and then discarding him. 
 
 O Love, what monstrous tricks dost thou play with 
 thy votaries of both sexes ! How dost thou deceive 
 them, and make them deceive themselves ! Their follies 
 are thy delight ! Their sighs make thee laugh, and 
 their pangs are thy merriment ! 
 
 Not the great Rich, who turns men into monkeys, 
 wheel-barrows, and whatever else best humours his 
 fancy, hath so strangely metamorphosed the human 
 shape ; nor the great Gibber, who confounds all number, 
 gender, and breaks through every rule of grammar at 
 his will, hath so distorted the English language as thou 
 doth metamorphose and distort the human senses. 
 
 Thou puttest out our eyes, 1 stoppest up our ears, and 
 takest away the power of our nostrils ; so that we can 
 neither see the largest object, hear the loudest noise, 
 nor smell the most poignant perfume. Again, when 
 thou pleasest, thou canst make a molehill appear as a 
 mountain, a Jew's-harp sound like a trumpet, and a 
 daisy smell like a violet. Thou canst make cowardice 
 brave, avarice generous, pride humble, and cruelty ten- 
 der-hearted. In short, thou turnest the heart of man 
 inside out, as a juggler doth a petticoat, and bringest 
 
24 The Adventures of 
 
 whatsoever pleaseth thee out from it. If there be 
 any one who doubts all this, let him read the next 
 chapter. 
 
 Chapter bit)* 
 
 In which, after some very Jine writing, the history goes 
 on, and relates the interview between the lady and 
 Joseph ; where the latter hath set an example which 
 we despair of seeing followed by his sex in this 
 vicious age. 
 
 NOW the rake Hesperus had called for his breeches, 
 and, having well rubbed his drowsy eyes, pre- 
 pared to dress himself for all night ; by whose 
 example his brother rakes on earth likewise leave those 
 beds in which they had slept away the day. Nov/ 
 Thetis, the good housewife, began to put on the pot, 
 in order to regale the good man Phoebus after his daily 
 labours were over. In vulgar language, it was in the 
 evening when Joseph attended his lady's orders. 
 
 But as it becomes us to preserve the character of this 
 lady, who is the heroine of our tale ; and as we have 
 naturally a wonderful tenderness for that beautiful part 
 of the human species called the fair sex ; before we 
 discover too much of her frailty to our reader, it will 
 be proper to give him a lively idea of the vast tempta- 
 tion, which overcame all the efforts of a modest and 
 virtuous mind ; and then we humbly hope his good 
 nature will rather pity than condemn the imperfection 
 of human virtue. 
 
 Nay, the ladies themselves will, we hope, be induced, 
 by considering the uncommon variety of charms which 
 united in this young man's person, to bridle their rampant 
 passion for chastity, and be at least as mild as their violent 
 modesty and virtue will permit them, in censuring the 
 
Joseph Andrews 25 
 
 conduct of a woman who, perhaps, was in her own 
 disposition as chaste as those pure and sanctified virgins 
 who, after a life innocently spent in the gaieties of the 
 town, begin about fifty to attend twice per diem at the 
 polite churches and chapels, to return thanks for the 
 grace which preserved them formerly amongst beaus 
 from temptations perhaps less powerful than what now 
 attacked the Lady Booby. 
 
 Mr Joseph Andrews was now in the one-and- 
 twentieth year of his age. He was of the highest 
 degree of middle stature ; his limbs were put together 
 with great elegance, and no less strength ; his legs and 
 thighs were formed in the exactest proportion; his 
 shoulders were broad and brawny, but yet his arm hung 
 so easily, that he had all the symptoms of strength with- 
 out the least clumsiness. His hair was of a nut-brown 
 colour, and was displayed in wanton ringlets down his 
 back ; his forehead was high, his eyes dark, and as full 
 of sweetness as of fire ; his nose a little inclined to the 
 Roman ; his teeth white and even ; his lips full, red, 
 and soft ; his beard was only rough on his chin and 
 upper lip ; but his cheeks, in which his blood glowed, 
 were overspread with a thick down ; his countenance 
 had a tenderness joined with a sensibility inexpressible. 
 Add to this the most perfect neatness in his dress, and 
 an air which, to those who have not seen many noble- 
 men, would give an idea of nobility. 
 
 Such was the person who now appeared before the 
 lady. She viewed him some time in silence, and twice 
 or thrice before she spake changed her mind as to the 
 manner in which she should begin. At length she said 
 to him, " Joseph, I am sorry to hear such complaints 
 against you : I am told you behave so rudely to the 
 maids, that they cannot do their business in quiet ; I 
 mean those who are not wicked enough to hearken to 
 your solicitations. As to others, they may, perhaps, 
 
26 The Adventures of 
 
 not call you rude ; for there are wicked sluts who make 
 one ashamed of one's own sex, and are as ready to admit 
 any nauseous familiarity as fellows to offer it : nay, there 
 are such in my family, but they shall not stay in it ; that 
 impudent trollop who is with child by you is discharged 
 by this time." 
 
 As a person who is struck through the heart with a 
 thunderbolt looks extremely surprised, nay, and perhaps 
 
 is so too thus the poor Joseph received the false 
 
 accusation of his mistress ; he blushed and looked con- 
 founded, which she misinterpreted to be symptoms of 
 his guilt, and thus went on : 
 
 " Come hither, Joseph : another mistress might dis- 
 card you for these offences ; but I have a compassion 
 for your youth, and if I could be certain you would be 
 no more guilty Consider, child," laying her hand 
 carelessly upon his, " you are a handsome young fellow, 
 and might do better ; you might make your fortune." 
 " Madam," said Joseph, " I do assure your ladyship 
 I don't know whether any maid in the house is man 
 or woman." " Oh fie ! Joseph," answered the lady, 
 " don't commit another crime in denying the truth. I 
 could pardon the first ; but I hate a lyar." " Madam," 
 cries Joseph, " I hope your ladyship will not be 
 offended at my asserting my innocence ; for, by all 
 that is sacred, I have never offered more than kissing." 
 " Kissing ! " said the lady, with great discomposure 
 of countenance, and more redness in her cheeks than 
 anger in her eyes ; " do you call that no crime ? 
 Kissing, Joseph, is as a prologue to a play. Can I 
 believe a young fellow of your age and complexion 
 will be content with kissing ? No, Joseph, there is 
 no woman who grants that but will grant more ; and 
 I am deceived greatly in you if you would not put her 
 closely to it. What would you think, Joseph, if I 
 admitted you to kiss me ? " Joseph replied he would 
 
Joseph Andrews 27 
 
 ooner die than have any such thought. "And yet, 
 Joseph." returned she, "ladies have admitted their 
 footmen to such familiarities ; and footmen, I confess 
 to you, much less deserving them ; fellows without half 
 your charms for such might almost excuse the 
 crime. Tell me therefore, Joseph, if I should admit 
 you to such freedom, what would you think of me ? 
 tell me freely." " Madam," said Joseph, " I should 
 think your ladyship condescended a great deal below 
 yourself." " Pugh ! " said she; "that I am to 
 answer to myself : but would not you insist on more ? 
 Would you be contented with a kiss ? Would not your 
 inclinations be all on fire rather by such a favour?" 
 "Madam," said Joseph, "if they were, I hope I 
 should be able to controul them, without suffering them 
 to get the better of my virtue." You have heard, 
 reader, poets talk of the statue of Surprize ; you have 
 heard likewise, or else you have heard very little, how 
 Surprize made one of the sons of Croesus speak, though 
 he was dumb. You have seen the faces, in the 
 eighteen-penny gallery, when, through the trap-door, 
 to soft or no music, Mr. Bridgewater, Mr. William 
 Mills, or some other of ghostly appearance, hath 
 ascended, with a face all pale with powder, and a 
 shirt all bloody with ribbons ; but from none of these, 
 nor from Phidias or Praxiteles, if they should return 
 to life no, not from the inimitable pencil of my 
 friend Hogarth, could you receive such an idea of 
 surprize as would have entered in at your eyes had they 
 beheld the Lady Booby when those last words issued 
 out from the lips of Joseph. " Your virtue ! " said 
 the lady, recovering after a silence of two minutes; 
 "I shall never survive it. Your virtue! intolerable 
 confidence ! Have you the assurance to pretend, that 
 when a lady demeans herself to throw aside the rules 
 of decency, in order to honour you with the highest 
 
28 The Adventures of 
 
 favour in her power, your virtue should resist her in- 
 clination ? that, when she had conquered her own 
 virtue, she should find an obstruction in yours ? " 
 " Madam," said Joseph, " I can't see why her having 
 no virtue should be a reason against my having any; 
 or why, because I am a man, or because I am poor, 
 my virtue must be subservient to her pleasures." " I 
 am out of patience," cries the lady : " did ever mortal 
 hear of a man's virtue ? Did ever the greatest or the 
 gravest men pretend to any of this kind ? Will magis- 
 trates who punish lewdness, or parsons who preach 
 against it, make any scruple of committing it ? And 
 can a boy, a stripling, have the confidence to talk of 
 his virtue?" "Madam," says Joseph, "that boy is 
 the brother of Pamela, and would be ashamed that the 
 chastity of his family, which is preserved in her, should 
 be stained in him. If there are such men as your 
 ladyship mentions, I am sorry for it ; and I wish they 
 had an opportunity of reading over those letters which 
 my father hath sent me of my sister Pamela's ; nor do 
 I doubt but such an example would amend them." 
 " You impudent villain ! " cries the lady in a rage ; 
 "do you insult me with the follies of my relation, 
 who hath exposed himself all over the country upon 
 your sister's account? a little vixen, whom I have 
 always wondered my late Lady Booby ever kept in her 
 house. Sirrah ! get out of my sight, and prepare to 
 set out this night ; for I will order you your wages 
 immediately, and you shall be stripped and turned 
 away." " Madam," says Joseph, " I am sorry I have 
 offended your ladyship, I am sure I never intended it." 
 "Yes, sirrah," cries she, "you have had the vanity to 
 misconstrue the little innocent freedom I took, in order 
 to try whether what I had heard was true. O' my 
 conscience, you have had the assurance to imagine I 
 was fond of you myself." Joseph answered, he had 
 
Joseph Andrews 29 
 
 only spoke out of tenderness for his virtue ; at which 
 words she flew into a violent passion, and refusing to 
 hear more, ordered him instantly to leave the room. 
 
 He was no sooner gone than she burst forth into the 
 following exclamation : " Whither doth this violent 
 passion hurry us ? What meannesses do we submit 
 to from its impulse ! Wisely we resist its first and 
 least approaches ; for it is then only we can assure 
 ourselves the victory. No woman could ever safely 
 say, so far only will I go. Have I not exposed 
 myself to the refusal of my footman ? I cannot bear 
 the reflection." Upon which she applied herself to 
 the bell, and rung it with infinite more violence than 
 was necessary the faithful Slipslop attending near at 
 hand : to say the truth, she had conceived a suspicion 
 at her last interview with her mistress, and had waited 
 ever since in the antechamber, having carefully applied 
 her ears to the keyhole during the whole time that 
 the preceding conversation passed between Joseph and 
 the lady. 
 
 CJapter if. 
 
 What passed between the lady and Mrs Slipslop ; in 
 which <we prophesy there are some strokes which 
 every one will not truly comprehend at the Jirst 
 reading. 
 
 QLIPSLOP," said the lady, "I find too much 
 ^ reason to believe all thou hast told me of this 
 wicked Joseph ; I have determined to part with 
 him instantly ; so go you to the steward, and bid 
 him pay his wages." Slipslop, who had preserved 
 hitherto a distance to her lady rather out of necessity 
 than inclination and who thought the knowledge of 
 this secret had thrown down all distinction between 
 
30 The Adventures of 
 
 them, answered her mistress very pertly " She wished 
 she knew her own mind ; and that she was certain she 
 would call her back again before she was got half-way 
 downstairs." The lady replied, she had taken a resolu- 
 tion, and was resolved to keep it. " I am sorry for 
 it," cries Slipslop, "and, if I had known you would 
 have punished the poor lad so severely, you should never 
 have heard a particle of the matter. Here's a fuss indeed 
 about nothing ! " " Nothing ! " returned my lady ; "do 
 you think I will countenance lewdness in my house ? " 
 " If you will turn away every 'footman," said Slipslop, 
 " that is a lover of the sport, you must soon open the 
 coach door yourself, or get a set of mophrodites to wait 
 upon you ; and I am sure I hated the sight of them even 
 singing in an opera." "Do as I bid you," says my lady, 
 "and don't shock my ears with your beastly language." 
 " Marry-come-up," cries Slipslop, " people's ears are 
 sometimes the nicest part about them." 
 
 The lady, who began to admire the new style in 
 which her waiting-gentlewoman delivered herself, and 
 by the conclusion of her speech suspected somewhat of 
 the truth, called her back, and desired to know what she 
 meant by the extraordinary degree of freedom in which 
 she thought proper to indulge her tongue. " Freedom ! " 
 says Slipslop ; " I don't know what you call freedom, 
 madam ; servants have tongues as well as their mis- 
 tresses." "Yes, and saucy ones too," answered the 
 lady ; " but I assure you I shall bear no such imper- 
 tinence." " Impertinence ! I don't know that I am 
 impertinent," says Slipslop. "Yes, indeed you are," 
 cries my lady, " and, unless you mend your manners, 
 this house is no place for you." " Manners ! " cries 
 Slipslop ; " I never was thought to want manners nor 
 modesty neither ; and for places, there are more places 
 than one; and I know what I know." "What do 
 you know, mistress ? " answered the lady. " I am not 
 
Joseph Andrews 31 
 
 obliged to tell that to everybody," says Slipslop, "any 
 more than I am obliged to keep it a secret." " I desire 
 you would provide yourself," answered the lady. " With 
 all my heart," replied the waiting-gentlewoman ; and so 
 departed in a passion, and slapped the door after her. 
 
 The lady too plainly perceived that her waiting-gentle- 
 woman knew more than she would willingly have had 
 her acquainted with ; and this she imputed to Joseph's 
 having discovered to her what passed at the first inter- 
 view. This, therefore, blew up her rage against him, 
 and confirmed her in a resolution of parting with him. 
 
 But the dismissing Mrs Slipslop was a point not so 
 easily to be resolved upon. She had the utmost tender- 
 ness for her reputation, as she knew on that depended 
 many of the most valuable blessings of life ; particularly 
 cards, making curtsies in public places, and, above all, 
 the pleasure of demolishing the reputations of others, in 
 which innocent amusement she had an extraordinary 
 delight. She therefore determined to submit to any insult 
 from a servant, rather than run a risque of losing the title 
 to so many great privileges. 
 
 She therefore sent for her steward, Mr Peter Pounce, 
 and ordered him to pay Joseph his wages, to strip off 
 his livery, and to turn him out of the house that evening. 
 
 She then called Slipslop up, and, after refreshing her 
 spirits with a small cordial, which she kept in her closet, 
 she began in the following manner : 
 
 " Slipslop, why will you, who know my passionate 
 temper, attempt to provoke me by your answers ? I 
 am convinced you are an honest servant, and should be 
 very unwilling to part with you. I believe, likewise, you 
 have found me an indulgent mistress on many occasions, 
 and have as little reason on your side to desire a change. 
 I can't help being surprized, therefore, that you will take 
 the surest method to offend me I mean, repeating my 
 words, which you know I have always detested." 
 
32 The Adventures of 
 
 The prudent waiting-gentlewoman had duly weighed 
 the whole matter, and found, on mature deliberation, that 
 a good place in possession was better than one in expecta- 
 tion. As she found her mistress, therefore, inclined to 
 relent, she thought proper also to put on some small 
 condescension, which was as readily accepted ; and so 
 the affair was reconciled, all offences forgiven, and a 
 present of a gown and petticoat made her, as an instance 
 of her lady's future favour. 
 
 She offered once or twice to speak in favour of Joseph ; 
 but found her lady's heart so obdurate, that she prudently 
 dropt all such efforts. She considered there were more 
 footmen in the house, and some as stout fellows, though 
 not quite so handsome, as Joseph ; besides, the reader 
 hath already seen her tender advances had not met with 
 the encouragement she might have reasonably expected. 
 She thought she had thrown away a great deal of sack and 
 sweetmeats on an ungrateful rascal ; and, being a little 
 inclined to the opinion of that female sect, who hold one 
 lusty young fellow to be nearly as good as another lusty 
 young fellow, she at last gave up Joseph and his cause, 
 and, with a triumph over her passion highly commendable, 
 walked off with her present, and with great tranquillity 
 paid a visit to a stone-bottle, which is of sovereign use 
 to a philosophical temper. 
 
 She left not her mistress so easy. The poor lady 
 could not reflect without agony that her dear reputation 
 was in the power of her servants. All her comfort as to 
 Joseph was, that she hoped he did not understand her 
 meaning ; at least she could say for herself, she had not 
 plainly expressed anything to him ; and as to Mrs 
 Slipslop, she imagined she could bribe her to secrecy. 
 
 But what hurt her most was, that in reality she had 
 not so entirely conquered her passion ; the little god lay 
 lurking in her heart, though anger and disdain so hood- 
 winked her, that she could not see him. She was a 
 
Joseph Andrews 33 
 
 thousand times on the very brink of revoking the sentence 
 she had passed against the poor youth. Love became 
 his advocate, and whispered many things in his favour. 
 Honour likewise endeavoured to vindicate his crime, and 
 Pity to mitigate his punishment. On the other side, 
 Pride and Revenge spoke as loudly against him. And 
 thus the poor lady was tortured with perplexity, opposite 
 passions distracting and tearing her mind different ways. 
 
 So have I seen, in the hall of Westminster, where 
 Serjeant Bramble hath been retained on the right side, 
 and Serjeant Puzzle on the left, the balance of opinion 
 (so equal were their fees) alternately incline to either 
 scale. Now Bramble throws in an argument, and 
 Puzzle's scale strikes the beam ; again Bramble shares 
 the like fate, overpowered by the weight of Puzzle. 
 Here Bramble hits, there Puzzle strikes ; here one has 
 you, there t'other has you ; till at last all becomes one 
 scene of confusion in the tortured minds of the hearers ; 
 equal wagers are laid on the success, and neither judge 
 nor jury can possibly make anything of the matter ; all 
 things are so enveloped by the careful Serjeants in doubt 
 and obscurity. 
 
 Or, as it happens in the conscience, where honour 
 and honesty pull one way, and a bribe and necessity 
 
 another. If it was our present business only to 
 
 make similes, we could produce many more to this 
 purpose ; but a simile (as well as a word) to the 
 wise. We shall therefore see a little after our hero, 
 for whom the reader is doubtless in some pain. 
 
34 The Adventures of 
 
 Joseph writes another letter : his transactions with Mr 
 Peter Pounce, tjV., ivlth his departure from Lady 
 Booby. 
 
 THE disconsolate Joseph would not have had an 
 understanding sufficient for the principal subject 
 of such a book as this, if he had any longer 
 misunderstood the drift of his mistress ; and indeed, 
 that he did not discern it sooner, the reader will be 
 pleased to impute to an unwillingness in him to discover 
 what he must condemn in her as a fault. Having 
 therefore quitted her presence, he retired into his own 
 garret, and entered himself into an ejaculation on the 
 numberless calamities which attended beauty, and the 
 misfortune it was to be handsomer than one's neigh- 
 bours. 
 
 He then sat down, and addressed himself to his 
 sister Pamela in the following words : 
 
 "DEAR SISTER PAMELA, Hoping you are well, 
 what news have I to tell you ! O Pamela ! my 
 mistress is fallen in love with me that is, what great 
 folks call falling in love she has a mind to ruin me ; 
 but I hope I shall have more resolution and more grace 
 than to part with my virtue to any lady upon earth. 
 
 " Mr Adams hath often told me, that chastity is as 
 great a virtue in a man as in a woman. He says he 
 never knew any more than his wife, and I shall en- 
 deavour to follow his example. Indeed, it is owing 
 entirely to his excellent sermons and advice, together 
 with your letters, that I have been able to resist a 
 temptation, which, he says, no man complies with, but 
 he repents in this world, or is damned for it in the 
 next ; and why should I trust to repentance on my 
 
Joseph Andrews 35 
 
 deathbed, since I may die in my sleep ? What fine 
 things are good advice and good examples ! But I 
 am glad she turned me out of the chamber as she did : 
 for I had once almost forgotten every word parson 
 Adams had ever said to me. 
 
 " I don't doubt, dear sister, but you will have grace 
 to preserve your virtue against all trials ; and I beg 
 you earnestly to pray I may be enabled to preserve 
 mine ; for truly it is very severely attacked by more 
 than one ; but I hope I shall copy your example, and 
 that of Joseph my namesake, and maintain my virtue 
 against all temptations." 
 
 Joseph had not finished his letter, when he was 
 summoned downstairs by Mr Peter Pounce, to receive 
 his wages ; for, besides that out of eight pounds a year 
 he allowed his father and mother four, he had been 
 obliged, in order to furnish himself with musical 
 instruments, to apply to the generosity of the aforesaid 
 Peter, who, on urgent occasions, used to advance the 
 servants their wages : not before they were due, but 
 before they were payable ; that is, perhaps, half a year 
 after they were due ; and this at the moderate premium 
 of fifty per cent, or a little more : by which charitable 
 methods, together with lending money to other people, 
 and even to his own master and mistress, the honest 
 man had, from nothing, in a few years amassed a small 
 sum of twenty thousand pounds or thereabouts. 
 
 Joseph having received his little remainder of wages, 
 and having stript off his livery, was forced to borrow a 
 frock and breeches of one of the servants (for he was 
 so beloved in the family, that they would all have lent 
 him anything) : and, being told by Peter that he must 
 not stay a moment longer in the house than was 
 necessary to pack up his linen, which he easily did in 
 a very narrow compass, he took a melancholy leave 
 
36 The Adventures of 
 
 of his fellow-servants, and set out at seven in the 
 evening. 
 
 He had proceeded the length of two or three streets, 
 before he absolutely determined with himself whether 
 he should leave the town that night, or, procuring a 
 lodging, wait till the morning. At last, the moon 
 shining very bright helped him to come to a resolution 
 of beginning his journey immediately, to which likewise 
 he had some other inducements ; which the reader, 
 without being a conjurer, cannot possibly guess, till we 
 have given him those hints which it may be now 
 proper to open. 
 
 r j;u 
 
 Of several new matters not expected. 
 
 IT is an observation sometimes made, that to indicate 
 our idea of a simple fellow, we say, he is easily 
 to be seen through : nor do I believe it a more 
 improper denotation of a simple book. Instead of 
 applying this to any particular performance, we chuse 
 rather to remark the contrary in this history, where the 
 scene opens itself by small degrees ; and he is a saga- 
 cious reader who can see two chapters before him. 
 
 For this reason, we have not hitherto hinted a 
 matter which now seems necessary to be explained ; 
 since it may be wondered at, first, that Joseph made 
 such extraordinary haste out of town, which hath been 
 already shewn ; and secondly, which will be now 
 shewn, that, instead of proceeding to the habitation of 
 his father and mother, or to his beloved sister Pamela, 
 he chose rather to set out full speed to the Lady 
 Booby's country-seat, which he had left on his journey 
 to London. 
 
 Be it known, then, that in the same parish where 
 
Joseph Andrews 37 
 
 this seat stood there lived a young girl whom Joseph 
 (though the best of sons and brothers) longed more 
 impatiently to see than his parents or his sister. She 
 was a poor girl, who had formerly been bred up in Sir 
 John's family ; whence, a little before the journey to 
 London, she had been discarded by Mrs Slipslop, on 
 account of her extraordinary beauty : for I never could 
 find any other reason. 
 
 This young creature (who now lived with a farmer 
 in the parish) had been always beloved by Joseph, and 
 returned his affection. She was two years only 
 younger than our hero. They had been acquainted 
 from their infancy, and had conceived a very early 
 liking for each other ; which had grown to such a 
 degree of affection, that Mr Adams had with much 
 ado prevented them from marrying, and persuaded 
 them to wait till a few years' service and thrift had a 
 little improved their experience, and enabled them to 
 live comfortably together. 
 
 They followed this good man's advice, as indeed his 
 word was little less than a law in his parish ; for as he 
 had shown his parishioners, by an uniform behaviour 
 of thirty-five years' duration, that he had their good 
 entirely at heart, so they consulted him on every occa- 
 sion, and very seldom acted contrary to his opinion. 
 
 Nothing can be imagined more tender than was the 
 parting between these two lovers. A thousand sighs 
 heaved the bosom of Joseph, a thousand tears distilled 
 from the lovely eyes of Fanny (for that was her name). 
 Though her modesty would only surfer her to admit 
 his eager kisses, her violent love made her more than 
 passive in his embraces ; and she often pulled him to 
 her breast with a soft pressure, which though perhaps 
 it would not have squeezed an insect to death, caused 
 more emotion in the heart of Joseph than the closest 
 Cornish hug could have done. 
 
38 The Adventures of 
 
 The reader may perhaps wonder that so fond a pair 
 should, during a twelvemonth's absence, never converse 
 with one another : indeed, there was but one reason 
 which did or could have prevented them ; and this was, 
 that poor Fanny could neither write nor read : nor 
 could she be prevailed upon to transmit the delicacies 
 of her tender and chaste passion by the hands of an 
 amanuensis. 
 
 They contented themselves therefore with frequent 
 inquiries after each other's health, with a mutual con- 
 fidence in each other's fidelity, and the prospect of 
 their future happiness. 
 
 Having explained these matters to our reader, and, 
 as far as possible, satisfied all his doubts, we return to 
 honest Joseph, whom we left just set out on his travels 
 by the light of the moon. 
 
 Those who have read any romance or poetry, antient 
 or modern, must have been informed that love hath 
 wings : by which they are not to understand, as some 
 young ladies by mistake have done, that a lover can fly ; 
 the writers, by this ingenious allegory, intending to 
 insinuate no more than that lovers do not march like 
 horse- guards ; in short, that they put the best leg fore- 
 most ; which our lusty youth, who could walk with 
 any man, did so heartily on this occasion, that within 
 four hours he reached a famous house of hospitality 
 well known to the western traveller. It presents you 
 a lion on the sign-post : and the master, who was 
 christened Timotheus, is commonly called plain Tim. 
 Some have conceived that he hath particularly chosen 
 the lion for his sign, as he doth in countenance greatly 
 resemble that magnanimous beast, though his disposition 
 savours more of the sweetness of the lamb. He is a 
 person well received among all sorts of men, being 
 qualified to render himself agreeable to any ; as he is 
 well versed in history and politics, hath a smattering in 
 
Joseph Andrews 39 
 
 law and divinity, cracks a good jest, and plays wonder- 
 fully well on the French horn. 
 
 A violent storm of hail forced Joseph to take shelter 
 in this inn, where he remembered Sir Thomas had 
 dined in his way to town. Joseph had no sooner seated 
 himself by the kitchen fire than Timotheus, observing 
 his livery, began to condole the loss of his late master ; 
 who was, he said, his very particular and intimate 
 acquaintance, with whom he had cracked many a merry 
 bottle, ay many a dozen, in his time. He then re- 
 marked, that all these things were over now, all passed, 
 and just as if they had never been ; and concluded with 
 an excellent observation on the certainty of death, which 
 his wife said was indeed very true. A fellow now 
 arrived at the same inn with two horses, one of which 
 he was leading farther down into the country to meet 
 his master ; these he put into the stable, and came and 
 took his place by Joseph's side, who immediately knew 
 him to be the servant of a neighbouring gentleman, 
 who used to visit at their house. 
 
 This fellow was likewise forced in by the storm ; 
 for he had orders to go twenty miles farther that 
 evening, and luckily on the same road which Joseph 
 himself intended to take. He, therefore, embraced 
 this opportunity of complimenting his friend with his 
 master's horse (notwithstanding he had received express 
 commands to the contrary), which was readily accepted ; 
 and so, after they had drank a loving pot, and the 
 storm was over, they set out together. 
 
40 The Adventures of 
 
 Chapter jni. 
 
 Containing many surprizing adventures which Joseph 
 Andrews met with on the road, scarce credible to 
 those who have never travelled in a stage-coach. 
 
 NOTHING remarkable happened on the road till 
 their arrival at the inn to which the horses were 
 ordered ; whither they came about two in the 
 morning. The moon then shone very bright ; and 
 Joseph, making his friend a present of a pint of wine, 
 and thanking him for the favour of his horse, notwith- 
 standing all entreaties to the contrary, proceeded on his 
 journey on foot. 
 
 He had not gone above two miles, charmed with 
 the hope of shortly seeing his beloved Fanny, when he 
 was met by two fellows in a narrow lane, and ordered 
 to stand and deliver. He readily gave them all the 
 money he had, which was somewhat less than two 
 pounds ; and told them he hoped they would be so 
 generous as to return him a few shillings, to defray his 
 charges on his way home. 
 
 One of the ruffians answered with an oath, " Yes, 
 we'll give you something presently : but first strip and 
 be d n'd to you." " Strip," cried the other, " or 
 I'll blow your brains to the devil." Joseph, re- 
 membering that he had borrowed his coat and breeches 
 of a friend, and that he should be ashamed of making 
 any excuse for not returning them, replied, he hoped 
 they would not insist on his clothes, which were not 
 worth much, but consider the coldness of the night. 
 " You are cold, are you, you rascal ? " said one of the 
 robbers : " I'll warm you with a vengeance ; " and, 
 damning his eyes, snapped a pistol at his head ; which 
 he had no sooner done than the other levelled a blow 
 at him with his stick, which Joseph, who was expert 
 
Joseph Andrews 41 
 
 at cudgel-playing, caught with his, and returned the 
 favour so successfully on his adversary, that he laid him 
 sprawling at his feet, and at the same instant received a 
 blow from behind, with the butt end of a pistol, from 
 the other villain, which felled him to the ground, and 
 totally deprived him of his senses. 
 
 The thief who had been knocked down had now 
 recovered himself; and both together fell to belabour- 
 ing poor Joseph with their sticks, till they were con- 
 vinced they had put an end to his miserable being : 
 they then stripped him entirely naked, threw him into 
 a ditch, and departed with their booty. 
 
 The poor wretch, who lay motionless a long time, 
 just began to recover his senses as a stage-coach came 
 by. The postillion, hearing a man's groans, stopt his 
 horses, and told the coachman he was certain there 
 was a dead man lying in the ditch, for he heard him 
 groan. " Go on, sirrah," says the coachman ; " we 
 are confounded late, and have no time to look after 
 dead men." A lady, who heard what the postillion 
 said, and likewise heard the groan, called eagerly to 
 the coachman to stop and see what was the matter. 
 Upon which he bid the postillion alight, and look into 
 the ditch. He did so, and returned, " that there was 
 a man sitting upright, as naked as ever he was born." 
 " O J sus ! " cried the lady ; " a naked man ! 
 Dear coachman, drive on and leave him." Upon this 
 the gentlemen got out of the coach ; and Joseph begged 
 them to have mercy upon him : for that he had been 
 robbed and almost beaten to death. " Robbed ! " cries 
 an old gentleman : " let us make all the haste imaginable, 
 or we shall be robbed too." A young man who be- 
 longed to the law answered, " He wished they had 
 passed by without taking any notice ; but that now 
 they might be proved to have been last in his company ; 
 if he should die they might be called to some account 
 
42 The Adventures of 
 
 for his murder. He therefore thought it advisable to 
 save the poor creature's life, for their own sakes, if 
 possible ; at least, if he died, to prevent the jury's find- 
 ing that they fled for it. He was therefore of opinion 
 to take the man into the coach, and carry him to the 
 next inn." The lady insisted, " That he should not 
 come into the coach. That if they lifted him in, she 
 would herself alight : for she had rather stay in that 
 place to all eternity than ride with a naked man." 
 The coachman objected, " That he could not suffer 
 him to be taken in unless somebody would pay a 
 shilling for his carriage the four miles." Which the 
 two gentlemen refused to do. But the lawyer, who 
 was afraid of some mischief happening to himself, if 
 the wretch was left behind in that condition, saying no 
 man could be too cautious in these matters, and that he 
 remembered very extraordinary cases in the books, 
 threatened the coachman, and bid him deny taking him 
 up at his peril ; for that, if he died, he should be in- 
 dicted for his murder ; and if he lived, and brought an 
 action against him, he would willingly take a brief in 
 it. These words had a sensible effect on the coachman, 
 who was well acquainted with the person who spoke 
 them ; and the old gentleman above mentioned, think- 
 ing the naked man would afford him frequent oppor- 
 tunities of showing his wit to the lady, ottered to join 
 with the company in giving a mug of beer for his fare ; 
 till, partly alarmed by the threats of the one, and partly 
 by the promises of the other, and being perhaps a little 
 moved with compassion at the poor creature's condition, 
 who stood bleeding and shivering with the cold, he at 
 length agreed ; and Joseph was now advancing to the 
 coach, where, seeing the lady, who held the sticks ot 
 her fan before her eyes, he absolutely refused, miser- 
 able as he was, to enter, unless he was furnished with 
 sufficient covering to prevent giving the least offence to 
 
Joseph Andrews 43 
 
 decency so perfectly modest was this young man ; 
 such mighty effects had the spotless example of the 
 amiable Pamela, and the excellent sermons of Mr 
 Adams, wrought upon him. 
 
 Though there were several greatcoats about the 
 coach, it was not easy to get over this difficulty which 
 Joseph had started. The two gentlemen complained 
 they were cold, and could not spare a rag ; the man of 
 wit saying, with a laugh, that charity began at home ; 
 and the coachman, who had two greatcoats spread under 
 him, refused to lend either, lest they should be made 
 bloody : the lady's footman desired to be excused for 
 the same reason, which the lady herself, notwithstanding 
 her abhorrence of a naked man, approved : and it is 
 more than probable poor Joseph, who obstinately ad- 
 hered to his modest resolution, must have perished, unless 
 the postillion (a lad who hath been since transported for 
 robbing a hen-roost) had voluntarily stript off a great- 
 coat, his only garment, at the same time swearing a 
 great oath (for which he was rebuked by the pas- 
 sengers), "that he would rather ride in his shirt all his 
 life than suffer a fellow-creature to lie in so miserable a 
 condition." 
 
 Joseph, having put on the greatcoat, was lifted into 
 the coach, which now proceeded on its journey. He 
 declared himself almost dead with the cold, which gave 
 the man of wit an occasion to ask the lady if she could 
 not accommodate him with a dram. She answered, with 
 some resentment, " She wondered at his asking her such 
 a question ; but assured him she never tasted any such 
 thing." 
 
 The lawyer was inquiring into the circumstances of 
 the robbery, when the coach stopt, and one of the 
 ruffians, putting a pistol in, demanded their money of 
 the passengers, who readily gave it them ; and the lady, 
 in her fright, delivered up a little silver bottle, of about 
 
44 The Adventures of 
 
 d half-pint size, which the rogue, clapping it to his 
 mouth, and drinking her health, declared, held some of 
 the best Nantes he had ever tasted : this the lady after- 
 wards assured the company was the mistake of her maid, 
 for that she had ordered her to fill the bottle with 
 Hungary- water. 
 
 As soon as the fellows were departed, the lawyer, 
 who had, it seems, a case of pistols in the seat of the 
 coach, informed the company, that if it had been day- 
 light, and he could have come at his pistols, he would 
 ,not have submitted to the robbery : he likewise set forth 
 that he had often met highwaymen when he travelled on 
 horseback, but none ever durst attack him ; concluding 
 that, if he had not been more afraid for the lady than 
 for himself, he should not have now parted with his 
 money so easily. 
 
 As wit is generally observed to love to reside in empty 
 pockets, so the gentleman whose ingenuity we have above 
 remarked, as soon as he had parted with his money, began 
 to grow wonderfully facetious. He made frequent allu- 
 sions to Adam and Eve, and said many excellent things 
 on figs and fig-leaves ; which perhaps gave more offence 
 to Joseph than to any other in the company. 
 
 The lawyer likewise made several very pretty jests 
 without departing from his profession. He said, " If 
 Joseph and the lady were alone, he would be more cap- 
 able of making a conveyance to her, as his affairs were 
 not fettered with any incumbrance ; he'd warrant he soon 
 suffered a recovery by a writ of entry, which was the 
 proper way to create heirs in tail ; that, for his own 
 part, he would engage to make so firm a settlement in 
 a coach, that there should be no danger of an eject- 
 ment," with an inundation of the like gibberish, which 
 he continued to vent till the coach arrived at an inn, 
 where one servant-maid only was up, in readiness to 
 attend the coachman, and furnish him with cold meat 
 
Joseph Andrews 45 
 
 and a dram. Joseph desired to alight, and that he might 
 have a bed prepared for him, which the maid readily 
 promised to perform ; and, being a good-natured wench, 
 and not so squeamish as the lady had been, she clapt a 
 large fagot on the fire, and, furnishing Joseph with a 
 greatcoat belonging to one of the hostlers, desired him 
 to sit down and warm himself whilst she made his bed. 
 The coachman, in the meantime, took an opportunity 
 to call up a surgeon, who lived within a few doors ; 
 after which, he reminded his passengers how late they 
 were, and, after they had taken leave of Joseph, hurried 
 them off as fast as he could. 
 
 The wench soon got Joseph to bed, and promised to 
 use her interest to borrow him a shirt ; but imagining, 
 as she afterwards said, by his being so bloody, that he 
 must be a dead man, she ran with all speed to hasten 
 the surgeon, who was more than half drest, apprehending 
 that the coach had been overturned, and some gentleman 
 or lady hurt. As soon as the wench had informed him 
 at his window that it was a poor foot-passenger who had 
 been stripped of all he had, and almost murdered, he chid 
 her for disturbing him so early, slipped off his clothes 
 again, and very quietly returned to bed and to sleep. 
 
 Aurora now began to shew her blooming cheeks 
 over the hills, whilst ten millions of feathered songsters, 
 in jocund chorus, repeated odes a thousand times sweeter 
 than those of our laureat, and sung both the day and the 
 song ; when the master of the inn, Mr Tow-wouse, 
 arose, and learning from his maid an account of the 
 robbery, and the situation of his poor naked guest, he 
 shook his head, and cried, " good-lac k-a-day !" and 
 then ordered the girl to carry him one of his own shirts. 
 
 Mrs Tow-wouse was just awake, and had stretched 
 out her arms in vain to fold her departed husband, 
 when the maid entered the room. "Who's there? 
 Betty ? " " Yes, madam."" Where's your master ? " 
 
 D < 6 7 
 
4 6 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 " He's without, madam ; he hath sent me for a shirt 
 to lend a poor naked man, who hath been robbed and 
 murdered." " Touch one if you dare, you slut," said 
 Mrs Tow-wouse : " your master is a pretty sort of a 
 man, to take in naked vagabonds, and clothe them with 
 his own clothes. I shall have no such doings. If you 
 offer to touch anything, I'll throw the chamber-pot at 
 your head. Go, send your master to me." " Yes, 
 madam," answered Betty. As soon as he came in, she 
 thus began : " What the devil do you mean by this, Mr 
 Tow-wouse ? Am I to buy shirts to lend to a set of 
 scabby rascals ? " " My dear," said Mr Tow-wouse, 
 "this is a poor wretch." "Yes," says she, " I know 
 it is a poor wretch ; but what the devil have we to do 
 with poor wretches ? The law makes us provide for 
 too many already. We shall have thirty or forty poor 
 wretches in red coats shortly." "My dear," cries 
 Tow-wouse, " this man hath been robbed of all he hath." 
 " Well then," said she, " where's his money to pay 
 his reckoning ? Why doth not such a fellow go to an 
 alehouse ? I shall send him packing as soon as I am 
 up, I assure you." "My dear," said he, "common 
 charity won't suffer you to do that." "Common 
 charity, a f t ! " says she, " common charity teaches 
 us to provide for ourselves and our families ; and I and 
 mine won't be ruined by your charity, I assure you." 
 " Well," says he, " my dear, do as you will, when 
 you are up; you know I never contradict you." 
 " No," says she ; " if the devil was to contradict me, 
 I would make the house too hot to hold him." 
 
 With such like discourses they consumed near half- 
 an-hour, whilst Betty provided a shirt from the hostler, 
 who was one of her sweethearts, and put it on poor 
 Joseph. The surgeon had likewise at last visited him, 
 and washed and drest his wounds, and was now come 
 to acquaint Mr Tow-wouse that his guest was in such 
 
Joseph Andrews 47 
 
 extreme danger of his lift, that he scarce saw any hopes 
 of his recovery. " Here's a pretty kettle of fish," cries 
 Mrs Tow-wouse, "you have brought upon us! We 
 are like to have a funeral at our own expense." Tow- 
 wouse (who, notwithstanding his charity, would have 
 given his vote as freely as ever he did at an election, 
 that any other house in the kingdom should have quiet 
 possession of his guest) answered, "My dear, I am not 
 to blame; he was brought hither by the stage-coach, 
 and Betty had put him to bed before I was stirring." 
 " I'll Betty her," says she. At which, with half 
 her garments on, the other half under her arm, she 
 sallied out in quest of the unfortunate Betty, whilst 
 Tow-wouse and the surgeon went to pay a visit to poor 
 Joseph, and inquire into the circumstances of this melan- 
 choly affair. 
 
 Chapter pit). 
 
 What happened to Joseph during his sickness at the inn, 
 with the curious discourse between him and Mr 
 Barnabas, the parson of the parish. 
 
 A~> soon as Joseph had communicated a particular 
 history of the robbery, together with a short 
 account of himself, and his intended journey, 
 he asked the surgeon if he apprehended him to be 
 in any danger : to which the surgeon very honestly 
 answered, " He feared he was ; for that his pulse was 
 very exalted and feverish, and, if his fever should prove 
 more than symptomatic, it would be impossible to save 
 him." Joseph, fetching a deep sigh, cried, "Poor 
 Fanny, I would I could have lived to see thee ! but 
 God's will be done." 
 
 The surgeon then advised him, if he had any worldly 
 affairs to settle, that he would do it as soon as possible ; 
 
4 8 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 for, though he hoped he might recover, yet he thought 
 himself obliged to acquaint him he was in great danger ; 
 and if the malign concoction of his humours should 
 cause a suscitation of his fever, he might soon grow 
 delirious and incapable to make his will. Joseph 
 answered, " That it was impossible for any creature in 
 the universe to be in a poorer condition than himself; 
 for since the robbery he had not one thing of any kind 
 whatever which he could call his own." " I had," 
 said he, " a poor little piece of gold, which they took 
 away, that would have been a comfort to me in all my 
 afflictions ; but surely, Fanny, I want nothing to remind 
 me of thee. I have thy dear image in my heart, and 
 no villain can ever tear it thence." 
 
 Joseph desired paper and pens, to write a letter, but 
 they were refused him ; and he was advised to use all 
 his endeavours to compose himself. They then left 
 him ; and Mr Tow-wouse sent to a clergyman to 
 come and administer his good offices to the soul of poor 
 Joseph, since the surgeon despaired of making any 
 successful applications to his body. 
 
 Mr Barnabas (for that was the clergyman's name) 
 came as soon as sent for ; and, having first drank a 
 dish of tea with the landlady, and afterwards a bowl 
 of punch with the landlord, he walked up to the room 
 where Joseph lay ; but, finding him asleep, returned to 
 take the other sneaker ; which when he had finished, he 
 again crept softly up to the chamber-door, and, having 
 opened it, heard the sick man talking to himself in the 
 following manner : 
 
 " O most adorable Pamela ! most virtuous sister ! 
 whose example could alone enable me to withstand all 
 the temptations of riches and beauty, and to preserve 
 my virtue pure and chaste for the arms of my dear 
 Fanny, if it had pleased Heaven that I should ever 
 have come unto them. What riches, or honours, or 
 
Joseph Andrews 49 
 
 pleasures, can make us amends for the loss of innocence ? 
 Doth not that alone afford us more consolation than all 
 worldly acquisitions ? What but innocence and virtue 
 could give any comfort to such a miserable wretch as I 
 am ? Yet these can make me prefer this sick and painful 
 bed to all the pleasures I should have found in my lady's. 
 These can make me face death without fear ; and though 
 I love my Fanny more than ever man loved a woman, 
 these can teach me to resign myself to the Divine will 
 without repining. O thou delightful charming creature ! 
 if Heaven had indulged thee to my arms, the poorest, 
 humblest state would have been a paradise ; I could 
 have lived with thee in the lowest cottage without envy- 
 ing the palaces, the dainties, or the riches of any man 
 breathing. But I must leave thee, leave thee for ever, 
 my dearest angel ! I must think of another world ; and 
 I heartily pray thou may'st meet comfort in this." 
 Barnabas thought he had heard enough, so downstairs 
 he went, and told Tow-wouse he could do his guest no 
 service ; for that he was very light-headed, and had 
 attered nothing but a rhapsody of nonsense all the time 
 he stayed in the room. 
 
 The surgeon returned in the afternoon, and found his 
 patient in a higher fever, as he said, than when he left 
 him, though not delirious ; for, notwithstanding Mr 
 Barnabas's opinion, he had not been once out of his 
 senses since his arrival at the inn. 
 
 Mr Barnabas was again sent for, and with much 
 difficulty prevailed on to make another visit. As soon 
 as he entered the room he told Joseph " He was come 
 to pray by him, and to prepare him for another world : 
 in the first place, therefore, he hoped he had repented 
 of all his sins." Joseph answered, " He hoped he had ; 
 but there was one thing which he knew not whether he 
 should call a sin ; if it was, he feared he should die in 
 the commission of it ; and that was, the regret of parting 
 
50 The Adventures of 
 
 with a young woman whom he loved as tenderly as he 
 did his heart-strings." Barnabas bad him be assured 
 " that any repining at the Divine will was one of the 
 greatest sins he could commit ; that he ought to forget 
 all carnal affections, and think of better things." Joseph 
 said, "That neither in this world nor the next he 
 could forget his Fanny ; and that the thought, how- 
 ever grievous, of parting from her for ever, was not half 
 so tormenting as the fear of what she would suffer when 
 she knew his misfortune." Barnabas said, " That such 
 fears argued a diffidence and despondence very criminal ; 
 that he must divest himself of all human passions, and 
 fix his heart above." Joseph answered, "That was 
 what he desired to do, and should be obliged to him if 
 he would enable him to accomplish it." Barnabas replied, 
 " That must be done by grace." Joseph besought him 
 to discover how he might attain it. Barnabas answered, 
 " By prayer and faith." He then questioned him con- 
 cerning his forgiveness of the thieves. Joseph answered, 
 " He feared that was more than he could do ; for nothing 
 would give him more pleasure than to hear they were 
 taken." " That," cries Barnabas, " is for the sake of 
 justice." " Yes," said Joseph, " but if I was to meet 
 them again, I am afraid I should attack them, and kill 
 them too, if I could." " Doubtless," answered Bar- 
 nabas, " it is lawful to kill a thief ; but can you say you 
 forgive them as a Christian ought ? " Joseph desired to 
 know what that forgiveness was. "That is," answered 
 Barnabas, " to forgive them as as it is to forgive them 
 as in short, it is to forgive them as a Christian." 
 Joseph replied, " He forgave them as much as he could." 
 "Well, well," said Barnabas, "that will do." He 
 then demanded of him, " If he remembered any more 
 sins unrepented of; and if he did, he desired him to 
 make haste and repent of them as fast as he could, that 
 they might repeat over a few prayers together." Joseph 
 
Joseph Andrews 51 
 
 answered, " He could not recollect any great crimes he 
 had been guilty of, and that those he had committed he 
 was sincerely sorry for." Barnabas said that was enough, 
 and then proceeded to prayer with all the expedition he 
 was master of, some company then waiting for him below 
 in the parlour, where the ingredients for punch were all 
 in readiness ; but no one would squeeze the oranges till 
 he came. 
 
 Joseph complained he was dry, and desired a little 
 tea ; which Barnabas reported to Mrs Tow-wouse, 
 who answered, " She had just done drinking it, and 
 could not be slopping all day ; " but ordered Betty to 
 carry him up some small beer. 
 
 Betty obeyed her mistress's commands ; but Joseph, 
 as soon as he had tasted it, said, he feared it would in- 
 crease his fever, and that he longed very much for tea ; 
 to which the good-natured Betty answered, he should 
 have tea, if there was any in the land ; she accordingly 
 went and bought him some herself, and attended him 
 with it ; where we will leave her and Joseph together for 
 some time, to entertain the reader with other matters. 
 
 Chapter pib. 
 
 Being very full of adventures which succeeded each other 
 at the Inn. 
 
 IT was now the dusk of the evening, when a grave 
 person rode into the inn, and, committing his horse 
 to the hostler, went directly into the kitchen, and, 
 having called for a pipe of tobacco, took his place by 
 the fireside, where several other persons were likewise 
 assembled. 
 
 The discourse ran altogether on the robbery which 
 was committed the night before, and on the poor wretch 
 
52 The Adventures of 
 
 who lay above in the dreadful condition in which we 
 have already seen him. Mrs Tow-wouse said, " She 
 wondered what the devil Tom Whipwell meant by bring- 
 ing such guests to her house, when there were so many 
 alehouses on the road proper for their reception. But 
 she assured him, if he died, the parish should be at the 
 expense of the funeral." She added, " Nothing would 
 serve the fellow's turn but tea, she would assure him." 
 Betty, who was just returned from her charitable office, 
 answered, she believed he was a gentleman, for she 
 never saw a finer skin in her life. " Pox on his skin ! " 
 replied Mrs Tow-wouse, " I suppose that is all we are 
 like to have for the reckoning. I desire no such gentle- 
 men should ever call at the Dragon" (which it seems 
 was the sign of the inn). 
 
 The gentleman lately arrived discovered a great deal 
 of emotion at the distress of this poor creature, whom 
 he observed to be fallen not into the most compassionate 
 hands. And indeed, if Mrs Tow-wouse had given no 
 utterance to the sweetness of her temper, nature had 
 taken such pains in her countenance, that Hogarth him- 
 self never gave more expression to a picture. 
 
 Her person was short, thin, and crooked. Her fore- 
 head projected in the middle, and thence descended in 
 a declivity to the top of her nose, which was sharp and 
 red, and would have hung over her lips, had not nature 
 turned up the end of it. Her lips were two bits of 
 skin, which, whenever she spoke, she drew together in 
 a purse. Her chin was peaked ; and at the upper end 
 of that skin which composed her cheeks, stood two 
 bones, that almost hid a pair of small red eyes. Add 
 to this a voice most wonderfully adapted to the senti- 
 ments it was to convey, being both loud and hoarse. 
 
 It is not easy to say whether the gentleman had con- 
 ceived a greater dislike for his landlady or compassion for 
 her unhappy guest. He inquired very earnestly of the 
 
Joseph Andrews 53 
 
 surgeon, who was now come into the kitchen, whether 
 he had any hopes of his recovery ? He begged him to 
 use all possible means towards it, telling him, " it was 
 the duty of men of all professions to apply their skill 
 gratis for the relief of the poor and necessitous." The 
 surgeon answered, " He should take proper care ; but 
 he defied all the surgeons in London to do him any 
 good." " Pray, sir," said the gentleman, " what are 
 his wounds ? " " Why, do you know anything of 
 wounds?" says the surgeon (winking upon Mrs Tow- 
 wouse). " Sir, I have a small smattering in surgery," 
 answered the gentleman.^" A smattering ho, ho, 
 ho ! " said the surgeon ; " I believe it is a smattering 
 indeed." 
 
 The company were all attentive, expecting to hear 
 the doctor, who was what they call a dry fellow, expose 
 the gentleman. 
 
 He began therefore with an air of triumph : "I 
 suppose, sir, you have travelled?" "No, really, sir," 
 said the gentleman. " Ho ! then you have practised in 
 the hospitals perhaps ? " " No, sir." " Hum ! not that 
 neither ? Whence, sir, then, if I may be so bold to 
 inquire, have you got your knowledge in surgery ? " 
 " Sir," answered the gentleman, " I do not pretend to 
 much ; but the little I know I have from books." 
 " Books ! " cries the doctor. " What, I suppose you 
 have read Galen and Hippocrates ! " " No, sir," said 
 the gentleman. "How! you understand surgery," 
 answers the doctor, " and not read Galen and Hippo- 
 crates ? " " Sir," cries the other, " I believe there are 
 many surgeons who have never read these authors." 
 u I believe so too," says the doctor, " more shame for 
 them ; but, thanks to my education, I have them by 
 heart, and very seldom go without them both in my 
 pocket." "They are pretty large books," said the 
 gentleman. "Aye," said the doctor, "I believe I 
 
54 The Adventures of 
 
 know how large they are better than you." (At which 
 he fell a winking, and the whole company burst into a 
 laugh.) 
 
 The doctor pursuing his triumph, asked the gentleman, 
 " If he did not understand physic as well as surgery." 
 "Rather better," answered the gentleman. "Aye, 
 like enough," cries the doctor, with a wink. "Why, I 
 know a little of physic too." " I wish I knew half 
 so much," said Tow-wouse, " I'd never wear an apron 
 again." "Why, I believe, landlord," cries the doctor, 
 "there are few men, though I say it, within twelve 
 miles of the place, that handle a fever better. V 'entente 
 accurrite morbo : that is my method. I suppose, brother, 
 you understand Latin ? " " A little," says the gentle- 
 man. " Aye, and Greek now, I'll warrant you : Ton 
 dapomibominos poluflosboio Thalasses. But I have almost 
 forgot these things : I could have repeated Homer by 
 
 heart once." " Ifags ! the gentleman has caught a 
 
 tray tor," says Mrs Tow-wouse ; at which they all fell 
 a laughing. 
 
 The gentleman, who had not the least affection for 
 joking, very contentedly suffered the doctor to enjoy his 
 victory, which he did with no small satisfaction ; and, 
 having sufficiently sounded his depth, told him, " He was 
 thoroughly convinced of his great learning and abilities ; 
 and that he would be obliged to him if he would let 
 him know his opinion of his patient's case above-stairs." 
 " Sir," says the doctor, " his case is that of a dead 
 man the contusion on his head has perforated the 
 internal membrane of the occiput, and divelicated that 
 radical small minute invisible nerve which coheres to 
 the pericranium ; and this was attended with a fever at 
 first symptomatic, then pneumatic ; and he is at length 
 grown deliriuus, or delirious, as the vulgar express it." 
 
 He was proceeding in this learned manner, when a 
 mighty noise interrupted him. Some young fellows in 
 
Joseph Andrews 55 
 
 the neighbourhood had taken one of the thieves, and 
 were bringing him into the inn. Betty ran upstairs 
 with this news to Joseph, who begged they might search 
 for a little piece of broken gold, which had a ribband 
 tied to it, and which he could swear to amongst all the 
 hoards of the richest men in the universe. 
 
 Notwithstanding the fellow's persisting in his inno- 
 cence, the mob were very busy in searching him, and 
 presently, among other things, pulled out the piece of 
 gold just mentioned ; which Betty no sooner saw than 
 she laid violent hands on it, and conveyed it up to 
 Joseph, who received it with raptures of joy, and, hugging 
 it in his bosom, declared he could now die contented. 
 
 Within a few minutes afterwards came in some other 
 fellows, with a bundle which they had^ found in a ditch, 
 and which was indeed the cloaths which had been 
 stripped off from Joseph, and the other things they had 
 taken from him. 
 
 The gentleman no sooner saw the coat than he de- 
 clared he knew the livery ; and, if it had been taken 
 from the poor creature above-stairs, desired he might 
 see him ; for that he was very well acquainted with 
 the family to whom that livery belonged. 
 
 He was accordingly conducted up by Betty ; but 
 what, reader, was the surprize on both sides, when he 
 saw Joseph was the person in bed, and when Joseph 
 discovered the face of his good friend Mr Abraham 
 Adams ! 
 
 It would be impertinent to insert a discourse which 
 chiefly turned on the relation of matters already well 
 known to the reader ; for, as soon as the curate had 
 satisfied Joseph concerning the perfect health of his 
 Fanny, he was on his side very inquisitive into all the 
 particulars which had produced this unfortunate acci- 
 dent. 
 
 To return therefore to the kitchen, where a great 
 
56 The Adventures of 
 
 variety of company were now assembled from all the 
 rooms of the house, as well as the neighbourhood : so 
 much delight do men take in contemplating the counte- 
 nance of a thief. 
 
 Mr Tow-wouse began to rub his hands with pleasure 
 at seeing so large an assembly ; who would, he hoped, 
 shortly adjourn into several apartments, in order to dis- 
 course over the robbery, and drink a health to all honest 
 men. But Mrs Tow-wouse, whose misfortune it was 
 commonly to see things a little perversely, began to rail 
 at those who brought the fellow into her house ; telling 
 her husband, " They were very likely to thrive who kept 
 a house of entertainment for beggars and thieves." 
 
 The mob had now finished their search, and could 
 find nothing about the captive likely to prove any 
 evidence; for as* to the cloaths, though the mob were 
 very well satisfied with that proof, yet, as the surgeon 
 observed, they could not convict him, because they 
 were not found in his custody ; to which Barnabas 
 agreed, and added that these were bona waviata, and 
 belonged to the lord of the manor. 
 
 " How," says the surgeon, " do you say these goods 
 belong to the lord of the manor ? " " I do," cried 
 Barnabas. " Then I deny it," says the surgeon : 
 " what can the lord of the manor have to do in the 
 case ? Will any one attempt to persuade me that what 
 a man finds is not his own ? " " I have heard," says 
 an old fellow in the corner, "justice Wise-one say, that, 
 if every man had his right, whatever is found belongs 
 to the king of London." " That may be true," says 
 Barnabas, " in some sense ; for the law makes a 
 difference between things stolen and things found ; for 
 a thing may be stolen that never is found, and a thing 
 may be found that never was stolen : Now, goods that 
 are both stolen and found are <wa<viata ; and they be- 
 long to the lord of the manor." " So the lord of the 
 
Joseph Andrews 57 
 
 manor is the receiver of stolen goods/' says the doctor ; 
 at which there was an universal laugh, being first begun 
 by himself. 
 
 While the prisoner, by persisting in his innocence, 
 had almost (as there was no evidence against him) 
 brought over Barnabas, the surgeon, Tow-wouse, and 
 several others to his side, Betty informed them that 
 they had overlooked a little piece of gold, which she 
 had carried up to the man in bed, and which he offered 
 to swear to amongst a million, aye, amongst ten thou- 
 sand. This immediately turned the scale against the 
 prisoner, and every one now concluded him guilty. 
 It was resolved, therefore, to keep him secured that 
 night, and early in the morning to carry him before a 
 justice. 
 
 Chapter jru* 
 
 Showing how Mrs Tow-wousc was a Tittle mollified ; 
 and how officious Mr Barnabas and the surgeon 
 were to prosecute the thief : with a dissertation 
 accounting for their zeal, and that of many other 
 persons not mentioned in this history. 
 
 BETTY told her mistress she believed the man in 
 bed was a greater man than they took him for ; 
 for, besides the extreme whiteness of his skin, 
 and the softness of his hands, she observed a very great 
 familiarity between the gentleman and him ; and added, 
 she was certain they were intimate acquaintance, if not 
 relations. 
 
 This somewhat abated the severity of Mrs Tow- 
 wouse's countenance. She said, " God forbid she 
 should not discharge the duty of a Christian, since the 
 poor gentleman was brought to her house. She had a 
 natural antipathy to vagabonds ; but could pity the mis- 
 
58 The Adventures of 
 
 fortunes of a Christian as soon as another." Tow-wouse 
 said, " If the traveller be a gentleman, though he hath no 
 money about him now, we shall most likely be paid here- 
 after ; so you may begin to score whenever you will." 
 Mrs Tow-wouse answered, " Hold your simple tongue, 
 and don't instruct me in my business. I am sure I am 
 sorry for the gentleman's misfortune with all my heart ; 
 and I hope the villain who hath used him so barbarously 
 will be hanged. Betty, go see what he wants. God 
 forbid he should want anything in my house." 
 
 Barnabas and the surgeon went up to Joseph to satisfy 
 themselves concerning the piece of gold ; Joseph was with 
 difficulty prevailed upon to show it them, but would by 
 no entreaties be brought to deliver it out of his own pos- 
 session. He however attested this to be the same which 
 had been taken from him, and Betty was ready to swear 
 to the finding it on the thief. 
 
 The only difficulty that remained was, how to produce 
 this gold before the justice ; for as to carrying Joseph 
 himself, it seemed impossible ; nor was there any great 
 likelihood of obtaining it from him, for he had fastened 
 it with a ribband to his arm, and solemnly vowed that 
 nothing but irresistible force should ever separate them ; 
 in which resolution, Mr Adams, clenching a fist rather 
 less than the knuckle of an ox, declared he would sup- 
 port him. 
 
 A dispute arose on this occasion concerning evidence 
 not very necessary to be related here ; after which the 
 surgeon dressed Mr Joseph's head, still persisting in the 
 imminent danger in which his patient lay, but concluding, 
 with a very important look, "That he began to have 
 some hopes ; that he should send him a sanative sopo- 
 riferous draught, and would see him in the morning." 
 After which Barnabas and he departed, and left Mr 
 Joseph and Mr Adams together. 
 
 Adams informed Joseph of the occasion of this journey 
 
Joseph Andrews 59 
 
 which he was making to London, namely, to publish three 
 volumes of sermons ; being encouraged, as he said, by an 
 advertisement lately set forth by the society of booksellers, 
 who proposed to purchase any copies offered to them, at 
 a price to be settled by two persons ; but though he 
 imagined he should get a considerable sum of money on 
 this occasion, which his family were in urgent need of, 
 he protested he would not leave Joseph in his present 
 condition : finally, he told him, " He had nine shillings 
 and threepence halfpenny in his pocket, which he was 
 welcome to use as he pleased." 
 
 This goodness of parson Adams brought tears into 
 Joseph's eyes ; he declared, " He had now a second 
 reason to desire life, that he might show his gratitude to 
 such a friend." Adams bade him " be cheerful ; for 
 that he plainly saw the surgeon, besides his ignorance, 
 desired to make a merit of curing him, though the 
 wounds in his head, he perceived, were by no means 
 dangerous ; that he was convinced he had no fever, 
 and doubted not but he would be able to travel in a day 
 or two." 
 
 These words infused a spirit into Joseph ; he said, 
 " He found himself very sore from the bruises, but had 
 no reason to think any of his bones injured, or that he 
 had received any harm in his inside, unless that he felt 
 something very odd in his stomach ; but he knew not 
 whether that might not arise from not having eaten one 
 morsel for above twenty-four hours." Being then asked 
 if he had any inclination to eat, he answered in the 
 affirmative. Then parson Adams desired him to " name 
 what he had the greatest fancy for ; whether a poached 
 egg, or chicken-broth." He answered, " He could eat 
 both very well ; but that he seemed to have the greatest 
 appetite for a piece of boiled beef and cabbage." 
 
 Adams was pleased with so perfect a confirmation that 
 he had not the least fever, but advised him to a lighter 
 
60 The Adventures of 
 
 diet for that evening. He accordingly ate either a rabbit 
 or a fowl, I never could with any tolerable certainty 
 discover which ; after this he was, by Mrs Tow-wouse's 
 order, conveyed into a better bed and equipped with one 
 of her husband's shirts. 
 
 In the morning early, Barnabas and the surgeon came 
 to the inn, in order to see the thief conveyed before the 
 justice. They had consumed the whole night in debating 
 what measures they should take to produce the piece 
 of gold in evidence against him ; for they were both 
 extremely zealous in the business, though neither of them 
 were in the least interested in the prosecution ; neither 
 of them had ever received any private injury from the 
 fellow, nor had either of them ever been suspected of 
 loving the public k well enough to give them a sermon or 
 a dose of physic for nothing. 
 
 To help our reader, therefore, as much as possible to 
 account for this zeal, we must inform him that, as this 
 parish was so unfortunate as to have no lawyer in it, 
 there had been a constant contention between the two 
 doctors, spiritual and physical, concerning their abilities 
 in a science, in which, as neither of them professed 
 it, they had equal pretensions to dispute each other's 
 opinions. These disputes were carried on with great 
 contempt on both sides, and had almost divided the 
 parish ; Mr Tow-wouse and one half of the neighbours 
 inclining to the surgeon, and Mrs Tow-wouse with the 
 other half to the parson. The surgeon drew his know- 
 ledge from those inestimable fountains, called The 
 Attorney's Pocket Companion, and Mr Jacob's Law- 
 Tables ; Barnabas trusted entirely to Wood's Institutes. 
 It happened on this occasion, as was pretty frequently 
 the case, that these two learned men differed about the 
 sufficiency of evidence ; the doctor being of opinion that 
 the maid's oath would convict the prisoner without pro- 
 ducing the gold ; the parson, e contra, toils *ulribus. To 
 
Joseph Andrews 61 
 
 display their parts, therefore, before the justice and the 
 parish, was the sole motive which we can discover to 
 this zeal which both of them pretended to have for public 
 justice. 
 
 Vanity ! how little is thy force acknowledged, or 
 thy operations discerned ! How wantonly dost thou 
 deceive mankind under different disguises ! Sometimes 
 thou dost wear the face of pity, sometimes of generosity : 
 nay, thou hast the assurance even to put on those glorious 
 ornaments which belong only to heroic virtue. Thou 
 odious, deformed monster ! whom priests hav* railed at, 
 philosophers despised, and poets ridiculed ; is there a 
 wretch so abandoned as to own thee for an acquaintance 
 in public ? yet, how few will refuse to enjoy thee in 
 private ? nay, thou art the pursuit of most men through 
 their lives. The greatest villainies are daily practised 
 to please thee ; nor is the meanest thief below, or the 
 greatest hero above, thy notice. Thy embraces are often 
 the sole aim and sole reward of the private robbery and 
 the plundered province. It is to pamper up thee, thou 
 harlot, that we attempt to withdraw from others what 
 we do not want, or to withhold from them what they 
 do. All our passions are thy slaves. Avarice itself 
 is often no more than thy handmaid, and even Lust 
 thy pimp. The bully Fear, like a coward, flies before 
 thee, and Joy and Grief hide their heads in thy 
 presence. 
 
 1 know thou wilt think that whilst I abuse thee I 
 court thee, and that thy love hath inspired me to write 
 this sarcastical panegyric on thee ; but thou art deceived : 
 I value thee not of a farthing ; nor will it give me any 
 pain if thou shouldst prevail on the reader to censure 
 this digression as arrant nonsense ; for know, to thy 
 confusion, that I have introduced thee for no other 
 purpose than to lengthen out a short chapter, and so I 
 return to my history. 
 
6 2 The Adventures of 
 
 Chapter jrtou 
 
 The escape of the thief. Mr Adams's disappointment. 
 The arrival of tivo very extraordinary personages ', 
 and the introduction of parson Adams to parson 
 Barnabas. 
 
 F^ ARNABAS and the surgeon, being returned, as 
 
 [j we have said, to the inn, in order to convey the 
 
 thief before the justice, were greatly concerned 
 
 to find a small accident had happened, which somewhat 
 
 disconcerted them ; and this was no other than the 
 
 thief's escape, who had modestly withdrawn himself by 
 
 night, declining all ostentation, and not chusing, in 
 
 imitation of some great men, to distinguish himself a: 
 
 the expense of being pointed at. 
 
 When the company had retired the evening before, 
 the thief was detained in a room where the constable, 
 and one of the young fellows who took him, were 
 planted as his guard. About the second watch a 
 general complaint of drought was made, both by the 
 prisoner and his keepers. Among whom it was at last 
 agreed that the constable should remain on duty, and 
 the young fellow call up the tapster ; in which dis- 
 position the latter apprehended not the least danger, as 
 the constable was well armed, and could besides easily 
 summon him back to his assistance, if the prisoner made 
 the least attempt to gain his liberty. 
 
 The young fellow had not long left the room before 
 it came into the constable's head that the prisoner might 
 leap on him by surprize, and, thereby preventing him 
 of the use of his weapons, especially the long staff in 
 which he chiefly confided, might reduce the success of 
 a struggle to a equal chance. He wisely, therefore, to 
 prevent this inconvenience, slipt out of the room himself, 
 and locked the door, waiting without with his staff in 
 
Joseph Andrews 63 
 
 his hand, ready lifted to fell the unhappy prisoner, if by 
 ill fortune he should attempt to break out. 
 
 But human life, as hath been discovered by some 
 great man or other (for I would by no means be un- 
 derstood to affect the honour of making any such dis- 
 covery), very much resembles a game at chess ; for as 
 in the latter, while a gamester is too attentive to secure 
 himself very strongly on one side the board, he is apt 
 to leave an unguarded opening on the other ; so doth 
 it often happen in life, and so did it happen on this 
 occasion ; for whilst the cautious constable with such 
 wonderful sagacity had possessed himself of the door, 
 he most unhappily forgot the window. 
 
 The thief, who played on the other side, no sooner 
 perceived this opening than he began to move that way ; 
 and, finding the passage easy, he took with him the 
 young fellow's hat, and without any ceremony stepped 
 into the street and made the best of his way. 
 
 The young fellow, returning with a double mug of 
 strong beer, was a little surprized to find the constable 
 at the door ; but much more so when, the door being 
 opened, he perceived the prisoner had made his escape, 
 and which way. He threw down the beer, and, with- 
 out uttering anything to the constable except a hearty 
 curse or two, he nimbly leapt out of the window, and 
 went again in pursuit of his prey, being very unwilling 
 to lose the reward which he had assured himself of. 
 
 The constable hath not been discharged of suspicion 
 on this account ; it hath been said that, not being con- 
 cerned in the taking the thief, he could not have been 
 entitled to any part of the reward if he had been con- 
 victed ; that the thief had several guineas in his pocket ; 
 that it was very unlikely he should have been guilty of 
 such an oversight ; that his pretence for leaving the 
 room was absurd ; that it was his constant maxim, that 
 a wise man never refused money on any conditions ; 
 
6 4 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 that at every election he always had sold his vote to 
 both parties, &c. 
 
 But, notwithstanding these and many other such 
 allegations, I am sufficiently convinced of his inno- 
 cence ; having been positively assured of it by those 
 who received their informations from his own mouth ; 
 which, in the opinion of some moderns, is the best and 
 indeed only evidence. 
 
 All the family were now up, and with many others 
 assembled in the kitchen, where Mr Tow-wouse was in 
 some tribulation ; the surgeon having declared that by 
 law he was liable to be indicted for the thief's escape, 
 as it was out of his house ; he was a little comforted, 
 however, by Mr Barnabas' s opinion, that as the escape 
 was by night the indictment would not lie. 
 
 Mrs Tow-wouse delivered herself in the following 
 words : " Sure never was such a fool as my husband ; 
 would any other person living have left a man in the 
 custody of such a drunken drowsy blockhead as Tom 
 Suckbribe ? " (which was the constable's name) ; " and 
 if he could be indicted without any harm to his wife 
 and children, I should be glad of it." (Then the 
 bell rung in Joseph's room. ) " Why Betty, John, 
 Chamberlain, where the devil are you all ? Have you 
 no ears, or no conscience, not to tend the sick better ? 
 See what the gentleman wants. Why don't you go 
 yourself, Mr Tow-wouse ? But any one may die for 
 you ; you have no more feeling than a deal board. If 
 a man lived a fortnight in your house without spending 
 a penny, you would never put him in mind of it. See 
 whether he drinks tea or coffee for breakfast." " Yes, 
 my dear," cried Tow-wouse. She then asked the 
 doctor and Mr Barnabas what morning's draught they 
 chose, who answered, they had a pot of cyder-and at 
 the fire ; which we will leave them merry over, and 
 return to Joseph. 
 
Joseph Andrews 65 
 
 He had rose pretty early this morning ; but, though 
 his wounds were far from threatening any danger, he 
 was so sore with the bruises, that it was impossible for 
 him to think of undertaking a journey yet ; Mr Adams, 
 therefore, whose stock was visibly decreased with the 
 expenses of supper and breakfast, and which could not 
 survive that day's scoring, began to consider how it was 
 possible to recruit it. At last he cried, " He had luckily 
 hit on a sure method, and, though it would oblige him 
 to return himself home together with Joseph, it mattered 
 not much." He then sent for Tow-wouse, and, taking 
 him into another room, told him " he wanted to borrow 
 three guineas, for which he would put ample security 
 into his hands." Tow-wouse, who expected a watch, 
 or ring, or something of double the value, answered, 
 "He believed he could furnish him." Upon which 
 Adams, pointing to his saddle-bag, told him, with a 
 face and voice full of solemnity, " that there were in 
 that bag no less than nine volumes of manuscript ser- 
 mons, as well worth a hundred pounds as a shilling 
 was worth twelve pence, and that he would deposit 
 one of the volumes in his hands by way of pledge ; not 
 doubting but that he would have the honesty to return 
 it on his repayment of the money ; for otherwise he must 
 be a very great loser, seeing that every volume would at 
 least bring him ten pounds, as he had been informed by 
 a neighbouring clergyman in the country ; for," said he, 
 " as to my own part, having never yet dealt in printing, ] 
 I do not pretend to ascertain the exact value of such 
 things." 
 
 Tow-wouse, who was a little surprized at the pawn, 
 said (and not without some truth), " That he was no 
 judge of the price of such kind of goods ; and as for 
 money, he really was very short." Adams answered, 
 "Certainly he would not scruple to lend him three 
 guineas on what was undoubtedly worth at least ten." 
 
66 The Adventures of 
 
 The landlord replied, " He did not believe he had so 
 much money in the house, and besides, he was to make 
 up a sum. He was very confident the books were of 
 much higher value, and heartily sorry it did not suit 
 him." He then cried out, "Coming sir!" though 
 nobody called ; and ran downstairs without any fear of 
 breaking his neck. 
 
 Poor Adams was extremely dejected at this dis- 
 appointment, nor knew he what further stratagem to 
 try. He immediately applied to his pipe, his constant 
 friend and comfort in his afflictions ; and, leaning over 
 the rails, he devoted himself to meditation, assisted 
 by the inspiring fumes of tobacco. 
 
 He had on a nightcap drawn over his wig, and a 
 short greatcoat, which half covered his cassock a 
 dress which, added to something comical enough in his 
 countenance, composed a figure likely to attract the eyes 
 of those who were not over given to observation. 
 
 Whilst he was smoaking his pipe in this posture, a 
 coach and six, with a numerous attendance, drove into 
 the inn. There alighted from the coach a young fellow 
 and a brace of pointers, after which another young fellow 
 leapt from the box, and shook the former by the hand ; 
 and both, together with the dogs, were instantly con- 
 ducted by Mr Tow-wouse into an apartment ; whither 
 as they passed, they entertained themselves with the 
 following short facetious dialogue : 
 
 " You are a pretty fellow for a coachman, Jack ! " 
 says he from the coach ; " you had almost overturned 
 us just now." " Pox take you ! " says the coachman ; 
 " if I had only broke your neck, it would have been 
 saving somebody else the trouble ; but I should have 
 been sorry for the pointers." " Why, you son of a 
 b ," answered the other, " if nobody could shoot better 
 than you, the pointers would be of no use."- " D n 
 me," says the coachman, " I will shoot with you five 
 
Joseph Andrews 67 
 
 guineas a shot." " You be hanged," says the other ; 
 " for five guineas you shall shoot at my a ." " Done," 
 says the coachman ; " I'll pepper you better than ever 
 you was peppered by Jenny Bouncer." " Pepper your 
 grandmother," says the other : " Here's Tow-wouse 
 will let you shoot at him for a shilling a time." " I 
 know his honour better," cries Tow-wouse ; " I never 
 saw a surer shot at a partridge. Every man misses now 
 and then ; but if I could shoot half as well as his 
 honour, I would desire no better livelihood than T 
 could get by my gun." "Pox on you," said the 
 coachman, " you demolish more game now than your 
 head's worth. There's a bitch, Tow-wouse: by G 
 she never blinked * a bird in her life." " I have a 
 puppy, not a year old, shall hunt with her for a 
 hundred," cries the other gentleman. " Done," says 
 the coachman : " but you will be pox'd before you make 
 the bett." " If you have a mind for a bett," cries the 
 coachman, " I will match my spotted dog with your 
 white bitch for a hundred, play or pay." " Done," 
 says the other : " and I'll run Baldface against Slouch 
 with you for another." " No," cries he from the box ; 
 " but I'll venture Miss Jenny against Baldface, or 
 Hannibal either." " Go to the devil," cries he from 
 the coach : " I will make every bett your own way, to 
 be sure ! I will m^tch Hannibal with Slouch for a 
 thousand, if you dare ; and I say done first." 
 
 They were now arrived ; and the reader will be very 
 contented to leave them, and repair to the kitchen ; where 
 Barnabas, the surgeon, and an exciseman were smoaking 
 their pipes over some cyder-and ; and where the servants, 
 who attended the two noble gentlemen we have just seen 
 alight, were now arrived. 
 
 " Tom," cries one of the footmen, " there's parson 
 
 * To blink is a term used to signify the dog's passing by a 
 bird without pointing at it. 
 
68 The Adventures of 
 
 Adams smoaking his pipe in the gallery." "Yes," says 
 Tom ; " I pulled off my hat to him, and the parson 
 spoke to me." 
 
 " Is the gentleman a clergyman, then ? " says Barnabas 
 (for his cassock had been tied up when he arrived). 
 "Yes, sir," answered the footman ; "and one there be 
 but few like."" Aye," said Barnabas ; " if I had 
 known it sooner, I should have desired his company ; 
 I would always shew a proper respect for the cloth : 
 but what say you, doctor, shall we adjourn into a room, 
 and invite him to take part of a bowl of punch ? " 
 
 This proposal was immediately agreed to and exe- 
 cuted ; and parson Adams accepting the invitation, 
 much civility passed between the two clergymen, who 
 both declared the great honour they had for the cloth. 
 They had not been long together before they entered 
 into a discourse on small tithes, which continued a full 
 hour, without the doctor or exciseman's having one 
 opportunity to offer a word. 
 
 It was then proposed to begin a general conversation, 
 and the exciseman opened on foreign affairs ; but a word 
 unluckily dropping from one of them introduced a dis- 
 sertation on the hardships suffered by the inferior clergy ; 
 which, after a long duration, concluded with bringing 
 the nine volumes of sermons on the carpet. 
 
 Barnabas greatly discouraged poor Adams ; he said, 
 " The age was so wicked, that nobody read sermons : 
 would you think it, Mr Adams ? " said he, " I once 
 intended to print a volume of sermons myself, and they 
 had the approbation of two or three bishops ; but what 
 do you think a bookseller offered me ? " " Twelve 
 guineas perhaps," cried Adams. " Not twelve pence, 
 I assure you," answered Barnabas : " nay, the dog re- 
 fused me a Concordance in exchange. At last I offered 
 to give him the printing them, for the sake of dedicating 
 them to that very gentleman who just now drove his own 
 
Joseph Andrews 69 
 
 coach into the inn ; and, I assure you, he had the im- 
 pudence to refuse my offer ; by which means I lost a 
 good living, that was afterwards given away in exchange 
 for a pointer, to one who but I will not say anything 
 against the cloth. So you may guess, Mr Adams, what 
 you are to expect ; for if sermons would have gone down, 
 I believe I will not be vain ; but to be concise with 
 you, three bishops said they were the best that ever were 
 writ : but indeed there are a pretty moderate number 
 printed already, and not all sold yet." " Pray, sir/' 
 said Adams, " to what do you think the numbers may 
 amount ? " " Sir," answered Barnabas, " a bookseller 
 told me, he believed five thousand volumes at least." 
 " Five thousand ? " quoth the surgeon : " What can 
 they be writ upon ? I remember when I was a boy, 
 I used to read one Tillotson's sermons ; and, I am sure, 
 if a man practised half so much as is in one of those 
 sermons, he will go to heaven." "Doctor," cried 
 Barnabas, "you have a prophane way of talking, for 
 which I must reprove you. A man can never have his 
 duty too frequently inculcated into him. And as for 
 Tillotson, to be sure he was a good writer, and said 
 things very well ; but comparisons are odious ; another 
 
 man may write as well as he 1 believe there are 
 
 gome of my sermons," and then he applied the 
 
 candle to his pipe. "And I believe there are some 
 of my discourses," cries Adams, " which the bishops 
 would not think totally unworthy of being printed ; and 
 I have been informed I might procure a very large sum 
 (indeed an immense one) on them." " I doubt that," 
 answered Barnabas : " however, if you desire to make 
 some money of them, perhaps you may sell them by 
 advertising the manuscript sermons of a clergyman 
 lately deceased, all warranted originals, and never 
 printed. And now I think of it, I should be obliged 
 to you, if there be ever a funeral one among them, to 
 
70 The Adventures of 
 
 lend it me ; for I am this very day to preach a funeral 
 sermon, for which I have not penned a line, though I 
 am to have a double price." Adams answered, " He 
 had but one, which he feared would not serve his 
 purpose, being sacred to the memory of a magistrate, 
 who had exerted himself very singularly in the pre- 
 servation of the morality of his neighbours, insomuch 
 that he had neither alehouse nor lewd woman in the 
 parish where he lived." "No," replied Barnabas, 
 " that will not do quite so well ; for the deceased, upon 
 whose virtues I am to harangue, was a little too much 
 
 addicted to liquor, and publickly kept a mistress. 1 
 
 believe I must take a common sermon, and trust to my 
 memory to introduce something handsome on him." 
 " To your invention rather," said the doctor : " your 
 memory will be apter to put you out ; for no man living 
 remembers anything good of him." 
 
 With such kind of spiritual discourse, they emptied 
 the bowl of punch, paid their reckoning, and separated : 
 Adams and the doctor went up to Joseph, parson 
 Barnabas departed to celebrate the aforesaid deceased, 
 and the exciseman descended into the cellar to gauge 
 the vessels. 
 
 Joseph was now ready to sit down to a loin of 
 mutton, and waited for Mr Adams, when he and the 
 doctor came in. The doctor, having felt his pulse 
 and examined his wounds, declared him much better, 
 which he imputed to that sanative soporiferous draught, 
 a medicine "whose virtues," he said, "were never to 
 be sufficiently extolled." And great indeed they must 
 be, if Joseph was so much indebted to them as the 
 doctor imagined ; since nothing more than those effluvia 
 which escaped the cork could have contributed to his 
 recovery ; for the medicine had stood untouched in the 
 window ever since its arrival. 
 
 Joaeph passed that day, and the three following, with 
 
Joseph Andrews 71 
 
 his friend Adams, in which nothing so remarkable 
 happened as the swift progress of his recovery. As he 
 had an excellent habit of body, his wounds were now 
 almost healed ; and his bruises gave him so little un- 
 easiness, that he pressed Mr Adams to let him depart ; 
 told him he should never be able to return sufficient 
 thanks for all his favours, but begged that he might no 
 longer delay his journey to London. 
 
 Adams, notwithstanding the ignorance, as he con- 
 ceived it, of Mr Tow-wouse, and the envy (for such 
 he thought it) of Mr Barnabas, had great expectations 
 from his sermons : seeing therefore Joseph in so good a 
 way, he told him he would agree to his setting out the 
 next morning in the stage-coach, that he believed he 
 should have sufficient, after the reckoning paid, to pro- 
 cure him one day's conveyance in it, and afterwards he 
 would be able to get on on foot, or might be favoured 
 with a lift in some neighbour's waggon, especially as 
 there was then to be a fair in the town whither the 
 coach would carry him, to which numbers from his 
 parish resorted And as to himself, he agreed to pro- 
 ceed to the great city. 
 
 They were now walking in the inn-yard, when a fat, 
 fair, short person rode in, and, alighting from his horse, 
 went directly up to Barnabas, who was smoaking his 
 pipe on a bench. The parson and the stranger shook 
 one another very lovingly by the hand, and went into 
 a room together. 
 
 The evening now coming on, Joseph retired to his 
 chamber, whither the good Adams accompanied him, 
 and took this opportunity to expatiate on the great 
 mercies God had lately shown him, of which he ought 
 not only to have the deepest inward sense, but likewise 
 to express outward thankfulness for them. They there- 
 fore fell both on their knees, and spent a considerable 
 time in prayer and thanksgiving. 
 
72 The Adventures of 
 
 They had just finished when Betty came in and told 
 Mr Adams Mr Barnabas desired to speak to him on 
 some business of consequence below-stairs. Joseph de- 
 sired, if it was likely to detain him long, he would let 
 him know it, that he might go to bed, which Adams 
 promised, and in that case they wished one another 
 good-night. 
 
 Chapter 
 
 A pleasant discourse between the two parsons and the 
 bookseller, which e was broke off by an unlucky 
 accident happening in the inn, 'which produced a 
 dialogue between Mrs To i w~ t wouse and her maid oj 
 no gentle kind. 
 
 AS soon as Adams came into the room, Mr Barnabas 
 introduced him to the stranger, who was, he 
 told him, a bookseller, and would be as likely 
 to deal with him for his sermons as any man whatever. 
 Adams, saluting the stranger, answered Barnabas, that 
 he was very much obliged to him ; that nothing could 
 be more convenient, for he had no other business to the 
 great city, and was heartily desirous of returning with 
 the young man, who was just recovered of his mis- 
 fortune. He then snapt his fingers (as was usual with 
 him), and took two or three turns about the room in 
 an extasy. And to induce the bookseller to be as ex- 
 peditious as possible, as likewise to offer him a better 
 price for his commodity, he assured them their meeting 
 was extremely lucky to himself; for that he had the 
 most pressing occasion for money at that time, his own 
 being almost spent, and having a friend then in the 
 same inn, who was just recovered from some wounds 
 he had received from robbers, and was in a most indi- 
 gent condition. " So that nothing," says he, " could 
 
Joseph Andrews 73 
 
 be so opportune for the supplying both our necessities 
 as my making an immediate bargain with you." 
 
 As soon as he had seated himself, the stranger began 
 in these words : " Sir, I do not care absolutely to deny 
 engaging in what my friend Mr Barnabas recommends ; 
 but sermons are mere drugs. The trade is so vastly 
 stocked with them, that really, unless they come out 
 with the name of Whitefield or Wesley, or some other 
 such great man, as a bishop, or those sort of people, J 
 don't care to touch ; unless now it was a sermon 
 preached on the 3<Dth of January ; or we could say in 
 the title-page, published at the earnest request of the 
 congregation, or the inhabitants ; but, truly, for a dry 
 piece of sermons, I had rather be excused ; especially 
 as my hands are so full at present. However, sir, as 
 Mr Barnabas mentioned them to me, I will, if you 
 please, take the manuscript with me to town, and send 
 you my opinion of it in a very short time." 
 
 " Oh ! " said Adams, " if you desire it, I will read 
 two or three discourses as a specimen." This Barnabas, 
 who loved sermons no better than a grocer doth figs, 
 immediately objected to, and advised Adams to let the 
 bookseller have his sermons : telling him, " If he gave 
 him a direction, he might be certain of a speedy answer ; " 
 adding, he need not scruple trusting them in his pos- 
 session. " No," said the bookseller, " if it was a play 
 that had been acted twenty nights together, I believe it 
 would be safe." 
 
 Adams did not at all relish the last expression ; he 
 said " he was sorry to hear sermons compared to plays." 
 " Not by me, I assure you," cried the bookseller, " though 
 I don't know whether the licensing act may not shortly 
 bring them to the same footing ; but I have formerly 
 known a hundred guineas given for a play." " More 
 shame for those who gave it," cried Barnabas. " Why 
 10 ? " said the bookseller, " for they got hundreds by it." 
 
74 The Adventures of 
 
 " But is there no difference between conveying good 
 or ill instructions to mankind ? " said Adams : " Would 
 not an honest mind rather lose money by the one, than 
 gain it by the other ? " " If you can find any such, I 
 will not be their hindrance," answered the bookseller ; 
 "but I think those persons who get by preaching sermons 
 are the properest to lose by printing them : for my part, 
 the copy that sells best will be always the best copy in 
 my opinion ; I am no enemy to sermons, but because 
 they don't sell : for I would as soon print one of White- 
 field's as any farce whatever." 
 
 " Whoever prints such heterodox stuff ought to be 
 hanged," says Barnabas. "Sir," said he, turning to 
 Adams, "this fellow's writings (I know not whether 
 you have seen them) are levelled at the clergy. He 
 would reduce us to the example of the primitive ages, 
 forsooth ! and would insinuate to the people that a 
 clergyman ought to be always preaching and praying. 
 He pretends to understand the Scripture literally ; and 
 would make mankind believe that the poverty and low 
 estate which was recommended to the Church in its in- 
 fancy, and was only temporary doctrine adapted to her 
 under persecution, was to be preserved in her flourish- 
 ing and established state. Sir, the principles of Toland, 
 Woolston, and all the freethinkers, are not calculated to 
 do half the mischief, as those professed by this fellow 
 and his followers." 
 
 "Sir," answered Adams, "if Mr Whitefield had 
 carried his doctrine no farther than you mention, I should 
 have remained, as I once was, his well-wisher. I am, 
 myself, as great an enemy to the luxury and splendour of 
 the clergy as he can be. I do not, more than he, by the 
 flourishing estate of the Church, understand the palaces, 
 equipages, dress, furniture, rich dainties, and vast for- 
 tunes, of her ministers. Surely those things, whicfr 
 savour so strongly of this world, become not the servant 
 
Joseph Andrews 75 
 
 of one who professed His kingdom was not of it. But 
 when he began to call nonsense and enthusiasm to his aid, 
 and set up the detestable doctrine of faith against good 
 works, I was his friend no longer ; for surely that doc- 
 trine was coined in hell ; and one would think none but 
 the devil himself could have the confidence to preach it. 
 For can anything be more derogatory to the honour of 
 God than for men to imagine that the all-wise Being 
 will hereafter say to the good and virtuous, ' Notwith- 
 standing the purity of thy life, notwithstanding that con- 
 stant rule of virtue and goodness in which you walked 
 upon earth, still, as thou didst not believe everything 
 in the true orthodox manner, thy want of faith shall 
 condemn thee?' Or, on the other side, can any 
 doctrine have a more pernicious influence on society, 
 than a persuasion that it will be a good plea for 
 the villain at the last day * Lord, it is true I never 
 obeyed one of thy commandments, yet punish me 
 not, for I believe them all ? ' " " I suppose, sir," 
 said the bookseller, " your sermons are of a different 
 kind." " Aye, sir," said Adams ; " the contrary, I 
 thank Heaven, is inculcated in almost every page, or I 
 should belye my own opinion, which hath always been, 
 that a virtuous and good Turk, or heathen, are more 
 acceptable in the sight of their Creator than a vicious 
 and wicked Christian, though his faith was as perfectly 
 orthodox as St Paul's himself." " I wish you success," 
 says the bookseller, " but must beg to be excused, as my 
 hands are so very full at present ; and, indeed, I am 
 afraid you will find a backwardness in the trade to 
 engage in a book which the clergy would be certain 
 to cry down." " God forbid," says Adams, " any 
 books should be propagated which the clergy would 
 cry down ; but if you mean by the clergy, some few 
 designing factious men, who have it at heart to establish 
 some favourite schemes at the price of the liberty of 
 
76 The Adventures of 
 
 mankind, and the very essence of religion, it is not in 
 the power of such persons to decry any book they 
 please ; witness that excellent book called, * A Plain 
 Account of the Nature and End of the Sacrament ; ' 
 a book written (if I may venture on the expression) 
 with the pen of an angel, and calculated to restore the 
 true use of Christianity, and of that sacred institution ; 
 for what could tend more to the noble purposes of 
 religion than frequent chearful meetings among the 
 members of a society, in which they should, in the 
 presence of one another, and in the service of the 
 Supreme Being, make promises of being good, friendly, 
 and benevolent to each other? Now, this excellent 
 book was attacked by a party, but unsuccessfully." 
 At these words Barnabas fell a-ringing with all the 
 violence imaginable ; upon which a servant attending, 
 he bid him " bring a bill immediately ; for that he was 
 in company, for aught he knew, with the devil him- 
 self; and he expected to hear the Alcoran, the Levia- 
 than, or Woolston commended, if he staid a few minutes 
 longer." Adams desired, "as he was so much moved 
 at his mentioning a book which he did without appre- 
 hending any possibility of offence, that he would be so 
 kind to propose any objections he had to it, which he 
 would endeavour to answer." " I propose objections ! " 
 said Barnabas, " I never read a syllable in any such 
 wicked book ; I never saw it in my life, I assure you." 
 Adams was going to answer, when a most hideous 
 uproar began in the inn. Mrs Tow-wouse, Mr Tow- 
 wouse, and Betty, all lifting up their voices together ; 
 but Mrs Tow-wouse's voice, like a bass viol in a 
 concert, was clearly and distinctly distinguished among 
 the rest, and was heard to articulate the following 
 lounds : u O you damn'd villain ! is this the return 
 to all the care I have taken of your family ? This the 
 reward of my virtue ? Is this the manner in which you 
 
Joseph Andrews 77 
 
 behave to one who brought you a fortune, and preferred 
 you to so many matches, all your betters ? To abuse 
 my bed, my own bed, with my own servant ! but I'll 
 maul the slut, I'll tear her nasty eyes out ! Was ever 
 such a pitiful dog, to take up with such a mean trollop? 
 If she had been a gentlewoman, like myself, it had been 
 some excuse ; but a beggarly, saucy, dirty servant-maid. 
 Get you out of my house, you whore." To which she 
 added another name, which we do not care to stain our 
 paper with. It was a monosyllable beginning with a i 
 b , and indeed was the same as if she had pronounced 
 the words, she-dog. Which term we shall, to avoid 
 offence, use on this occasion, though indeed both the 
 mistress and maid uttered the above-mentioned b , a 
 word extremely disgustful to females of the lower sort. 
 Betty had borne all hitherto with patience, and had 
 uttered only lamentations ; but the last appellation stung 
 her to the quick. " I am a woman as well as your- 
 self," she roared out, " and no she-dog ; and if I have 
 been a little naughty, I am not the first ; if I have been 
 no better than I should be," cries she, sobbing, " that's 
 no reason you should call me out of my name ; my 
 be-betters are wo-rse than me." "Huzzy, huzzy," 
 says Mrs Tow-wouse, "have you the impudence to 
 answer me ? Did I not catch you, you saucy " and 
 then again repeated the terrible word so odious to female 
 ears. " I can't bear that name," answered Betty : " if I 
 have been wicked, I am to answer for it myself in the 
 other world ; but I have done nothing that's unnatural ; 
 and I will go out of your house this moment, for I will 
 never be called she-dog by any mistress in England." 
 Mrs Tow-wouse then armed herself with the spit, but 
 was prevented from executing any dreadful purpose by 
 Mr Adams, who confined her arms with the strength 
 of a wrist which Hercules would not have been ashamed 
 of. Mr Tow-wouse, being caught, as our lawyers 
 
 E 467 
 
78 The Adventures of 
 
 express it, with the manner, and having no defence 
 to make, very prudently withdrew himself; and Betty 
 committed herself to the protection of the hostler, who, 
 though she could not conceive him pleased with what 
 had happened, was, in her opinion, rather a gentler beast 
 than her mistress. 
 
 Mrs Tow-wouse, at the intercession of Mr Adams, 
 and finding the enemy vanished, began to compose her- 
 self, and at length recovered the usual serenity of her 
 temper, in which we will leave her, to open to the 
 reader the steps which led to a catastrophe, common 
 enough, and comical enough too perhaps, in modern 
 history, yet often fatal to the repose and well-being of 
 families, and the subject of many tragedies, both in life 
 and on the stage. 
 
 Chapter jbtij, 
 
 The history of Betty the chambermaid, and an account of 
 what occasioned the violent 'scene in the preceding 
 chapter. 
 
 BETTY, who was the occasion of all this hurry, 
 had some good qualities. She had good-nature, 
 generosity, and compassion, but unfortunately, her 
 constitution was composed of those warm ingredients 
 which, though the purity of courts or nunneries might 
 have happily controuled them, were by no means able to 
 endure the ticklish situation of a chambermaid at an inn ; 
 who is daily liable to the solicitations of lovers of all 
 complexions ; to the dangerous addresses of fine gentle- 
 men of the army, who sometimes are obliged to reside 
 with them a whole year together ; and, above all, are 
 exposed to the caresses of footmen, stage-coachmen, and 
 drawers ; all of whom employ the whole artillery of 
 kissing, flattering, bribing, and every other weapon which 
 
Joseph Andrews 79 
 
 is to be found in the whole armoury of love, against 
 them. 
 
 Betty, who was but one-and-twenty, had now lived 
 three years in this dangerous situation, during which she 
 had escaped pretty well. An ensign of foot was the 
 first person who made an impression on her heart ; he 
 did indeed raise a flame in her which required the care 
 of a surgeon to cool. 
 
 While she burnt for him, several others burnt for her. 
 Officers of the army, young gentlemen travelling the 
 western circuit, inoffensive squires, and some of graver 
 character, were set a-fire by her charms ! 
 
 At length, having perfectly recovered the effects of 
 her first unhappy passion, she seemed to have vowed a 
 state of perpetual chastity. She was long deaf to all 
 the sufferings of her lovers, till one day, at a neighbour- 
 ing fair, the rhetoric of John the hostler, with a new 
 straw hat and a pint of wine, made a second conquest 
 over her. 
 
 She did not, however, feel any of those flames on 
 this occasion which had been the consequence of her 
 former amour ; nor, indeed, those other ill effects which 
 prudent young women very justly apprehend from too 
 absolute an indulgence to the pressing endearments of their 
 lovers. This latter, perhaps, was a little owing to her 
 not being entirely constant to John, with whom she per- 
 mitted Tom Whipwell the stage-coachman, and now and 
 then a handsome young traveller, to share her favours. 
 
 Mr Tow-wouse had for some time cast the languish- 
 ing eyes of affection on this young maiden. He had laid 
 hold on every opportunity of saying tender things to her, 
 squeezing her by the hand, and sometimes kissing her 
 lips ; for, as the violence of his passion had consider- 
 ably abated to Mrs Tow-wouse, so, like water, which 
 is stopt from its usual current in one place, it naturally 
 sought a vent in another. Mrs Tow-wouse is thought 
 
80 The Adventures of 
 
 to have perceived this abatement, and, probably, it 
 added very little to the natural sweetness of her temper ; 
 for though she was as true to her husband as the dial to 
 the sun, she was rather more desirous of being shone 
 on, as being more capable of feeling his warmth. 
 
 Ever since Joseph's arrival, Betty had conceived an 
 extraordinary liking to him, which discovered itself 
 more and more as he grew better and better ; till that 
 fatal evening, when, as she was warming his bed, her 
 passion grew to such a height, and so perfectly mastered 
 both her modesty and her reason, that, after many 
 fruitless hints and sly insinuations, she at last threw 
 down the warming-pan, and, embracing him with great 
 eagerness, swore he was the handsomest creature she 
 had ever seen. 
 
 Joseph, in great confusion, leapt from her, and told 
 her he was sorry to see a young woman cast off all re- 
 gard to modesty ; but she had gone too far to recede, 
 and grew so very indecent, that Joseph was obliged, 
 contrary to his inclination, to use some violence to her ; 
 and, taking her in his arms, he shut her out of the 
 room, and locked the door. 
 
 How ought man to rejoice that his chastity is always 
 in his own power ; that, if he hath sufficient strength of 
 mind, he hath always a competent strength of body to 
 defend himself, and cannot, like a poor weak woman, 
 be ravished against his will ! 
 
 Betty was in the most violent agitation at this dis- 
 appointment. Rage and lust pulled her heart, as with 
 two strings, two different ways ; one moment she 
 thought of stabbing Joseph ; the next, of taking him 
 in her arms, and devouring him with kisses ; but the 
 latter passion was far more prevalent. Then she 
 thought of revenging his refusal on herself; but, whilst 
 she was engaged in this meditation, happily death pre- 
 sented himself to her in so many shapes, of drowning, 
 
Joseph Andrews 8 1 
 
 hanging, poisoning, &c., that her distracted mind could 
 resolve on none. In this perturbation of spirit, it 
 accidentally occurred to her memory that her master's 
 bed was not made ; she therefore went directly to his 
 room, where he happened at that time to be engaged 
 at his bureau. As soon as she saw him, she attempted 
 to retire ; but he called her back, and, taking her by 
 the hand, squeezed her so tenderly, at the same time 
 whispering so many soft things into her ears, and then 
 pressed her so closely with his kisses, that the vanquished 
 fair one, whose passions were already raised, and which 
 were not so whimsically capricious that one man only 
 could lay them, though, perhaps, she would have rather 
 preferred that one the vanquished fair one quietly 
 submitted, I say, to her master's will, who had just 
 attained the accomplishment of his bliss when Mrs 
 Tow-wouse unexpectedly entered the room, and caused 
 all that confusion which we have before seen, and 
 which it is not necessary, at present, to take any 
 farther notice of; since, without the assistance of a 
 single hint from us, every reader of any speculation or 
 experience, though not married himself, may easily con- 
 jecture that it concluded with the discharge of Betty, 
 the submission of Mr Tow-wouse, with some things to 
 be performed on his side by way of gratitude for his 
 wife's goodness in being reconciled to him, with many 
 hearty promises never to offend any more in the like 
 manner ; and, lastly, his quietly and contentedly bear- 
 ing to be reminded of his transgressions, as a kind of 
 penance, once or twice a day during the residue of his 
 life, 
 
BOOK II. 
 Chapter u 
 
 Of Divisions in Authors, 
 
 THERE are certain mysteries or secrets in all 
 trades, from the highest to the lowest, from 
 that of prime-ministering to this of authoring, 
 which are seldom discovered unless to members of the 
 same calling. Among those used by us gentlemen of 
 the latter occupation, I take this of dividing our works 
 into books and chapters to be none of the least con- 
 siderable. Now, for want of being truly acquainted 
 with this secret, common readers imagine, that by this 
 art of dividing we mean only to swell our works to 
 a much larger bulk than they would otherwise be 
 extended to. These several places therefore in our 
 paper, which are filled with our books and chapters, 
 are understood as so much buckram, stays, and stay-tape 
 in a taylor's bill, serving only to make up the sum total, 
 commonly found at the bottom of our first page and of 
 his last. 
 
 But in reality the case is otherwise, and in this as 
 well as all other instances we consult the advantage of 
 our reader, not our own ; and indeed, many notable 
 uses arise to him from this method ; for, first, those 
 little spaces between our chapters may be looked upon 
 as an inn or resting-place where he may stop and take 
 a glass or any other refreshment as it pleases him. 
 Nay, our fine readers will, perhaps, be scarce able to 
 
Joseph Andrews 83 
 
 travel farther than through one of them in a day. As 
 to those vacant pages which are placed between our 
 books, they are to be regarded as those stages where in 
 long journies the traveller stays some time to repose 
 himself, and consider of what he hath seen in the parts 
 he hath already passed through ; a consideration which 
 I take the liberty to recommend a little to the reader ; 
 for, however swift his capacity may be, I would not 
 advise him to travel through these pages too fast ; for 
 if he doth, he may probably miss the seeing some 
 curious productions of nature, which will be observed 
 by the slower and more accurate reader. A volume 
 without any such places of rest resembles the opening 
 of wilds or seas, which tires the eye and fatigues the 
 spirit when entered upon. 
 
 Secondly, what are the contents prefixed to every 
 chapter but so many inscriptions over the gates of inns 
 (to continue the same metaphor), informing the reader 
 what entertainment he is to expect, which if he likes 
 not, he may travel on to the next ; for, in biography, 
 as we are not tied down to an exact concatenation 
 equally with other historians, so a chapter or two (for 
 instance, this I am now writing) may be often passed 
 over without any injury to the whole. And in these 
 inscriptions I have been as faithful as possible, not 
 imitating the celebrated Montaigne, who promises you 
 one thing and gives you another ; nor some title-page 
 authors, who promise a great deal and produce nothing 
 at all. 
 
 There are, besides these more obvious benefits, several 
 others which our readers enjoy from this art of dividing ; 
 though perhaps most of them too mysterious to be 
 presently understood by any who are not initiated into 
 the science of authoring. To mention, therefore, but 
 one which is most obvious, it prevents spoiling the 
 beauty of a book by turning down its leaves, a method 
 
84 The Adventures of 
 
 otherwise necessary to those readers who (though they 
 read with great improvement and advantage) are apt, 
 when they return to their study after half-an-hour's 
 absence, to forget where they left off. 
 
 These divisions have the sanction of great antiquity. 
 Homer not only divided his great work into twenty-four 
 books (in compliment perhaps to the twenty-four letters 
 to which he had very particular obligations), but, accord- 
 ing to the opinion of some very sagacious critics, hawked 
 them all separately, delivering only one book at a time 
 (probably by subscription). He was the first inven- 
 tor of the art which hath so long lain dormant, of 
 publishing by numbers ; an art now brought to such 
 perfection, that even dictionaries are divided and ex- 
 hibited piecemeal to the public ; nay, one bookseller hath 
 (to encourage learning and ease the public) contrived 
 to give them a dictionary in this divided manner for only 
 fifteen shillings more than it would have cost entire. 
 
 Virgil hath given us his poem \n twelve books, an 
 argument of his modesty ; for by that, doubtless, he 
 would insinuate that he pretends to no more than half 
 the merit of the Greek ; for the same reason, our 
 Milton went originally no farther than ten ; till, being 
 puffed up by the praise of his friends, he put himself 
 on the same footing with the Roman poet. 
 
 I shall not, however, enter so deep into this matter 
 as some very learned cri ticks have done ; who have with 
 infinite labour and acute discernment discovered what 
 books are proper for embellishment, and what require 
 simplicity only, particularly with regard to similes, 
 which I think are now generally agreed to become any 
 book but the first. 
 
 I will dismiss this chapter with the following obser- 
 vation : that it becomes an author generally to divide a 
 book, as it does a butcher to joint his meat, for such 
 assistance is of great help to both the reader and the 
 
Joseph Andrews 85 
 
 carver. And now, having indulged myself a little, I 
 will endeavour to indulge the curiosity of my reader, 
 who is no doubt impatient to know what he will find 
 in the subsequent chapters of this book. 
 
 C&apter if, 
 
 A surprizing Instance of Mr Adams's short memory^ 
 'with the unfortunate consequences which It brought 
 on Joseph. 
 
 MR ADAMS and Joseph were now ready to depart 
 different ways, when an accident determined 
 the former to return with his friend, which 
 Tow-wouse, Barnabas, and the bookseller had not been 
 able to do. This accident was, that those sermons, 
 which the parson was travelling to London to publish, 
 were, O my good reader ! left behind ; what he had 
 mistaken for them in the saddlebags being no other 
 than three shirts, a pair of shoes, and some other 
 necessaries, which Mrs Adams, who thought her hus- 
 band would want shirts more than sermons on his 
 journey, had carefully provided him. 
 
 This discovery was now luckily owing to the presence 
 of Joseph at the opening the saddlebags ; who, having 
 heard his friend say he carried with him nine volumes 
 of sermons, and not being of that sect of philosophers 
 who can reduce all the matter of the world into a nut- 
 shell, seeing there was no room for them in the bags, 
 where the parson had said they were deposited, had 
 the curiosity to cry out, " Bless me, sir, where are your 
 sermons ? " The parson answered, " There, there, 
 child ; there they are, under my shirts." Now it 
 happened that he had taken forth his last shirt, and 
 the vehicle remained visibly empty. " Sure, sir," says 
 
86 The Adventures of 
 
 Joseph, " there is nothing in the bags." Upon which 
 Adams, starting, and testifying some surprize, cried, 
 " Hey ! fie, fie upon it ! they are not here sure enough. 
 Ay, they are certainly left behind." 
 
 Joseph was greatly concerned at the uneasiness which 
 he apprehended his friend must feel from this disap- 
 pointment ; he begged him to pursue his journey, and 
 promised he would himself return with the books to 
 him with the utmost expedition. " No, thank you, 
 child," answered Adams ; " it shall not be so. What 
 would it avail me, to tarry in the great city, unless I 
 had my discourses with me, which are ut tta dicam^ the 
 sole cause, the attta monotate of my peregrination ? No, 
 child, as this accident hath happened, I am resolved to 
 return back to my cure, together with you ; which 
 indeed my inclination sufficiently leads me to. This 
 disappointment may perhaps be intended for my good." 
 He concluded with a verse out of Theocritus, which 
 signifies no more than that sometimes it rains, and 
 sometimes the sun shines. 
 
 Joseph bowed with obedience and thankfulness for 
 the inclination which the parson expressed of returning 
 with him ; and now the bill was called for, which, on 
 examination, amounted within a shilling to the sum Mr 
 Adams had in his pocket. Perhaps the reader may 
 wonder how he was able to produce a sufficient sum for 
 so many days : that he may not be surprized, therefore, 
 it cannot be unnecessary to acquaint him that he had 
 borrowed a guinea of a servant belonging to the coach 
 and six, who had been formerly one of his parishioners, 
 and whose master, the owner of the coach, then lived 
 within three miles of him ; for so good was the credit 
 of Mr Adams, that even Mr Peter, the Lady Booby's 
 steward, would have lent him a guinea with very little 
 security. 
 
 Mr Adams discharged the bill, and they were both 
 
Joseph Andrews 87 
 
 setting out, having agreed to ride and tie ; a method of 
 travelling much used by persons who have but one horse 
 between them, and is thus performed. The two travellers 
 set out together, one on horseback, the other on foot : 
 now, as it generally happens that he on horseback out- 
 goes him on foot, the custom is, that, when he arrives 
 at the distance agreed on, he is to dismount, tie the 
 horse to some gate, tree, post, or other thing, and then 
 proceed on foot ; when the other comes up to the horse 
 he unties him, mounts, and gallops on, till, having passed 
 by his fellow-traveller, he likewise arrives at the place 
 of tying. And this is that method of travelling so much 
 in use among our prudent ancestors, who knew that 
 horses had mouths as well as legs, and that they could 
 not use the latter without being at the expense of suffer- 
 ing the beasts themselves to use the former. This was 
 the method in use in those days when, instead of a coach 
 and six, a member of parliament's lady used to mount a 
 pillion behind her husband ; and a grave serjeant at 
 law condescended to amble to Westminster on an easy 
 pad, with his clerk kicking his heels behind him. 
 
 Adams was now gone some minutes, having insisted 
 on Joseph's beginning the journey on horseback, and 
 Joseph had his foot in the stirrup, when the hostler 
 presented him a bill for the horse's board during his 
 residence at the inn. Joseph said Mr Adams had paid 
 all ; but this matter, being referred to Mr Tow-wouse, 
 was by him decided in favour of the hostler, and indeed 
 with truth and justice ; for this was a fresh instance of 
 that shortness of memory which did not arise from want 
 of parts, but that continual hurry in which parson Adams 
 was always involved. 
 
 Joseph was now reduced to a dilemma which ex- 
 tremely puzzled him. The sum due for horse-meat 
 was twelve shillings (for Adams, who had borrowed the 
 beast of his clerk, had ordered him to be fed as well 
 
88 The Adventures of 
 
 as they could feed him), and the cash in his pocket 
 amounted to sixpence (for Adams had divided the last 
 shilling with him). Now, though there have been some 
 ingenious persons who have contrived to pay twelve 
 shillings with sixpence, Joseph was not one of them. 
 He had never contracted a debt in his life, and was 
 consequently the less ready at an expedient to extricate 
 himself. Tow-wouse was willing to give him credit 
 till next time, to which Mrs Tow-wouse would probably 
 have consented (for such was Joseph's beauty, that it 
 had made some impression even on that piece of flint 
 which that good woman wore in her bosom by way of 
 heart). Joseph would have found, therefore, very likely 
 the passage free, had he not, when he honestly discovered 
 the nakedness of his pockets, pulled out that little piece 
 of gold which we have mentioned before. This caused 
 Mrs Tow-wouse's eyes to water ; she told Joseph she 
 did not conceive a man could want money whilst he had 
 gold in his pocket. Joseph answered he had such a 
 value for that little piece of gold, that he would not 
 part with it for a hundred times the riches which the 
 greatest esquire in the county was worth. " A pretty 
 way, indeed," said Mrs Tow-wouse, " to run in debt, 
 and then refuse to part with your money, because you 
 have a value for it ! I never knew any piece of gold 
 of more value than as many shillings as it would change 
 for." " Not to preserve my life from starving, nor to 
 redeem it from a robber, would I part with this dear 
 piece ! " answered Joseph. " What," says Mrs Tow- 
 wouse, " I suppose it was given you by some vile trollop, 
 some miss or other ; if it had been the present of a 
 virtuous woman, you would not have had such a value 
 for it. My husband is a fool if he parts with the horse 
 without being paid for him." " No, no, I can't part 
 with the horse, indeed, till I have the money," cried 
 Tow-wouse. A resolution highly commended by a 
 
Joseph Andrews 89 
 
 lawyer then in the yard, who declared Mr Tow-wouse 
 might justify the detainer. 
 
 As we cannot therefore at present get Mr Joseph out 
 of the inn, we shall leave him in it, and carry our reader 
 on after parson Adams, who, his mind being perfectly at 
 ease, fell into a contemplation on a passage in ^Eschylus, 
 which entertained him for three miles together, without 
 suffering him once to reflect on his fellow-traveller. 
 
 At length, having spun out his thread, and being now 
 at. the summit of a hill, he cast his eyes backwards, and 
 wondered that he could not see any sign of Joseph. As 
 he left him ready to mount the horse, he could not 
 apprehend any mischief had happened, neither could he 
 suspect that he missed his way, it being so broad and 
 plain ; the only reason which presented itself to him 
 was, that he had met with an acquaintance who had 
 prevailed with him to delay some time in discourse. 
 
 He therefore resolved to proceed slowly forwards, 
 not doubting but that he should be shortly overtaken ; 
 and soon came to a large water, which, filling the whole 
 road, he saw no method of passing unless by wading 
 through, which he accordingly did up to his middle ; 
 but was no sooner got to the other side than he perceived, 
 if he had looked over the hedge, he would have found 
 a footpath capable of conducting him without wetting 
 his shoes. 
 
 His surprize at Joseph's not coming up grew now very 
 troublesome : he began to fear he knew not what ; and 
 as he determined to move no farther, and, if he did not 
 shortly overtake him, to return back, he wished to find 
 a house of public entertainment where he might dry his 
 clothes and refresh himself with a pint ; but, seeing no 
 such (for no other reason than because he did not cast 
 his eyes a hundred yards forwards ) , he sat himself down 
 on a stile, and pulled out his ^Eschylus. 
 
 A fellow passing presently by, Adams asked him if 
 
90 The Adventures of 
 
 he could direct him to an alehouse. The fellow, who 
 had just left it, and perceived the house and sign to be 
 within sight, thinking he had jeered him, and being of a 
 morose temper, bade him follow his nose and be d n'd. 
 Adams told him he was a saucy jackanapes ; upon which 
 the fellow turned about angrily ; but, perceiving Adams 
 clench his fist, he thought proper to go on without taking 
 any farther notice. 
 
 A horseman, following immediately after, and being 
 asked the same question, answered, " Friend, there is one 
 within a stone's throw ; I believe you may see it before 
 you." Adams, lifting up his eyes, cried, " I protest, 
 and so there is ; " and, thanking his informer, proceeded 
 directly to it. 
 
 Chapter tU* 
 
 The opinion of ttvo lawyers concerning the same gentleman, 
 with Mr Adams' s inquiry into the religion of his host. 
 
 HE had just entered the house, and called for his 
 pint, and seated himself, when two horsemen 
 came to the door, and, fastening their horses to 
 the rails, alighted. They said there was a violent shower 
 of rain coming on, which they intended to weather there, 
 and went into a little room by themselves, not perceiving 
 Mr Adams. 
 
 One of these immediately asked the other, " If he 
 had seen a more comical adventure a great while ? " 
 Upon which the other said, " He doubted whether, by 
 law, the landlord could justify detaining the horse for 
 his corn and hay." But the former answered, " Un- 
 doubtedly he can ; it is an adjudged case, and I have 
 known it tried." 
 
 Adams, who, though he was, as the reader may sus- 
 pect, a little inclined to forgetfulness, never wanted more 
 
Joseph Andrews 91 
 
 than a hint to remind him, overhearing their discourse, 
 immediately suggested to himself that this was his own 
 horse, and that he had forgot to pay for him, which, 
 upon inquiry, he was certified of by the gentlemen ; 
 who added, that the horse was likely to have more rest 
 than food, unless he was paid for. 
 
 The poor parson resolved to return presently to the 
 inn, though he knew no more than Joseph how to pro- 
 cure his horse his liberty ; he was, however, prevailed 
 on to stay under covert, till the shower, which was 
 now very violent, was over. 
 
 The three travellers then sat down together over a 
 mug of good beer ; when Adams, who had observed a 
 gentleman's house as he passed along the road, inquired 
 to whom it belonged ; one of the horsemen had no 
 sooner mentioned the owner's name, than the other 
 began to revile him in the most opprobrious terms. 
 The English language scarce affords a single reproach- 
 ful word, which he did not vent on this occasion. He 
 charged him likewise with many particular facts. He 
 said, " He no more regarded a field of wheat when 
 he was hunting, than he did the highway ; that he had 
 injured several poor farmers by trampling their corn 
 under his horse's heels ; and if any of them begged 
 him with the utmost submission to refrain, his horse- 
 whip was always ready to do them justice." He said, 
 " That he was the greatest tyrant to the neighbours in 
 every other instance, and would not suffer a farmer to 
 keep a gun, though he might justify it by law ; and in 
 his own family so cruel a master, that he never kept a 
 servant a twelvemonth. In his capacity as a justice," 
 continued he, " he behaves so partially, that he commits 
 or acquits just as he is in the humour, without any regard 
 to truth or evidence ; the devil may carry any one before 
 him for me ; I would rather be tried before some judges, 
 than be a prosecutor before him : if I had an estate in 
 
92 The Adventures of 
 
 the neighbourhood, I would sell it for half the value 
 rather than live near him." 
 
 Adams shook his head, and said, " He was sorry 
 such men were suffered to proceed with impunity, and 
 that riches could set any man above the law." The 
 reviler, a little after, retiring into the yard, the gentle- 
 man who had first mentioned his name to Adams began 
 to assure him "that his companion was a prejudiced 
 person. It is true," says he, "perhaps, that he may 
 have sometimes pursued his game over a field of corn, 
 but he hath always made the party ample satisfac- 
 tion : that so far from tyrannising over his neighbours, 
 or taking away their guns, he himself knew several 
 farmers not qualified, who not only kept guns, but killed 
 game with them ; that he was the best of masters to his 
 servants, and several of them had grown old in hia 
 service ; that he was the best justice of peace in the 
 kingdom, and, to his certain knowledge, had decided 
 many difficult points, which were referred to him, with 
 the greatest equity and the highest wisdom ; and he 
 verily believed, several persons would give a year's 
 purchase more for an estate near him, than under the 
 wings of any other great man." He had just finished 
 his encomium when his companion returned and ac- 
 quainted him the storm was over. Upon which they 
 presently mounted their horses and departed. 
 
 Adams, who was in the utmost anxiety at those 
 different characters of the same person, asked his host 
 if he knew the gentleman : for he began to imagine 
 they had by mistake been speaking of two several gentle- 
 men. " No, no, master," answered the host (a shrewd, 
 cunning fellow) ; " I know the gentleman very well of 
 whom they have been speaking, as I do the gentlemen 
 who spoke of him. As for riding over other men's 
 corn, to my knowledge he hath not been on horseback 
 these two years. I never heard he did any injury of 
 
Joseph Andrews 93 
 
 that kind ; and as to making reparation, he is not so 
 free of his money as that conies to neither. Nor did I 
 ever hear of his taking away any man's gun ; nay, I 
 know several who have guns in their houses ; but as 
 for killing game with them, no man is stricter ; and I 
 believe he would ruin any who did. You heard one of 
 the gentlemen say he was the worst master in the world, 
 and the other that he is the best ; but for my own part, 
 I know all his servants, and never heard from any of 
 them that he was either one or the other." " Aye ! 
 aye ! " says Adams ; " and how doth he behave as a 
 justice, pray ? " " Faith, friend," answered the host, 
 " I question whether he is in the commission ; the only 
 cause I have heard he hath decided a great while, was 
 one between those very two persons who just went out 
 of this house ; and I am sure he determined that justly, 
 for I heard the whole matter." " Which did he decide 
 it in favour of?" quoth Adams. "I think I need 
 not answer that question," cried the host, "after the 
 different characters you have heard of him. It is not 
 my business to contradict gentlemen while they are 
 drinking in my house ; but I knew neither of them 
 spoke a syllable of truth." "God forbid!" said 
 Adams, "that men should arrive at such a pitch of 
 wickedness to belye the character of their neighbour 
 from a little private affection, or, what is infinitely 
 worse, a private spite. I rather believe we have mis- 
 taken them, and they mean two other persons ; for 
 there are many houses on the road." " Why, prithee, 
 friend," cries the host, "dost thou pretend never to 
 have told a lye in thy life ? " " Never a malicious one, 
 I am certain," answered Adams, "nor with a design 
 to injure the reputation of any man living." " Pugh ! 
 malicious; no, no," replied the host; " not jnalkious 
 with^-^desiga^ tahang- - ian, or bring him into 
 trouble ; bu.t, surely,-- -out ,o Jb*u-to_~ojiseif, one must 
 
94 The Adventures of 
 
 speak better of a friend than an enemy." "Out of 
 love to yourself, you should confine yourself to truth," 
 says Adams, "for by doing otherwise you injure the 
 noblest part of yourself, your immortal soul. I can 
 hardly believe any man such an idiot to risque the loss of 
 that by any trifling gain, and the greatest gain in this 
 world is but dirt in comparison of what shall be re- 
 vealed hereafter." Upon which the host, taking up 
 the cup, with a smile, drank a health to hereafter ; 
 adding, " He was for something present." " Why," 
 says Adams very gravely, "do not you believe an- 
 other world?" To which the host answered, "Yes; 
 he was no atheist." " And you believe you have an 
 immortal soul ? " cries Adams. He answered, " God 
 forbid he should not." " And heaven and hell ? " said 
 the parson. The host then bid him " not to profane ; 
 for those were things not to be mentioned nor thought 
 of but in church." Adams asked him, " Why he went 
 to church, if what he learned there had no influence on 
 his conduct in life ? " " I go to church," answered 
 the host, "to say my prayers and behave godly."- 
 " And dost not thou," cried Adams, " believe what 
 thou hearest at church ? " " Most part of it, master," 
 returned the host. " And dost not thou then tremble," 
 cries Adams, " at the thought of eternal punishment ? " 
 " As for that, master," said he, " I never once 
 thought about it ; but what signifies talking about 
 matters so far off? The mug is out, shall I draw an- 
 other?" 
 
 Whilst he was going for that purpose, a stage-coach 
 drove up to the door. The coachman coming into the 
 house was asked by the mistress what passengers he had 
 in his coach ? "A parcel of squinny-gut b s," says 
 he ; "I have a good mind to overturn them ; you 
 won't prevail upon them to drink anything, I assure 
 vou." Adams asked him, " If he had not seen a young 
 
Joseph Andrews 95 
 
 man on horseback on the road" (describing Joseph). 
 "Aye," said the coachman, "a gentlewoman in my 
 coach that is his acquaintance redeemed him and his 
 horse ; he would have been here before this time, had 
 not the storm driven him to shelter." " God bless 
 her ! " said Adams, in a rapture ; nor could he delay 
 walking out to satisfy himself who this charitable woman 
 was ; but what was his surprize when he saw his old 
 acquaintance, Madam Slipslop ? Hers indeed was not 
 so great, because she had been informed by Joseph that 
 he was on the road. Very civil were the salutations on 
 both sides ; and Mrs Slipslop rebuked the hostess for 
 denying the gentleman to be there when she asked for 
 him ; but indeed the poor woman had not erred de- 
 signedly ; for Mrs Slipslop asked for a clergyman, and 
 she had unhappily mistaken Adams for a person travel- 
 ling to a neighbouring fair with the thimble and button, 
 or some other such operation ; for he marched in a 
 swingmg great but short white coat with black buttons, 
 a short wig, and a hat which, so far from having a black 
 hatband, had nothing black about it. 
 
 Joseph was now come up, and Mrs Slipslop would 
 have had him quit his horse to the parson, and come 
 himself into the coach ; but he absolutely refused, say- 
 ing, he thanked Heaven he was well enough recovered 
 to be very able to ride ; and added, he hoped he knew 
 his duty better than to ride in a coach while Mr Adams 
 was on horseback. 
 
 Mrs Slipslop would have persisted longer, had not a 
 lady in the coach put a short end to the dispute, by 
 refusing to suffer a fellow in a livery to ride in the same 
 coach with herself; so it was at length agreed that 
 Adams should fill the vacant place in the coach, and 
 Joseph should proceed on horseback. 
 
 They had not proceeded far before Mrs Slipslop, 
 addressing herself to the parson, spoke thus : " There 
 
9 6 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 hath been a strange alteration in our family, Mr Adama, 
 since Sir Thomas's death." " A strange alteration in- 
 deed," says Adams, " as I gather from some hints 
 which have dropped from Joseph." " Aye," says she, 
 " I could never have believed it ; but the longer one 
 lives in the world, the more one sees. So Joseph hath 
 given you hints." " But of what nature will always 
 remain a perfect secret with me," cries the parson : 
 " he forced me to promise before he would communi- 
 cate anything. I am indeed concerned to find her 
 ladyship behave in so unbecoming a manner. I always 
 thought her in the main a good lady, and should never 
 have suspected her of thoughts so unworthy a Christian, 
 and with a young lad her own servant." "These 
 things are no secrets to me, I assure you," cries Slipslop, 
 " and I believe they will be none anywhere shortly ; 
 for ever since the boy's departure, she hath behaved 
 more like a mad woman than anything else." " Truly, 
 I am heartily concerned," says Adams, " for she was 
 a good sort of a lady. Indeed, I have often wished 
 she had attended a little more constantly at the service, 
 but she hath done a great deal of good in the parish." 
 " O Mr Adams," says Slipslop, " people that don't see 
 all, often know nothing. Many things have been given 
 away in our family, I do assure you, without her know- 
 ledge. I have heard you say in the pulpit we ought 
 not to brag; but indeed I can't avoid saying, if she 
 had kept the keys herself, the poor would have wanted 
 many a cordial which I have let them have. As for 
 my late master, he was as worthy a man as ever lived, 
 and would have done infinite good if he had not been 
 controlled ; but he loved a quiet life, Heaven rest his 
 soul ! I am confident he is there, and enjoys a quiet 
 life, which some folks would not allow him here." 
 Adams answered, "He had never heard this before, 
 and was mistaken if she herself (for he remembered 
 
Joseph Andrews 97 
 
 she used to commend her mistress and blame her 
 master) had not formerly been of another opinion." 
 " I don't know," replied she, " what I might once 
 think ; but now I am confidous matters are as I tell 
 you ; the world will shortly see who hath been de- 
 ceived ; for my part, I say nothing, but that it is 
 wondersome how some people can carry all things 
 with a grave face." 
 
 Thus Mr Adams and she discoursed, till they came 
 opposite to a great house which stood at some distance 
 from the road : a lady in the coach, spying it, cried, 
 "Yonder lives the unfortunate Leonora, if one can 
 justly call a woman unfortunate whom we must own at 
 the same time guilty and the author of her own calamity." 
 This was abundantly sufficient to awaken the curiosity 
 of Mr Adams, as indeed it did that of the whole com- 
 pany, who jointly solicited the lady to acquaint them 
 with Leonora's history, since it seemed, by what she 
 had said, to contain something remarkable. 
 
 The lady, who was perfectly well-bred, did not 
 require many entreaties, and having only wished their 
 entertainment might make amends for the company's 
 attention, she began in the following manner. 
 
 tfc. 
 The history of Leonora, or the unfortunate jilt. 
 
 EONORA was the daughter of a gentleman of 
 
 [^ fortune ; she was tall and well-shaped, with a 
 
 sprightliness in her countenance which often 
 
 attracts beyond more regular features joined with an 
 
 insipid air : nor is this kind of beauty less apt to deceive 
 
 than allure ; the good humour which it indicates being 
 
98 The Adventures of 
 
 often mistaken for good nature, and the vivacity for true 
 understanding. 
 
 Leonora, who was now at the age of eighteen, lived 
 with an aunt of hers in a town in the north of England. 
 She was an extreme lover of gaiety, and very rarely 
 missed a ball or any other public assembly ; where she 
 had frequent opportunities of satisfying a greedy appetite 
 of vanity, with the preference which was given her by 
 the men to almost every other woman present. 
 
 Among many young fellows who were particular in 
 their gallantries towards her, Horatio soon distinguished 
 himself in her eyes beyond all his competitors ; she 
 danced with more than ordinary gaiety when he happened 
 to be her partner ; neither the fairness of the evening, 
 nor the musick of the nightingale, could lengthen her 
 walk like his company. She affected no longer to 
 understand the civilities of others ; whilst she inclined 
 so attentive an ear to every compliment of Horatio, that 
 she often smiled even when it was too delicate for her 
 comprehension. 
 
 " Pray, madam," says Adams, " who was this squire 
 Horatio?" 
 
 Horatio, says the lady, was a young gentleman of a 
 good family, bred to the law, and had been some few 
 years called to the degree of a barrister. His face and 
 person were such as the generality allowed handsome ; 
 but he had a dignity in his air very rarely to be seen. 
 His temper was of the saturnine complexion, and without 
 the least taint of moroseness. He had wit and humour, 
 with an inclination to satire, which he indulged rather 
 too much. 
 
 This gentleman, who had contracted the most violent 
 passion for Leonora, was the last person who perceived 
 the probability of its success. The whole town had 
 made the match for him before he himself had drawn 
 a confidence from her actions sufficient to mention his 
 
Joseph Andrews 99 
 
 passion to her ; for it was his opinion (and perhaps he 
 was there in the right) that it is highly impolitick to talk 
 seriously of Jove to a woman before you have made such 
 a progress in her affections, that she herself expects and 
 desires to hear it. 
 
 But whatever diffidence the fears of a lover may create, 
 which are apt to magnify every favour conferred on a 
 rival, and to see the little advances towards themselves 
 through the other end of the perspective, it was im- 
 possible that Horatio's passion should so blind his dis- 
 cernment as to prevent his conceiving hopes from the 
 behaviour of Leonora, whose fondness for him was now 
 as visible to an indifferent person in their company as 
 his for her. 
 
 " I never knew any of these forward sluts come to 
 good "(says the lady who refused Joseph's entrance into 
 the coach), "nor shall I wonder at anything she doth 
 in the sequel." 
 
 The lady proceeded in her story thus : It was in 
 the midst of a gay conversation in the walks one evening, 
 when Horatio whispered Leonora, that he was desirous 
 to take a turn or two with her in private, for that he 
 had something to communicate to her of great conse- 
 quence. " Are you sure it is of consequence ? " said 
 she, smiling. " I hope," answered he, " you will think 
 so too, since the whole future happiness of my life must 
 depend on the event." 
 
 Leonora, who very much suspected what was coming, 
 would have deferred it till another time ; but Horatio, 
 who had more than half conquered the difficulty of 
 speaking by the first motion, was so very importunate, 
 that she at last yielded, and, leaving the rest of the com- 
 pany, they turned aside into an unfrequented walk. 
 
 They had retired far out of the sight of the company, 
 both maintaining a strict silence. At last Horatio made 
 a full stop, and taking Leonora, who stood pale and 
 
ioo The Adventures of 
 
 trembling, gently by the hand, he fetched a deep sigh, 
 and then, looking on her eyes with all the tender- 
 ness imaginable, he cried out in a faltering accent, " O 
 Leonora ! is it necessary for me to declare to you on 
 what the future happiness of my life must be founded ? 
 Must I say there is something belonging to you which 
 is a bar to my happiness, and which unless you will 
 part with, I must be miserable ! " " What can that 
 be ? " replied Leonora. " No wonder," said he, " you 
 are surprized that I should make an objection to anything 
 which is yours : yet sure you may guess, since it is the 
 only one which the riches of the world, if they were 
 mine, should purchase for me. Oh, it is that which 
 you must part with to bestow all the rest ! Can Leonora, 
 or rather will she, doubt longer ? Let me then whisper 
 it in her ears It is your name, madam. It is by parting 
 with that, by your condescension to be for ever mine, 
 which must at once prevent me from being the most 
 miserable, and will render me the happiest of mankind." 
 
 Leonora, covered with blushes, and with as angry a 
 look as she could possibly put on, told him, " That had 
 she suspected what his declaration would have been, he 
 should not have decoyed her from her company, that 
 he had so surprized and frighted her, that she begged 
 him to convey her back as quick as possible ; " which 
 he, trembling very near as much as herself, did. 
 
 " More fool he," cried Slipslop ; " it is a sign he 
 knew very little of our sect." " Truly, madam," said 
 Adams, " I think you are in the right : I should have 
 insisted to know a piece of her mind, when I had 
 carried matters so far." But Mrs Grave-airs desired 
 the lady to omit all such fulsome stuff in her story, for 
 that it made her sick. 
 
 Well then, madam, to be as concise as possible, said 
 the lady, many weeks had not passed after this interview 
 before Horatio and Leonora were what they call on a 
 
Joseph Andrews 101 
 
 good footing together. All ceremonies except the last 
 were now over ; the writings were now drawn, and 
 everything was in the utmost forwardness preparative 
 to the putting Horatio in possession of all his wishes. 
 I will, if you please, repeat you a letter from each of 
 them, which I have got by heart, and which will give 
 you no small idea of their passion on both sides. 
 
 Mrs Grave-airs objected to hearing these letters ; 
 but being put to the vote, it was carried against her by 
 all the rest in the coach ; parson Adams contending 
 for it with the utmost vehemence. 
 
 HORATIO TO LEONORA. 
 
 " How vain, most adorable creature, is the pursuit 
 of pleasure in the absence of an object to which the 
 mind is entirely devoted, unless it have some relation 
 to that object ! I was last night condemned to the 
 society of men of wit and learning, which, however 
 agreeable it might have formerly been to me, now only 
 gave me a suspicion that they imputed my absence in 
 conversation to the true cause. For which reason, 
 when your engagements forbid me the ecstatic happi- 
 ness of seeing you, I am always desirous to be alone ; 
 since my sentiments for Leonora are so delicate, that I 
 cannot bear the apprehension of another's prying into 
 those delightful endearments with which the warm 
 imagination of a lover will sometimes indulge him, and 
 which I suspect my eyes then betray. To fear this 
 discovery of our thoughts may perhaps appear too ridi- 
 culous a nicety to minds not susceptible of all the 
 tendernesses of this delicate passion. And surely we 
 shall suspect there are few such, when we consider that 
 it requires every human virtue to exert itself in its full 
 extent ; since the beloved, whose happiness it ultimately 
 respects, may give us charming opportunities of being 
 
102 The Adventures of 
 
 brave in her defence, generous to her wants, com- 
 passionate to her afflictions, grateful to her kindness ; 
 and in the same manner, of exercising every other 
 virtue, which he who would not do to any degree, 
 and that with the utmost rapture, can never deserve 
 the name of a lover. It is, therefore, with a view to 
 the delicate modesty of your mind that I cultivate it so 
 purely in my own ; and it is that which will sufficiently 
 suggest to you the uneasiness I bear from those liberties, 
 which men to whom the world allow politeness will 
 sometimes give themselves on these occasions. 
 
 " Can I tell you with what eagerness I expect the 
 arrival of that blest day, when I shall experience the 
 falsehood of a common assertion, that the greatest 
 human happiness consists in hope ? A doctrine which 
 no person had ever stronger reason to believe than my- 
 self at present, since none ever tasted such bliss as fires 
 my bosom with the thoughts of spending my future 
 days with such a companion, and that every action of 
 my life will have the glorious satisfaction of conducing 
 to your happiness." 
 
 LEONORA TO HORATIO.* 
 
 " The refinement of your mind has been so evidently 
 proved by every word and action ever since I had the 
 first pleasure of knowing you, that I thought it im- 
 possible my good opinion of Horatio could have been 
 heightened to any additional proof of merit. This very 
 thought was my amusement when I received your last 
 letter, which, when I opened, I confess I was surprized 
 to find the delicate sentiments expressed there so far 
 exceeding what I thought could come even from you 
 (although I know all the generous principles human 
 
 * This letter was written by a young lady on reading the 
 former. 
 
Joseph Andrews 103 
 
 nature is capable of are centred in your breast), that 
 words cannot paint what I feel on the reflection that 
 my happiness shall be the ultimate end of all your 
 actions. 
 
 " Oh, Horatio ! what a life must that be, where the 
 meanest domestic cares are sweetened by the pleasing 
 consideration that the man on earth who best deserves, 
 and to whom you are most inclined to give your affec- 
 tions, is to reap either profit or pleasure from all you do ! 
 In such a case toils must be turned into diversions, and 
 nothing but the unavoidable inconveniences of life can 
 make us remember that we are mortal. 
 
 " If the solitary turn of your thoughts, and the desire 
 of keeping them undiscovered, makes even the conversa- 
 tion of men of wit and learning tedious to you, what 
 anxious hours must I spend, who am condemned by 
 custom to the conversation of women, whose natural 
 curiosity leads them to pry into all my thoughts, and 
 whose envy can never suffer Horatio's heart to be pos- 
 sessed by any one, without forcing them into malicious 
 designs against the person who is so happy as to possess 
 it ! But, indeed, if ever envy can possibly have any 
 excuse, or even alleviation, it is in this case, where the 
 good is so great, and it must be equally natural to all to 
 wish it for themselves ; nor am I ashamed to own it : 
 and to your merit, Horatio, I am obliged, that prevents 
 my being in that most uneasy of all the situations I can 
 figure in my imagination, of being led by inclination to 
 love the person whom my own judgment forces me to 
 condemn." 
 
 Matters were in so great forwardness between this fond 
 couple, that the day was fixed for their marriage, and 
 was now within a fortnight, when the sessions chanced 
 to be held for that county in a town about twenty miles' 
 distance from that which is the scene of our story. It 
 
104 The Adventures of 
 
 seems, it is usual for the young gentlemen of the bar to 
 repair to these sessions, not so much for the sake of 
 profit as to show their parts and learn the law of the 
 justices of peace ; for which purpose one of the wisest 
 and gravest of all the justices is appointed speaker, or 
 chairman, as they modestly call it, and he reads them 
 a lecture, and instructs them in the true knowledge of 
 the law. 
 
 " You are here guilty of a little mistake/' says Adams, 
 " which, if you please, I will correct : I have attended 
 at one of these quarter-sessions, where I observed the 
 counsel taught the justices, instead of learning anything 
 of them." 
 
 It is not very material, said the lady. Hither re- 
 paired Horatio, who, as he hoped by his profession to 
 advance his fortune, which was not at present very large, 
 for the sake of his dear Leonora, he resolved to spare 
 no pains, nor lose any opportunity of improving or advanc- 
 ing himself in it. 
 
 The same afternoon in which he left the town, as 
 Leonora stood at her window, a coach and six passed 
 by, which she declared to be the completest, genteelest, 
 prettiest equipage she ever saw ; adding these remark- 
 able words, " Oh, I am in love with that equipage ! " 
 which, though her friend Florella at that time did not 
 greatly regard, she hath since remembered. 
 
 In the evening an assembly was held, which Leonora 
 honoured with her company ; but intended to pay her 
 dear Horatio the compliment of refusing to dance in his 
 absence. 
 
 Oh, why have not women as good resolution to main- 
 tain their vows as they have often good inclinations in 
 making them ! 
 
 The gentleman who owned the coach and six came 
 to the assembly. His clothes were as remarkably fine 
 as his equipage could be. He soon attracted the eyes 
 
Joseph Andrews 105 
 
 of the company ; all the smarts, all the silk waistcoats 
 with silver and gold edgings, were eclipsed in an instant. 
 
 " Madam/' said Adams, " if it be not impertinent, I 
 should be glad to know how this gentleman was drest." 
 
 Sir, answered the lady, I have been told he had on a 
 cut velvet coat of a cinnamon colour, lined with a pink 
 satten, embroidered all over with gold ; his waistcoat, 
 which was cloth of silver, was embroidered with gold 
 likewise. I cannot be particular as to the rest of his 
 dress ; but it was all in the French fashion, for Bellar- 
 mine (that was his name) was just arrived from Paris. 
 
 This fine figure did not more entirely engage the 
 eyes of every lady in the assembly than Leonora did 
 his. He had scarce beheld her, but he stood motionless 
 and fixed as a statue, or at least would have done so 
 if good breeding had permitted him. However, he 
 carried it so far before he had power to correct himself, 
 that every person in the room easily discovered where 
 his admiration was settled. The other ladies began to 
 single out their former partners, all perceiving who 
 would be Bellarmine's choice ; which they however 
 endeavoured, by all possible means, to prevent : many 
 of them saying to Leonora, " O madam ! I suppose we 
 shan't have the pleasure of seeing you dance to-night ; " 
 and then crying out, in Bellarmine's hearing, " Oh ! 
 Leonora will not dance, I assure you : her partner is 
 not here." One maliciously attempted to prevent her, 
 by sending a disagreeable fellow to ask her, that so she 
 might be obliged either to dance with him, or sit down ; 
 but this scheme proved abortive. 
 
 Leonora saw herself admired by the fine stranger, 
 and envied by every woman present. Her little heart 
 began to flutter within her, and her head was agitated 
 with a convulsive motion : she seemed as if she would 
 speak to several of her acquaintance, but had nothing to 
 say ; for, as she would not mention her present triumph, 
 
106 The Adventures of 
 
 so she could not disengage her thoughts one moment 
 from the contemplation of it. She had never tasted 
 anything like this happiness. She had before known 
 what it was to torment a single woman ; but to be 
 hated and secretly cursed by a whole assembly was a 
 joy reserved for this blessed moment. As this vast 
 profusion of ecstasy had confounded her understanding, 
 so there was nothing so foolish as her behaviour : she 
 played a thousand childish tricks, distorted her person 
 into several shapes, and her face into several laughs, 
 without any reason. In a word, her carriage was as 
 absurd as her desires, which were to affect an insensi- 
 bility of the stranger's admiration, and at the same time 
 a triumph, from that admiration, over every woman in 
 the room. 
 
 In this temper of mind, Bellarmine, having inquired 
 who she was, advanced to her, and with a low bow 
 begged the honour of dancing with her, which she, with 
 as low a curtesy, immediately granted. She danced 
 with him all night, and enjoyed, perhaps, the highest 
 pleasure that she was capable of feeling. 
 
 At these words, Adams fetched a deep groan, which 
 frighted the ladies, who told him, " They hoped he was 
 not ill." He answered, " He groaned only for the folly 
 of Leonora." 
 
 Leonora retired (continued the lady) about six in 
 the morning, but not to rest. She tumbled and tossed 
 in her bed, with very short intervals of sleep, and those 
 entirely filled with dreams of the equipage and fine 
 clothes she had seen, and the balls, operas, and ridottos, 
 which had been the subject of their conversation. 
 
 In the afternoon, Bellarmine, in the dear coach and 
 six, came to wait on her. He was indeed charmed 
 with her person, and was, on inquiry, so well pleased 
 with the circumstances of her father (for he himself, 
 notwithstanding all his finery, was not quite so rich a* a 
 
Joseph Andrews 107 
 
 Croesus or an Attalus). " AttSlus," says Mr. Adams: 
 " but pray how came you acquainted with these names ? " 
 The lady smiled at the question, and proceeded. He 
 was so pleased, I say, that he resolved to make his 
 addresses to her directly. He did so accordingly, and 
 that with so much warmth and briskness, that he quickly 
 baffled her weak repulses, and obliged the lady to refer 
 him to her father, who, she knew, would quickly declare 
 in favour of a coach and six. 
 
 Thus what Horatio had by sighs and tears, love and 
 tenderness, been so long obtaining, the French- English 
 Bellarmine with gaiety and gallantry possessed himself 
 of in an instant. In other words, what modesty had 
 employed a full year in raising, impudence demolished 
 in twenty-four hours. 
 
 Here Adams groaned a second time ; but the ladies, 
 who began to smoke him, took no notice. 
 
 From the opening of the assembly till the end of 
 Bellarmine' s visit, Leonora had scarce once thought of 
 Horatio ; but he now began, though an unwelcome 
 guest, to enter into her mind. She wished she had 
 seen the charming Bellarmine and his charming equi- 
 page before matters had gone so far. "Yet why," 
 says she, " should I wish to have seen him before ; or 
 what signifies it that I have seen him now ? Is not 
 Horatio my lover, almost my husband ? Is he not as 
 handsome, nay handsomer than Bellarmine ? Aye, but 
 Bellarmine is the geenteeler, and the finer man ; yes, 
 that he must be allowed. Yes, yes, he is that certainly. 
 But did not I, no longer ago than yesterday, love 
 Horatio more than all the world ? Aye, but yesterday 
 I had not seen Bellarmine. But doth not Horatio 
 doat on me, and may he not in despair break his heart 
 if I abandon him ? Well, and hath not Bellarmine a 
 heart to break too ? Yes, but I promised Horatio first . 
 but that was poor Bellarmine' s misfortune; if I had 
 
io8 The Adventures of 
 
 seen him first, I should certainly have preferred him. 
 Did not the dear creature prefer me to every woman in 
 the assembly, when every she was laying out for him ? 
 When was it in Horatio's power to give me such an 
 instance of affection ? Can he give me an equipage, 
 or any of those things which Bellarmine will make 
 me mistress of? How vast is the difference between 
 being the wife of a poor counsellor and the wife of one 
 of Bellarmine' s fortune ! If I marry Horatio, I shall 
 triumph over no more than one rival ; but by marrying 
 Bellarmine, I shall be the envy of all my acquaintance. 
 What happiness ! But can I suffer Horatio to die ? 
 for he hath sworn he cannot survive my loss : but per- 
 haps he may not die : if he should, can I prevent it ? 
 Must I sacrifice myself to him ? besides, Bellarmine 
 may be as miserable for me too." She was thus 
 arguing with herself, when some young ladies called 
 her to the walks, and a little relieved her anxiety for 
 the present. 
 
 The next morning Bellarmine breakfasted with her 
 in presence of her aunt, whom he sufficiently informed 
 of his passion for Leonora. He was no sooner with- 
 drawn than the old lady began to advise her niece on 
 this occasion. "You see, child,' ' says she, "what 
 fortune hath thrown in your way ; and I hope you will 
 not withstand your own preferment." Leonora, sigh- 
 ing, begged her not to mention any such thing, when she 
 knew her engagements to Horatio. " Engagements to 
 a fig ! " cried the aunt ; " you should thank Heaven on 
 your knees that you have it yet in your power to break 
 them. Will any woman hesitate a moment whether 
 she shall ride in a coach or walk on foot all the days 
 of her life ? But Bellarmine drives six, and Horatio 
 not even a pair." " Yes, but, madam, what will the 
 world say ? " answered Leonora : " will not they con- 
 demn me ? " " The world is always on the side of 
 
Joseph Andrews 109 
 
 prudence," cries the aunt, " and would surely condemn 
 you if you sacrificed your interest to any motive what- 
 ever. Oh ! I know the world very well ; and you shew 
 your ignorance, my dear, by your objection, O' my 
 conscience ! the world is wiser. I have lived longer 
 in it than you ; and I assure you there is not anything 
 worth our regard besides money ; nor did I ever know 
 one person who married from other considerations, who 
 did not afterwards heartily repent it. Besides, if we 
 examine the two men, can you prefer a sneaking fellow, 
 who hath been bred at the university, to a fine gentle- 
 man just come from his travels. All the world must 
 allow Bellarmine to be a fine gentleman, positively a 
 fine gentleman, and a handsome man." "Perhaps, 
 madam, I should not doubt, if I knew how to be 
 handsomely off with the other." " Oh ! leave that to 
 me," says the aunt. " You know your father hath not 
 been acquainted with the affair. Indeed, for my part 
 I thought it might do well enough, not dreaming of 
 such an offer; but I'll disengage you: leave me to 
 give the fellow an answer. I warrant you shall have 
 no farther trouble." 
 
 Leonora was at length satisfied with her aunt's 
 reasoning ; and Bellarmine supping with her that even- 
 ing, it was agreed he should the next morning go to 
 her father and propose the match, which she consented 
 should be consummated at his return. 
 
 The aunt retired soon after supper ; and, the lovers 
 being left together, Bellarmine began in the following 
 manner : " Yes, madam ; this coat, I assure you, was 
 made at Paris, and I defy the best English taylor even 
 to imitate it. There is not one of them can cut, madam ; 
 they can't cut. If you observe how this skirt is turned, 
 and this sleeve : a clumsy English rascal can do nothing 
 like it. Pray, how do you like my liveries ?" Leonora 
 answered, "She thought them very pretty." "AH* 
 F 467 
 
i 1 o The Adventures of 
 
 French," says he, " 1 assure you, except the great- 
 coats ; I never trust anything more than a greatcoat 
 to an Englishman. You know one must encourage our 
 own people what one can, especially as, before I had a 
 place, I was in the country inte est, he, he, he ! But 
 for myself, I would see the dirty island at the bottom 
 of the sea, rather than wear a single rag of English 
 work about me : and I am sure, after you have made 
 one tour to Paris, you will be of the same opinion with 
 regard to your own clothes. You can't conceive what 
 an addition a French dress would be to your beauty ; I 
 positively assure you, at the first opera I saw since I 
 came over, I mistook the English ladies for chamber- 
 maids, he, he, he ! " 
 
 With such sort of polite discourse did the gay Bel- 
 larmine entertain his beloved Leonora, when the door 
 opened on a sudden, and Horatio entered the room. 
 Here 'tis impossible to express the surprize of Leo- 
 nora. 
 
 " Poor woman ! " says Mrs Slipslop, " what a terrible 
 quandary she must be in ! " " Not at all," says Mrs 
 Grave-airs ; " such sluts can never be confounded." 
 " She must have then more than Corinthian assurance," 
 said Adams ; " aye, more than Lais herself." 
 
 A long silence, continued the lady, prevailed in the 
 whole company. If the familiar entrance of Horatio 
 struck the greatest astonishment into Bellarmine, the 
 unexpected presence of Bellarmine no less surprized 
 Horatio. At length Leonora, collecting all the spirit 
 she was mistress of, addressed herself to the latter, and 
 pretended to wonder at the reason of so late a visit. 
 " I should indeed," answered he, " have made some 
 apology for disturbing you at this hour, had not my 
 finding you in company assured me I do not break 
 in upon your repose." Bellarmine rose from his chair, 
 traversed the room in a minuet step, and hummed an 
 
Joseph Andrews 1 1 1 
 
 opera tune, while Horatio, advancing to Leonora, 
 asked her in a whisper if that gentleman was not a 
 relation of hers ; to which she answered with a smile, 
 or rather sneer, " No, he is no relation of mine yet ; " 
 adding, " she could not guess the meaning of his ques- 
 tion." Horatio told her softly, " It did not arise from 
 jealousy." "Jealousy! I assure you, it would be 
 very strange in a common acquaintance to give him- 
 self any of those airs." These words a little surprized 
 Horatio ; but, before he had time to answer, Bellar- 
 mine danced up to the lady and told her, " He feared 
 he interrupted some business between her and the 
 gentleman." " I can have no business," said she, 
 " with the gentleman, nor any other, which need be 
 any secret to you." 
 
 " You'll pardon me," said Horatio, " if I desire to 
 know who this gentleman is who is to be entrusted with 
 all our secrets." " You'll know soon enough," cries 
 Leonora ; " but I can't guess what secrets can ever 
 pass between us of such mighty consequence." "No, 
 madam ! " cries Horatio ; " I am sure you would not 
 have me understand you in earnest." " 'Tis indifferent 
 to me," says she, " how you understand me ; but I think 
 so unseasonable a visit is difficult to be understood at 
 all, at least when people find one engaged : though 
 one's servants do not deny one, one may expect a well- 
 bred person should soon take the hint." " Madam," 
 said Horatio, " I did not imagine any engagement with 
 a stranger, as it seems this gentleman is, would have 
 made my visit impertinent, or that any such ceremonies 
 were to be preserved between persons in our situation." 
 " Sure you are in a dream," says she, " or would per- 
 suade me that I am in one. I know no pretensions a 
 common acquaintance can have to lay aside the cere- 
 monies of good breeding." "Sure," said he, "I am 
 in a dream ; for it is impossible I should be really 
 
1 1 2 The Adventures of 
 
 esteemed a common acquaintance by Leonora, after 
 what has passed between us ? " " Passed between us ! 
 Do you intend to affront me before this gentleman ? " 
 " D n me, affront the lady," says Bellarmine, cock- 
 ing his hat, and strutting up to Horatio : " does any 
 man dare affront this lady before me, d n me ? " 
 " Hark'ee, sir," says Horatio, " I would advise you to 
 lay aside that fierce air ; for I am mightily deceived if 
 this lady has not a violent desire to get your worship a 
 good drubbing." " Sir," said Bellarmine, " I have 
 the honour to be her protector ; and, d n me, if I 
 understand your meaning." " Sir," answered Horatio, 
 " she is rather your protectress ; but give yourself no 
 more airs, for you see I am prepared for you" (shak- 
 ing his whip at him). " Oh ! serviteur ires humble" 
 says Bellarmine : " Je vous entend parfaitment lien" 
 At which time the aunt, who had heard of Horatio's 
 visit, entered the room, and soon satisfied all his doubts. 
 She convinced him that he was never more awake in 
 his life, and that nothing more extraordinary had 
 happened in his three days' absence than a small altera- 
 tion in the affections of Leonora ; who now burst into 
 tears, and wondered what reason she had given him to 
 use her in so barbarous a manner. Horatio desired 
 Bellarmine to withdraw with him ; but the ladies pre- 
 vented it by laying violent hands on the latter ; upon 
 which the former took his leave without any great 
 ceremony, and departed, leaving the lady with his 
 rival to consult for his safety, which Leonora feared 
 her indiscretion might have endangered ; but the aunt 
 comforted her with assurances that Horatio would not 
 venture his person against so accomplished a cavalier 
 as Bellarmine, and that, being a lawyer, he would seek 
 revenge in his own way, and the most they had to 
 apprehend from him was an action. 
 
 They at length therefore agreed to permit Bellarmine 
 
Joseph Andrews 1 1 3 
 
 to retire to his lodgings, having first settled all matters 
 relating to the journey which he was to undertake in the 
 morning, and their preparations for the nuptials at his 
 return. 
 
 But, alas ! as wise men have observed, the seat of 
 valour is not the countenance ; and many a grave and 
 plain man will, on a just provocation, betake himself to 
 that mischievous metal, cold iron ; while men of a fiercer 
 brow, and sometimes with that emblem of courage, a 
 cockade, will more prudently decline it. 
 
 Leonora was waked in the morning, from a visionary 
 coach and six, with the dismal account that Bellarmine 
 was run through the body by Horatio ; that he lay 
 languishing at an inn, and the surgeons had declared the 
 wound mortal. She immediately leaped out of the bed, 
 danced about the room in a frantic manner, tore her 
 hair and beat her breast in all the agonies of despair ; in 
 which sad condition her aunt, who likewise arose at 
 the news, found her. The good old lady applied her 
 utmost art to comfort her niece. She told her, " While 
 there was life there was hope ; but that if he should die 
 her affliction would be of no service to Bellarmine, and 
 would only expose herself, which might, probably, keep 
 her some time without any future offer ; that, as matters 
 had happened, her wisest way would be to think no more 
 of Bellarmine, but to endeavour to regain the affections 
 of Horatio." " Speak not to me," cried the discon- 
 solate Leonora ; " is it not owing to me that poor 
 Bellarmine has lost his life? Have not these cursed 
 charms (at which words she looked steadfastly in the 
 glass) been the ruin of the most charming man of this 
 age ? Can I ever bear to contemplate my own face 
 again (with her eyes still fixed on the glass) ? Am I 
 not the murderess of the finest gentleman ? No other 
 woman in the town could have made any impression on 
 him." "Never think of things past," cries the aunt: 
 
1 1 4 The Adventures of 
 
 " think of regaining the affections of Horatio." " What 
 reason," said the niece, " have I to hope he would for- 
 give me ? No, I have lost him as well as the other, 
 and it was your wicked advice which was the occasion 
 of all ; you seduced me, contrary to my inclinations, to 
 abandon poor Horatio (at which words she burst into 
 tears) ; you prevailed upon me, whether I would or no, 
 to give up my affections for him ; had it not been for 
 you, Bellarmine never would have entered into my 
 thoughts ; had not his addresses been backed by your 
 persuasions, they never would have made any impression 
 on me ; I should have defied all the fortune and equi- 
 page in the world ; but it was you, it was you, who got 
 the better of my youth and simplicity, and forced me to 
 lose my dear Horatio for ever." 
 
 The aunt was almost borne down with this torrent of 
 words ; she, however, rallied all the strength she could, 
 and, drawing her mouth up in a purse, began : " I am 
 not surprized, niece, at this ingratitude. Those who 
 advise young women for their interest, must always 
 expect such a return : I am convinced my brother will 
 thank me for breaking off your match with Horatio, at 
 any rate." " That may not be in your power yet," 
 answered Leonora, " though it is very ungrateful in you 
 to desire or attempt it, after the presents you have 
 received from him." (For indeed true it is, that many 
 presents, and some pretty valuable ones, had passed from 
 Horatio to the old lady ; but as true it is, that Bellar- 
 mine, when he breakfasted with her and her niece, had 
 complimented her with a brilliant from his finger, of 
 much greater value than all she had touched of the 
 other. ) 
 
 The aunt's gall was on float to reply, when a servant 
 brought a letter into the room, which Leonora, hearing 
 it came from Bellarmine, with great eagerness opened, 
 and read as follows : 
 
Joseph Andrews j 1 5 
 
 " MOST DIVINE CREATURE, The wound which I fear 
 you have heard I received from my rival is not like to 
 be so fatal as those shot into my heart which have been 
 fired from your eyes, tout brilliant. Those are the only 
 cannons by which I am to fall ; for my surgeon gives 
 me hopes of being soon able to attend your ruelle ; till 
 when, unless you would do me an honour which I have 
 scarce the bar dies se to think of, your absence will be 
 the greatest anguish which can be felt by, 
 
 Madam, 
 Awe toute le respecte in the world, 
 
 Your most obedient, most absolute 
 DruotS, 
 
 " BELLARMINE." 
 
 As soon as Leonora perceived such hopes of 
 Bellarmine's recovery, and that the gossip Fame had, 
 according to custom, so enlarged his danger, she 
 presently abandoned all further thoughts of Horatio, 
 and was soon reconciled to her aunt, who received her 
 again into favour, with a more Christian forgiveness 
 than we generally meet with. Indeed, it is possible 
 she might be a little alarmed at the hints which her 
 niece had given her concerning the presents. She 
 might apprehend such rumours, should they get abroad, 
 might injure a reputation which, by frequenting church 
 twice a day, and preserving the utmost rigour and strict- 
 ness in her countenance and behaviour for many years, 
 she had established. 
 
 Leonora's passion returned now for Bellarmine with 
 greater force, after its small relaxation, than ever. She 
 proposed to her aunt to make him a visit in his confine- 
 ment, which the old lady, with great and commendable 
 prudence, advised her to decline: "For," says she, 
 "should any accident intervene to prevent your intended 
 match, too forward a behaviour with this lover may 
 
1 1 6 The Adventures of 
 
 injure you in the eyes of others. Every woman, till she 
 is married, ought to consider of, and provide against, the 
 possibility of the affair's breaking oft." Leonora said, 
 " She should be indifferent to whatever might happen in 
 such a case ; for she had now so absolutely placed her 
 affections on this dear man (so she called him), that, 
 if it was her misfortune to lose him, she should for 
 ever abandon all thoughts of mankind." She, therefore, 
 resolved to visit him, notwithstanding all the prudent 
 advice of her aunt to the contrary, and that very after- 
 noon executed her resolution. 
 
 The lady was proceeding in her story, when the 
 coach drove into the inn where the company were to 
 dine, sorely to the dissatisfaction of Mr Adams, whose 
 ears were the most hungry part about him ; he being, as 
 the reader may perhaps guess, of an insatiable curiosity, 
 and heartily desirous of hearing the end of this amour, 
 though he professed he could scarce wish success to a 
 lady of so inconstant a disposition. 
 
 A dreadful quarrel which happened at the inn 'where the 
 company dined, with its bloody consequences to Mr 
 Adams. 
 
 A^ soon as the passengers had alighted from the 
 coach, Mr Adams, as was his custom, made 
 directly to the kitchen, where he found Joseph 
 sitting by the fire, and the hostess anointing his leg ; for 
 the horse which Mr Adams had borrowed of his clerk had 
 so violent a propensity to kneeling, that one would have 
 thought it had been his trade, as well as his master's ; 
 nor would he always give any notice of such his 
 intention ; he was often found on his knees when the 
 
 >*g 
 
Joseph Andrews 1 1 7 
 
 rider least expected it. This foible, however, was of 
 no great inconvenience to the parson, who was accus- 
 tomed to it ; and, as his legs almost touched the ground 
 when he bestrode the beast, had but a little way to fall, 
 and threw himself forward on such occasions with so 
 much dexterity that he never received any mischief; 
 the horse and he frequently rolling many paces' distance, 
 and afterwards both getting up and meeting as good 
 friends as ever. 
 
 Poor Joseph, who had not been used to such kind of 
 cattle, though an excellent horseman, did not so happily 
 disengage himself; but, falling with his leg under the 
 beast, received a violent contusion, to which the good 
 woman was, as we have said, applying a warm hand, 
 with some camphorated spirits, just at the time when 
 the parson entered the kitchen. 
 
 He had scarce expressed his concern for Joseph's 
 misfortune before the host likewise entered. He was 
 by no means of Mr Tow-wouse's gentle disposition ; 
 and was, indeed, perfect master of his house, and every- 
 thing in it but his guests. 
 
 This surly fellow, who always proportioned his respect 
 to the appearance of a traveller, from " God bless your 
 honour," down to plain " Coming presently," observing 
 his wife on her knees to a footman, cried out, without 
 considering his circumstances, "What a pox is the 
 woman about? why don't you mind the company in 
 the coach ? Go and ask them what they will have for 
 dinner." " My dear," says she, " you know they can 
 have nothing but what is at the fire, which will be ready 
 presently , and really the poor young man's leg is very 
 much bruised." At which words she fell to chafing 
 more violently than before : the bell then happening to 
 ring, he damn'd his wife, and bid her go in to the 
 company, and not stand rubbing there all day, for he 
 did not believe the young fellow's leg was so bad as 
 
1 1 8 The Adventures of 
 
 he pretended ; and if it was, within twenty miles he 
 would find a surgeon to cut it off. Upon these words, 
 Adams fetched two strides across the room ; and 
 snapping his fingers over his head, muttered aloud, He 
 would excommunicate such a wretch for a farthing, for 
 he believed the devil had more humanity. These words 
 occasioned a dialogue between Adams and the host, in 
 which there were two or three sharp replies, till Joseph 
 bad the latter know how to behave himself to his 
 betters. At which the host (having first strictly sur- 
 veyed Adams) scornfully repeating the word " betters," 
 flew into a rage, and, telling Joseph he was as able to 
 walk out of his house as he had been to walk into it, 
 offered to lay violent hands on him ; which perceiving, 
 Adams dealt him so sound a compliment over his face 
 with his fist, that the blood immediately gushed out of 
 his nose in a stream. The host, being unwilling to be 
 outdone in courtesy, especially by a person of Adams's 
 figure, returned the favour with so much gratitude, that 
 the parson's nostrils began to look a little redder than 
 usual. Upon which he again assailed his antagonist, and 
 with another stroke laid him sprawling on the floor. 
 
 The hostess, who was a better wife than so surly a 
 husband deserved, seeing her husband all bloody and 
 stretched along, hastened presently to his assistance, or 
 rather to revenge the blow, which, to all appearance, 
 was the last he would ever receive ; when, lo ! a pan 
 full of hog's blood, which unluckily stood on the dresser, 
 presented itself first to her hands. She seized it 
 in her fury, and without any reflection, discharged it 
 into the parson's face ; and with so good an aim, that 
 much the greater part first saluted his countenance, and 
 trickled thence in so large a current down to his beard, 
 and over his garments, that a more horrible spectacle 
 was hardly to be seen, or even imagined. All which 
 was perceived by Mrs Slipslop, who entered the kitchen 
 
Joseph Andrews 119 
 
 at that instant. This good gentlewoman, not being of 
 a temper so extremely cool and patient as perhaps was 
 required to ask many questions on this occasion, flew with 
 great impetuosity at the hostess's cap, which, together 
 with some of her hair, she plucked from her head in a 
 moment, giving her, at the same time, several hearty cuffs 
 in the face; which by frequent practice on the inferior 
 servants, she had learned an excellent knack of delivering 
 with a good grace. Poor Joseph could hardly rise from his 
 chair ; the parson was employed in wiping the blood 
 from his eyes, which had entirely blinded him ; and the 
 landlord was but just beginning to stir ; whilst Mrs 
 Slipslop, holding down the landlady's face with her 
 left hand, made so dexterous an use of her right, that 
 the poor woman began to roar, in a key which alarmed 
 all the company in the inn. 
 
 There happened to be in the inn, at this time, be- 
 sides the ladies who arrived in the stage-coach, the two 
 gentlemen who were present at Mr Tow-wouse's when 
 Joseph was detained for his horse's meat, and whom 
 we have before mentioned to have stopt at the ale- 
 house with Adams. There was likewise a gentleman 
 just returned from his travels to Italy ; all whom the 
 horrid outcry of murder presently brought into the 
 kitchen, where the several combatants were found in 
 the postures already described. 
 
 It was now no difficulty to put an end to the fray, 
 the conquerors being satisfied with the vengeance they 
 had taken, and the conquered having no appetite to 
 renew the fight. The principal figure, and which en- 
 gaged the eyes of all, was Adams, who was all over 
 covered with blood, which the whole company con- 
 cluded to be his own, and consequently imagined him 
 no longer for this world. But the host, who had now 
 recovered from his blow, and was risen from the ground, 
 soon delivered them from this apprehension, by damning 
 
120 The Adventures of 
 
 his wife for wasting the hog's puddings, and telling her 
 all would have been very well if she had not inter- 
 meddled, like a b as she was ; adding, he was very 
 glad the gentlewoman had paid her, though not half 
 what she deserved. The poor woman had indeed fared 
 much the worst ; having, besides the unmerciful cuffs 
 received, lost a quantity of hair, which Mrs Slipslop in 
 triumph held in her left hand. 
 
 The traveller, addressing himself to Mrs Grave-airs, 
 desired her not to be frightened ; for here had been 
 only a little boxing, which he said, to their disgracla, 
 the English were accustomata to : adding, it must be, 
 however, a sight somewhat strange to him, who was 
 just come from Italy ; the Italians not being addicted 
 to the cuffardo, but bastonxa, says he. He then went 
 up to Adams, and telling him he looked like the ghost 
 of Othello, bid him not shake his gory locks at him, 
 tor he could not say he did it. Adams very innocently 
 answered, " Sir, I am far from accusing you." He 
 then returned to the lady, and cried, " I find the bloody 
 gentleman is uno instpido delnullo senso. Dammato dl me, 
 if I have seen such a spectacuJo in my way from Viterbo." 
 
 One of the gentlemen having learnt from the host 
 the occasion of this bustle, and being assured by him 
 that Adams had struck the first blow, whispered in his 
 ear, " He'd warrant he would recover." " Recover I 
 master," said the host, smiling : " yes, yes, I am not 
 afraid of dying with a blow or two neither ; I am not 
 such a chicken as that." "Pugh! " said the gentle- 
 man, " I mean you will recover damages in that action 
 which, undoubtedly, you intend to bring, as soon as a 
 writ can be returned from London ; for you look like 
 a man of too much spirit and courage to suffer any one 
 to beat you without bringing your action against him : 
 he must be a scandalous fellow indeed who would put 
 up with a drubbing whilst the law is open to revenge 
 
Joseph Andrews 121 
 
 it ; besides, he hath drawn blood from you, and spoiled 
 your coat ; and the jury will give damages for that too, 
 An excellent new coat upon my word ; and now not 
 worth a shilling! I don't care," continued he, "to 
 intermeddle in these cases ; but you have a right to my 
 evidence ; and if I am sworn, I must speak the truth. 
 I saw you sprawling on the floor, and blood gushing 
 from your nostrils. You may take your own opinion ; 
 but was I in your circumstances, every drop of my 
 blood should convey an ounce of gold into my pocket : 
 remember I don't advise you to go to law ; but if your 
 jury were Christians, they must give swinging damages. 
 That's all." "Master," cried the host, scratching his 
 head, " I have no stomach to law, I thank you. I have 
 seen enough of that in the parish, where two of my 
 neighbours have been at law about a house, till they 
 have both lawed themselves into a gaol." At which 
 words he turned about, and began to inquire again after 
 his hog's puddings ; nor would it probably have been 
 a sufficient excuse for his wife, that she spilt them in 
 his defence, had not some awe of the company, especi- 
 ally of the Italian traveller, who was a person of great 
 dignity, withheld his rage. 
 
 Whilst one of the above-mentioned gentlemen was 
 employed, as we have seen him, on the behalf of the 
 landlord, the other was no less hearty on the side oi 
 Mr Adams, whom he advised to bring his action im- 
 mediately. He said the assault of the wife was in law 
 the assault of the husband, for they were but one person ; 
 and he was liable to pay damages, which he said must 
 be considerable, where so bloody a disposition appeared. 
 Adams answered, If it was true that they were but one 
 person, he had assaulted the wife ; for he was sorry to 
 own he had struck the husband the first blow. " I am 
 sorry you own it too," cries the gentleman ; " for it 
 could not possibly appear to the court ; for here was no 
 
122 The Adventures of 
 
 evidence present but the lame man in the chair, whom 
 I suppose to be your friend, and would consequently 
 say nothing but what made for you." " How, sir," 
 says Adams, " do you take me for a villain, who would 
 prosecute revenge in cold blood, and use unjustifiable 
 means to obtain it ? If you knew me, and my order, 
 I should think you affronted both." At the word 
 order, the gentleman stared (for he was too bloody to 
 be of any modern order of knights) ; and, turning hastily 
 about, said, " Every man knew his own business." 
 
 Matters being now composed, the company retired to 
 their several apartments ; the two gentlemen congratu- 
 lating each other on the success of their good offices in 
 procuring a perfect reconciliation between the contend- 
 ing parties ; and the traveller went to his repast, crying, 
 " As the Italian poet says 
 
 1 Je voi very well que tut fa e pace, 
 So send up dinner, good Boniface.' " 
 
 The coachman began now to grow importunate with 
 his passengers, whose entrance into the coach was re- 
 tarded by Miss Grave-airs insisting, against the remon- 
 strance of all the rest, that she would not admit a 
 footman into the coach ; for poor Joseph was too lame 
 to mount a horse. A young lady, who was, as it seems, 
 an earl's grand-daughter, begged it with almost tears in 
 her eyes. Mr Adams prayed, and Mrs Slipslop scolded ; 
 but all to no purpose. She said, " She would not de- 
 mean herself to ride with a footman : that there were 
 waggons on the road : that if the master of the coach 
 desired it, she would pay for two places ; but would 
 suffer no such fellow to come in." " Madam," says 
 Slipslop, " I am sure no one can refuse another coming 
 into a stage-coach." " I don't know, madam," says 
 the ladv : " I am not much used to stage-coaches ; I 
 seldom travel in them." " That may be, madam," 
 
Joseph Andrews 123 
 
 replied Slipslop ; " very good people do ; and some 
 people's betters, for aught I know." Miss Grave-airs 
 said, " Some folks might sometimes give their tongues 
 a liberty, to some people that were their betters, which 
 did not become them ; for her part, she was not used 
 to converse with servants." Slipslop returned, " Some 
 people kept no servants to converse with ; for her part, 
 she thanked Heaven she lived in a family where there 
 were a great many, and had more under her own com- 
 mand than any paultry little gentlewoman in the king- 
 dom." Miss Grave-airs cried, " She believed her 
 mistress would not encourage such sauciness to her 
 betters." " My betters," says Slipslop, " who is my 
 betters, pray ? " " I am your betters," answered Miss 
 Grave-airs, "and I'll acquaint your mistress." At 
 which Mrs Slipslop laughed aloud, and told her, " Her 
 lady was one of the great gentry ; and such little paultry 
 gentlewomen as some folks, who travelled in stage- 
 coaches, would not easily come at her." 
 
 This smart dialogue between some people and some 
 folks was going on at the coach door when a solemn 
 person, riding into the inn, and seeing Miss Grave- 
 airs, immediately accosted her with " Dear child, how 
 do you ? " She presently answered, " O papa, I am 
 glad you have overtaken me." " So am I," answered 
 he ; " for one of our coaches is just at hand ; and, 
 there being room for you in it, you shall go no farther 
 in the stage unless you desire it." " How can you 
 imagine I should desire it ? " says she ; so, bidding 
 Slipslop ride with her fellow, if she pleased, she took 
 her father by the hand, who was just alighted, and 
 walked with him into a room. 
 
 Adams instantly asked the coachman, in a whisper, 
 " If he knew who the gentleman was ? " The coach- 
 man answered, " He was now a gentleman, and kept 
 his horse and man ; but times are altered, master," said 
 
1 24 The Adventures of 
 
 he ; "I remember when he was no better born than 
 myself." " Ay ! ay ! " says Adams. " My father 
 drove the squire's coach," answered he, "when that 
 very man rode postillion ; but he is now his steward ; and 
 a great gentleman." Adams then snapped his fingers, 
 and cried, " He thought she was some such trollop." 
 
 Adams made haste to acquaint Mrs Slipslop with this 
 good news, as he imagined it ; but it found a reception 
 different from what he expected. The prudent gentle- 
 woman, who despised the anger of Miss Grave-airs 
 whilst she conceived her the daughter of a gentleman 
 of small fortune, now she heard her alliance with the 
 upper servants of a great family in her neighbourhood, 
 began to fear her interest with the mistress. She 
 wisned she had not carried the dispute so far, and 
 began to think of endeavouring to reconcile herself to 
 the young lady before she left the inn ; when, luckily, 
 the scene at London, which the reader can scarce have 
 forgotten, presented itself to her mind, and comforted 
 her with such assurance, that she no longer apprehended 
 any enemy with her mistress. 
 
 Everything being now adjusted, the company entered 
 the coach, which was just on its departure, when one 
 lady recollected she had left her fan, a second her 
 gloves, a third a snuff-box, and a fourth a smelling- 
 bottle behind her ; to find all which occasioned some 
 delay and much swearing to the coachman. 
 
 As soon as the coach had left the inn, the women all 
 together fell to the character of Miss Grave-airs ; whom 
 one of them declared she had suspected to be some low 
 creature, from the beginning of their journey, and another 
 affirmed she had not even the looks of a gentlewoman : 
 a third warranted she was no better than she should be ; 
 and, turning to the lady who had related the story in 
 the coach, said, " Did you ever hear, madam, anything 
 so prudish as her remarks ? Well, deliver me from the 
 
Joseph Andrews 125 
 
 censoriousness of such a prude." The fourth added, 
 "O madam! all these creatures are censorious; but 
 for my part, I wonder where the wretch was bred ; 
 indeed, I must own I have seldom conversed with 
 these mean kind of people, so that it may appear 
 stranger to me ; but to refuse the general desire of a 
 whole company had something in it so astonishing, 
 that, for my part, I own I should hardly believe it if 
 my own ears had not been witnesses to it." " Yes, and 
 so handsome a young fellow," cries Slipslop ; " the 
 woman must have no compulsion in her : I believe she 
 is more of a Turk than a Christian ; I am certain, if she 
 had any Christian woman's blood in her veins, the sight 
 of such a young fellow must have warmed it. Indeed, 
 there are some wretched, miserable old objects, that 
 turn one's stomach ; I should not wonder if she had 
 refused such a one ; I am as nice as herself, and 
 should have cared no more than herself for the 
 company of stinking old fellows; but, hold up thy 
 head, Joseph, thou art none of those ; and she who 
 hath not compulsion for thee is a Myhummetman, and 
 I will maintain it." This conversation made Joseph 
 uneasy as well as the ladies ; who, perceiving the 
 spirits which Mrs Slipslop was in (for indeed she was 
 not a cup too low), began to fear the consequence ; 
 one of them therefore desired the lady to conclude the 
 story. " Aye, madam," said Slipslop, " I beg your 
 ladyship to give us that story you commensated in the 
 morning ; " which request that well-bred woman imme- 
 diately complied with. 
 
1 26 The Adventures of 
 
 Conclusion of the unfortunate jilt. 
 
 I EONORA, having once broke through the boundi 
 
 |^ which custom and modesty impose on her sex, 
 
 soon gave an unbridled indulgence to her passion. 
 
 Her visits to Bellarmine were more constant, as well 
 
 as longer, than his surgeon's : in a word, she became 
 
 absolutely his nurse ; made his water-gruel, administered 
 
 him his medicines ; and, notwithstanding the prudent 
 
 advice of her aunt to the contrary, almost intirely resided 
 
 in her wounded lover's apartment. 
 
 The ladies of the town began to take her conduct 
 under consideration : it was the chief topic of discourse 
 at their tea-tables, and was very severely censured by 
 the most part ; especially by Lindamira, a lady whose 
 discreet and starch carriage, together with a constant 
 attendance at church three times a day, had utterly 
 defeated many malicious attacks on her own reputa- 
 tion ; for such was the envy that Lindamira's virtue had 
 attracted, that, notwithstanding her own strict behaviour 
 and strict enquiry into the lives of others, she had not 
 been able to escape being the mark of some arrows her- 
 self, which, however, did her no injury ; a blessing, 
 perhaps, owed by her to the clergy, who were her chief 
 male companions, and with two or three of whom she 
 had been barbarously and unjustly calumniated. 
 
 " Not so unjustly neither, perhaps," says Slipslop ; 
 "for the clergy are men, as well as other folks." 
 
 The extreme delicacy of Lindamira's virtue was 
 cruelly hurt by those freedoms which Leonora allowed 
 herself: she said, " It was an affront to her sex ; that 
 she did not imagine it consistent with any woman's 
 honour to speak to the creature, or to be seen in her 
 company; and that, for her part, she should always 
 
Joseph Andrews 127 
 
 refuse to dance at an assembly with her, for fear of 
 contamination by taking her by the hand." 
 
 But to return to my story: as soon as Bellarmine 
 was recovered, ,which was somewhat within a month 
 from his receiving the wound, he set out, according to 
 agreement, for Leonora's father's, in order to propose 
 the match, and settle all matters with him touching settle- 
 ments, and the like. 
 
 A little before his arrival the old gentleman had re- 
 ceived an intimation of the affair by the following letter, 
 which I can repeat verbatim, and which, they say, was 
 written neither by Leonora nor her aunt, though it was 
 in a woman's hand. The letter was in these words : 
 
 " SIR, I am sorry to acquaint you that your daughter, 
 Leonora, hath acted one of the basest as well as most 
 simple parts with a young gentleman to whom she had 
 engaged herself, and whom she hath (pardon the word) 
 jilted for another of inferior fortune, notwithstanding his 
 superior figure. You may take what measures you please 
 on this occasion ; I have performed what I thought my 
 duty ; as I have, though unknown to you, a very great 
 respect for your family." 
 
 The old gentleman did not give himself the trouble 
 to answer this kind epistle ; nor did he take any notice 
 of it, after he had read it, till he saw Bellarmine. He 
 was, to say the truth, one of those fathers who look on 
 children as an unhappy consequence of their youthful 
 pleasures ; which, as he would have been delighted not 
 to have had attended them, so was he no less pleased 
 with any opportunity to rid himself of the incumbrance. 
 He passed, in the world's language, as an exceeding 
 good father ; being not only so rapacious as to rob and 
 plunder all mankind to the utmost of his power, but even 
 to deny himself the conveniencies, and almost necessaries, 
 of life ; which his neighbours attributed to a desire of 
 raising immense fortunes for his children : but in fact it 
 
1 28 The Adventures of 
 
 Was not so ; he heaped up money for its own sake only, 
 and looked on his children as his rivals, who were to 
 enjoy his beloved mistress when he was incapable of 
 possessing her, and which he would have been much 
 more charmed with the power of carrying along with 
 him ; nor had his children any other security of being 
 his heirs than that the law would constitute them such 
 without a will, and that he had not affection enough for 
 any one living to take the trouble of writing one. 
 
 To this gentleman came Bellarmine, on the errand I 
 have mentioned. His person, his equipage, his family, 
 and his estate, seemed to the father to make him an 
 advantageous match for his daughter : he therefore very 
 readily accepted his proposals : but when Bellarmine 
 imagined the principal affair concluded, and began to 
 open the incidental matters of fortune, the old gentleman 
 presently changed his countenance, saying, " He resolved 
 never to marry his daughter on a Smithfield match ; that 
 whoever had love for her to take her would, when he 
 died, find her share of his fortune in his coffers ; but 
 he had seen such examples of undutifulness happen from 
 the too early generosity of parents, that he had made a 
 vow never to part with a shilling whilst he lived." He 
 commended the saying of Solomon, " He that spareth 
 the rod spoileth the child ; " but added, "he might 
 have likewise asserted, That he that spareth the purse 
 saveth the child." He then ran into a discourse on 
 the extravagance of the youth of the age ; whence he 
 launched into a dissertation on horses ; and came at 
 length to commend those Bellarmine drove. That fine 
 gentleman, who at another season would have been well 
 enough pleased to dwell a little on that subject, was now 
 very eager to resume the circumstance of fortune. He 
 said, " He had a very high value for the young lady, 
 and would receive her with less than he would any other 
 whatever ; but that even his love to her made some 
 
Joseph Andrews 129 
 
 regard to worldly matters necessary ; for it would be 
 a most distracting sight for him to see her, when he had 
 the honour to be her husband, in less than a coach and 
 ix." The old gentleman answered, " Four will do, 
 four will do ; " and then took a turn from horses to 
 extravagance and from extravagance to horses, till he 
 came round to the equipage again ; whither he was no 
 sooner arrived than Bellarmine brought him back to the 
 point ; but all to no purpose ; he made his escape from 
 that subject in a minute ; till at last the lover declared, 
 " That in the present situation of his affairs it was im- 
 possible for him, though he loved Leonora more than 
 tout le monde, to marry her without any fortune." To 
 which the father answered, "He was sorry that his 
 daughter must lose so valuable a match ; that, if he had 
 an inclination, at present it was not in his power to 
 advance a shilling : that he had had great losses, and 
 been at great expenses on projects ; which, though he 
 had great expectation from them, had yet produced him 
 nothing : that he did not know what might happen here- 
 after, as on the birth of a son, or such accident ; but he 
 would make no promise, or enter into any article, for 
 he would not break his vow for all the daughters in the 
 world. 
 
 In short, ladies, to keep you no longer in suspense, 
 Bellarmine, having tried every argument and persuasion 
 which he could invent, and finding them all ineffectual, 
 at length took his leave, but not in order to return to 
 Leonora ; he proceeded directly to his own seat, whence, 
 after a few days' stay, he returned to Paris, to the great 
 delight of the French and the honour of the English 
 nation. 
 
 But aa soon as he arrived at his home he presently 
 despatched a messenger with the following epistle to 
 Leonora : 
 
130 The Adventures of 
 
 " ADORABLE AND CHARM ANTE, I am sorry to have 
 the honour to tell you I am not the heureux person 
 destined for your divine arms. Your papa hath told 
 me so with a politeste not often seen on this side Paris. 
 You may perhaps guess his manner of refusing me. Ah^ 
 man Dieu ! You will certainly believe me, madam, in- 
 capable myself of delivering this triste message, which I 
 intend to try the French air to cure the consequences 
 of. A jamals ! Cteur / Angc / Au dtable ! If your 
 papa obliges you to a marriage, I hope we shall see you 
 at Paris; till when, the wind that flows from thence 
 will be the warmest dans le monde, for it will consist 
 almost entirely of my sighs. Adieu, ma princesse / Ah> 
 P amour / BELLARMINE." 
 
 I shall not attempt, ladies, to describe Leonora's 
 condition when she received this letter. It is a picture 
 of horror, which I should have as little pleasure in 
 drawing as you in beholding. She immediately left 
 the place where she was the subject of conversation and 
 ridicule, and retired to that house I showed you when 
 I began the story ; where she hath ever since led a dis- 
 consolate life, and deserves, perhaps, pity for her mis- 
 fortunes, more than our censure for a behaviour to which 
 the artifices of her aunt very probably contributed, and 
 to which very young women are often rendered too 
 liable by that blameable levity in the education of our 
 sex. 
 
 " If I was inclined to pity her," said a young lady in 
 the coach, " it would be for the loss of Horatio ; for 
 I cannot discern any misfortune in her missing such a 
 husband as Bellarmine." 
 
 " Why, I must own," says Slipslop, " the gentleman 
 was a little false-hearted ; but howsumever, it was hard 
 to have two lovers, and get never a husband at all. But 
 pray, madam, what became of Qur-asho ? " 
 
Joseph Andrews 131 
 
 He remains, said the lady, still unmarried, and hath 
 applied himself so strictly to his business, that he hath 
 raised, I hear, a very considerable fortune. And what 
 is remarkable, they say he never hears the name of Leo- 
 nora without a sigh, nor hath ever uttered one syllable 
 to charge her with her ill-conduct towards him. 
 
 Chapter btj. 
 
 A very short chapter, in which parson Adams went a 
 great way. 
 
 THE lady, having finished her story, received the 
 thanks of the company ; and now Joseph, putting 
 his head out of the coach, cried out, " Never 
 believe me if yonder be not our parson Adams walking 
 along without his horse ! " " On my word, and so 
 he is," says Slipslop : " and as sure as twopence he 
 hath left him behind at the inn." Indeed, true it is, 
 the parson had exhibited a fresh instance of his absence 
 of mind ; for he was so pleased with having got Joseph 
 into the coach, that he never once thought of the beast 
 in the stable; and, finding his legs as nimble as he 
 desired, he sallied out, brandishing a crabstick, and had 
 kept on before the coach, mending and slackening his 
 pace occasionally, so that he had never been much more 
 or less than a quarter of a mile distant from it. 
 
 Mrs Slipslop desired the coachman to overtake him, 
 which he attempted, but in vain ; for the faster he drove 
 the faster ran the parson, often crying out, " Aye, aye, 
 catch me if you can ; " till at length the coachman 
 swore he would as soon attempt to drive after a grey- 
 hound, and, giving the parson two or three hearty curses, 
 he cry'd, " Softly, softly, boys," to his horses, which 
 the civil beasts immediately obeyed 
 
132 The Adventures of 
 
 But we will be more courteous to our reader than he 
 was to Mrs Slipslop ; and, leaving the coach and its 
 company to pursue their journey, we will carry our reader 
 on after parson Adams, who stretched forwards without 
 once looking behind him, till, having left the coach full 
 three miles in his rear, he came to a place where, by 
 keeping the extremest track to the right, it was just 
 barely possible for a human creature to miss his way. 
 This track, however, did he keep, as indeed he had a 
 wonderful capacity at these kinds of bare possibilities, 
 and, travelling in it about three miles over the plain, he 
 arrived at the summit of a hill, whence looking a great 
 way backwards, and perceiving no coach in sight, he sat 
 himself down on the turf, and, pulling out his JEschylus, 
 determined to wait here for its arrival. 
 
 He had not sat long here before a gun going off 
 very near, a little startled him ; he looked up and saw 
 a gentleman within a hundred paces taking up a par* 
 tridge which he had just shot. 
 
 Adams stood up and presented a figure to the 
 gentleman which would have moved laughter in many ; 
 for his cassock had just again fallen down below his 
 greatcoat, that is to say, it reached his knees, whereas 
 the skirts of his greatcoat descended no lower than 
 half-way down his thighs ; but the gentleman's mirth 
 gave way to his surprize at beholding such a personage 
 in such a place. 
 
 Adams, advancing to the gentleman, told him he 
 hoped he had good sport, to which the other answered, 
 "Very little. " "I see, sir," says Adams, "you 
 have smote one partridge ; " to which the sportsman 
 made no reply, but proceeded to charge his piece. 
 
 Whilst the gun was charging, Adams remained in 
 silence, which he at last broke by observing that it was 
 a delightful evening. The gentleman, who had at first 
 sight conceived a very distasteful opinion of the parson, 
 
Joseph Andrews 133 
 
 began, on perceiving a book in his hand and smoaking 
 likewise the information of the cassock, to change his 
 thoughts, and made a small advance to conversation on 
 his side by saying, " Sir, I suppose you are not one of 
 these parts ? " 
 
 Adams immediately told him, " No ; that he was a 
 traveller, and invited by the beauty of the evening and 
 the place to repose a little and amuse himself with 
 reading." " I may as well repose myself too," said 
 the sportsman, " for I have been out this whole after- 
 noon, and the devil a bird have I seen till I came 
 hither." 
 
 " Perhaps then the game is not very plenty here- 
 abouts ? " cries Adams. " No, sir," said the gentle- 
 man : " the soldiers, who are quartered in the 
 neighbourhood, have killed it all." " It is very 
 probable," cries Adams, " for shooting is their profes- 
 sion." " Ay, shooting the game," answered the 
 other ; " but I don't see they are so forward to shoot 
 our enemies. I don't like that affair of Carthagena ; 
 if I had been there, I believe I should have done 
 other-guess things, d n me: what's a man's life 
 when his country demands it? a man who won't 
 sacrifice his life for his country deserves to be hanged, 
 d n me." Which words he spoke with so violent 
 a gesture, so loud a voice, so strong an accent, and so 
 fierce a countenance, that he might have frightened a 
 captain of trained bands at the head of his company ; 
 but Mr Adams was not greatly subject to fear ; he 
 told him intrepidly that he very much approved his 
 virtue, but disliked his swearing, and begged him not 
 to addict himself to so bad a custom, without which 
 he said he might fight as bravely as Achilles did. 
 Indeed he was charmed with this discourse ; he told 
 the gentleman he would willingly have gone many 
 miles to have met a man of his generous way of think- 
 
134 The Adventures of 
 
 ing ; that, if he pleased to sit down, he should be 
 greatly delighted to commune with him ; for, though 
 he was a clergyman, he would himself be ready, if 
 thereto called, to lay down his life for his country. 
 
 The gentleman sat down, and Adams by him ; and 
 then the latter began, as in the following chapter, a dis- 
 course which we have placed by itself, as it is not only 
 the most curious in this but perhaps in any other book. 
 
 Chapter tJtii. 
 
 A notable dissertation by Mr Abraham Adams ; wherein 
 that gentleman appears in a political light. 
 
 lt T DO assure you, sir " (says he, taking the gentleman 
 by the hand), " I am heartily glad to meet with 
 a man of your kidney ; for, though I am a poor 
 parson, I will be bold to say I am an honest man, and 
 would not do an ill thing to be made a bishop ; nay, 
 though it hath not fallen in my way to offer so noble 
 a sacrifice, I have not been without opportunities of 
 suffering for the sake of my conscience, I thank Heaven 
 for them ; for I have had relations, though I say it, 
 who made some figure in the world ; particularly a 
 nephew, who was a shopkeeper and an alderman of a 
 corporation. He was a good lad, and was under my 
 care when a boy ; and I believe would do what I bade 
 him to his dying day. Indeed, it looks like extreme 
 vanity in me to affect being a man of such consequence 
 as to have so great an interest in an alderman ; but 
 others have thought so too, as manifestly appeared by 
 the rector, whose curate I formerly was, sending for 
 me on the approach of an election, and telling me, if 
 I expected to continue in his cure, that I must bring 
 my nephew to vote for one Colonel Courtly, a gentle- 
 
Joseph Andrews 1 3 5 
 
 man whom I had never heard tidings of till that in- 
 stant. I told the rector I had no power over my 
 nephew's vote (God forgive me for such prevarica- 
 tion ! ) ; that I supposed he would give it according 
 to his conscience ; that I would by no means endeavour 
 to influence him to give it otherwise. He told me it 
 was in vain to equivocate ; that he knew I had already 
 spoke to him in favour of esquire Fickle, my neighbour ; 
 and, indeed, it was true I had ; for it was at a season 
 when the church was in danger, and when all good 
 men expected they knew not what would happen to us 
 all. 1 then answered boldly, if he thought I had given 
 my promise, he affronted me in proposing any breach 
 of it. Not to be too prolix ; I persevered, and so did 
 my nephew, in the esquire's interest, who was chose 
 chiefly through his means ; and so I lost my curacy. 
 Well, sir, but do you think the esquire ever mentioned 
 a word of the church ? Nc verbum quidem, ut ita dicam : 
 within two years he got a place, and hath ever since 
 lived in London ; where I have been informed (but 
 God forbid I should believe that,) that he never so 
 much as goeth to church. I remained, sir, a consider- 
 able time without any cure, and lived a full month on 
 one funeral sermon, which I preached on the indis- 
 position of a clergyman ; but this by the bye. At last, 
 when Mr Fickle got his place, Colonel Courtly stood 
 again ; and who should make interest for him but Mr 
 Fickle himself! that very identical Mr Fickle, who 
 had formerly told me the colonel was an enemy to 
 both the church and state, had the confidence to sollicit 
 my nephew for him ; and the colonel himself offered 
 me to make me chaplain to his regiment, which I re- 
 fused in favour of Sir Oliver Hearty, who told us he 
 would sacrifice everything to his country ; and I believe 
 he would, except his hunting, which he stuck so close 
 to, that in five years together he went but twice up to 
 
i 3 6 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 parliament ; and one of those times, I have been told, 
 never was within sight of the House. However, he 
 was a worthy man, and the best friend I ever had ; for, 
 by his interest with a bishop, he got me replaced into 
 my curacy, and gave me eight pounds out of his own 
 pocket to buy me a gown and cassock, and furnish my 
 house. He had our interest while he lived, which was 
 not many years. On his death I had fresh applications 
 made to me ; for all the world knew the interest I had 
 with my good nephew, who now was a leading man in 
 the corporation ; and Sir Thomas Booby, buying the 
 estate which had been Sir Oliver's, proposed himself a 
 candidate. He was then a young gentleman just come 
 from his travels ; and it did me good to hear him dis- 
 course on affairs which, for my part, I knew nothing 
 of. If I had been master of a thousand votes he should 
 have had them all. I engaged my nephew in his in- 
 terest, and he was elected ; and a very fine parliament- 
 man he was. They tell me he made speeches of an 
 hour long, and, I have been told, very fine ones ; but he 
 could never persuade the parliament to be of his opinion. 
 Non omnia fossumus omncs. He promised me a living, 
 poor man ! and I believe I should have had it, but an 
 accident happened, which was, that my lady had pro- 
 mised it before, unknown to him. This, indeed, I 
 never heard till afterwards ; for my nephew, who died 
 about a month before the incumbent, always told me I 
 might be assured of it. Since that time, Sir Thomas, 
 poor man, had always so much business, that he never 
 could find leisure to see me. I believe it was partly 
 my lady's fault too, who did not think my dress good 
 enough for the gentry at her table. However, I must 
 do him the justice to say he never was ungrateful ; and 
 I have always found his kitchen, and his cellar too, 
 open to me : many a time, after service on a Sunday 
 for I preach at four churches have I recruited my 
 
Joseph Andrews 137 
 
 spirits with a glass of his ale. Since my nephew's 
 death, the corporation is in other hands ; and I am not 
 a man of that consequence I was formerly. I have 
 now no longer any talents to lay out in the service of 
 my country ; and to whom nothing is given, of him 
 can nothing be required. However, on all proper 
 seasons, such as the approach of an election, I throw 
 a suitable dash or two into my sermons ; which I have 
 the pleasure to hear is not disagreeable to Sir Thomas 
 and the other honest gentlemen my neighbours, who 
 have all promised me these five years to procure an 
 ordination for a son of mine, who is now near thirty, 
 hath an infinite stock of learning, and is, I thank 
 Heaven, of an unexceptionable life ; though, as he was 
 never at an university, the bishop refuses to ordain him. 
 Too much care cannot indeed be taken in admitting 
 any to the sacred office ; though I hope he will never 
 act so as to be a disgrace to any order, but will serve 
 his God and his country to the utmost of his power, as 
 I have endeavoured to do before him ; nay, and will 
 lay down his life whenever called to that purpose. I 
 am sure I have educated him in those principles ; so 
 that I have acquitted my duty, and shall have nothing 
 to answer for on that account. But I do not distrust 
 him, for he is a good boy ; and if Providence should 
 throw it in his way to be of as much consequence in a 
 public light as his father once was, I can answer for 
 him he will use his talents as honestly as I have done." 
 
138 The Adventures of 
 
 Chapter ij% 
 
 In which the gentleman discants on bravery and heroic 
 virtue, till an unlucky accident puts an end to the 
 discourse. 
 
 THE gentleman highly commended Mr Adams for 
 his good resolutions, and told him, " He hoped 
 his son would tread in his steps ; " adding, 
 " that if he would not die for his country, he would not 
 be worthy to live in it. I'd make no more of shooting 
 a man that would not die for his country, than 
 
 " Sir," said he, " I have disinherited a nephew, who 
 is in the army, because he would not exchange his com- 
 mission and go to the West Indies. I believe the rascal 
 is a coward, though he pretends to be in love forsooth. 
 I would have all such fellows hanged, sir ; I would have 
 them hanged." Adams answered, "That would be 
 too severe ; that men did not make themselves ; and if 
 fear had too much ascendance in the mind, the man 
 was rather to be pitied than abhorred ; that reason and 
 time might teach him to subdue it." He said, " A 
 man might be a coward at one time, and brave at 
 another. Homer," says he, "who so well understood 
 and copied Nature, hath taught us this lesson ; for Paris 
 fights and Hector runs away. Nay, we have a mighty 
 instance of this in the history of later ages, no longer 
 ago than the 70 5th year of Rome, when the great 
 Pompey, who had won so many battles and been 
 honoured with so many triumphs, and of whose valour 
 several authors, especially Cicero and Paterculus, have 
 formed such elogiums ; this very Pompey left the 
 battle of Pharsalia before he had lost it, and retreated 
 to his tent, where he sat like the most pusillanimous 
 rascal in a fit of despair, and yielded a victory, which 
 was to determine the empire of the world, to Caesar. 
 
Joseph Andrews 139 
 
 I am not much travelled in the history of modern times, 
 that is to say, these last thousand years ; but those who 
 are can, I make no question, furnish you with parallel 
 instances." He concluded, therefore, that, had he taken 
 any such hasty resolutions against his nephew, he hoped 
 he would consider better, and retract them. The 
 gentleman answered with great warmth, and talked much 
 of courage and his country, till, perceiving it grew late, 
 he asked Adams, "What place he intended for that 
 night?" He told him, "He waited there for the 
 stage-coach." " The stage-coach, sir ! " said the 
 gentleman ; " they are all passed by long ago. You 
 may see the last yourself almost three miles before us." 
 " I protest and so they are," cries Adams ; " then I 
 must make haste and follow them." The gentleman 
 told him, he would hardly be able to overtake them ; 
 and that, if he did not know his way, he would be in 
 danger of losing himself on the downs, for it would be 
 presently dark ; and he might ramble about all night, 
 and perhaps find himself farther from his journey's end 
 in the morning than he was now." He advised him, 
 therefore, " to accompany him to his house, which was 
 very little out of his way," assuring him " that he would 
 find some country fellow in his parish who would con- 
 duct him for sixpence to the city where he was 
 going/' Adams accepted this proposal, and on they 
 travelled, the gentleman renewing his discourse on 
 courage, and the infamy of not being ready, at all 
 times, to sacrifice our lives to our country. Night 
 overtook them much about the same time as they arrived 
 near some bushes ; whence, on a sudden, they heard 
 the most violent shrieks imaginable in a female voice. 
 Adams offered to snatch the gun out of his companion's 
 hand. " What are you doing ? " said he. " Doing ! " 
 said Adams ; " I am hastening to the assistance of the 
 poor creature whom some villains are murdering." 
 
140 The Adventures of 
 
 " You are not mad enough, I hope," says the gentleman, 
 trembling : " do you consider this gun is only charged 
 with shot, and that the robbers are most probably 
 furnished with pistols loaded with bullets ? This is no 
 business of ours ; let us make as much haste as possible 
 out of the way, or we may fall into their hands ourselves." 
 The shrieks now increasing, Adams made no answer, 
 but snapt his fingers, and, brandishing his crabstick, made 
 directly to the place whence the voice issued ; and the 
 man of courage made as much expedition towards his 
 own home, whither he escaped in a very short time 
 without once looking behind him ; where we will leave 
 him, to contemplate his own bravery, and to censure 
 the want of it in others, and return to the good Adams, 
 who, on coming up to the place whence the noise 
 proceeded, found a woman struggling with a man, who 
 had thrown her on the ground, and had almost over- 
 powered her. The great abilities of Mr Adams were 
 not necessary to have formed a right judgment of this 
 affair on the first sight. He did not, therefore, want the 
 entreaties of the poor wretch to assist her ; but, lifting 
 up his crabstick, he immediately levelled a blow at that 
 part of the ravisher's head where, according to the 
 opinion of the ancients, the brains of some persons are 
 deposited, and which he had undoubtedly let forth, had 
 not Nature (who, as wise men have observed, equips all 
 creatures with what is most expedient for them ) taken 
 a provident care (as she always doth with those she 
 intends for encounters) to make this part of the head 
 three times as thick as those of ordinary men who are 
 designed to exercise talents which are vulgarly called 
 rational, and for whom, as brains are necessary, she is 
 obliged to leave some room for them in the cavity of the 
 skull ; whereas, those ingredients being entirely useless 
 to persons of the heroic calling, she hath an opportunity 
 of thickening the bone, so as to make it less subject to 
 
Joseph Andrews 141 
 
 any impression, or liable to be cracked or broken : and 
 indeed, in some who are predestined to the command of 
 armies and empires, she is supposed sometimes to make 
 that part perfectly solid. 
 
 As a game cock, when engaged in amorous toying 
 with a hen, if perchance he espies another cock at 
 hand, immediately quits his female, and opposes himself 
 to his rival, so did the ravisher, on the information of 
 the crabstick, immediately leap from the woman and 
 hasten to assail the man. He had no weapons but 
 what Nature had furnished him with. However, he 
 clenched his fist, and presently darted it at that part 
 of Adams's breast where the heart is lodged. Adams 
 staggered at the violence of the blow, when, throwing 
 away his staff, he likewise clenched that fist which we 
 have before commemorated, and would have discharged 
 it full in the breast of his antagonist, had he not dex- 
 terously caught it with his left hand, at the same time 
 darting his head (which some modern heroes of the 
 lower class use, like the battering-ram of the ancients, 
 for a weapon of offence ; another reason to admire the 
 cunningness of Nature, in composing it of those impene- 
 trable materials) ; dashing his head, I say, into the 
 stomach of Adams, he tumbled him on his back ; and, 
 not having any regard to the laws of heroism, which 
 would have restrained him from any farther attack on 
 his enemy till he was again on his legs, he threw himself 
 upon him, and, laying hold on the ground with his left 
 hand, he with his right belaboured the body of Adams 
 till he was weary, and indeed till he concluded (to use 
 the language of fighting) "that he had done his busi- 
 ness ; " or, in the language of poetry, "that he had sent 
 him to the shades below ; " in plain English, " that he 
 was dead." 
 
 But Adams, who was no chicken, and could bear a 
 drubbing as well as any boxing champion in the universe, 
 G 467 
 
142 The Adventures of 
 
 lay still only to watch his opportunity ; and now, per- 
 ceiving his antagonist to pant with his labours, he exerted 
 his utmost force at once, and with such success that he 
 overturned him, and became his superior ; when, fixing 
 one of his knees in his breast, he cried out in an exulting 
 voice, " It is my turn now ; " and, after a few minutes' 
 constant application, he gave him so dexterous a blow just 
 under his chin that the fellow no longer retained any 
 motion, and Adams began to iear he had struck him once 
 too often ; for he often asserted " he should be concerned 
 to have the blood of even the wicked upon him." 
 
 Adams got up and called aloud to the young woman. 
 " Be of good cheer, damsel," said he, " you are no longer 
 in danger of your ravisher, who, I am terribly afraid, 
 lies dead at my feet ; but God forgive me what I have 
 done in defence of innocence ! " The poor wretch, who 
 had been some time in recovering strength enough to 
 rise, and had afterwards, during the engagement, stood 
 trembling, being disabled by fear even from running 
 away, hearing her champion was victorious, came up 
 to him, but not without apprehensions even of her de- 
 liverer ; which, however, she was soon relieved from by 
 his courteous behaviour and gentle words. They were 
 both standing by the body, which lay motionless on the 
 ground, and which Adams wished to see stir much more 
 than the woman did, when he earnestly begged her to 
 tell him "by what misfortune she came, at such a time 
 of night, into so lonely a place." She acquainted him, 
 " She was travelling towards London, and had accident- 
 ally met with the person from whom he had delivered 
 her, who told her he was likewise on his journey to the 
 same pkce, and would keep her company ; an offer 
 which, suspecting no harm, she had accepted ; that he 
 told her they were at a small distance from an inn 
 where she might take up her lodging that evening, and 
 he would show her a nearer way to it than by following 
 
Joseph Andrews 143 
 
 the road ; that if she had suspected him (which she did 
 not, he spoke so kindly to her), being alone on these 
 downs in the dark, she had no human means to avoid 
 him ; that, therefore, she put her whole trust in Provi- 
 dence, and walked on, expecting every moment to 
 arrive at the inn ; when on a sudden, being come to 
 those bushes, he desired her to stop, and after some 
 rude kisses, which she resisted, and some entreaties, 
 which she rejected, he laid violent hands on her, and 
 was attempting to execute his wicked will, when, she 
 thanked G , he timely came up and prevented him." 
 Adams encouraged her for saying she had put her 
 whole trust in Providence, and told her, " He doubted 
 not but Providence had sent him to her deliverance, as 
 a reward for that trust. He wished indeed he had not 
 deprived the wicked wretch of life, but G 's will 
 be done ; " said, " He hoped the goodness of his in- 
 tention would excuse him in the next world, and he 
 trusted in her evidence to acquit him in this." He was 
 then silent, and began to consider with himself whether 
 it would be properer to make his escape, or to deliver 
 himself into the hands of justice ; which meditation 
 ended as the reader will see in the next chapter. 
 
 Giving an account of the strange catastrophe of the pre- 
 ceding adventure, which drew poor Adams into fresh 
 calamities ; and who the 'woman was who owed the 
 preservation of her chastity to his victorious arm. 
 
 THE silence of Adams, added to the darkness of 
 the night and loneliness of the place, struck 
 dreadful apprehension into the poor woman's 
 mind; she began to fear as great an enemy in her 
 
1 44 The Adventures of 
 
 deliverer as he had delivered her from ; and as she had 
 not light enough to discover the age of Adams, and 
 the benevolence visible in his countenance, she suspected 
 he had used her as some very honest men have used their 
 country ; and had rescued her out of the hands of one 
 rifler in order to rifle her himself. Such were the sus- 
 picions she drew from his silence ; but indeed they were 
 ill-grounded. He stood over his vanquished enemy, 
 wisely weighing in his mind the objections which might 
 be made to either of the two methods of proceeding 
 mentioned in the last chapter, his judgment sometimes 
 inclining to the one, and sometimes to the other ; foi 
 both seemed to him so equally advisable and so equally 
 dangerous, that probably he would have ended his days, 
 at least two or three of them, on that very spot, before 
 he had taken any resolution ; at length he lifted up his 
 eyes, and spied a light at a distance, to which he in- 
 stantly addressed himself with Heus tu, traveller, heus 
 tu ! He presently heard several voices, and perceived 
 the light approaching toward him. The persons who 
 attended the light began some to laugh, others to sing, 
 and others to hollow, at which the woman testified some 
 fear (for she had concealed her suspicions of the parson 
 himself) ; but Adams said, " Be of good cheer, damsel, 
 and repose thy trust in the same Providence which hath 
 hitherto protected thee, and never will forsake the 
 innocent." These people, who now approached, were 
 no other, reader, than a set of young fellows, who came 
 to these bushes in pursuit of a diversion which they call 
 bird-batting. This, if you are ignorant of it (as per- 
 haps if thou hast never travelled beyond Kensington, 
 Islington, Hackney, or the Borough, thou mayst be), 
 I will inform thee, is performed by holding a large 
 clap-net before a lanthorn, and at the same time beating 
 the bushes ; for the birds, when they are disturbed from 
 their places of rest, or roost, immediately make to the 
 
Joseph Andrews 145 
 
 light, and so are inticed within the net. Adams 
 immediately told them what happened, and desired them 
 to hold the lanthorn to the face of the man on the 
 ground, for he feared he had smote him fatally. But 
 indeed his fears were frivolous ; for the fellow, though 
 he had been stunned by the last blow he received, had 
 long since recovered his senses, and, finding himself quit 
 of Adams, had listened attentively to the discourse 
 between him and the young woman ; for whose de- 
 parture he had patiently waited, that he might likewise 
 withdraw himself, having no longer hopes of succeeding 
 in his desires, which were moreover almost as well cooled 
 by Mr Adams as they could have been by the young 
 woman herself had he obtained his utmost wish. This 
 fellow, who had a readiness at improving any accident, 
 thought he might now play a better part than that of 
 a dead man ; and, accordingly, the moment the candle 
 was held to his face he leapt up, and, laying hold on 
 Adams, cried out, " No, villain, I am not dead, though 
 you and your wicked whore might well think me so, 
 after the barbarous cruelties you have exercised on me. 
 Gentlemen," said he, "you are luckily come to the 
 assistance of a poor traveller, who would otherwise have 
 been robbed and murdered by this vile man and woman, 
 who led me hither out of my way from the high-road, 
 and both falling on me have used me as you see." 
 Adams was going to answer, when one of the young 
 fellows cried, " D n them, let's carry them both before 
 the justice." The poor woman began to tremble, and 
 Adams lifted up his voice, but in vain. Three or four 
 of them laid hands on him ; and one holding the lanthorn 
 to his face, they all agreed he had the most villainous 
 countenance they ever beheld ; and an attorney's clerk, 
 who was of the company, declared he was sure he had 
 remembered him at the bar. As to the woman, her 
 hair was dishevelled in the struggle, and her nose had 
 
146 The Adventures of 
 
 bled ; so that they could not perceive whether she was 
 handsome or ugly, but they said her fright plainly dis- 
 covered her guilt. And searching her pockets, as they 
 did those of Adams, for money, which the fellow said 
 he had lost, they found in her pocket a purse with some 
 gold in it, which abundantly convinced them, especially 
 as the fellow offered to swear to it. Mr Adams was 
 found to have no more than one halfpenny about him. 
 This the clerk said " was a great presumption that he 
 was an old offender, by cunningly giving all the booty 
 to the woman." To which all the rest readily assented. 
 
 This accident promising them better sport than what 
 they had proposed, they quitted their intention of catch- 
 ing birds, and unanimously resolved to proceed to the 
 justice with the offenders. Being informed what a 
 desperate fellow Adams was, they tied his hands behind 
 him ; and, having hid their nets among the bushes, and 
 the lanthorn being carried before them, they placed the 
 two prisoners in their front, and then began their march ; 
 Adams not only submitting patiently to his own fate, 
 but comforting and encouraging his companion under 
 her sufferings. 
 
 Whilst they were on their way the clerk informed 
 the rest that this adventure would prove a very bene- 
 ficial one ; for that they would all be entitled to their 
 proportions of sSSo for apprehending the robbers. This 
 occasioned a contention concerning the parts which they 
 had severally borne in taking them ; one insisting he 
 ought to have the greatest share, for he had first laid 
 his hands on Adams ; another claiming a superior part 
 for having first held the lanthorn to the man's face on 
 the ground, by which, he said, "the whole was dis- 
 covered. " The clerk claimed four-fifths of the reward 
 for having proposed to search the prisoners, and like- 
 wise the carrying them before the justice : he said, 
 " Indeed, in strict justice, he ought to have the whole." 
 
Joseph Andrews 147 
 
 These claims, however, they at last consented to refer 
 to a future decision, but seemed all to agree that the 
 clerk was entitled to a moiety. They then debated 
 what money should be allotted to the young fellow who 
 had been employed only in holding the nets. He very 
 modestly said, " That he did not apprehend any large pro- 
 portion would fall to his share, but hoped they would 
 allow him something ; he desired them to consider that 
 they had assigned their nets to his care, which pre- 
 vented him from being as forward as any in laying hold 
 of the robbers" (for so those innocent people were 
 called) ; " that if he had not occupied the nets, some 
 other must ; " concluding, however, " that he should be 
 contented with the smallest share imaginable, and should 
 think that rather their bounty than his merit." But they 
 were all unanimous in excluding him from any part 
 whatever, the clerk particularly swearing, " If they gave 
 him a shilling they might do what they pleased with 
 the rest ; for he would not concern himself with the 
 affair." This contention was so hot, and so totally 
 engaged the attention of all the parties, that a dexterous 
 nimble thief, had he been in Mr Adams's situation, 
 would have taken care to have given the justice no 
 trouble that evening. Indeed, it required not the art 
 of a Sheppard to escape, especially as the darkness of 
 the night would have so much befriended him ; but 
 Adams trusted rather to his innocence than his heels, 
 and, without thinking of flight, which was easy, or re- 
 sistance (which was impossible, as there were six lusty 
 young fellows, besides the villain himself, present), he 
 walked with perfect resignation the way they thought 
 proper to conduct him. 
 
 Adams frequently vented himself in ejaculations dur- 
 ing their journey ; at last, poor Joseph Andrews occur- 
 ring to his mind, he could not refrain sighing forth his 
 Dame, which being heard by his companion in affliction, 
 
148 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 she cried with some vehemence, " Sure I should know 
 that voice ; you cannot certainly, sir, be Mr Abraham 
 Adams ? " " Indeed, damsel," says he, " that is my 
 name ; there is something also in your voice which per- 
 suades me I have heard it before." " La ! sir," says 
 she, "don't you remember poor Fanny?" "How, 
 Fanny ! " answered Adams : " indeed I very well re- 
 member you ; what can have brought you hither ? " " I 
 have told you, sir," replied she, " I was travelling to- 
 wards London ; but I thought you mentioned Joseph 
 Andrews ; pray what is become of him ? " " I left him, 
 child, this afternoon," said Adams, "in the stage-coach, 
 in his way towards our parish, whither he is going to 
 see you." " To see me ! La, sir," answered Fanny, 
 " sure you jeer me ; what should he be going to see me 
 for ? " " Can you ask that ? " replied Adams. " I hope, 
 Fanny, you are not inconstant ; I assure you he de- 
 serves much better of you." " La ! Mr Adams," said 
 she, " what is Mr Joseph to me ? I am sure I never 
 had anything to say to him, but as one fellow- servant 
 might to another." " I am sorry to hear this," said 
 Adams ; " a virtuous passion for a young man is what 
 no woman need be ashamed of. You either do not 
 tell me truth, or you are false to a very worthy man." 
 Adams then told her what had happened at the inn, 
 to which she listened very attentively ; and a sigh often 
 escaped from her, notwithstanding her utmost endeavours 
 to the contrary ; nor could she prevent herself from 
 asking a thousand questions, which would have assured 
 any one but Adams, who never saw farther into people 
 than they desired to let him, of the truth of a passion 
 she endeavoured to conceal. Indeed, the fact was, that 
 this poor girl, having heard of Joseph's misfortune, by 
 some of the servants belonging to the coach which we 
 have formerly mentioned to have stopt at the inn while 
 the poor youth was confined to his bed, that instant 
 
Joseph Andrews 149 
 
 abandoned the cow she was milking, and, taking with 
 her a little bundle of clothes under her arm, and all the 
 money she was worth in her own purse, without con- 
 sulting any one, immediately set forward in pursuit of 
 one whom, notwithstanding her shyness to the parson, 
 she loved with inexpressible violence, though with the 
 purest and most delicate passion. This shyness, there- 
 fore, as we trust it will recommend her character to ail 
 our female readers, and not greatly surprize such of our 
 males as are well acquainted with the younger part of 
 the other sex, we shall not give ourselves any trouble 
 to vindicate. 
 
 Chapter pi. 
 
 What happened to them while before the justice. A 
 chapter very full of learning. 
 
 THEIR fellow-travellers were so engaged in the 
 hot dispute concerning the division of the re- 
 ward for apprehending these innocent people, 
 that they attended very little to their discourse. They 
 were now arrived at the justice's house, and had sent 
 one of his servants in to acquaint his worship that they 
 had taken two robbers and brought them before him. 
 The justice, who was just returned from a fox-chase, 
 and had not yet finished his dinner, ordered diem to 
 carry the prisoners into the stable, whither they were 
 attended by all the servants in the house, and all the 
 people in the neighbourhood, who flocked together to 
 see them with as much curiosity as if there was some- 
 thing uncommon to be seen, or that a rogue did not 
 look like other people. 
 
 The justice, now being in the height of his mirth 
 and his cups, bethought himself of the prisoners ; and, 
 telling his company he believed they should have good 
 
150 The Adventures of 
 
 sport in their examination, he ordered them into his 
 presence. They had no sooner entered the room than 
 he began to revile them, saying, " That robberies on 
 the highway were now grown so frequent, that people 
 could not sleep safely in their beds, and assured them 
 they both should be made examples of at the ensuing 
 assizes." After he had gone on some time in this 
 manner, he was reminded by his clerk, " That it would 
 be proper to take the depositions of the witnesses 
 against them." Which he bid him do, and he would 
 light his pipe in the meantime. Whilst the clerk was 
 employed in writing down the deposition of the fellow 
 who had pretended to be robbed, the justice employed 
 himself in cracking jests on poor Fanny, in which he 
 was seconded by all the company at table. One asked, 
 "Whether she was to be indicted for a highway- 
 man ? " Another whispered in her ear, " If she had 
 not provided herself a great belly, he was at her ser- 
 vice." A third said, " He warranted she was a 
 relation of Turpin." To which one of the company, 
 a great wit, snaking his head, and then his sides, 
 answered, "He believed she was nearer related to 
 Turpis ; " at which there was an universal laugh. 
 They were proceeding thus with the poor girl, when 
 somebody, smoking the cassock peeping forth from 
 under the greatcoat of Adams, cried out, " What 
 have we here, a parson ? " " How, sirrah," says the 
 justice, " do you go robbing in the dress of a clergy- 
 man ? let me tell you your habit will not entitle you to 
 the benefit of the clergy." "Yes," said the witty 
 fellow, " he will have one benefit of clergy, he will be 
 exalted above the heads of the people ; " at which 
 there was a second laugh. And now the witty spark, 
 seeing his jokes take, began to rise in spirits ; and, 
 turning to Adams, challenged him to cap verses, and, 
 provoking him by giving the first blow, he repeated 
 
Joseph Andrews 151 
 
 " Molle meum levibus cord est vilebiU telis" 
 
 Upon which Adams, with a look full of ineffable con- 
 tempt, told him, " He deserved scourging for his pro- 
 nunciation." The witty fellow answered, "What do 
 you deserve, doctor, for not being able to answer the 
 first time? Why, I'll give one, you blockhead, with 
 anS. 
 
 ***Si licet, utfulvum spectator in ignibus haurumS 
 
 " What, canst not with an M neither ? Thou art a 
 pretty fellow for a parson ! Why didst not steal some 
 of the parson's Latin as well as his gown ? " Another 
 at the table then answered, " If he had, you would 
 have been too hard for him ; I remember you at the 
 college a very devil at this sport ; I have seen you 
 catch a freshman, for nobody that knew you would 
 engage with you." " I have forgot those things now/' 
 cried the wit. " I believe I could have done pretty 
 well formerly. Let's see, what did I end with ? an 
 M again aye 
 
 '* ' Mars, Bacchus, A folio, virorum* 
 
 I could have done it once." " Ah ! evil betide you, 
 and so you can now," said the other : " nobody in this 
 country will undertake you." Adams could hold no 
 longer : " Friend," said he, " I have a boy not above 
 eight years old who would instruct thee that the last 
 verse runs thus : 
 
 " ' Ut sunt Divorum, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, virorum.' " 
 
 " I'll hold thee a guinea of that," said the wit, throw- 
 ing the money on the table. " And I'll go your 
 halves," cries the other. " Done," answered Adams ; 
 but upon applying to his pocket he was forced to re- 
 tract, and own he had no money about him ; which 
 set them all a-laughing, and confirmed the triumph of 
 
152 The Adventures of 
 
 his adversary, which was not moderate, any more than 
 the approbation he met with from the whole company, 
 who told Adams he must go a little longer to school 
 before he attempted to attack that gentleman in Latin. 
 
 The clerk, having finished the depositions, as well 
 of the fellow himself, as of those who apprehended the 
 prisoners, delivered them to the justice ; who, having 
 sworn the several witnesses without reading a syllable, 
 ordered his clerk to make the mittimus. 
 
 Adams then said, "He hoped he should not be 
 condemned unheard." "No, no," cries the justice, 
 " you will be asked what you have to say for yourself 
 when you come on your trial : we are not trying you 
 now ; I shall only commit you to gaol : if you can 
 prove your innocence at 'size, you will be found igno- 
 ramus, and so no harm done." " Is it no punishment, 
 sir, for an innocent man to lie several months in gaol ? " 
 cries Adams : " I beg you would at least hear me be- 
 fore you sign the mittimus." " What signifies all you 
 can say?" says the justice: "is it not here in black 
 and white against you ? I must tell you you are a very 
 impertinent fellow to take up so much of my time. So 
 make haste with his mittimus." 
 
 The clerk now acquainted the justice that among 
 other suspicious things, as a penknife, &c., found in 
 Adams's pocket, they had discovered a book written, 
 as he apprehended, in cyphers ; for no one could read 
 a word in it. "Ay," says the justice, "the fellow 
 may be more than a common robber, he may be in a 
 plot against the Government. Produce the book." 
 Upon which the poor manuscript of jEschylus, which 
 Adams had transcribed with his own hand, was brought 
 forth ; and the justice, looking at it, shook his head, 
 and, turning to the prisoner, asked the meaning of those 
 cyphers. " Cyphers ? " answered Adams, " it is a 
 manuscript of -ZEschylus," "Who? who?" said the 
 
Joseph Andrews 153 
 
 justice. Adams repeated, " ^Eschylus." " That ii 
 an outlandish name," cried the clerk. "A fictitious 
 name rather, I believe," said the justice. One of the 
 company declared it looked very much like Greek. 
 " Greek ? " said the justice ; " why, 'tis all writing." 
 " No," says the other, " I don't positively say it is so ; 
 for it is a very long time since I have seen any Greek." 
 " There's one," says he, turning to the parson of the 
 parish, who was present, "will tell us immediately." 
 The parson, taking up the book, and putting on his 
 spectacles and gravity together, muttered some words 
 to himself, and then pronounced aloud " Ay, indeed, 
 it is a Greek manuscript ; a very fine piece of antiquity. 
 I make no doubt but it was stolen from the same clergy- 
 man from whom the rogue took the cassock." " What 
 did the rascal mean by his ^Eschylus ? " says the justice. 
 " Pooh ! " answered the doctor, with a contemptuous 
 grin, "do you think that fellow knows anything of 
 this book ? .^Eschylus ! ho ! ho ! I see now what 
 it is a manuscript of one of the fathers. I know a 
 nobleman who would give a great deal of money for 
 such a piece of antiquity. Ay, ay, question and 
 answer. The beginning is the catechism in Greek. 
 
 Ay, ay, Pottakt tot : What's your name ? " " Ay, 
 
 what's your name ? " says the justice to Adams ; who 
 answered, " It is ^Eschylus, and I will maintain it." 
 " Oh ! it is," says the justice : " make Mr jEschylus 
 his mittimus. I will teach you to banter me with a 
 false name." 
 
 One of the company, having looked steadfastly at 
 Adams, asked him, " If he did not know Lady Booby ? " 
 Upon which Adams, presently calling him to mind, 
 answered in a rapture, " O squire ! are you there ? I 
 believe you will inform his worship I am innocent." 
 " I can indeed say," replied the squire, " that I am very 
 much surprized to see you in this situation :" and then, 
 
154 The Adventures of 
 
 addressing himself to the justice, he said, " Sir, I assure 
 you Mr Adams is a clergyman, as he appears, and a 
 gentleman of a very good character. I wish you would 
 enquire a little farther into this affair ; for I am convinced 
 of his innocence." " Nay/' says the justice, " if he is 
 a gentleman, and you are sure he is innocent, I don't 
 desire to commit him, not I : I will commit the woman 
 by herself, and take your bail for the gentleman : look 
 into the book, clerk, and see how it is to take bail 
 come and make the mittimus for the woman as fast as 
 you can." " Sir," cries Adams, " I assure you she is 
 as innocent as myself. '% " Perhaps," said the squire, 
 " there may be some mistake ! pray let us hear Mr 
 Adams's relation." " With all my heart," answered 
 the justice ; " and give the gentleman a glass to wet 
 his whistle before he begins. I know how to behave 
 myself to gentlemen as well as another. Nobody can 
 say I have committed a gentleman since I have been in 
 the commission." Adams then began the narrative, in 
 which, though he was very prolix, he was uninterrupted, 
 unless by several hums and hahs of the justice, and his 
 desire to repeat those parts which seemed to him most 
 material. When he had finished, the justice, who, on 
 what the squire had said, believed every syllable of his 
 story on his bare affirmation, notwithstanding the depo- 
 sitions on oath to the contrary, began to let loose several 
 rogues and rascals against the witness, whom he ordered 
 to stand forth, but in vain ; the said witness, long since 
 finding what turn matters were likely to take, had privily 
 withdrawn, without attending the issue. The justice 
 now flew into a violent passion, and was hardly prevailed 
 with not to commit the innocent fellows who had been 
 imposed on as well as himself. He swore, " They had 
 best find out the fellow who was guilty of perjury, and 
 bring him before him within two days, or he would bind 
 them all over to their good behaviour." They all 
 
Joseph Andrews 155 
 
 promised to use their best endeavours to that purpose, 
 and were dismissed. Then the justice insisted that Mr 
 Adams should sit down and take a glass with him ; and 
 the parson of the parish delivered him back the manuscript 
 without saying a word ; nor would Adams, who plainly 
 discerned his ignorance, expose it. As for Fanny, she 
 was, at her own request, recommended to the care of a 
 maid-servant of the house, who helped her to new dress 
 and clean herself. 
 
 The company in the parlour had not been long seated 
 before they were alarmed with a horrible uproar from 
 without, where the persons who had apprehended Adams 
 and Fanny had been regaling, according to the custom 
 of the house, with the justice's strong beer. These 
 were all fallen together by the ears, and were cuffing 
 each other without any mercy. The justice himself 
 sallied out, and with the dignity of his presence soon 
 put an end to the fray. On his return into the parlour, 
 he reported, " That the occasion of the quarrel was no 
 other than a dispute to whom, if Adams had been con- 
 victed, the greater share of the reward for apprehending 
 him had belonged. " All the company laughed at this, 
 except Adams, who, taking his pipe from his mouth, 
 fetched a deep groan, and said, " He was concerned to 
 see so litigious a temper in men. That he remembered 
 a story something like it in one of the parishes where 
 his cure lay : There was," continued he, " a competi- 
 tion between three young fellows for the place of the 
 clerk, which I disposed of, to the best of my abilities, 
 according to merit ; that is, I gave it to him who had 
 the happiest knack at setting a psalm. The clerk was 
 no sooner established in his place than a contention began 
 between the two disappointed candidates concerning 
 their excellence ; each contending on whom, had they 
 two been the only competitors, my election would have 
 fallen. This dispute frequently disturbed the congrega- 
 
156 The Adventures of 
 
 don, and introduced a discord into the psalmody, till 
 I was forced to silence them both. But, alas ! the 
 litigious spirit could not be stifled ; and, being no longer 
 able to vent itself in singing, it now broke forth in fight- 
 ing. It produced many battles (for they were very 
 near a match), and I believe would have ended fatally, 
 had not the death of the clerk given me an opportunity 
 to promote one of them to his place ; which presently 
 put an end to the dispute, and entirely reconciled the 
 contending parties." Adams then proceeded to make 
 some philosophical observations on the folly of growing 
 warm in disputes in which neither party is interested. 
 He then applied himself vigorously to smoaking ; and a 
 long silence ensued, which was at length broke by the 
 justice, who began to sing forth his own praises, and to 
 value himself exceedingly on his nice discernment in 
 the cause which had lately been before him. He was 
 quickly interrupted by Mr Adams, between whom and 
 his worship a dispute now arose, whether he ought not, 
 in strictness of law, to have committed him, the said 
 Adams ; in which the latter maintained he ought to have 
 been committed, and the justice as vehemendy held he 
 ought not. This had most probably produced a quarrel 
 (for both were very violent and positive in their opinions), 
 had not Fanny accidentally heard that a young fellow 
 was going from the justice's house to the very inn where 
 the stage-coach in which Joseph was, put up. Upon 
 this news, she immediately sent for the parson out of 
 the parlour. Adams, when he found her resolute to go 
 (though she would not own the reason, but pretended 
 she could not bear to see the faces of those who had 
 suspected her of such a crime), was as fully determined 
 to go with her ; he accordingly took leave of the justice 
 and company : and so ended a dispute in which the law 
 seemed shamefully to intend to set a magistrate and a 
 divine together by the ears. 
 
Joseph Andrews 157 
 
 A very delightful adventure, as well to the persons con- 
 cerned as to the good-natured reader. 
 
 ADAMS, Fanny, and the guide, set out together 
 about one in the morning, the moon being then 
 just risen. They had not gone above a mile 
 before a most violent storm of rain obliged them to take 
 shelter in an inn, or rather alehouse, where Adams 
 immediately procured himself a good fire, a toast and 
 ale, and a pipe, and began to smoke with great content, 
 utterly forgetting everything that had happened. 
 
 Fanny sat likewise down by the fire ; but was much 
 more impatient at the storm. She presently engaged 
 the eyes of the host, his wife, the maid of the house, 
 and the young fellow who was their guide ; they all 
 conceived they had never seen anything half so hand- 
 some ; and indeed, reader, if thou art of an amorous 
 hue, I advise thee to skip over the next paragraph ; 
 which, to render our history perfect, we are obliged to 
 set down, humbly hoping that we may escape the fate 
 of Pygmalion ; for if it should happen to us, or to thee, 
 to be struck with this picture, we should be perhaps in 
 as helpless a condition as Narcissus, and might say to 
 ourselves, Quod petls est nusquam. Or, if the finest 
 features in it should set Lady - *s image before our 
 eyes, we should be still in as bad a situation, and might 
 say to our desires, Calum tpsum pettmus stultitia. 
 
 Fanny was now in the nineteenth year of her age ; 
 ahe was tall and delicately shaped ; but not one of 
 those slender young women who seem rather intended 
 to hang up in the hall of an anatomist than for any 
 other purpose. On the contrary, she was so plump 
 that she seemed bursting through her tight stays, 
 especially in the part which confined her swelling 
 
158 The Adventures of 
 
 breasts. Nor did her hips want the assistance of a 
 hoop to extend them. The exact shape of her arms 
 denoted the form of those limbs which she concealed ; 
 and though they were a little reddened by her labour, 
 yet, if her sleeve slipped above her elbow, or her hand- 
 kerchief discovered any part of her neck, a whiteness 
 appeared which the finest Italian paint would be unable 
 to reach. Her hair was of a chesnut brown, and 
 nature had been extremely lavish to her of it, which 
 she had cut, and on Sundays used to curl down her 
 neck, in the modern fashion. Her forehead was high, 
 her eyebrows arched, and rather full than otherwise. 
 Her eyes black and sparkling ; her nose just inclining 
 to the Roman ; her lips red and moist, and her under- 
 lip, according to the opinion of the ladies, too pouting. 
 Her teeth were white, but not exactly even. The 
 small-pox had left one only mark on her chin, which 
 was so large, it might have been mistaken for a dimple, 
 had not her left cheek produced one so near a neigh- 
 bour to it, that the former served only for a foil to the 
 latter. Her complexion was fair, a little injured by 
 the sun, but overspread with such a bloom that the 
 finest ladies would have exchanged all their white for 
 it : add to these a countenance in which, though she 
 was extremely bashful, a sensibility appeared almost 
 incredible ; and a sweetness, whenever she smiled, be- 
 yond either imitation or description. To conclude all, 
 she had a natural gentility, superior to the acquisition 
 of art, and which surprized all who beheld her. 
 
 This lovely creature was sitting by the fire with 
 Adams, when her attention was suddenly engaged by 
 a voice from an inner room, which sung the foflowing 
 song : 
 
 THE SONG. 
 
 SAY, Chloe, where must the swain stray 
 Who is by thy beauties undone ? 
 
Joseph Andrews 159 
 
 To wash their remembrance away, 
 
 To what distant Lethe must run ? 
 The wretch who is sentenced to die 
 
 May escape, and leave justice behind ; 
 From his country perhaps he may fly, 
 
 But oh 1 can he fly from his mind ? 
 
 O rapture 1 unthought of before, 
 
 To be thus of Chloe possess'd ; 
 Nor she, nor no tyrant's hard power, 
 
 Her image can tear from my breast. 
 But felt not Narcissus more joy, 
 
 With his eyes he beheld his loved charms? 
 Yet what he beheld the fond boy 
 
 More eagerly wish'd in his arms. 
 
 How can it thy dear image be 
 
 Which fills thus my bosom with woe ? 
 Can aught bear resemblance to thee 
 
 Which grief and not joy can bestow ? 
 This counterfeit snatch from my heart, 
 
 Ye pow'rs, tho' with torment I rave, 
 Tho' mortal will prove the fell smart : 
 
 I then shall find rest in my grave. 
 
 Ah, see the dear nymph o'er the plain 
 
 Come smiling and tripping along I 
 A thousand Loves dance in her train, 
 
 The Graces around her all throng. 
 To meet her soft Zephyrus flies, 
 
 And wafts all the sweets from the flowers, 
 Ah, rogue 1 whilst he kisses her eyes, 
 
 More sweets from her breath he devours. 
 
 My soul, whilst I gaze, is on fire : 
 
 But her looks were so tender and kind, 
 My hope almost reach'd my desire, 
 
 And left lame despair far behind. 
 Transported with madness, I flew, 
 
 And eagerly seized on my bliss ; 
 Her bosom but half she withdrew, 
 
 But half she refused my fond kiss. 
 
 Advances like these made me bold ; 
 
 I whisper 'd her Love, we're alone. 
 The rest let immortals unfold ; 
 
 No language can tell but their own. 
 Ah, Chloe, expiring, I cried, 
 
 How long I thy cruelty bore 1 
 Ah, Strephon, she blushing replied, 
 
 You ne'er was so pressing before. 
 
160 The Adventures of 
 
 Adams had been ruminating all this time on a passage 
 in jEschylus, without attending in the least to the voice, 
 though one of the most melodious that ever was heard, 
 when, casting his eyes on Fanny, he cried out, " Bless 
 us, you look extremely pale ! " " Pale ! Mr Adams," 
 says she ; " O Jesus ! " nd fell backwards in her chair. 
 Adams jumped up, flung his ^Eschylus into the fire, and 
 fell a-roaring to the people of the house for help. He 
 soon summoned every one into the room, and the song- 
 ster among the rest ; but, O reader ! when this nightin- 
 gale, who was no other than Joseph Andrews himself, 
 saw his beloved Fanny in the situation we have described 
 her, canst thou conceive the agitations of his mind? 
 If thou canst not, waive that meditation to behold his 
 happiness, when, clasping her in his arms, he found life 
 and blood returning into her cheeks : when he saw her 
 open her beloved eyes, and heard her with the softest 
 accent whisper, " Are you Joseph Andrews ? " " Art, 
 thou my Fanny ? " he answered eagerly : and, pulling 
 her to his heart, he imprinted numberless kisses on her 
 lips, without considering who were present. 
 
 If prudes are offended at the lusciousness of this 
 picture, they may take their eyes off from it, and survey 
 parson Adams dancing about the room in a rapture of 
 joy. Some philosophers may perhaps doubt whether he 
 was not the happiest of the three : for the goodness of 
 his heart enjoyed the blessings which were exulting in 
 the breasts of both the other two, together with his own. 
 But we shall leave such disquisitions, as too deep for 
 us, to those who are building some favourite hypothesis, 
 which they will refuse no metaphysical rubbish to erect 
 and support : for our part, we give it clearly on the side 
 of Joseph, whose happiness was not only greater than 
 the parson's, but of longer duration : for as soon as the 
 first tumults of Adams's rapture were over he cast his 
 eyes towards the fire, where ^Eschylus lay expiring; 
 
Joseph Andrews 1 6 1 
 
 and immediately rescued the poor remains, to wit, the 
 sheepskin covering, of his dear friend, which was the 
 work of his own hands, and had been his inseparable 
 companion for upwards of thirty years. 
 
 Fanny had no sooner perfectly recovered herself than 
 she began to restrain the impetuosity of her transports ; 
 and, reflecting on what she had done and suffered in the 
 presence of so many, she was immediately covered with 
 confusion ; and, pushing Joseph gently from her, she 
 begged him to be quiet, nor would admit of either kiss 
 or embrace any longer. Then, seeing Mrs Slipslop, 
 she curtsied, and offered to advance to her ; but that 
 high woman would not return her curtsies ; but, casting 
 her eyes another way, immediately withdrew into an- 
 other room, muttering, as she went, she wondered who 
 the creature was. 
 
 A dissertation concerning high people and low people, with 
 Mrs Slipslop's departure in no very good temper of 
 mind, and the evil plight In which she left Adams 
 and his company. 
 
 IT will doubtless seem extremely odd to many readers, 
 that Mrs Slipslop, who had lived several years in 
 the same house with Fanny, should, in a short 
 separation, utterly forget her. And indeed the truth is, 
 that she remembered her very well. As we would not 
 willingly, therefore, that anything should appear un- 
 natural in this our history, we will endeavour to explain 
 the reasons of her conduct ; nor do we doubt being 
 able to satisfy the most curious reader that Mrs Slip- 
 slop did not in the least deviate from the common road 
 in this behaviour ; and, indeed, had she done otherwise, 
 
162 The Adventures of 
 
 ihe must have descended below herself, and would have 
 rery justly been liable to censure. 
 
 Be it known then, that the human species are divided 
 into two sorts of people, to wit, high people and low 
 people. As by high people I would not be understood 
 to mean persons literally born higher in their dimensions 
 than the rest of the species, nor metaphorically those of 
 exalted characters or abilities; so by low people I 
 cannot be construed to intend the reverse. High 
 people signify no other than people of fashion, and low 
 people those of no fashion. Now, this word fashion 
 hath by long use lost its original meaning, from which 
 at present it gives us a very different idea ; for I am 
 deceived if by persons of fashion we do not generally 
 include a conception of birth and accomplishments 
 superior to the herd of mankind ; whereas, in reality, 
 nothing more was originally meant by a person of 
 fashion than a person who drest himself in the fashion 
 of the times; and the word really and truly signifies 
 no more at this day. Now, the world hieing thus 
 divided into people of fashion and people of no fashion, 
 a fierce contention arose between them ; nor would 
 those of one party, to avoid suspicion, be seen publicly 
 to speak to those of the other, though they often held 
 a very good correspondence in private. In this con- 
 tention it is difficult to say which party succeeded ; for, 
 whilst the people of fashion seized several places to 
 their own use, such as courts, assemblies, operas, balls, 
 &c., the people of no fashion, besides one royal place, 
 called his Majesty's Bear-garden, have been in constant 
 possession of all hops, fairs, revels, &c. Two places 
 have been agreed to be divided between them, namely, 
 the church and the playhouse, where they segregate 
 themselves from each other in a remarkable manner ; 
 for, as the people of fashion exalt themselves at church 
 over the heads of the people of no fashion, so in the 
 
Joseph Andrews 163 
 
 playhouse they abase themselves in the same degree 
 under their feet. This distinction 1 have never met 
 with any one able to account for : it is sufficient that, 
 so far from looking on each other as brethren in the 
 Christian language, they seem scarce to regard each 
 other as of the same species. This, the terms " strange 
 persons, people one does not know, the creature, wretches, 
 beasts, brutes," and many other appellations evidently 
 demonstrate ; which Mrs Slipslop, having often heard 
 her mistress use, thought she had also a right to use in 
 her turn ; and perhaps she was not mistaken ; for these 
 two parties, especially those bordering nearly on each 
 other, to wit, the lowest of the high, and the highest 
 of the low, often change their parties according to place 
 and time ; for those who are people of fashion in one 
 place are often people of no fashion in another. And 
 with regard to time, it may not be unpleasant to survey 
 the picture of dependance like a kind of ladder ; as, for 
 instance ; early in the morning arises the postillion, or 
 some other boy, which great families, no more than 
 great ships, are without, and falls to brushing the 
 clothes and cleaning the shoes of John the footman ; 
 who, being drest himself, applies his hands to the same 
 labours for Mr Second-hand, the squire's gentleman ; 
 the gentleman in the like manner, a little later in the 
 day, attends the squire ; the squire is no sooner equipped 
 than he attends the levee of my lord ; which is no 
 sooner over than my lord himself is seen at the levee of 
 the favourite, who, after the hour of homage is at an 
 end, appears himself to pay homage to the levee of his 
 sovereign. Nor is there, perhaps, in this whole ladder 
 of dependance, any one step at a greater distance from 
 the other than the first from the second ; so that to a 
 philosopher the question might only seem, whether you 
 would chuse to be a great man at six in the morning, 
 or at two in the afternoon. And yet there are scarce 
 
164 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 two of these who do not think the least familiarity with 
 the persons below them a condescension, and, if they 
 were to go one step farther, a degradation. 
 
 And now, reader, I hope thou wilt pardon this long 
 digression, which seemed to me necessary to vindicate 
 . the great character of Mrs Slipslop from what low 
 people, who have never seen high people, might think 
 an absurdity ; but we who know them must have daily 
 found very high persons know us in one place and not 
 in another, to-day and not to-morrow ; all which it 
 is difficult to account for otherwise than I have here 
 endeavoured ; and perhaps, if the gods, according to 
 the opinion of some, made men only to laugh at them, 
 there is no part of our behaviour which answers the 
 end of our creation better than this. 
 
 But to return to our history : Adams, who knew no 
 more of this than the cat which sat on the table, imagin- 
 ing Mrs Slipslop's memory had been much worse than 
 it really was, followed her into the next room, crying 
 out, " Madam Slipslop, here is one of your old acquaint- 
 ance ; do but see what a fine woman she is grown 
 since she left Lady Booby's service." " I think I 
 reflect something of her," answered she, with great 
 dignity, " but I can't remember all the inferior servants 
 in our family." She then proceeded to satisfy Adams's 
 curiosity, by telling him, " When she arrived at the inn, 
 she found a chaise ready for her ; that, her lady being 
 expected very shortly in the country, she was obliged 
 to make the utmost haste ; and, in commensuration of 
 Joseph's lameness, she had taken him with her ; " and 
 lastly, " that the excessive virulence of the storm had 
 driven them into the house where he found them." 
 After which, she acquainted Adams with his 
 having left his horse, and exprest some wonder at 
 his having strayed so far out of his way, and at 
 meeting him, as she said, "in the company of that 
 
Joseph Andrews 165 
 
 vench, who she feared was no better than she 
 should be." 
 
 The horse was no sooner put into Adams's head but 
 he was immediately driven out by this reflection on the 
 character of Fanny. He protested, " He believed there 
 was not a chaster damsel in the universe. I heartily 
 wish, I heartily wish," cried he (snapping his fingers), 
 " that all her betters were as good." He then pro- 
 ceeded to inform her of the accident of their meeting ; 
 but when he came to mention the circumstance of 
 delivering her from the rape, she said, " She thought 
 him properer for the army than the clergy ; that it did 
 not become a clergyman to lay violent hands on any 
 one ; that he should have rather prayed that she might 
 be strengthened." Adams said, "He was very far 
 from being ashamed of what he had done : " she replied, 
 " Want of shame was not the currycuristic of a clergy- 
 man." This dialogue might have probably grown 
 warmer, had not Joseph opportunely entered the room, 
 to ask leave of Madam Slipslop to introduce Fanny : 
 but she positively refused to admit any such trollops, 
 and told him, " She would have been burnt before she 
 would have suffered him to get into a chaise with her, 
 if she had once respected him of having his sluts way- 
 kid on the road for him ; " adding, " that Mr Adams 
 acted a very pretty part, and she did not doubt but to 
 see him a bishop." He made the best bow he could, 
 and cried out, " I thank you, madam, for that right- 
 reverend appellation, which I shall take all honest means 
 to deserve." "Very honest means," returned she, with 
 a sneer, " to bring people together." At these words 
 Adams took two or three strides across the room, when 
 the coachman came to inform Mrs Slipslop, "That 
 the storm was over, and the moon shone very bright," 
 She then sent for Joseph, who was sitting without with 
 his Fanny, and would have had him gone with her ; 
 
1 66 The Adventures of 
 
 but he peremptorily refused to leave Fanny behind, 
 which threw the good woman into a violent rage. 
 She said, "She would inform her lady what doings 
 were carrying on, and did not doubt but she would rid 
 the parish of all such people $ M and concluded a long 
 speech, full of bitterness and very hard words, with 
 some reflections on the clergy not decent to repeat ; at 
 last, finding Joseph unmoveable, she flung herself into 
 the chaise, casting a look at Fanny as she went, not 
 unlike that which Cleopatra gives Octavia in the play. 
 To say the truth, she was most disagreeably disappointed 
 by the presence of Fanny : she had, from her first seeing 
 Joseph at the inn, conceived hopes of something which 
 might have been accomplished at an alehouse as well as 
 a palace. Indeed, it is probable Mr Adams had rescued 
 more than Fanny from the danger of a rape that evening. 
 
 When the chaise had carried off the enraged Slipslop, 
 Adams, Joseph, and Fanny assembled over the fire, 
 where they had a great deal of innocent chat, pretty 
 enough ; but, as possibly it would not be very enter- 
 taining to the reader, we shall hasten to the morning ; 
 only observing that none of them went to bed that 
 night. Adams, when he had smoaked three pipes, took 
 a comfortable nap in a great chair, and left the lovers, 
 whose eyes were too well employed to permit any desire 
 of shutting them, to enjoy by themselves, during some 
 hours, an happiness which none of my readers who 
 have never been in love are capable of the least conception 
 of, though we had as many tongues as Homer desired, to 
 describe it with, and which all true lovers will represent 
 to their own minds without the least assistance from us. 
 
 Let it suffice then to say, that Fanny, after a thousand 
 entreaties, at last gave up her whole soul to Joseph ; and, 
 almost fainting in his arms, with a sigh infinitely softer 
 and sweeter too than any Arabian breeze, she whispered 
 to his lips, which were then close to hers, " O Joseph. 
 
Joseph Andrews 167 
 
 you have won me : I will be yours for ever." Joseph, 
 having thanked her on his knees, and embraced her 
 with an eagerness which she now almost returned, 
 leapt up in a rapture, and awakened the parson, 
 earnestly begging him "that he would that instant join 
 their hands together." Adams rebuked him for his 
 request, and told him " He would by no means consent 
 to anything contrary to the forms of the Church ; that 
 he had no licence, nor indeed would he advise him to 
 obtain one ; that the Church had prescribed a form 
 namely, the publication of banns with which all good 
 Christians ought to comply, and to the omission of which 
 he attributed the many miseries which befell great folks 
 in marriage ; " concluding, " As many as are joined 
 together otherwise than G 's word doth allow are 
 not joined together by G , neither is their matrimony 
 lawfiil." Fanny agreed with the parson, saying to 
 Joseph, with a blush, " She assured him she would not 
 consent to any such thing, and that she wondered at his 
 offering it." In which resolution she was comforted 
 and commended by Adams ; and Joseph was obliged 
 to wait patiently till after the third publication of the 
 banns, which, however, he obtained the consent of 
 Fanny, in the presence of Adams, to put in at their 
 arrival. 
 
 The sun had been now risen some hours, when 
 Joseph, finding his leg surprizingly recovered, proposed 
 to walk forwards ; but when they were all ready to set 
 out, an accident a little retarded them. This was no 
 other than the reckoning, which amounted to seven 
 shillings ; no great sum if we consider the immense 
 quantity of ale which Mr Adams poured in. Indeed, 
 they had no objection to the reasonableness of the bill, 
 but many to the probability of paying it ; for the fellow 
 who had taken poor Fanny's purse had unluckily forgot 
 to return it. So that the account stood thus : 
 
r 68 The Adventures of 
 
 * d. 
 
 Mr Adams and company, Dr . , .070 
 
 In Mr Adams's pocket . .006^ 
 
 In Mr Joseph's o o o 
 
 In Mrs Fanny's o o o 
 
 Balance . . .065^ 
 
 They stood silent some few minutes, staring at each 
 other, when Adams whipt out on his toes, and asked 
 the hostess, " If there was no clergyman in that parish ?" 
 She answered, "There was." "Is he wealthy?" 
 replied he ; to which she likewise answered in the 
 affirmative. Adams then snapping his fingers returned 
 overjoyed to his companions, crying out, "Heureka, 
 Heureka ; " which not being understood, he told them 
 in plain English, "They need give themselves no 
 trouble, for he had a brother in the parish who would 
 defray the reckoning, and that he would just step to 
 his house and fetch the money, and return to them 
 instantly." 
 
 An interview between parson Adams and parson 
 Trulliber. 
 
 PARSON ADAMS came to the house of parson 
 Trulliber, whom he found stript 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 
 on Sundays, 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 a consider- 
 able deal more. His wife milked his cows, managed 
 his dairy, and followed the markets with butter and 
 eggs. The hogs fell chiefly to his care, which he 
 
Joseph Andrews 169 
 
 carefully waited on at home, and attended to fairs ; on 
 which occasion he was liable to many jokes, his own 
 size being, with much ale, rendered little inferior to that 
 of the beasts he sold. He was indeed one of the largest 
 men you should see, and could have acted the part of 
 Sir John FalstafF without stuffing. Add to this that 
 the rotundity of his belly was considerably increased by 
 the shortness of his stature, his shadow ascending very 
 near as far in height, when he lay on his back, as when 
 he stood on his legs. His voice was loud and hoarse, 
 and his accents extremely broad. To complete the 
 whole, he had a 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 old night-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 small mistake ; for she had told her husband, 
 " She believed there was a man come for some of his 
 hogs/' This supposition made Mr Trulliber hasten 
 with the utmost expedition to attend his guest. He no 
 sooner saw Adams than, not in the least doubting the 
 cause of his errand to be what his wife had imagined, 
 he told him, " He was come in very good time ; that he 
 expected a dealer that very afternoon ; " and added, 
 " they were all pure and fat, and upwards of twenty score 
 a-piece." Adams answered, " He believed he did not 
 know him." " Yes, yes," cried Trulliber, I have 
 seen you 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 a word more till 
 you have seen them, though I have never sold thee a 
 flitch of such bacon as is now in the stye." Upon 
 which he laid violent hands on Adams, and dragged him 
 into the hog-stye, which was indeed but two steps from 
 
170 The Adventures of 
 
 his parlour window. They were no sooner arrived 
 there than he cry'd out, " Do but handle them ! step 
 in, friend ! art welcome to handle 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 handle them before he would talk one word 
 with him. 
 
 Adams, whose natural complacence was beyond any 
 artificial, was obliged to comply before he was suffered 
 to explain himself; and, laying hold on one of their 
 tails, the unruly beast gave such a sudden spring, that 
 he threw poor Adams all along in the mire. Trulliber, 
 instead of assisting him to get up, burst into a laughter, 
 and, entering the stye, said to Adams, with some con- 
 tempt, " Why, dost not know how to handle a hog ? " 
 and was going to lay hold of one himself, but Adams, 
 who thought he had carried his complacence far enough, 
 was no sooner on his legs than he escaped out of the 
 reach of the animals, and cried out, " Nihil habeo cum 
 porcis : I am a clergyman, sir, and am not come to buy 
 hogs." Trulliber answered, "He was sorry for the 
 mistake, but that he must blame his wife," adding, " she 
 was a fool, and always committed blunders." He then 
 desired him to walk in and clean himself, that he would 
 only fasten up the stye and follow him. Adams desired 
 leave to dry his greatcoat, wig, and hat by the fire, 
 which Trulliber granted. Mrs Trulliber would have 
 brought him a basin of water to wash his face, but her 
 husband bid her be quiet like a fool as she was, or she 
 would commit more blunders, and then directed Adams 
 to the pump. While Adams was thus employed, 
 Trulliber, conceiving no great respect for the appearance 
 of his guest, fastened the parlour door, and now con- 
 ducted him into the kitchen, 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 short 
 
Joseph Andrews 171 
 
 iilence Adams said, " I fancy, sir, you already perceive 
 me to be a clergyman." "Ay, ay," cries Trulliber, 
 grinning, " I perceive you have some cassock ; I will 
 not venture to caale it a whole one." Adams answered, 
 " It was indeed none of the best, but he had the mis- 
 fortune to tear it about ten years ago in passing over a 
 stile." Mrs Trulliber, returning with the drink, told 
 her husband, " She fancied the gentleman was a traveller, 
 and that he would be glad to eat a bit." Trulliber 
 bid her hold her impertinent tongue, and asked her, 
 " If parsons used to travel without horses ? " adding, 
 " he supposed the gentleman had none by his 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," says Trulliber ; " for I assure 
 you I don't love to see clergymen on foot; it is not 
 seemly nor suiting the dignity of the cloth." Here 
 Trulliber made a long oration on the dignity of the cloth 
 (or rather gown) not much worth relating, till his wife 
 had spread the table and set a mess of porridge 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 you think proper to eat a morsel, you may." 
 Adams accepted the invitation, and the two parsons 
 sat down together ; Mrs Trulliber waiting behind her 
 husband's chair, as was, it seems, her custom. Trulliber 
 eat heartily, but scarce put anything in his mouth with- 
 out finding fault with his wife's cookery. All which 
 the poor woman bore patiently. Indeed, she was 
 so absolute an admirer of her husband's greatness and 
 importance, of which she had frequent hints from his 
 own mouth, that she almost carried her adoration to an 
 opinion of his infallibility. To say the truth, the parson 
 had exercised her more ways than one ; and the pious 
 woman had so well edified by her husband's sermons, 
 that she had resolved to receive the bad things of this 
 
172 The Adventures of 
 
 world together with the good. She had indeed been 
 at 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 her religion, partly by the respect 
 he paid himself, and partly by that which he received 
 from the parish. She had, in short, absolutely submitted, 
 and now worshipped her husband, as Sarah did Abraham, 
 calling him (not lord, but) master. Whilst they were 
 at table her husband gave her a fresh example of his 
 greatness ; for, as she had just delivered a cup of ale 
 to Adams, he snatched it out of his hand, and, crying 
 out, " I caal'd vurst," swallowed down the ale. Adams 
 denied it ; it was referred to the wife, who, though her 
 conscience was on the side of Adams, durst not give it 
 against her husband ; upon which he said, " No, sir, no ; 
 I should not have been so rude to have taken it from 
 you if you had caal'd vurst, but I'd have you know I'm 
 a better man than to suffer the best he in 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 following manner : " I think, sir, it is high time 
 to inform you of the business of my embassy. I am a 
 traveller, and am passing this way in company with two 
 young people, a lad and a damsel, my parishioners, 
 towards my own cure ; we stopt at a house of hospitality 
 in the parish, where they directed me to you as having 
 the cure." u Though I am but a curate," says Trulliber, 
 " I believe I am as warm as the vicar himself, or perhaps 
 the rector of the next parish too ; I believe I could buy 
 them both." " Sir," cries Adams, " I rejoice thereat. 
 Now, sir, my business is, that we are by various accidents 
 stript of our money, and are not able to pay our reckoning, 
 being seven shillings. I therefore request you to assist 
 me with the loan of those seven shillings, and also seven 
 shillings more, which, peradventure, I shall return to 
 you ; but if not, I am convinced you will joyfully 
 
Joseph Andrews 173 
 
 embrace such an opportunity of laying up a treasure in 
 a better place than any this world affords." 
 
 Suppose a stranger, who entered the chambers of a 
 lawyer, being imagined a client, when the lawyer wai 
 preparing his palm for the fee, should pull out a writ 
 against him. Suppose an apothecary, at the door of a 
 chariot containing some great doctor of eminent skill, 
 should, instead of 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 civil companion, or a led captain, should, 
 instead of virtue, and honour, and beauty, and parts, and 
 admiration, thunder vice, and infamy, and ugliness, and 
 folly, and contempt, in his patron's ears. Suppose, when 
 a tradesman first carries in his bill, the man of fashion 
 should pay it ; or suppose, if he did so, the tradesman 
 should abate what he had overcharged, on the suppo- 
 sition of waiting. In short suppose what you will, 
 you never can nor will suppose anything equal to the 
 astonishment which seized on Trulliber, as soon as 
 Adams had ended his speech. A while he rolled his 
 eyes in silence ; sometimes surveying Adams, then his 
 wife ; 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 know where to lay up my 
 little treasure as well as another. I thank G , if I am 
 not so warm as some, I am content ; that is a blessing 
 greater than riches ; and he to whom that is given need 
 ask no more. To be content with a little is greater 
 than to possess the world ; which a man may possess 
 without being so. Lay up my treasure ! what matters 
 where a man's treasure is whose heart is in the Scriptures ? 
 there is the treasure of a Christian." At these words 
 the water ran from Adams's eyes ; and, catching Trulliber 
 by the hand in a rapture, ** Brother," says he, u heavens 
 H 467 
 
1 74 The Adventures of 
 
 bless the accident by which I came to see you ! I 
 would have walked many a mile to have communed 
 with you ; and, believe me, I will shortly pay you a 
 second visit ; but my friends, I fancy, by this time, 
 wonder at my stay ; so let me have the money im- 
 mediately." Trulliber then put on a stern look, and 
 cried out, " Thou dost not intend to rob me ? " At 
 which 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 poor people." " 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 a beggar, and no robber." " Very true, indeed," 
 answered Adams. " I wish, with all my heart, the 
 tithing-man was here," cries Trulliber ; " I would 
 have thee punished as a vagabond for thy impudence. 
 Fourteen shillings indeed ! I won't give thee a farthing. 
 I believe thou art no more a clergyman than the woman 
 there " (pointing to his wife) ; " but if thou art, dost 
 deserve to have thy gown stript over thy shoulders 
 for running about the country in such a manner." " I 
 forgive your suspicions," says Adams ; " but suppose I 
 am not a clergyman, I am nevertheless thy brother ; 
 and thou, as a Christian, much more as a clergyman, 
 art obliged to relieve my distress." " Dost preach to 
 me ? " replied Trulliber ; " dost pretend to instruct me 
 in my duty ? " " Ifacks, a good story," cries Mrs 
 Trulliber, " to preach to my master." " Silence, 
 woman," cries Trulliber. " I would have thee know, 
 friend" (addressing himself to Adams), "I shall not 
 learn my duty from such as thee. I know what charity 
 is, better than to give to vagabonds." " Besides, if we 
 were inclined, the poor's rate obliges us to give so much 
 charity," cries the wife. " Pugh ! thou art a fool. 
 Poor's reate ! Hold thy nonsense," answered Trulliber ; 
 and then, turning to Adams, he told him, " he would 
 
 I 
 
Joseph Andrews 175 
 
 give him nothing." " I am sorry/' answered Adams, 
 " that you do know what charity is, since you practise 
 it no better : I must tell you, if you trust to your 
 knowledge for your justification, you will find yourself 
 deceived, though you should add faith to it, without good 
 works.'' " Fellow," cries Trulliber, " dost thou speak 
 against faith in my house ? Get out of my doors : I 
 will no longer remain under the same roof with a wretch 
 who speaks wantonly of faith and the Scriptures." 
 "Name not the Scriptures," says Adams. "How! 
 not name the Scriptures ! Do you disbelieve the Scrip- 
 tures ? " cries Trulliber. " No ; but you do," answered 
 Adams, " if I may reason from your practice ; for their 
 commands are so explicit, and their rewards and punish- 
 ments so immense, that it is impossible a man should 
 stedfasdy believe without obeying. Now, there is no 
 command more express, no duty more frequently en- 
 joined, than charity. Whoever, therefore, is void of 
 charity, I make no scruple of pronouncing that he is no 
 Christian." " I would not advise thee," says Trullibe^ 
 u 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 
 athletic exercises, he had, in his youth, been one of the 
 best boxers and cudgel-players in the county). His 
 wife, seeing him clench his fist, interposed, and begged 
 him not to fight, but show himself a true Christian, and 
 take the law of him. As nothing could provoke Adams 
 to strike, but an absolute assault on himself or his friend, 
 he smiled at the angry look and gestures of Trulliber ; 
 and, telling him he was sorry to see such men in order*, 
 departed without further ceremony. 
 
176 The Adventures of 
 CDjjapter ;to. 
 
 An adventure^ the consequence of a new instance 'which 
 parson Adams gave of his forgetfulnest. 
 
 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 they would, that they never once missed or 
 thought of him. Indeed, I have been often assured by 
 both, that they spent these hours in a most delightful 
 conversation ; but, as I never could prevail on either to 
 relate it, so I cannot communicate it to the reader. 
 
 Adams acquainted the lovers with the ill success of 
 his enterprize. They were all greatly confounded, 
 none being able to propose any method of departing, 
 till Joseph at last advised calling in the hostess, and 
 desiring her to trust them ; which Fanny said she de- 
 spaired 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 asked the question than she readily 
 agreed ; and, with a curtsy and smile, wished them a 
 good journey. However, lest Fanny's skill in physiog- 
 nomy should be called in question, we will venture to 
 assign one reason which might probably incline her to 
 this confidence and good-humour. When Adams said 
 he was going to visit his brother, he had unwittingly 
 imposed on Joseph and Fanny, who both believed he 
 had meant his natural brother, and not his brother in 
 divinity, and had so informed the hostess, on her en- 
 quiry after him. Now Mr Trulliber had, by his pro- 
 fessions of piety, by his gravity, austerity, reserve, and 
 the opinion of his great wealth, so great an authority in 
 his parish, that they all lived in the utmost fear and 
 apprehension of him. It was therefore no wonder that 
 
Joseph Andrews 177 
 
 the hostess, who knew it was in his option whether she 
 should ever sell another mug of drink, did not dare to 
 affront his supposed brother by denying him credit. 
 
 They were now just on their departure when Adams 
 recollected he had left his greatcoat and hat at Mr 
 Trulliber's. As he was not desirous of renewing his 
 visit, the hostess herself, having no servant at home, 
 offered to fetch it. 
 
 This was an unfortunate expedient ; for the hostess 
 was soon undeceived in the opinion she had entertained 
 of Adams, whom Trulliber abused in the grossest terms, 
 especially when he heard he had had the assurance to 
 pretend to be his near relation. 
 
 At her return, therefore, she entirely changed her 
 note. She said, " Folks might be ashamed of travel- 
 ling about, and pretending to be what they were not. 
 That taxes were high, and for her part she was obliged 
 to pay for what she had ; she could not therefore pos- 
 sibly, nor would she, trust anybody ; no, not her own 
 father. That money was never scarcer, and she wanted 
 to make up a sum. That she expected, therefore, they 
 should pay their reckoning before they left the house." 
 
 Adams was now greatly perplexed ; but, as he knew 
 that he could easily have borrowed such a sum in his 
 own parish, and as he knew he would have lent it him- 
 self to any mortal in distress, so he took fresh courage, 
 and sallied out all round the parish, but to no purpose ; 
 he returned as pennyless as he went, groaning and 
 lamenting that it was possible, in a country professing 
 Christianity, for a wretch to starve in the midst of his 
 fellow-creatures who abounded. 
 
 Whilst he was gone, the hostess, who stayed as a 
 sort of guard with Joseph and Fanny, entertained them 
 with the goodness of parson Trulliber. And, indeed, 
 he had not only a very good character as to other 
 qualities in the neighbourhood, but was reputed a man 
 
178 The Adventures of 
 
 of great charity ; for, though he never gave a farthing, 
 he had always that word in his mouth. 
 
 Adams was no sooner returned the second time than 
 the storm grew exceedingly high, the hostess declaring, 
 among other things, that, if they offered to stir without 
 paying her, she would soon overtake them with a 
 warrant. 
 
 Plato and Aristotle, or somebody else, hath said, 
 that when the most exquisite cunning fails, chance often 
 hits the mark, and that by means the least expected. 
 Virgil expresses this very boldly : 
 
 Tume, quod optanti divum promittere nemo 
 Auderet, volvenda dies, en/ attulit ultro. 
 
 I would quote more great men if I could ; but my 
 memory not permitting me, I will proceed to exemplify 
 these observations by the following instance : 
 
 There chanced (for Adams had not cunning enough 
 to contrive it) to be at that time in the alehouse a fellow 
 who had been formerly a drummer in an Irish regi- 
 ment, and now travelled the country as a pedlar. This 
 man, having attentively listened to the discourse of the 
 hostess, at last took Adams aside, and asked him what 
 the sum was for which they were detained. As soon 
 as he was informed, he sighed, and said, " He was 
 sorry it was so much ; for that he had no more than 
 six shillings and sixpence in his pocket, which he 
 would lend them with all his heart. " Adams gave a 
 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 of riches and piety, 
 were at length delivered out of their distress by the 
 charity of a poor pedlar. 
 
 I shall refer it to my reader to make what observa- 
 tions he pleases on this incident : it is sufficient for me 
 to inform him that, after Adams and his companions 
 
Joseph Andrews 179 
 
 had returned him a thousand thanks, and told him 
 where he might call to be repaid, they all sallied out 
 of the house without any compliments from their 
 hostess, or indeed without paying her any ; Adams 
 declaring he would take particular care never to call 
 there again ; and she on her side assuring them she 
 wanted no such guests. 
 
 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. 
 
 UR travellers had walked about two miles from that 
 inn, which they had more reason to have mis- 
 taken for a castle than Don Quixote ever had any 
 of those in which he sojourned, seeing they had met with 
 such difficulty in escaping out of its walls, when they came 
 to a parish, and beheld a sign of invitation hanging out. 
 A gentleman sat smoaking a pipe at the door, of whom 
 Adams inquired the road, and received so courteous 
 and obliging an answer, accompanied with so smiling 
 a countenance, that the good parson, whose heart was 
 naturally disposed to love and affection, began to ask 
 several other questions; particularly the name of the 
 parish, and who was the owner of a large house whose 
 front they then had in prospect. The gentleman 
 answered as obligingly as before ; and as to die house, 
 acquainted him it was his own. He then proceeded 
 in the following manner : " Sir, I presume by your 
 habit you are a clergyman ; and as you are travelling 
 on foot I suppose a glass of good beer will not be dis- 
 agreeable to you ; and I can recommend my landlord's 
 
180 The Adventures of 
 
 within as some of the best in all this country. What 
 say you, will you halt a little and let us take a pipe 
 together ? there is no better tobacco in the kingdom." 
 This proposal was not displeasing to Adams, who had 
 allayed his thirst that day with no better liquor than 
 what Mrs Trulliber's cellar had produced ; and which 
 was indeed little superior, either in richness or flavour, 
 to that which divStilled from those grains her generous 
 husband bestowed on his hogs. Having, therefore, 
 abundantly thanked the gentleman for his kind invi- 
 tation, and bid Joseph and Fanny follow him, he 
 entered the alehouse, where a large loaf and cheese and 
 a pitcher of beer, which truly answered the character 
 given of it, being set before them, the three travellers 
 fell to eating, with appetites infinitely more voracious 
 than are to be found at the most exquisite eating-houses 
 in the parish of St. James's. 
 
 The gentleman expressed great delight in the hearty 
 and cheerful behaviour of Adams ; and particularly in 
 the familiarity with which he conversed with Joseph 
 and Fanny, whom he often called his children ; a term 
 he explained to mean no more than his parishioners ; 
 saying, " He looked on all those whom God had in- 
 trusted to his cure to stand to him in that relation." 
 The gentleman, shaking him by the hand, highly 
 applauded those sentiments. "They are, indeed," 
 says he, " the true principles of a Christian divine ; and 
 I heartily wish they were universal ; but, on the con- 
 trary, I am sorry to say the parson of our parish, 
 instead of esteeming his poor parishioners as a part of 
 his family, seems rather to consider them as not of the 
 same species with himself. He seldom speaks to any, 
 unless some few of the richest of us ; nay, indeed, he 
 will not move his hat to the others. I often laugh 
 when I behold him on Sundays strutting along the 
 churchyard like a turkey-cock through rows of his 
 
Joseph Andrews 1 8 1 
 
 parishioners, who bow to him with as much submis- 
 sion, and are as unregarded, as a set of servile courtiers 
 by the proudest prince in Christendom. But if such 
 temporal pride is ridiculous, surely the spiritual is 
 odious and detestable ; if such a puffed-up empty 
 human bladder, strutting in princely robes, justly moves 
 one's derision, surely in the habit of a priest it must 
 raise our scorn." 
 
 "Doubtless," answered Adams, "your opinion is 
 right ; but I hope such examples are rare. The 
 clergy whom I have the honour to know maintain a 
 different behaviour ; and you will allow me, sir, that 
 the readiness which too many of the laity show to 
 contemn the order may be one reason of their avoiding 
 too much humility." " Very true, indeed," says the 
 gentleman ; " I find, sir, you are a man of excellent 
 sense, and am happy in this opportunity of knowing 
 you ; perhaps our accidental meeting may not be dis- 
 advantageous to you neither. At present I shall only 
 say to you that the incumbent of this living is old and 
 infirm, and that it is in my gift. Doctor, give me 
 your hand ; and assure yourself of it at his decease. " 
 Adams told him, " He was never more confounded in 
 his life than at his utter incapacity to make any return 
 to such noble and unmerited generosity." " A mere 
 trifle, sir," cries the gentleman, "scarce worth your 
 acceptance; a little more than three hundred a year. 
 I wish it was double the value for your sake." Adams 
 bowed, and cried from the emotions of his gratitude ; 
 when the other asked him, " If he was married, or 
 had any children, besides those in the spiritual sense he 
 had mentioned." " Sir," replied the parson, " I have 
 a wife and six at your service." " That is unlucky," 
 says the gentleman ; " for I would otherwise have 
 taken you into my own house as my chaplain ; how- 
 ever, I have another in the pariah (for the parsonage-house 
 
1 8 2 The Adventures of 
 
 is not good enough), which I will furnish for you. 
 Pray, does your wife understand a dairy ? " "I can't 
 profess 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 have main- 
 tained them." " Sir," said Adams, in an ecstasy, 
 " you are too liberal ; indeed you are." " Not at all," 
 cries the gentleman : " I esteem riches only as they 
 give me an opportunity of doing good ; and I never 
 saw one whom I had a greater inclination to serve." 
 At which words he shook him heartily by the hand, 
 and told him he had sufficient room in his house to 
 entertain him and his friends. Adams begged he 
 might give him no such trouble; that they could be 
 very well accommodated in the house where they were ; 
 forgetting they had not a sixpenny piece among them. 
 The gentleman would not be denied ; and, informing 
 himself how far they 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 
 a servant and horses ; adding, withal, that, if they 
 would do him the pleasure of their company only two 
 days, he would furnish them with his coach and six. 
 Adams, turning to Joseph, said, " How lucky is this 
 gentleman's goodness to you, who I am afraid would 
 be scarce able to hold out on your lame leg ! " and 
 then, addressing the person who made him these liberal 
 promises, after much bowing, he cried out, " Blessed 
 be the hour which first introduced me to a man of 
 your charity 1 you are indeed a Christian of the true 
 primitive kind, and an honour to the country wherein 
 you live. I would willingly have taken a pilgrimage 
 to the Holy Land to have beheld you ; for the ad- 
 vantages which we draw from your goodness give me 
 little pleasure, in comparison of what I enjoy for your 
 own sake when I consider the treasures you are by 
 
Joseph Andrews 183 
 
 these means laying up for yourself in a country that 
 passeth not away. We will therefore, most generous 
 sir, accept your goodness, as well the entertainment you 
 have so kindly offered us at your house this evening, as 
 the accommodation of your horses to-morrow morn- 
 ing." He then began to search for his hat, as did 
 Joseph for his ; and both they and Fanny were in 
 order of departure, when the gentleman, stopping 
 short, and seeming to meditate by himself for the 
 space of about a minute, exclaimed thus : " Sure never 
 anything was so unlucky ; I had forgot that my house- 
 keeper was gone abroad, and hath 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 likewise put away all my linen. I am glad it 
 entered into my head before I had given you the 
 trouble of walking there ; besides, I believe you will 
 find better accommodations here than you expected. 
 Landlord, you can provide good 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 the kingdom need be ashamed to lie in." " I am 
 heartily sorry," says the gentleman, "for this disap- 
 pointment. I am resolved I will never suffer her to 
 carry away the keys again." "Pray, sir, let it not 
 make you uneasy," cries Adams; "we shall do very 
 well here ; and the loan of your horses 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 the morning you please ; " and now, 
 after many civilities too tedious to enumerate, many 
 squeezes by the hand, with most affectionate looks and 
 smiles at each other, and after appointing the horses at 
 seven the next morning, the gentleman took his leave 
 of them, and departed to his own house. Adams 
 and his companions returned to the table, where die 
 
184 The Adventures of 
 
 parson smoaked another pipe, and then they all retired 
 to rest. 
 
 Mr Adams rose very early, and called Joseph out of 
 his bed, between whom a very fierce dispute ensued, 
 whether Fanny should ride behind Joseph, or behind 
 the gentleman's servant ; Joseph insisting on it that he 
 was perfectly recovered, and was as capable of taking 
 care of Fanny as any other person could be. But 
 Adams would not agree to it, and declared he would 
 not trust her behind him ; for that he was weaker than 
 he imagined himself to be. 
 
 This dispute continued a long time, and had begun 
 to be very hot, when a servant arrived from their good 
 friend, to acquaint them that he was unfortunately pre- 
 vented from lending them any horses ; for that his 
 groom had, 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 un- 
 lucky as this poor gentleman ? I protest I am more 
 sorry on his account than my own. You see, Joseph, 
 how this good-natured man is treated by his servants ; 
 one locks up his linen, another physics his horses, and 
 I suppose, by his being at this house last night, the 
 butler had locked up his cellar. Bless us ! how good- 
 nature is used in this world ! I protest I am more 
 concerned on his account than my own." " So am 
 not I," cries Joseph ; " not that I am much troubled 
 about walking on foot ; all my concern is, how we 
 shall get out of the house, unless God sends another 
 pedlar to redeem us. But certainly this gentleman has 
 such an affection for you, that he would lend you a 
 larger sum than we owe here, which is not above four 
 or five shillings." "Very true, child," answered 
 Adams ; " I will write a letter to him, and will even 
 venture to solicit him for three half-crowns ; there will 
 
Joseph Andrews 185 
 
 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 for them." 
 
 Fanny being now risen, Joseph paid her a visit, and 
 left Adams to write his letter, which having finished, 
 he despatched a boy with it to the 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 with Fanny was now returned to the 
 parson, expressed some apprehensions that the gentle- 
 man's steward had locked up his purse too. To which 
 Adams answered, " It might very possibly be, and he 
 should wonder at no liberties which the devil might 
 put into the head of a wicked servant to take with so 
 worthy a master ; " but added, " that, as the sum was 
 so small, so noble a gentleman would be easily able to 
 procure it in the parish, though he had it not in his 
 own pocket. Indeed," says he, " if it was four or 
 five guineas, or any such large quantity of money, it 
 might be a different matter." 
 
 They were now sat down to breakfast over some 
 toast and ale, when the boy returned and informed them 
 that the gentleman was not at home. " Very well ! " 
 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 be gone far, as his horsei 
 are all sick ; and besides, he had no intention to go 
 abroad, for he invited us to spend this day and to- 
 morrow at his house. Therefore go back, child, and 
 tarry till his return home." The messenger departed, 
 and was back again with great expedition, bringing an 
 account that the gentleman was gone a long journey, and 
 would not be at home again this month. At these words 
 Adams seemed greatly confounded, saying, " This must 
 be a sudden accident, as the sickness or death of a 
 
1 86 The Adventures of 
 
 relation or some such unforeseen misfortune ; " and then, 
 turning to Joseph, cried, " I wish you had reminded 
 me to have borrowed this money last night." Joseph, 
 smiling, answered, " He was very much deceived if the 
 gentleman would not have found some excuse to avoid 
 lending it. I own," says he, " I was never much 
 pleased with his professing so much kindness for you at 
 first sight ; for I have heard the gentlemen of our cloth 
 in London tell many such stories of their masters. But 
 when the boy brought the message back of his not being 
 at home, I presently knew what would follow; for, 
 whenever a man of fashion doth not care to fulfil his 
 promises, the custom is to order his servants that he will 
 never be at home to the person so promised. In London 
 they call it denying him. I have myself denied Sir 
 Thomas Booby above a hundred times, and when the 
 man hath danced attendance for about a month or some- 
 times longer, he is acquainted in the end that the gentle- 
 man is gone out of town and could do nothing in the 
 business." " Good Lord ! " says Adams, " what 
 wickedness is there in the Christian world ! I profess 
 almost equal to what I have read of the heathens. But 
 surely, Joseph, your suspicions of this gentleman must be 
 unjust, for what a silly fellow must he be who would do 
 the devil's work for nothing ! and canst thou tell me any 
 interest he could possibly propose to himself by deceiving 
 us in his professions ? " " It is not for me," answered 
 Joseph, " to give reasons for what men do, to a gentle- 
 man of your learning." "You say right," quoth 
 Adams ; " knowledge of men is only to be learned 
 from books ; Plato and Seneca for that ; and those are 
 authors, I am afraid, child, you never read." "Not 
 I, sir, truly," answered Joseph ; " all I know is, it is a 
 maxim among the gentlemen of our cloth, that those 
 masters who promise the most perform the least ; and 
 I have often heard them say they have found the largest 
 
Joseph Andrews 187 
 
 vails in those families where they were not promised 
 any. But, sir, instead of considering any farther these 
 matters, it would be our wisest way to contrive some 
 method of getting out of this house ; for the generous 
 gentleman, instead of doing us any service, hath left us 
 die whole reckoning to pay." Adams was going to 
 answer, when their host came in, and, with a kind of 
 jeering smile, said, " Well, masters ! the squire hath not 
 sent his horses for you yet. Laud help me ! how easily 
 some folks make promises ! " " How ! " says Adams ; 
 " have you ever known him do anything of this kind 
 before ? " " Ay ! marry have I," answered the host : 
 " it is no business of mine, you know, sir, to say any- 
 thing to a gentleman to his face ; but now he is not here, 
 I will assure you, he hath not his fellow within the three 
 next market-towns. I own I could not help laughing 
 when I heard him offer you the living, for thereby hangs 
 a good jest. I thought he would have offered you my 
 house next, for one is no more his to dispose of than the 
 other." At these words Adams, blessing himself, de- 
 clared, " 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 with you, 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, I am afraid you would lose your money for want 
 of our finding any conveniency of sending it." " Trust 
 you, master !" says the host, "that I will with all my 
 heart. I honour the clergy too much to deny trusting 
 one of them for such a trifle ; besides, I like your fear 
 of never paying me. I have lost many a debt in my 
 lifetime, but was promised to be paid them all in a very 
 short time. I will score this reckoning for the novelty 
 of it. It is the first, I do assure you, of its kind. But 
 what say you, master, shall we have t'other pot before 
 we part ? It will waste but a little chalk more, and if 
 
1 88 The Adventures of 
 
 you never pay me a shilling the loss will not ruin me." 
 Adams liked the invitation very well, especially as it 
 was delivered with so hearty an accent, He shook his 
 host by the hand, and thanking him, said, " He would 
 tarry another pot rather for the pleasure of such worthy 
 company than for the liquor ; " adding, u he was glad 
 to find some Christians left in the kingdom, for that he 
 almost began to suspect that he was sojourning in a 
 country inhabited only by Jews and Turks." 
 
 The kind host produced the liquor, and Joseph with 
 Fanny retired into the garden, where, while they solaced 
 themselves with amorous discourse, Adams sat down 
 with his host ; and, both filling their glasses, and 
 lighting their pipes, they began that dialogue which the 
 reader will find in the next chapter. 
 
 Chapter 
 
 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. 
 
 IR," said the host, " I assure you you are not the 
 first to whom our squire hath promised more than 
 he hath performed. He is so famous for this 
 practice, that his word will not be taken for much by 
 those who know him. I remember a young fellow 
 whom he promised his parents to make an exciseman. 
 The poor people, who could ill afford it, bred their son 
 to writing and accounts, and other learning to qualify him 
 for the place ; and the boy held up his head above his 
 condition with these hopes ; nor would he go to plough, 
 nor to any other kind of work, and went constantly drest 
 
Joseph Andrews 189 
 
 as fine as could be, with two clean Holland shirts a 
 week, and this for several years ; till at last he followed 
 the squire up to London, thinking there to mind him 
 of his promises ; but he could never get sight of him. 
 So that, being out of money and business, he fell into 
 evil company and wicked courses ; and in the end came 
 to a sentence of transportation, the news of which broke 
 the mother's heart. I will tell you another true story 
 of him. There was a neighbour of 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 the youngest must be made a parson. Upon which 
 he persuaded the father to send him to school, promising 
 that he would afterwards maintain him at the university, 
 and, when he was of a proper age, give him a living. 
 But after the lad had been seven years at school, and 
 his father brought him to the squire, with a letter 
 from his master that he was fit for the university, the 
 squire, instead of minding his promise, or sending him 
 thither at his expense, only told his father that the 
 young man was a fine scholar, and it was pity he could 
 not afford to keep him at Oxford for four or five years 
 more, by which time, if he could get him a curacy, he 
 might have him ordained. The farmer said, " He was 
 not a man sufficient to do any such thing." " Why, 
 then," answered the squire, " I am very sorry you have 
 given him so much learning ; for, if he cannot get his 
 living by that, it will rather spoil him for anything else ; 
 and your other son, who can hardly write his name, 
 will do more at ploughing and sowing, 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 with grief, and 
 lartly with good liquor, fell into a consumption, and 
 
190 The Adventures of 
 
 died Nay, I can tell you more till : there was an- 
 other, a young woman, and the handsomest in all this 
 neighbourhood, whom he enticed up to London, pro- 
 mising to make her a gentlewoman to one of your 
 women of quality ; but, instead of keeping his word, 
 we have since heard, after having a child by her him- 
 self, she became a common whore ; then kept a coffee- 
 house in Covent Garden ; and a little after died of the 
 French distemper in a gaol. I could tell you many 
 more stories ; but how do you imagine he served me 
 myself? You must know, sir, I was bred a seafaring 
 man, and have been many voyages ; till at last I came 
 to be master of a ship myself, and was in a fair way of 
 making a fortune, when I was attacked by one of those 
 cursed guarda-costas who took our ships before the be- 
 ginning of the war ; and after a fight, wherein I lost 
 die greater part of my crew, my rigging being all de- 
 molished, and two shots received between wind and 
 water, I was forced to strike. The villains carried off 
 my 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 at last made 
 Falmouth ; though I believe the Spaniards did not 
 imagine she could 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 so 
 pleased with the defence I had made against the 
 enemy, that he did not fear getting me promoted to a 
 lieutenancy of a man-of-war, if I would accept of it ; 
 which I thankfully assured him I would. Well, sir, 
 two or three years passed, during which I had many 
 repeated promises, not only from the squire, but (as he 
 told me) from the lords of the admiralty. He never 
 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 
 
Joseph Andrews 191 
 
 assurances were given me with no less confidence, after 
 so many disappointments, than at first. At last, sir, 
 growing weary, and somewhat suspicious, after so much 
 delay, I wrote to a friend in London, who I knew had 
 some acquaintance at the best house in the admiralty, 
 and desired him to back the squire's interest ; for in- 
 deed I feared he had solicited the affair with more 
 coldness than he pretended. And what answer do you 
 think my friend sent me? Truly, sir, he acquainted 
 me that the squire had never mentioned my name at 
 the admiralty in his life ; and, unless I had much faith- 
 fuller 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, where you 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 ! " says Adams, O fie ! He is 
 indeed a wicked man ; but G will, I hope, turn his 
 heart to repentance. Nay, if he could but once see the 
 meanness of this detestable vice ; would he but once 
 reflect that he is one of the most scandalous as well as 
 pernicious lyars ; sure he must despise himself to so in- 
 tolerable a degree, that it would be impossible for him 
 to continue a moment in such a course. And to confess 
 the truth, notwithstanding the baseness of this character, 
 which he hath too well deserved, he hath in his coun- 
 tenance sufficient symptoms of that bona indoles, that 
 sweetness 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 
 not give any credit to a man's countenance. Symptoms 
 in his countenance, quotha ! I would look there, per- 
 haps, to see whether a man had the small-pox, but for 
 nothing else." He spoke this with so litue regard to 
 the parson's observation, that it a good deal nettled him ; 
 
192 The Adventures of 
 
 and, taking the pipe hastily from his mouth, he thin 
 answered : " Master of mine, perhaps I have travelled 
 a great deal farther than you without the assistance of 
 a ship. Do you imagine sailing by different cities or 
 countries is travelling ? No. 
 
 "Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currant. 
 
 I can go farther in an afternoon than you in a twelve- 
 month. What, I suppose you have seen the Pillars of 
 Hercules, and perhaps the walls of Carthage. Nay, 
 you may have heard Scylla, and seen Charybdis ; you 
 may have entered the closet where Archimedes was 
 found at the taking of Syracuse. I suppose you have 
 sailed among the Cyclades, and passed the famous 
 traits which take their name from the unfortunate 
 Helle, whose fate is sweetly described by Apollonius 
 Rhodius ; you have passed the very spot, I conceive, 
 where Daedalus fell into that sea, his waxen wings being 
 melted by the sun ; you have traversed the Euxine sea, 
 I make no doubt ; nay, you may have been on the banks 
 of the Caspian, and called at Colchis, to see if there is 
 ever another golden fleece." " Not I, truly, master," 
 answered the host : " I never touched at any of these 
 places." "But I have been at all these," replied 
 Adams. "Then, I suppose," cries the host, " you 
 have been at the East Indies ; for there are no such, I 
 will be sworn, either in the West or the Levant." 
 " Pray where* s the Levant ? " quoth Adams ; " that 
 should be in the East Indies by right." " Oho ! you 
 are a pretty traveller," cries the host, "and not know 
 the Levant ! My service to you, master ; you must 
 not talk of these things with me ! you must not tip us 
 the traveller ; it won't go here." " Since thou art so 
 dull to misunderstand me still," quoth Adams, " I will 
 inform thee ; the travelling I mean is in books, the only 
 way of travelling by which any knowledge is to be 
 
Joseph Andrews 193 
 
 acquired. From them I learn what I asserted just now, 
 that nature generally imprints such a portraiture of the 
 mind in the countenance, that a skilful physiognomist 
 will rarely be deceived. I presume you have never 
 read the story of Socrates to this purpose, and therefore 
 I will tell it you. A certain physiognomist asserted of 
 Socrates, that he plainly discovered by his features that 
 he was a rogue in his nature. A character so contrary 
 to the tenour of all this great man's actions, and the 
 generally received opinion concerning him, incensed the 
 boys of Athens so that they threw stones at the physi- 
 ognomist, and would have demolished him for his 
 ignorance, had not Socrates himself prevented them by 
 confessing the truth of his observations, and acknow- 
 ledging that, though he corrected his disposition by 
 philosophy, he was indeed naturally as inclined to vice 
 as had been predicated of him. Now, fray resolve me 
 How should a man know 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 oppor- 
 tunities enough of knowing die world without troubling 
 his head with Socrates, or any such fellows." " Friend," 
 cries Adams, " if a man should sail round the world, 
 and anchor in every harbour of it, without learning, 
 he would return home as ignorant as he went out." 
 " Lord help you ! " answered the host ; " there was 
 my boatswain, poor fellow ! he could scarce either write 
 or read, and yet he would navigate a ship with any 
 master of a man-of-war ; and a very pretty knowledge 
 of trade he had too." " Trade," answered Adams, 
 " as Aristotle proves in his first chapter of Politics, is 
 below a philosopher, and unnatural as it is managed 
 now." The host looked stedfastly at Adams, and 
 after a minute's silence asked him, " If he was one of 
 the writers of the Gazetteers ? for I have heard," says 
 
194 The Adventures of 
 
 he, " they are writ by parsons." " Gazetteers ! " 
 answered Adams, "what is that?" "It is a dirty 
 newspaper," replied the host, " which hath been given 
 away all over 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 offered me for 
 nothing." " Not I truly," said Adams ; "I never 
 write anything but sermons ; and I assure you I am no 
 enemy to trade, whilst it is consistent with honesty ; 
 nay, I have always looked on the tradesman as a very 
 valuable member of society, and, perhaps, inferior to 
 none but the man of learning." " No, I believe he is 
 not, nor to him neither," answered the host. " Of 
 whit use would learning be in a country without trade ? 
 What would all you parsons do to clothe your backs 
 and feed your bellies ? Who fetches you your silks, 
 and your linens, and your wines, and all the other 
 necessaries of life ? I speak chiefly with regard to the 
 sailors." " You should say the extravagancies of life," 
 replied the parson ; " but admit they were the neces- 
 saries, there is something more necessary than life itself, 
 which is provided by learning ; I mean the learning of 
 the clergy. Who clothes you with piety, meekness, 
 humility, charity, patience, and all the other Christian 
 virtues ? Who feeds your souls with the milk of 
 brotherly love, and diets them with all the dainty food 
 of holiness, which at once cleanses them of all impure 
 carnal affections, and fattens them with the truly rich 
 spirit of grace? Who doth this?" "Ay, who, 
 indeed?" cries the host; "for I do not remember 
 ever to have seen any such clothing or such feeding. 
 And so, in the mean time, master, my service to you." 
 Adams was going to answer with some severity, when 
 Joseph and Fanny returned and pressed his departure 
 so eagerly that he would not refuse them ; and so, 
 grasping his crabstick, he took leave of his host (neither 
 
Joseph Andrews 195 
 
 of them being so well pleased with each other as they 
 had been at their first sitting down together), and 
 with Joseph and Fanny, who both expressed much 
 impatience, departed, and now all together renewed 
 their journey. 
 
BOOK III. 
 
 Matter prefatory in praise of biography. 
 
 X TOTWITHSTANDING the preference which 
 J^ may be vulgarly given to the authority of those 
 romance writers who entitle their books "the 
 History of England, the History of France, of Spain, 
 &c.," it is most certain that truth is to be found only in 
 the works of those who celebrate the lives of great men, 
 and are commonly called biographers, as the others 
 should indeed be termed topographers, or chorographers ; 
 words which might well mark the distinction between 
 them ; it being the business of the latter chiefly to 
 describe countries and cities, which, with the assistance 
 of maps, they do pretty justly, and may be depended 
 upon ; but as to the actions and characters of men, their 
 writings are not quite so authentic, of which there needs 
 no other proof than those eternal contradictions occurring 
 between two topographers who undertake the history of 
 the same country : for instance, between my Lord 
 Clarendon and Mr Whitelocke, between Mr Echard and 
 Rapin, and many others ; where, facts being set forth 
 in a different light, every reader believes as he pleases ; 
 and, indeed, the more judicious and suspicious very 
 justly esteem the whole as no other than a romance, 
 in which the writer hath indulged a happy and fertile 
 invention. But though these widely differ in the 
 narrative of facts; some ascribing victory to the one, 
 196 
 
Joseph Andrews 197 
 
 and others to the other party ; some representing the 
 same man as a rogue, while others give him a great and 
 honest character ; yet all agree in the scene where the 
 fact is supposed to have happened, and where the person, 
 who is both a rogue and an honest man, lived. Now 
 with us biographers the case is different ; the facts we 
 deliver may be relied on, though we often mistake the 
 age and country wherein they happened : for, though it 
 may be worth the examination of critics, whether the 
 shepherd Chrysostom, who, as Cervantes informs us, 
 died for love of the fair Marcella, who hated him, was 
 ever in Spain, will any one doubt but that such a silly 
 fellow hath really existed ? Is there in the world such 
 a sceptic as to disbelieve the madness of Cardenio, the 
 perfidy of Ferdinand, the impertinent curiosity of 
 Anselmo, the weakness of Camilla, the irresolute friend- 
 ship of Lothario ? though perhaps, as to the time and 
 place where those several persons lived, that good 
 historian may be deplorably deficient. But the most 
 kncrwn instance of this kind is in the true history of Gil 
 Bias, where the inimitable biographer hath made a 
 notorious blunder in the country of Dr Sangrado, who 
 used his patients as a vintner doth his wine-vessels, by 
 letting out their blood, and filling them up with water. 
 Doth not every one, who is the least versed in physical 
 history, know that Spain was not the country in which 
 this doctor lived ? The same writer hath likewise erred 
 in the country of his archbishop, as well as that of 
 those great personages whose understandings were too 
 sublime to taste anything but tragedy, and in many others. 
 The same mistakes may likewise be observed in Scarron, 
 the Arabian Nights, the History of Marianne and le 
 Paisan Parvenu, and perhaps some few other writers of 
 this class, whom I have not read, or do not at present 
 recollect ; for I would by no means be thought to 
 comprehend those persons of surprizing genius, the 
 
198 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 authors of immense romances, or the modern novel and 
 Atalantis writers ; who, without any assistance from 
 nature or history, record persons who never were, or 
 will be, and facts which never did, nor possibly can, 
 happen ; whose heroes are of their own creation, and 
 their brains the chaos whence all their materials are 
 selected. Not that such writers deserve no honour ; 
 BO far otherwise, that perhaps they merit the highest ; 
 for what can be nobler than to be as an example of the 
 wonderful extent of human genius ? One may apply to 
 them what Balzac says of Aristotle, that they are a 
 second nature (for they have no communication with 
 the first ; by which, authors of an inferior class, who 
 cannot ^stand alone, are obliged to support themselves as 
 with crutches) ; but these of whom I am now speaking 
 seem to be possessed of those stilts, which the excellent 
 Voltaire tells us, in his letters, "carry the genius far off, 
 but with an 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 their own brains, is not 
 such a book as that which records the achievements of 
 the renowned Don Quixote more worthy the name of a 
 history than even Mariana's : for, whereas the latter is 
 confined to a particular period of time, and to a particular 
 nation, the former is the history of the world in general, 
 at least that part which is polished by laws, arts, and 
 sciences ; 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 some constructions which the good- 
 
Joseph Andrews 199 
 
 nature of mankind, who are always forward to see their 
 friends' virtues recorded, may put to particular parts. 
 I question not but several of my readers will know the 
 lawyer in the stage-coach the moment s they hear his 
 voice. It is likewise odds but the wit and the prude 
 meet with some of their acquaintance, as well as all the 
 rest of my characters. To prevent, therefore, any such 
 malicious applications, I declare here, once for all, I 
 describe not men, but manners ; not an individual, but 
 a species. Perhaps it will be answered, Are not the 
 characters then taken from life ? To which I answer in 
 the affirmative ; nay, I believe I might aver that I have 
 writ little more than I have seen. The lawyer is not 
 only alive, but hath been so these four thousand years ; 
 and I hope G will indulge his life as many yet to 
 come. He hath not indeed confined himself to one 
 profession, one religion, or one country ; but when the 
 first mean selfish creature appeared on the human stage, 
 who made self the centre of the whole creation, 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 long shall he remain 
 upon it. It is, therefore, doing him little honour to ima- 
 gine he endeavours to mimic k some little obscure fellow, 
 because he happens to resemble him in one particular 
 feature, or perhaps in his profession ; whereas his appear- 
 ance in the world is calculated for much more general 
 and noble purposes ; not to expose one pitiful wretch 
 to the small and contemptible circle of his acquaintance ; 
 but to hold the glass to thousands in their closets, that 
 they may contemplate their deformity, and endeavour to 
 reduce it, and thus by suffering private mortification 
 may avoid public shame. This places the boundary 
 between, and distinguishes the satirist from the libeller : 
 for the former privately correct* the fault for the benefit 
 
2oo The Adventures of 
 
 of the person, like a parent ; the latter publickly exposes 
 the person himself, as an example to others, like an 
 executioner. 
 
 There are besides little circumstances to be con- 
 sidered; as the drapery of a picture, which though 
 fashion varies at different times, the resemblance of the 
 countenance is not by those means diminished. Thus 
 I believe we may venture to say Mrs Tow*4youse is 
 coeval with our lawyer : and, though perhaps, during 
 the changes which so long an existence must have 
 passed through, she may in her turn have stood behind 
 the bar at an inn, I will not scruple to affirm she hath 
 likewise in the revolution of ages sat on a throne. ID 
 short, where extreme turbulency of temper, avarice, and 
 an insensibility of human misery, with a degree of 
 hypocrisy, have united in a female composition, Mrs 
 Tow-wouse was that woman ; and where a good in- 
 clination, eclipsed by a poverty of spirit and understand- 
 ; ng, hath glimmered forth in a man, that man hath been 
 no other than her sneaking husband. 
 
 I shall detain my reader no longer than to give him 
 one caution more of an opposite kind : for, as in most 
 of our particular characters we mean not to lash 
 individuals, but all of the like sort, so, in our general 
 descriptions, we mean not universals, but would be 
 understood with many exceptions : for instance, in our 
 description of high people, we cannot be intended to 
 include such as, whilst they are an honour to their 
 high rank, by a well-guided condescension make their 
 superiority as easy as possible to those whom fortune 
 chiefly hath placed below them. Of this number 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, bears the truest stamp of dignity 
 on his mind, adorned with greatness, enriched with 
 knowledge, and embellished with genius. I have seen 
 
Joseph Andrews 201 
 
 this man relieve with generosity, while he hath conversed 
 with freedom, and be 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 the 
 power of his prince to exalt him, whose behaviour to 
 those he hath obliged is more amiable than the obliga- 
 tion itself ; and who is so great a master of affability, 
 that, if he could divest himself of an inherent greatness 
 in his manner, would often make the lowest of his 
 acquaintance forget who was the master of that palace 
 in which they are so courteously entertained. These 
 are pictures which must be, I believe, known : I declare 
 they are taken from the life, and not intended to exceed 
 it. By those high people, therefore, whom I have de- 
 scribed, I mean a set of wretches, who, while they are 
 a disgrace to their ancestors, whose honours and fortunes 
 they inherit (or perhaps a greater to their mother, for 
 such degeneracy is scarce credible), have the insolence 
 to treat those with disregard who are at least equal to 
 the founders of their own splendor. It is, I fancy, 
 impossible to conceive a spectacle more worthy of our 
 indignation, than that of a fellow, who is not only a 
 blot in the escutcheon of a great family, but a scandal 
 to the human species, maintaining a supercilious be- 
 haviour to men who are an honour to their nature and 
 a disgrace to their fortune. 
 
 And now, reader, taking these hints along with you, 
 you may, if you please, proceed to the sequel of this our 
 true history. 
 
202 The Adventures of 
 
 Chapter if. 
 
 A night scene, wherein several wonderful adventures 
 bsfel Adams and his fellow-travellers. 
 
 IT was so late when our travellers left the inn or ale- 
 house (for it might be called either), that they 
 had not travelled many miles before night overtook 
 them, or met them, which you please. The reader 
 must excuse me if I am not particular as to the way 
 they took ; for, as we are now drawing near the seat 
 of the Boobies, and as that is a ticklish name, which 
 malicious persons may apply, according to their evil 
 inclinations, to several worthy country squires, a race 
 of men whom we look upon as entirely inoffensive, and 
 for whom we have an adequate regard, 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 her- 
 self a little ; for that she was so tired she could walk 
 no farther." Joseph immediately prevailed with parson 
 Adams, who was as brisk as a bee, to stop. He had 
 no sooner seated himself than he lamented the loss of 
 his dear .^Eschylus ; but was a little comforted when 
 reminded that, if he had it in his possession, he could 
 not see to read. 
 
 The sky was so clouded, that not a star appeared. 
 It was indeed v according to Milton, darkness visible. 
 This was a circumstance, however, very favourable to 
 Joseph ; for Fanny, not suspicious of being overseen 
 by Adams, gave a loose to her passion which she had 
 never done before, and, reclining her head on his bosom, 
 threw her arm carelessly round him, and suffered him 
 to lay his cheek close to hers. All this infused such 
 happiness into Joseph, that he would not have changed 
 
Joseph Andrews 203 
 
 his turf for the finest down in the finest palace in the 
 universe. 
 
 Adams sat at some distance from the lovers, and, 
 being unwilling to disturb them, applied himself to 
 meditation ; in which he had not spent much time 
 before he discovered a light at some distance that 
 seemed approaching towards him. He immediately 
 hailed it ; but, to his sorrow 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 absolutely disbelieve them." 
 
 He then entered into a meditation on those unsub- 
 stantial beings ; which was soon interrupted by several 
 voices, which he thought almost at his elbow, though 
 in fact they were not so extremely near. However, 
 he could distinctly hear them agree on the murder of 
 any one they met ; and a little after heard one of them 
 say, " he had killed a dozen since that day fortnight." 
 
 Adams now fell on his knees, and committed him- 
 self to the care of Providence ; 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 which threatened only himself too 
 dear a price for such embraces. 
 
 Joseph now drew forth his penknife, and Adams, 
 having finished his ejaculations, grasped his crab-stick, 
 his only weapon, and, coming up to Joseph, would 
 have had him quit Fanny, and place her in the rear ; 
 but his advice was fruitless ; she clung closer to him, 
 not at aD regarding the presence of Adams, and in 
 a soothing voice declared, "she would die in his 
 arms." Joseph, clasping her with inexpressible eager- 
 ness, whispered her, "that he preferred death in hers 
 
204 The Adventures of 
 
 to life out of them." Adams, brandishing his crab- 
 stick, said, " he despised death as much as any man," 
 and then repeated aloud 
 
 " Est hie, est animus lucis contemptor et ilium, 
 Qui vita bene credat emi quo tendis, honorem." 
 
 Upon this the voices ceased for a moment, and then 
 one of them called out, " D n you, who is there ? " 
 To which Adams was prudent enough to make no 
 reply ; and of a sudden he observed half-a-dozen lights, 
 which seemed to rise all at once from the ground and 
 advance briskly towards him. This he immediately 
 concluded to be an apparition ; and now, beginning to 
 conceive that the voices were of the same kind, he 
 called out, " In the name of the L d, what wouldst 
 thou have ? " He had no sooner spoke than he heard 
 one of the voices cry out, " D n them, here they 
 come ; " and soon after heard several hearty blows, as 
 if a number of men had been engaged at quarterstafF. 
 He was just advancing towards the place of combat, 
 when Joseph, catching him by the skirts, begged him 
 that they might take the opportunity of the dark to 
 convey away Fanny from the danger which threatened 
 her. He presently complied, and, Joseph lifting up 
 Fanny, they all three made the best of their way ; and 
 without looking behind them, or being overtaken, they 
 had travelled full two miles, poor Fanny not once 
 complaining of being tired, when they saw afar off 
 several lights scattered at a small distance from each 
 other, and at the same time found themselves on the 
 descent of a very steep hill. Adams's foot slipping, 
 he instantly disappeared, which greatly frightened both 
 Joseph and Fanny : indeed, if the light had permitted 
 them to see it, they would scarce have refrained laugh- 
 ing to see the parson rolling down the hill ; which he 
 did from top to bottom, without receiving any harm. 
 
Joseph Andrews 205 
 
 He then hollowed as loud as he could, to inform them 
 of his safety, and relieve them from the fears which 
 they had conceived for him. Joseph and Fanny halted 
 some time, considering what to do ; at last they ad- 
 vanced a few paces, where the declivity seemed least 
 steep ; and then Joseph, taking his Fanny in his arms, 
 walked firmly down the hill, without making a false 
 step, and at length landed her at the bottom, where 
 Adams soon came to them. 
 
 Learn hence, my fair countrywomen, to consider your 
 own weakness, and the 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 
 with the spindle-shanked beaus and petit-maKtrcs of the 
 age, who, instead of being able, like Joseph Andrews, 
 to carry you in lusty arms through the rugged ways and 
 downhill steeps of fife, will rather want to support their 
 feeble limbs with your strength and assistance. 
 
 Our travellers now moved forwards where the nearest 
 light presented itself; and, having crossed a common 
 field, they came to a meadow, where they seemed to 
 be at a very little distance from the light, when, to their 
 grief, they arrived at the banks of a river. Adams 
 here made a full stop, and declared he could swim, but 
 doubted how it was possible to get Fanny over: to 
 which Joseph answered, " If they walked along its 
 banks, they might be certain of soon finding a bridge, 
 especially as by the 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 of Joseph to knock 
 at the door, assuring him " she was so weary that she 
 could hardly stand on her feet." Adams, who was 
 foremost, performed this ceremony ; and, the door being 
 I 467 
 
206 The Adventures of 
 
 immediately opened, a plain kind of man appeared at it : 
 Adams acquainted him "that they had a young woman 
 with them who was so tired with her journey that he 
 should be much obliged to him if he would suffer her 
 to come in and rest herself." The man, who saw Fanny 
 by the light of the candle which he held in his hand, 
 perceiving her innocent and modest look, and having 
 no apprehensions from the civil behaviour of Adams, 
 presently answered, " That the young woman was very 
 welcome to rest herself in his house, and so were her 
 company." He then ushered them into a very decent 
 room, where his wife was sitting at a table : she imme- 
 diately rose up, and assisted them in setting forth chairs, 
 and desired them to sit down ; which they had no sooner 
 done than the man of the house asked them if they 
 would have anything to refresh themselves with ? Adams 
 thanked him, and answered he should be obliged to him 
 for a cup of his ale, which was likewise chosen by Joseph 
 and Fanny. Whilst he was gone to fill a very large 
 jug with this liquor, his wife told Fanny she seemed 
 greatly fatigued, and desired her to take something 
 stronger than ale ; but she refused with many thanks, 
 saying it was true she was very much tired, but a little 
 rest she hoped would restore her. As soon as the 
 company were all seated, Mr Adams, who had filled 
 himself with ale, and by public permission had lighted 
 his pipe, turned to the master of the house, asking him, 
 " It evil spirits did not use to walk in that neighbour- 
 hood ? " To which receiving no answer, he began to 
 inform him of the adventure which they met with 
 on the downs ; nor had he proceeded far in the story 
 when somebody knocked very hard at the door. The 
 company expressed some amazement, and Fanny and 
 the good woman turned pale : her husband went forth, 
 and whilst he was absent, which was some time, they 
 all remained silent, looking at one another, and heard 
 
Joseph Andrews 207 
 
 several voices discoursing pretty loudly. Adams wag 
 fully persuaded that spirits were abroad, and began to 
 meditate some exorcisms ; Joseph a little inclined to the 
 same opinion ; Fanny was more afraid of men ; and 
 the good woman herself began to suspect her guests, and 
 imagined those without were rogues belonging to their 
 gang. At length the master of the house returned, and, 
 laughing, told Adams he had discovered his apparition ; 
 that the murderers were sheep- stealers, and the twelve 
 persons murdered were no other than twelve sheep ; 
 adding, that the shepherds had got the better of them, 
 had secured two, and were proceeding with them to a 
 justice of peace. This account greatly relieved the fears 
 of the whole company ; but Adams muttered to him- 
 self, " He was convinced of the truth of apparitions for 
 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 shabby 
 livery on Joseph Andrews, did not well suit with the 
 familiarity between them, began to entertain some 
 suspicions not much to their advantage : addressing 
 himself therefore to Adams, he said, " He perceived he 
 was a clergyman by his dress, and supposed that honest 
 man was his footman." " Sir," answered Adams, " I 
 am a clergyman at your service ; 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 other 
 family than that of Lady Booby, from whence he was 
 discharged, I assure you, for no crime." Joseph said, 
 " He did not wonder the gentleman was surprized to 
 see one of Mr Adams's character condescend to so 
 much goodness with a poor man." "Child," said 
 Adams, " I should be ashamed of my cloth if I thought 
 a poor man, who is honest, below my notice or my 
 
ao8 The Adventures of 
 
 familiarity. I know not how those who think other- 
 wise can profess themselves followers and servants of 
 Him who made no distinction, unless, peradventure, by 
 preferring the poor to the rich. Sir," said he, address- 
 ing himself to the gentleman, " these two poor young 
 people are 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 now time to re- 
 count it." The master of the house, notwithstanding 
 the simplicity which discovered itself in Adams, knew 
 too much of the world to give a hasty belief to pro- 
 fessions. He was not yet quite certain that Adams had 
 any more of the clergyman in him than his cassock. 
 To try him therefore further, he asked him, " If Mr 
 Pope had lately published anything new?" Adams 
 answered, " He had heard great commendations of that 
 poet, but that he had never read nor knew any of his 
 works." " Ho ! ho ! " says the gentleman to himself, 
 " have I caught you ? What ! " said he, " have you 
 never seen his Homer ? " Adams answered, " he had 
 never read any translation of the classic ks." " Why, 
 truly," reply'd the gentleman, "there is a dignity in the 
 Greek language which I think no modern tongue can 
 reach." "Do you understand Greek, sir?" said 
 Adams hastily. " A little, sir," answered the gentle- 
 man. " Do you know, sir," cry'd Adams, " where I 
 can buy an JEschylus ? an unlucky misfortune lately 
 happened to mine." .^Eschylus was beyond the gentle- 
 man, though he knew him very well by name ; he 
 therefore, returning back to Homer, asked Adams, 
 " What part of die Iliad he thought most excellent ? " 
 Adams returned, "His question would be properer, 
 What kind of beauty was the chief in poetry ? for that 
 Homer was equally excellent in them all. And, in- 
 deed," continued he, " what Cicero says of a complete 
 orator may well be applied ro a great poet : * He ought 
 
Joseph Andrews 209 
 
 to comprehend all perfections.' Homer did this in 
 the most excellent degree ; it is not without reason, 
 therefore, that the philosopher, in the twenty-second 
 chapter of his Poeticks, mentions him by no other appel- 
 lation than that of the Poet He was the father of the 
 drama as well as the epic ; not of tragedy only, but of 
 comedy also; for his Margites, which is deplorably 
 lost, bore, says Aristotle, the same analogy to comedy 
 as his Odyssey and Iliad to tragedy. To him, 
 therefore, we owe Aristophanes as well as Euripides, 
 Sophocles, and my poor ^Eschylus. But if you 
 please we will confine ourselves (at least for the 
 present) to the Iliad, his noblest work ; though neither 
 Aristotle nor Horace give it the preference, as I re- 
 member, to the Odyssey. First, then, as to his sub- 
 ject, can anything be more simple, and at the same 
 time more noble ? He is rightly praised by the first of 
 those judicious critics for not chusing the whole war, 
 which, though he says it hath a complete beginning and 
 end, would have been too great for the understanding 
 to comprehend at one view. I have, therefore, often 
 wondered why so correct a writer as Horace should, 
 in his epistle to Lollius, call him the Trojani Belli 
 Scriptorem. Secondly, his action, termed by Aristotle, 
 Pragmaton Systasis ; is it possible for the mind of man 
 to conceive an idea of such perfect unity, and at the 
 same time so replete with greatness ? And here I must 
 observe, what I do not remember to have seen noted 
 by any, the Harmotton, that agreement of his action to 
 his subject : for, as the subject is anger, how agreeable 
 is his action, which is war ; from which every incident 
 arises and to which every episode immediately relates. 
 Thirdly, his manners, which Aristotle places second in 
 his description of the several parts of tragedy, and which 
 he says are included in the action; I am at a loss 
 whether I should rather admire the exactness of his 
 
2 1 o The Adventures of 
 
 judgment in the nice distinction or the immensity of 
 his imagination in their variety. For, as to the former 
 of these, how accurately is the sedate, injured resentment 
 of Achilles, distinguished from the hot, insulting passion 
 of Agamemnon ! How widely doth the brutal courage 
 of Ajax differ from the amiable bravery of Diomedes ; 
 and the wisdom of Nestor, which is the result of long 
 reflection and experience, from the cunning of Ulysses, 
 the effect of art and subtlety only ! If we consider their 
 variety, we may cry out, with Aristotle in his 24th 
 chapter, that no part of this divine poem is destitute of 
 manners. Indeed, I might affirm that there is 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 is there none in his reader which he can- 
 not raise. If he hath any superior excellence to the 
 rest, I have been inclined to fancy it is in the pathetic. 
 I am sure I never read with dry eyes the two episodes 
 where Andromache is introduced in the former lament- 
 ing the danger, and in the latter the death, of Hector. 
 The images are so extremely tender in these, that I am 
 convinced the poet had the worthiest and best heart 
 imaginable. Nor can I help observing how Sophocles 
 falls short of the beauties of the original, in that imitation 
 of the dissuasive speech of Andromache which he hath 
 put into the mouth of Tecmessa. And yet Sophocles 
 was the greatest genius who ever wrote tragedy ; nor 
 have any of his successors in that art, that is to say, 
 neither Euripides nor Seneca the tragedian, been able 
 to come near him. As to his sentiments and diction, 
 I need say nothing ; the former are particularly remark- 
 able for the utmost perfection on that head, namely, 
 propriety ; and as to the latter, Aristotle, whom doubt- 
 less you have read over and over, is very diffuse. I 
 shall mention but one thing more, which that great critic 
 in his division of tragedy calls Opsis, or the scenery ; 
 
Joseph Andrews 2 1 1 
 
 and which 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 latter to that of the painter. 
 But did ever painter imagine a scene like that in the 
 1 3th and I4th Iliads? where the reader sees at one 
 view the prospect 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 a cloud, 
 and a thunderbolt in his hand, looking towards Thrace ; 
 Neptune driving through the sea, which divides on each 
 side to permit his passage, and then seating himself on 
 Mount Samos ; the heavens opened, and the deities all 
 seated on their thrones. This is sublime ! This ia 
 poetry ! " Adams then rapt out a hundred Greek verses, 
 and with such a voice, emphasis, and action, that he 
 almost frightened the women ; and as for the gentleman, 
 he was so far from entertaining any further suspicion of 
 Adams, that he now doubted whether he had not a 
 bishop in his house. He ran into the most extravagant 
 encomiums on his learning ; and the goodness of his 
 heart began to dilate to all the strangers. He said he 
 had great compassion for the poor young woman, who 
 looked pale and faint with her journey ; and in truth 
 he conceived a much higher opinion of her quality 
 than it deserved. He said he was sorry he could not 
 accommodate them all ; but if they were contented with 
 his fireside, he would sit up with the men ; and the 
 young woman might, if she pleased, partake his wife's 
 bed, which he advised her to ; for that they must walk 
 upwards of a mile to any house of entertainment, and 
 that not very good neither. Adams, who liked his 
 seat, his ale, his tobacco, and his company, persuaded ; 
 Fanny to accept this kind proposal, in which sollicitation j 
 he was seconded by Joseph. Nor was she very dirfi-l 
 cultly prevailed on ; for she had slept little the last^ 
 night and not at all the preceding ; so that love itself 
 
2 1 2 The Adventures of 
 
 was scarce able to keep her eyes open any longer. The 
 offer, therefore, being kindly accepted, the good woman 
 produced everything eatable in her house on the table, 
 and the guests, being heartily invited, as heartily regaled 
 themselves, especially parson Adams. As to the other 
 two, they were examples of the truth 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, and the good woman bore her 
 company. The man of the house, Adams, and 
 Joseph, who would modestly have withdrawn, had not 
 the gentleman insisted on the contrary, drew round 
 the fireside, where Adams (to use his own words) 
 replenished his pipe, and the gentleman produced 
 a bottle of excellent beer, being the best liquor in 
 his house. 
 
 The modest behaviour of Joseph, with the graceful- 
 ness of his person, the character which Adams gave of 
 him, and the friendship he seemed to entertain for him, 
 began to work on the gentleman's affections, and raised 
 in him a curiosity to know the singularity which Adams 
 had mentioned in his history. This curiosity Adams 
 was no sooner informed of than, with Joseph's consent, 
 he agreed to gratify it ; and accordingly related all he 
 knew, with as much tenderness as was possible for the 
 character of Lady Booby; and concluded with the 
 long, faithful, and mutual passion between him and 
 Fanny, not concealing the meanness of her birth and 
 education. These latter circumstances entirely cured 
 a jealousy which had lately risen in the gentleman's 
 mind, that Fanny was the daughter of some person of 
 fashion, and that Joseph had run away with her, and 
 Adams was concerned in the plot. He was now 
 enamoured of his guests, drank their healths with great 
 chearfulness, and returned many thanks to Adams, who 
 
Joseph Andrews 2 1 3 
 
 had spent much breath, for he was a circumstantial 
 teller of a story. 
 
 Adams told him it was now in his power to return 
 that favour ; for his extraordinary goodness, as well as 
 that fund of literature he was master of,* which he did 
 not expect to find under such a roof, had raised in him 
 more curiosity than he had ever known. " Therefore," 
 said he, " if it be not too troublesome, sir, your history, 
 if you please." 
 
 The gentleman answered, he could not refuse him 
 what he had so much right to insist on ; and after some 
 of the common apologies, which are the usual preface 
 to a story, he thus began. 
 
 ttf. 
 
 In which the gentleman relates the history of his life. 
 
 SIR, I am descended of a good family, and was 
 born a gentleman. My education was liberal, 
 and at a public school, in which I proceeded so 
 far as to become master of the Latin, and to be tolerably 
 versed in the Greek language. My father died when I 
 
 * 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 beauU mediocre plait plus 
 gtntralement quune btaute* sans dtfaut. 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 
 be commends in her as if he himself was possessed of it." 
 
2 1 4 The Adventures of 
 
 was sixteen, and left me master of myself. He be- 
 queathed me a moderate fortune, which he intended I 
 should not receive till I attained the age of twenty-five : 
 for he constantly asserted that was full early enough to 
 give up any man entirely to the guidance of his own 
 discretion. However, as this intention was so obscurely 
 worded in his will that the lawyers advised me to 
 contest the point with my trustees, I own I paid so 
 little regard to the inclinations of my dead father, 
 which were sufficiently certain to me, that I followed 
 their advice, and soon succeeded, for the trustees did 
 not contest the matter very obstinately on their side. 
 " Sir," said Adams, " may I crave the favour of your 
 name ? " The gentleman answered his name was 
 Wilson, and then proceeded. 
 
 I stayed a very little while at school after his death ; 
 for, being a forward youth, I was extremely impatient 
 to be in the world, for which I thought my parts, 
 knowledge, and manhood thoroughly qualified me. 
 And to this early introduction into life, without a 
 guide, I impute all my future misfortunes ; for, besides 
 the obvious mischiefs which attend this, there is one 
 which hath not been so generally observed : the first 
 impression which mankind receives of you will be very 
 difficult to eradicate. How unhappy, therefore, must it 
 be to fix your character in life, before you can possibly 
 know its value, or weigh the consequences of those 
 actions which are to establish your future reputation ! 
 
 A little under seventeen I left my school, and went 
 to London with no more than six pounds in my pocket ; 
 a great sum, as I then conceived ; and which 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 a taylor, a periwig- 
 maker, and some few more tradesmen, who deal in 
 
Joseph Andrews 215 
 
 furnishing out the human body. Notwithstanding the 
 lowness of my purse, I found credit with them more 
 easily than I expected, and was soon equipped to my 
 wish. This I own then agreeably surprized me ; but I 
 have since learned that it is a maxim among many trades- 
 men at the polite end of 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 great horse, and music, came into my head : 
 but, as they required expense and time, I comforted 
 myself, with regard to dancing, that I had learned a 
 little in my youth, and could walk a minuet genteelly 
 enough ; as to fencing, I thought my good-humour 
 would preserve me from the danger of a quarrel ; as to 
 the horse, I hoped it would not be thought of; and for 
 music, I imagined I could easily acquire the reputation 
 of it; for I had heard some of my schoolfellows 
 pretend to knowledge in operas, without being able to 
 sing or play on the fiddle. 
 
 Knowledge of the town seemed another ingredient ; 
 this I thought I should arrive at by frequenting public 
 places. Accordingly I paid constant attendance to them 
 all ; by which means I was soon master of the fashion- 
 able phrases, learned to cry up the fashionable diversions, 
 and knew the names and faces of the most fashionable 
 men and women. 
 
 Nothing now seemed to remain but an intrigue, which 
 I was resolved to have immediately ; I mean the repu- 
 tation of it ; and indeed I was so successful, that in 
 a very short time I had half-a-dozen with the finest 
 women 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 gentle- 
 
216 The Adventures of 
 
 man ; for I assure you they were all vestal virgins for 
 anything which I knew to the contrary. The reputa- 
 tion of intriguing with them was all I sought, and was 
 what I arrived at : and perhaps I only flattered myself 
 even in that ; for very probably the persons to whom I 
 showed their billets knew as well as I that they were 
 counterfeits, and that I had written them to myself. 
 " Write letters to yourself! " said Adams, staring. O 
 sir, answered the gentleman, it is the very error of the 
 times. Half our modern plays have one of these 
 characters in them. It is incredible the pains I have 
 taken, and the absurd methods I employed, to traduce 
 the character of women of distinction. When another 
 had spoken in raptures of any one, I have 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 ; but you and I, Jack or Tom (turning to 
 another in company), know better." At which 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 of life I continued full three years. 
 " What course of life ? " answered Adams ; " I do 
 not remember you have mentioned any." Your re- 
 mark is just, said the gentleman, smiling ; I should 
 rather have said, in this course of doing nothing. I 
 remember some time afterwards I wrote the journal of 
 one day, which would serve, I believe, as well for any 
 other during the whole time. I will endeavour to 
 repeat it to you. 
 
 In the morning I arose, took my great stick, and 
 
Joseph Andrews 217 
 
 walked out in my green frock, with my hair in papers 
 (a groan from Adams), and sauntered about till 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 duke of ; 
 
 and was going to bid for a snuff-box, but did not, for 
 fear I should 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 life of an animal, hardly above vegeta- 
 tion : and I am surprized what could lead a man of 
 your sense into it" What leads us into more follies 
 than you imagine, doctor, answered the gentleman 
 vanity ; for as contemptible a creature as I was, and I 
 assure you, yourself cannot have more contempt for 
 such a wretch than I now have, I then admired my- 
 self, and should have despised a person of your present 
 appearance (you will pardon me), with all your learn- 
 ing and those excellent qualities which I have re- 
 marked in you. Adams bowed, and begged him to 
 proceed. After I had continued two years in this 
 course of life, said the gentleman, an accident happened 
 which obliged me to change the scene. As I was one 
 day at St James's coffee-house, making very free with 
 the character of a young lady of quality, an officer of 
 the guards, who was present, thought proper to give 
 me the lye. I answered I might possibly be mistaken, 
 but I intended to tell no more than the truth. To 
 which he made no reply but by a scornful sneer. 
 
2i 8 The Adventures of 
 
 After this I observed a strange coldness in all my 
 acquaintance ; none of them spoke to me first, and 
 very few returned me even the civility of a bow. The 
 company I used to dine with left me out, and within 
 a week I found myself in as much solitude at St. 
 James's as if I had been in a desert. An honest 
 elderly man, with a great hat and long sword, at last 
 told me he had a compassion for my youth, and there- 
 fore advised me to show the world I was not such a 
 rascal as they thought me to be. I did not at first 
 understand him ; but he explained himself, and ended 
 with telling me, if I 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. 
 I desired till the next day, continued the gentleman, to 
 consider on it, and, retiring to my lodgings, I weighed 
 the consequences on both sides as 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 with whom I was not in the least angry. 
 I soon determined that the good which appeared on 
 the other was not worth this hazard. I therefore re- 
 solved to quit the scene, and presently retired to the 
 Temple, where I took chambers. Here I soon got a 
 fresh set of acquaintance, who knew nothing of what 
 had happened to me. Indeed, they were not greatly 
 to my approbation ; for the beaus of the Temple are 
 only the shadows of the others. They are the affecta- 
 tion of affectation. The vanity of these is still more 
 ridiculous, if possible, than of the others. Here I 
 met with smart fellows who drank with lords they 
 did not know, and intrigued with women they never 
 saw. Covent Garden was now the farthest stretch of 
 my ambition ; where I shone forth in the balconies at 
 the playhouses, visited whores, made love to orange- 
 wenches, and damned plays. This career was soon 
 
Joseph Andrews 219 
 
 put a stop to by my surgeon, who convinced me of the 
 necessity of confining myself to my room for a month. 
 At the end of which, having had leisure to reflect, I 
 resolved to quit all farther conversation with beaus and 
 smarts of every kind, and to avoid, if possible, any 
 occasion of returning to this place of confinement. " I 
 think," said Adams, " the advice of a month's retire- 
 ment and reflection was very proper ; but I should rather 
 have expected it from a divine than a surgeon." The 
 gentleman smiled at Adams's simplicity, and, without 
 explaining himself farther on such an odious subject, 
 went on thus : I was no sooner perfectly restored to 
 health than I found my passion for women, 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 I fixed my choice on a young woman, 
 who had before been kept by two gentlemen, and to 
 whom I was recommended by a celebrated bawd. I 
 took her home to my chambers, and made her a settle- 
 ment during cohabitation. This would, perhaps, have 
 been very ill paid : however, she did not suffer me to 
 be perplexed on that account ; for, before quarter-day, 
 I found her at my chambers in too familiar conversation 
 with a young fellow 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 to the best man in England. Upon this we 
 parted, and the same bawd presently provided her another 
 keeper. I was not so much concerned at our separa- 
 tion as I found, within a day or two, I had reason to 
 be for our meeting ; for I was obliged to pay a second 
 visit to my surgeon. I was now forced to do penance 
 for some weeks, during which time I contracted an 
 acquaintance with a beautiful young girl, the daughter 
 of a gentleman who, after having been forty years in 
 
22O The Adventures of 
 
 the army, and in all the campaigns under the Duke of 
 Maryborough, died a lieutenant on half-pay, and had 
 left a widow, with this only child, in very distrest 
 circumstances : they had only a small pension from the 
 government, with what little the daughter could add to 
 it by her work, for she had great excellence at her 
 needle. This girl was, at my first acquaintance with 
 her, solicited in marriage by a young fellow in good 
 circumstances. He was apprentice to a linendraper, 
 and had a little fortune, sufficient to set up his trade. 
 The mother was greatly pleased with this match, as 
 indeed she had sufficient reason. However, I soon pre- 
 vented it. I represented him in so low a light to his 
 mistress, and made so good an use of flattery, promises, 
 and presents, that, not to dwell longer on this subject 
 than is necessary, I prevailed with the poor girl, and 
 conveyed her away from her mother ! In a word, I 
 debauched her. (At which words Adams started up, 
 fetched three strides across the room, and then replaced 
 himself in his chair. ) You are not more affected with 
 this part of my story than myself; I assure you it will 
 never be sufficiently repented of in my own opinion : 
 but, if you already detest it, how much more will your 
 indignation be raised when you hear the fatal conse- 
 quences of this barbarous, this villanous action ! If 
 you please, therefore, I will here desist. "By no 
 means," cries Adams; "go on, I beseech you; and 
 Heaven grant you may sincerely repent of this and many 
 other things you have related ! " I was now, con- 
 tinued the gentleman, as happy as the possession of a fine 
 young creature, who had a good education, and wai 
 endued with many agreeable qualities, could make me. 
 We lived some months with vast fondness together, with- 
 out any company or conversation, more than we found 
 in one another : but this could not continue always ; and, 
 though I still preserved great affection for her, I began 
 
Joseph Andrews 221 
 
 more and more to want the relief of other company, 
 and consequently to leave her by degrees at last whole 
 days to herself. She failed not to testify some uneasiness 
 on these occasions, and complained of the melancholy 
 life she led ; to remedy which, I introduced her into 
 the acquaintance of some other kept mistresses, with 
 whom she used to play at cards, and frequent plays 
 and other diversions. She had not lived long in this 
 intimacy before I perceived a visible alteration in her 
 behaviour ; all her modesty and innocence vanished by 
 degrees, till her mind became thoroughly tainted. She 
 affected the company of rakes, gave herself all manner 
 of airs, was never easy but abroad, or when she had a 
 party at my chambers. She was rapacious of money, 
 extravagant to excess, loose in her conversation ; and, 
 if ever I demurred to any of her demands, oaths, tears, 
 and fits were the immediate consequences. As the 
 first raptures of fondness were long since over, this 
 behaviour soon estranged my affections from her ; I 
 began to reflect with pleasure that she 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 pains of turning her out of doors, and 
 accordingly departed herself, having first 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 I resolved to pursue her with all the ven- 
 geance of the law : but, as she had the good luck to 
 escape me during that ferment, my passion afterwards 
 cooled ; and, having reflected that I had been the first 
 aggressor, and had done her an injury for which I 
 could make her no reparation, by robbing her of the 
 innocence of her mind ; and hearing at the same time 
 that the poor old woman her mother had broke her 
 heart on her daughter's elopement from her, I, con- 
 cluding myself her murderer ( " As you very well 
 
222 The Adventures of 
 
 might, " cries Adams, with a groan), was pleased that 
 God Almighty had taken this method of punishing me, 
 and resolved quietly to submit to the loss. Indeed, I 
 could wish I had never heard more of the poor 
 creature, who became in the end an abandoned profli- 
 gate ; and, after being some years a common prostitute, 
 at last ended her miserable life in Newgate. Here the 
 gentleman fetched a deep sigh, which Mr Adams 
 echoed very loudly ; and both continued silent, looking 
 on each other for some minutes. At last the gentleman 
 proceeded thus : I had been perfectly constant to this 
 girl during the whole time I kept her : but she had 
 scarce departed before I discovered more marks of 
 her infidelity to me than the loss of my money. In 
 short, I was forced to make a third visit to my 
 surgeon, out of whose hands I did not get a hasty 
 discharge. 
 
 I now forswore all future dealings with the sex, 
 complained loudly that the pleasure did not compen- 
 sate the pain, and railed at the beautiful creatures in as 
 gross language as Juvenal himself formerly reviled them 
 in. I looked on all the town harlots with a detestation 
 not easy to be conceived, their persons appeared to me 
 as painted palaces, inhabited by Disease and Death : 
 nor could their beauty make them more desirable 
 objects in my eyes than gilding could make me covet 
 a pill, or golden plates a coffin. But though I was no 
 longer the absolute slave, I found some reasons to own 
 myself still the subject, of love. My hatred for women 
 decreased daily ; and I am not positive but time might 
 have betrayed me again to some common harlot, had 
 I not been secured by a passion for the charming 
 Sapphira, which, having once entered upon, made a 
 violent progress in my heart. Sapphira was wife to a 
 man of fashion and gallantry, and one who seemed, I 
 own, every way worthy of her affections ; which, how- 
 
Joseph Andrews 223 
 
 ever, he had not the reputation of having. She was 
 indeed a coquette achevte. " Pray, sir," say Adams, 
 " what is a coquette ? I have met with the word in 
 French authors, but never could assign any idea to it. 
 I believe it is the same with une sotte, Anglice", a fool." 
 Sir, answered the gentleman, perhaps you are not much 
 mistaken ; but, as it is a particular kind of folly, I will 
 endeavour to describe it. Were all creatures to be 
 ranked in the order of creation according to their use- 
 fulness, I know few animals that would not take place 
 of a coquette; nor indeed hath this creature much 
 pretence to anything beyond instinct; for, though 
 sometimes we might imagine it was animated by the 
 passion of vanity, yet far the greater part of its actions 
 fall beneath even that low motive ; for instance, several 
 absurd gestures and tricks, infinitely more foolish than 
 what can be observed in the most ridiculous birds 
 and beasts, and which would persuade the beholder 
 that the silly wretch was aiming at our contempt. 
 Indeed its characteristic is Jiffgcjatioj&, and this led 
 and governed by whim only . for as beauty, wisdom, 
 wit, good-nature, politeness, and health are some- 
 times affected by this creature, so are ugliness, folly, 
 nonsense, ill-nature, ill-breeding, and sickness like- 
 wise put on by it in their turn. Its life is one 
 constant lie ; and the only rule by which you can 
 form any judgment of them is, that they are never what 
 they seem. If it was possible for a coquette to love (as 
 it is not, for if ever it attains this passion the coquette 
 ceases instantly), it would wear the face of indifference, 
 if not of hatred, to the beloved object ; you may there- 
 fore be assured, when they endeavour to persuade you 
 of their liking, that they are indifferent to you at least. 
 And indeed this was the case of my Sapphira, who 
 no sooner saw me in die number of her admirers than 
 she gave me what is commonly called encouragement : 
 
224 The Adventures of 
 
 she would often look at me, and, when she perceived 
 me meet her eyes, would instantly take them off, dis- 
 covering at the same time as much surprize and emotion 
 as possible. These arts failed not of the success she 
 intended ; and, as I grew more particular to her than 
 the rest of her admirers, she advanced, in proportion, 
 more directly to me than to the others. 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 at the same time lose 
 deal or revoke ; then burst into a ridiculous laugh and 
 cry, " La ! I can't imagine what I was thinking of." 
 To detain you no longer, after I had gone through a 
 sufficient course of gallantry, as I thought, and was 
 thoroughly convinced I had raised a violent passion in 
 my mistress, I sought an opportunity of coming to an 
 eclaircissement with her. She avoided this as much as 
 possible ; however, great assiduity at length presented 
 me one. I will not describe all the particulars of this 
 interview ; let it suffice that, when she could no longer 
 pretend not to see my drift, she first affected a violent 
 surprize, and immediately after as violent a passion : she 
 wondered what I had seen in her 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 way to escape the consequence of her resentment 
 than by never seeing, or at least speaking to her more. 
 I was not contented with this answer ; I still pursued 
 her, but to no purpose ; and was at length convinced 
 that her husband had the sole possession of her person, 
 and that neither he nor any other had made any impres- 
 sion on her heart I was taken off from following this 
 ignis fatuus by some advances which were made me by 
 the wife of a citizen, who, though neither very young 
 nor handsome, was yet too agreeable to be rejected by 
 
Joseph Andrews 225 
 
 my amorous constitution. I accordingly soon satisfied 
 her that she had not cast away her hints on a barren or 
 cold soil : on the contrary, they instantly produced her 
 an eager and desiring lover. Nor did she give me any 
 reason to complain ; she met the warmth she had raised 
 with equal ardour. I had no longer a coquette to deal 
 with, but one who was wiser than to prostitute the noble 
 passion of love to the ridiculous lust of vanity. We 
 presently understood one another ; and, as the pleasures 
 we sought lay in a mutual gratification, we soon found 
 and enjoyed them. I thought myself at first greatly 
 happy in the possession of this new mistress, whose fond- 
 ness would have quickly surfeited a more sickly appetite ; 
 but it had a different effect on mine: she carried my 
 passion higher by it than youth or beauty had been able. 
 But my happiness could not long continue uninterrupted. 
 The apprehensions we lay under from the jealousy of 
 her husband gave us great uneasiness. " Poor wretch ! 
 I pity him," cried Adams. He did indeed deserve it, 
 said the gentleman ; for he loved his wife with great 
 tenderness ; and, I assure you, it is a great satisfaction 
 to me that I was not the man who first seduced her 
 affections from him. These apprehensions appeared 
 also too well grounded, for in the end he discovered 
 us, and procured witnesses of our caresses. He then 
 prosecuted me at law, and recovered ^3000 damages, 
 which much distressed my fortune to pay ; and, what 
 was worse, his wife, being divorced, came upon my 
 hands. I led a very uneasy life with her ; for, besides 
 that my passion was now much abated, her excessive 
 jealousy was very troublesome. At length death rid 
 me of an inconvenience which the consideration of 
 my having been the author of her misfortunes would 
 never suffer me to take any other method of dis- 
 carding. 
 
 I now bad adieu to love, and resolved to pursue other 
 
226 The Adventures of 
 
 less dangerous and expensive pleasures. I fell into the 
 acquaintance of a set of jolly companions, who slept all 
 day and drank all night ; fellows who might rather be 
 said to consume time than to live. Their best conver- 
 sation was nothing but noise : singing, hollowing, wran- 
 gling, drinking, toasting, sp wing, smoaking were the 
 chief ingredients of our entertainment. And yet, bad 
 as these were, they were more tolerable than our graver 
 scenes, which were either excessive tedious narratives 
 of dull common matters of fact, or hot disputes about 
 trifling matters, which commonly ended in a wager. 
 This way of life the first serious reflection put a period 
 to; and I became member of a club frequented by 
 young men of great abilities. The bottle was now only 
 called in to the assistance of our conversation, which 
 rolled on the deepest points of philosophy. These 
 gentlemen were engaged in a search after truth, in the 
 pursuit of which they threw aside all the prejudices of 
 education, and governed themselves only by the infallible 
 guide of human reason. This great guide, after having 
 shown them the falsehood of that very ancient but 
 simple 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, by adhering to which they all 
 arrived at the utmost purity of morals. Reflection 
 made me as much delighted with this society as it had 
 taught me to despise and detest the former. I began 
 now to esteem myself a being of a higher order than I 
 had ever before conceived ; and was the more charmed 
 with this rule of right, as I really found in my own 
 nature nothing repugnant to it. I held in utter contempt 
 all persons who wanted any other inducement to virtue 
 besides her intrinsic beauty and excellence ; and had so 
 high an opinion of my present companions, with regard 
 to their morality, that I would have trusted them with 
 whatever was nearest and dearest to me. Whilst I was 
 
Joseph Andrews 227 
 
 engaged in this delightful dream, two or three accidents 
 happened successively, which at first much surprized 
 me ; for one of our greatest philosophers, or rule-of- 
 right men, withdrew himself from us, taking with him 
 the wife of one of his most intimate friends. Secondly, 
 another of the same society left the club without re- 
 membering to take leave of his bail. A third, having 
 borrowed a sum of money of me, for which I received 
 no security, when I asked him to repay it, absolutely 
 denied the loan. These several practices, so incon- 
 sistent with our golden rule, made me begin to suspect 
 its infallibility ; but when I communicated my thoughts 
 to one of the club, he said, "There was nothing 
 absolutely good or evil in itself; that actions were 
 denominated good or bad by the circumstances of the 
 agent That possibly the man who ran away Math his 
 neighbour's wife might be one of very good inclinations, 
 but over-prevailed on by the violence of an unruly 
 passion ; and, in other particulars, might be a ver} 
 worthy member of society ; that if the beauty of any 
 woman created in him an uneasiness, he had a right 
 from nature to relieve himself;" with many other 
 things, which I then detested so much, that I took 
 leave of the society that very evening and never returned 
 to it again. Being now reduced to a state of solitude 
 which I did not like, I became a great frequenter of 
 the playhouses, which indeed was always my favourite 
 diversion ; and most evenings passed away two or three 
 hours behind the scenes, where I met with several poets, 
 with whom I made engagements at the taverns. Some 
 of the players were likewise of our parties. At these 
 meetings we were generally entertained by the poets 
 with reading their performances, and by the players 
 with repeating their parts : upon which occasions, I 
 observed the gentleman who furnished our entertain- 
 ment was commonly the best pleased of the company ; 
 
228 The Adventures of 
 
 who, though they were pretty civil to him to his face, 
 seldom failed to take the first opportunity of his absence 
 to ridicule him. Now I made some remarks which 
 probably are too obvious to be worth relating. " Sir," 
 says Adams, " your remarks if you please." First 
 then, says he, I concluded that the general observation, 
 that wits are most inclined to vanity, is not true. Men 
 are equally vain of riches, strength, beauty, honours, 
 &c. But these appear of themselves to the eyes of the 
 beholders, whereas the poor wit is obliged to produce 
 his performance to show you his perfection ; and on 
 his readiness to do this that vulgar opinion I have 
 before mentioned is grounded ; but doth not the 
 person who expends vast sums in the furniture of 
 his house or the ornaments of his person, who con- 
 sumes much time and employs great pains in dressing 
 himself, or who thinks himself paid for self-denial, 
 labour, or even villany, by a tide or a ribbon, sacri- 
 fice as much to vanity as the poor wit who is desirous 
 to read you his poem or his play ? My second remark 
 was, that vanity is the worst of passions, and more apt to 
 contaminate the mind than any other : for, as selfishness 
 is much more general than we please to allow it, so it is 
 natural to hate and envy those who stand between us 
 and the good we desire. Now, in lust and ambition 
 these are few ; and even in avarice we find many who 
 are no obstacles to our pursuits ; but the vain man seeks 
 pre-eminence ; and everything which is excellent or 
 praiseworthy in another renders him the mark of his 
 antipathy. Adams now began to fumble in his pockets, 
 and soon cried out, " O la 1 I have it not about me." 
 Upon this, the gentleman asking him what he was 
 searching for, he said he searched after a sermon, which 
 he thought his masterpiece, against vanity. " Fie upon 
 it, fie upon it ! " cries he, " why do I ever leave that 
 sermon out of my pocket? I wish it was within five 
 
Joseph Andrews 229 
 
 miles ; I would willingly fetch it, to read it you." 
 The gentleman answered that there was no need, for he 
 was cured of the passion. " And for that very reason," 
 quoth Adams, " I would read it, for I am confident 
 you would admire it: indeed, I have never been a 
 greater enemy to any passion than that silly one of 
 vanity." The gentleman smiled, and proceeded 
 From this society I easily passed to that of the game- 
 sters, where nothing remarkable happened but the 
 finishing my fortune, which those gentlemen soon helped 
 me to the end of. This opened scenes of life hitherto 
 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 this situation the 
 strangest thought imaginable came into my head ; and 
 what was this but to write a play ? for I had sufficient 
 leisure : fear of bailiffs confined me every day to my 
 room : and, having always had a little inclination and 
 something of a genius that way, I set myself to work, 
 and within a few months produced a piece of five acts, 
 which was accepted of at the theatre. I remembered 
 to have formerly taken tickets of other poets for their 
 benefits, long before the appearance of their per- 
 formances ; and, resolving to follow a precedent which 
 was so well suited to my present circumstances, I 
 immediately provided myself with a large number of 
 little papers. Happy indeed would be the state of 
 poetry, would these tickets pass current at the bakehouse, 
 the ale-house, and the chandler's shop : but alas ! far 
 otherwise; no taylor will take them in payment for 
 buckram, canvas, stay-tape ; nor no bailiff for civility 
 money. They are, indeed, no more than a passport to 
 beg with ; a certificate that the owner wants five shillings, 
 which induces well-disposed Christians to charity. I 
 now experienced what is worse than poverty, or rather 
 
AX 
 
 230 The Adventures of 
 
 what is the worst consequence of poverty I mean 
 attendance and dependance on the great. Many a 
 morning have I waited hours in the cold parlours of men 
 of quality ; where, after seeing the lowest rascals in lace 
 and embroidery, the pimps and buffoons in fashion, 
 admitted, I have been sometimes told, on sending in my 
 name, that my lord could not possibly see me this 
 morning ; a sufficient assurance that I should never 
 more get entrance into that house. Sometimes I have 
 been at last admitted ; and the great man hath thought 
 proper to excuse himself, by telling me he was tied up. 
 " Tied up," says Adams, " pray what's that ? " Sir, 
 says the gentleman, the profit which booksellers allowed 
 authors for the best works was so very small, that certain 
 men of birth and fortune some years ago, who were the 
 patrons of wit and learning, thought fit to encourage 
 them farther by entering into voluntary subscriptions for 
 their encouragement. Thus Prior, Rowe, Pope, and 
 some other men of genius, received large sums tor their 
 labours from the public. This seemed so easy a method 
 of getting money, that many of the lowest scribblers of 
 the times ventured to publish their works in the same 
 way ; and many had the assurance to take in subscriptions 
 for what was not writ, nor ever intended. Subscriptions 
 in this manner growing 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 to know what genius 
 was worthy encouragement and what was not, to prevent 
 the expense of subscribing to so many, invented a method 
 to excuse themselves from all subscriptions whatever ; 
 and this was to receive a small sum of money in con- 
 sideration of giving a large one if ever they subscribed ; 
 which many have done, and many more have pretended 
 to have done, in order to silence all solicitation. The 
 same method was likewise taken with playhouse tickets, 
 which were no less a public grievance ; and this is 
 
Joseph Andrews 231 
 
 what they call being tied up from subscribing. " I can't 
 say but the term is apt enough, and somewhat typical," 
 said Adams ; " for a man of large fortune, who ties 
 himself up, as you call it, from the encouragement of 
 men of merit, ought to be tied up in reality." Well, 
 sir, says the gentleman, to return to my story. Some- 
 times I have received a guinea from a man of quality, 
 given with as ill a grace as alms are generally to the 
 meanest beggar ; and purchased too with as much time 
 spent in attendance as, if it had been spent in honest 
 industry, might have brought me more profit with in- 
 finitely more satisfaction. After about two months 
 spent in this disagreeable way, with the utmost morti- 
 fication, when I was pluming my hopes on the prospect 
 of a plentiful harvest from my play, upon applying to 
 the prompter to know when it came into rehearsal, he 
 informed me he had received orders from the managers 
 to return me the play again, for that they could not 
 possibly act it that season ; but, if I would take it 
 and revise it against the next, they would be glad to 
 see it again. I snatched it from him with great indig- 
 nation, and retired to my room, where I threw myself 
 on the bed in a fit of despair. " You should rather 
 have thrown yourself on your knees," says Adams, 
 " for despair is sinful." As soon, continued the gentle- 
 man, as I had indulged the first tumult of my passion, 
 I began to consider coolly what course I should take, 
 in a situation without friends, money, credit, or reputa- 
 tion of any kind. After revolving many things in my 
 mind, I could see no other possibility of furnishing my- 
 self with the miserable necessaries of life than to retire 
 to a garret near the Temple, and commence hackney- 
 writer to the lawyers, for which I was well qualified, 
 being an excellent penman. This purpose I resolved 
 on, and immediately put it in execution. I had an 
 acquaintance with an attorney who had formerly trans- 
 
232 The Adventures of 
 
 acted affairs for me, and to him I applied ; but, instead 
 of furnishing me with any business, he laughed at my 
 undertaking, and told me, "He was afraid I should 
 turn his deeds into plays, and he should expect to see 
 them on the stage." Not to tire you with instances^ 
 this kind from others, I found that Plato himself did 
 not hold poets in greater abhorrence than these men of 
 business do. Whenever I durst venture to a coffee- 
 house, which was on Sundays only, a whisper ran 
 round the room, which was constantly attended with a 
 sneer 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 weeded out, or at 
 least covered by a good education and politeness, de- 
 lights in making another uneasy or dissatisfied with 
 himself. This abundantly appears in all assemblies, 
 except those which are filled by people of fashion, and 
 especially among the younger people of both sexes 
 whose birth and fortunes place them just without the 
 polite circles ; I mean the 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 f continued in this miserable state, with scarce 
 sufficient business to keep me from starving, the repu- 
 tation of a poet being my bane, I accidentally became 
 acquainted with a bookseller, who told me, " It was a 
 pity a man of my learning and genius should be obliged 
 to such a method of getting his livelihood ; that he had 
 a compassion for me, and, if I would engage with him, 
 he would undertake to provide handsomely for me." 
 A man in my circumstances, as he very well knew, 
 had no choice. I accordingly accepted his proposal 
 with his conditions, which were none of the most 
 favourable, and fell to translating with all my might. I 
 had no longer reason to lament the want of business ; 
 for he furnished me with so much, that in half a year 
 
Joseph Andrews 233 
 
 I almost writ myself blind. I likewise contracted a 
 distemper by my sedentary life, in which no part of my 
 body was exercised but my right arm, which rendered 
 me incapable of writing for a long time. This unluckily 
 happening to delay the publication of a work, and my 
 last performance not having sold well, the bookseller 
 declined any further engagement, and aspersed me to 
 his brethren as a careless idle fellow. I had, however, 
 by having half worked and half starved myself to death 
 during the time I was in his service, saved a few guineas, 
 with which I bought a lottery-ticket, resolving to throw 
 myself into Fortune's lap, and try if she would make 
 me amends for the injuries she had done me at the 
 gaming-table. This purchase, being made, left me 
 almost pennyless ; when, as if I had not been sufficiently 
 miserable, a bailiff in woman's clothes got admittance 
 to my chamber, whither he was directed by the book- 
 seller. He arrested me at my taylor's suit 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 an upper chamber. I had now neither 
 health (for I was scarce recovered from my indisposi- 
 tion), liberty, money, or friends ; and had abandoned all 
 hopes, and even the desire, of life. " But this could 
 not last long," said Adams ; " for doubtless the taylor \ 
 released you the moment he was truly acquainted with 
 your affairs, and knew that your circumstances would 
 not permit you to pay him." "Oh, sir," answered 
 the gentleman, " he knew that before he arrested me ; 
 nay, he knew that nothing but incapacity could prevent 
 me paying my debts ; for I had been his customer 
 many years, had spent vast sums of money with him, 
 and had always paid most punctually in my prosperous 
 days ; but when I reminded him of this, with assurances 
 that, if he would not molest my endeavours, I would 
 pay him all the money I could by my utmost labour 
 
234 The Adventures of 
 
 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 ; and if I did not pay him immediately, 
 or find security, I must die in gaol and expect no mercy." 
 " He may expect mercy," cries Adams, starting from 
 his chair, " where he will find none ! How can such 
 a wretch repeat the Lord's Prayer ; where the word, 
 which is translated, I know not for what reason, tres- 
 passes, is in the original, debts ? And as surely as we 
 do not forgive others their debts, when they are unable 
 to pay them, so surely shall we ourselves be unforgiven 
 when we are in no condition of paying." He ceased, 
 and the gentleman proceeded. While I was in this 
 deplorable situation, a former acquaintance, to whom I 
 had communicated my lottery- ticket, found me out, 
 and, making me a visit, with great delight in his coun- 
 tenance, shook me heartily by the hand, and wished me 
 joy of my good fortune : for, says he, your ticket is 
 come up a prize of s$ooo. Adams snapped his 
 fingers at these words in an ecstasy of joy ; which, 
 however, did not continue long ; for the gentleman 
 thus proceeded : Alas ! sir, this was only a trick of 
 Fortune to sink me the deeper ; for I had disposed of 
 this lottery-ticket two days before to a relation, who 
 refused lending me a shilling without it, in order to 
 procure myself bread. As soon as my friend was 
 acquainted with my unfortunate sale he began to revile 
 me and remind me of all the ill-conduct and mis- 
 carriages of my life. He said I was one whom Fortune 
 could not save if she would ; that I was now ruined 
 without any hopes of retrieval, nor must expect any 
 pity from my friends ; that it would be extreme weak- 
 ness to compassionate the misfortunes of a man who ran 
 headlong to his own destruction. He then painted to 
 
Joseph Andrews 235 
 
 me, in as lively colours as he was able, the happiness I 
 should have now enjoyed, had I not foolishly disposed of 
 my ticket. I urged the plea of necessity ; but he made 
 no answer to that, and began again to revile me, till I 
 could bear it no longer, and desired him to finish his visit. 
 I soon exchanged the bailiff's house for a prison ; where, 
 as I had not money sufficient to procure me a separate 
 apartment, I was crouded in with a, great number of 
 miserable wretches, in common with whom I was 
 destitute of every convenience of life, even that which 
 all the brutes enjoy, wholesome air. In these dread- 
 ful circumstances I applied by letter to several of my 
 old acquaintance, and such to whom I had formerly 
 lent money without any great prospect of its being re- 
 turned, for their assistance ; but in vain. An excuse, 
 instead of a denial, was the gentlest answer I received. 
 Whilst I languished in a condition too horrible to be 
 described, and which, in a land of humanity, and, what 
 is much more, Christianity, seems a strange punishment 
 for a little inadvertency and indiscretion ; whilst I was 
 in this condition, a fellow came into the prison, 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 ; "not less than a guinea, I hope." 
 Sir, it was a bank-note for ^200. "3^200?" saya 
 Adams, in a rapture. No less, I assure you, answered 
 
236 The Adventures of 
 
 the gentleman ; a sum I was not half so delighted with 
 as with the dear name of the generous girl that sent it 
 me ; and who was not only the best but the handsomest 
 creature in the universe, and for whom I had long had 
 a passion which I never durst disclose to her. I kissed 
 her name a thousand times, my eyes overflowing with 
 tenderness and gratitude ; I repeated But not to detain 
 you with these raptures, I immediately acquired my 
 liberty ; and, having paid all my debts, departed, with 
 upwards of fifty pounds in my pocket, to thank my kind 
 deliverer. She happened to be then out of town, a 
 circumstance which, upon reflection, pleased me; for 
 by that means I had an opportunity to appear before her 
 in a more decent dress. At her return to town, within 
 a day or two, I threw myself at her feet with the most 
 ardent acknowledgments, which she rejected with an 
 unfeigned greatness of mind, and told me I could not 
 oblige her more than by never mentioning, or if possible 
 thinking on, a circumstance which must bring to my 
 mind an accident that might be grievous to me to think 
 on. She proceeded thus : " What I have done is in 
 my own eyes a trifle, and perhaps infinitely less than 
 would have become me to do. And if you think of 
 engaging in any business where a larger sum may be 
 serviceable to you, I shall not be over-rigid either as to 
 the security or interest." I endeavoured to express all 
 the gratitude in my 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 I had 
 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 kind- 
 ness, which were sufficient to have raised in a good heart 
 the most violent passion of friendship to one of the same, 
 or to age and ugliness in a different sex, came to me 
 from a woman, a young and beautiful woman ; one whose 
 
Joseph Andrews 237 
 
 perfections I had long known, and for whom I had long 
 conceived a violent passion, though with a despair which 
 made me endeavour rather to curb and conceal, than to 
 nourish or acquaint her with it. In short, they came 
 upon me united with beauty, softness, and tender- 
 ness : such bewitching smiles ! O Mr Adams, in that 
 moment I lost myself, and, forgetting our different situa- 
 tions, nor considering what return I was making to her 
 goodness by desiring her, who had given me so much, to 
 bestow her all, I laid gently hold on her hand, and, con- 
 veying it to my lips, I prest it with inconceivable ardour ; 
 then, lifting up my swimming eyes, I saw her face and 
 neck overspread with one blush ; she offered to withdraw 
 her hand, yet not so as to deliver it from mine, though 
 I held it with the gentlest force. We both stood trem- 
 bling ; her eyes cast on the ground, and mine stedfastly 
 fixed on her. Good G d, what was then the condi- 
 tion of my soul ! burning with love, desire, admiration, 
 gratitude, and every tender passion, all bent on one 
 charming object. Passion at last got the better of both 
 reason and respect, and, softly letting go her hand, I 
 offered madly to clasp her in my arms ; when, a little 
 recovering herself, she started from me, asking me, with 
 some show of anger, " If she had any reason to expect 
 this treatment from me.'* I then fell prostrate before 
 her, and told her, if I had offended, my life was abso- 
 lutely in her power, which I would in any manner lose 
 for her sake. Nay, madam, said I, you shall not be so 
 ready to punish me as I to suffer. I own my guilt. I 
 detest the reflection that I would have sacrificed your 
 happiness to mine. Believe me, I sincerely repent my 
 ingratitude ; yet, believe me too, it was my passion, my 
 unbounded passion for you, which hurried me so far : I 
 have loved you long and tenderly, and the goodness you 
 have shown me hath innocently weighed down a wretch 
 undone before. Acquit me of all mean, mercenary 
 
 K 467 
 
2 3 8 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 views ; and, before I take my leave of you for ever, 
 which I am resolved instantly to do, believe me that 
 Fortune could have raised 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 sweetest 
 voice, " do not curse Fortune, since she hath made me 
 happy ; and, if she hath put your happiness in my power, 
 I have told you you shall aak nothing in reason which I 
 will refuse." Madam, said I, you mistake me if you 
 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 some blest accident, by which 
 I may contribute with my life to the least augmentation 
 of your felicity. As for myself, the only happiness I 
 can ever have will be hearing of yours ; and if Fortune 
 will make that complete, 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, notwithstanding those 
 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 can- 
 not ask me what I will deny." She uttered these 
 
 words with a sweetness not to be imagined. I im- 
 mediately started ; my blood, which lay freezing at my 
 heart, rushed tumultuous] y through every vein. I stood 
 for a moment silent ; then, flying to her, I caught her in 
 my arms, no longer resisting, and softly told her she must 
 give me then herself. O, sir ! can I describe her look ? 
 She remained silent, and almost motionless, several 
 minutes. At last, recovering herself a little, she insisted 
 on my leaving her, and in such a manner that I instantly 
 obeyed : you may imagine, however, I soon saw her 
 again. But I ask pardon : I fear I have detained you 
 
Joseph Andrews 239 
 
 too long in relating the particulars of the former inter- 
 view. " 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 a week she consented to make me the happiest 
 of mankind. We were married shortly after ; and when 
 I came to examine the circumstances of my wife's fortune 
 (which, 1 do assure you, I was not presently at leisure 
 enough to do), I found it amounted to about six thousand 
 pounds, most part of which lay in effects ; for her father 
 had been a wine-merchant, and she seemed willing, if I 
 liked it, that I should carry on the same trade. I readily, 
 and too inconsiderately, undertook it; for, not having 
 been bred up to the secrets of the business, and endea- 
 vouring to deal with the utmost honesty and uprightness, 
 I soon found our fortune in a declining way, and my 
 trade decreasing by little and little ; for my wines, which 
 I never adulterated after their importation, and were 
 sold as neat as they came over, were universally decried 
 by the vintners, to whom I could not allow them quite 
 as cheap as those who gained double the profit by a less 
 price. I soon began to despair of improving our fortune 
 by these means ; nor was I at all easy at the visits and 
 familiarity of many who had been my acquaintance in my 
 prosperity, but had denied and shunned me in my ad- 
 versity, and now very forwardly renewed their acquaint- 
 ance with me. In short, I had sufficiently seen that 
 the pleasures of the world are chiefly folly, and the busi- 
 ness of it mostly knavery, and both nothing better than 
 vanity ; the men of pleasure tearing one another to pieces 
 from the emulation of spending money, and the men of 
 business from envy in getting it. My happiness con- 
 sisted entirely in my wife, whom I loved with an inex- f 
 pressible fondness, which was perfectly returned ; and 
 my prospects were no other than to provide for our 
 growing family ; for she was now big of her second 
 
240 The Adventures of 
 
 child : I therefore took an opportunity to ask her opinion 
 of entering into a retired life, which, after hearing my 
 reasons and perceiving my affection for it, she readily 
 embraced. We soon put our small fortune, now reduced 
 under three thousand pounds, into money, with part of 
 which we purchased this little place, whither we retired 
 soon after her delivery, from a world full of bustle, noise, 
 hatred, envy, and ingratitude, to ease, quiet, and love. 
 We have here lived almost twenty years, with little other 
 conversation than our own, most of the neighbourhood 
 taking us for very strange people; the squire of the 
 parish representing me as a madman, and the parson as 
 a presbyterian, because I will not hunt with the one noi 
 drink with the other. " Sir," says Adams, " Fortune 
 hath, I think, paid you all her debts in this sweet retire- 
 ment." Sir, replied the gentleman, I am thankful to the 
 great Author of all things for the blessings I here enjoy. 
 I have the best of wives, and three pretty children, for 
 whom I have the true tenderness of a parent. But no 
 blessings are pure in this world : within three years of 
 my arrival here I lost my eldest son. (Here he sighed 
 bitterly. ) " Sir," says Adams, " we must submit to Pro- 
 vidence, and consider death as common to all." We 
 must submit, indeed, answered the gentleman ; and if he 
 had died I could have borne the loss with patience ; but 
 alas ! sir, he was stolen away from my door by some 
 wicked travelling people whom they call gipsies ; 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 likewise from those of Adams, who 
 always sympathized with his friends on those occasions. 
 Thus, sir, said the gentleman, I have finished my story, 
 in which if I have been too particular, I ask your pardon ; 
 and now, if you please, I will fetch you another bottle : 
 which proposal the parson thankfully accepted. 
 
Joseph Andrews 241 
 
 C&apter rth 
 
 A description of Mr Wilson's way of living. Ths 
 tragical adventure of the dog, and other grave 
 matters. 
 
 THE gentleman returned with the bottle ; and Adams 
 and he sat some time silent, when the former 
 started up, and cried, "No, that won't do." 
 The gentleman inquired into his meaning ; he answered, 
 " He had been considering that it was possible the late 
 famous king Theodore might have been that very son 
 whom he had lost ; " but added, " that his age could not 
 answer that imagination. However," says he, " G 
 disposes all things for the best ; and very probably he 
 may be some great man, or duke, and may, one day 
 or other, revisit you in that capacity." The gentleman 
 answered, he should know him amongst ten thousand, for 
 he had a mark on his left breast of a strawberry, which 
 his mother had given him by longing for that fruit. 
 
 That beautiful young lady the Morning now rose 
 from her bed, and with a countenance blooming with 
 fresh youth and sprightliness, like Miss ,* with soft 
 dews hanging on her pouting lips, began to take her 
 early walk over the eastern hills ; and presently after, that 
 gallant person the Sun stole softly from his wife's cham- 
 ber to pay his addresses to her ; when the gentleman 
 asked his guest if he would walk forth and survey his 
 little garden, which he readily agreed to, and Joseph 
 at the same time awaking from a sleep in which he had 
 been two hours buried, went with them. No parterres, 
 no fountains, no statues, embellished this little garden. 
 Its only ornament was a short walk, shaded on each side 
 by a filbert-hedge, with a small alcove at one end, whither 
 
 * Whoever the reader pleases. 
 
242 The Adventures of 
 
 In hot weather the gentleman and his wife used to retire 
 and divert themselves with their children, who played in 
 the walk before them. But, though vanity had no votary 
 in this little spot, here was variety of fruit and everything 
 useful for the kitchen, which was abundantly sufficient to 
 catch the admiration of Adams, who told the gentleman 
 he had certainly a good gardener. Sir, answered he, 
 that gardener is now before you : whatever you see here 
 is the work solely of my own hands. Whilst I am 
 providing necessaries for my table, I likewise procure 
 myself an appetite for them. In fair seasons I seldom 
 pass less than six hours of the twenty-four in this place, 
 where I am not idle ; and by these means I have been 
 able to preserve my health ever since my arrival here, 
 without assistance from physic. Hither I generally 
 repair at the dawn, and execcise myself whilst my wife 
 dresses her children and prepares our breakfast; after 
 which we are seldom asunder during the residue of the 
 day, for, when the weather will not permit them to ac- 
 company me here, I am usually within with them ; for 
 I am neither ashamed of conversing with my wife nor of 
 playing with my children : to say the truth, I do not 
 ^ perceive that inferiority of understanding which the levity 
 of rakes, the dulness of men of business, or the austerity 
 of the learned, would persuade us of in women. As for 
 my woman, I declare I have found none of my own sex 
 capable of making juster observations on life, or of de- 
 livering them more agreeably ; nor do I believe any one 
 possessed of a faithfuDer or braver friend. And sure as 
 this friendship is sweetened with more delicacy and tender- 
 ness, so is it confirmed by dearer pledges than can attend 
 the closest male alliance ; for what union can be so fast 
 as our common interest in the fruits of our embraces ? 
 Perhaps, sir, you are not yourself a father ; if you are 
 not, be assured you cannot conceive the delight I have 
 in my little ones. Would you not despise me if you saw 
 
Joseph Andrews 243 
 
 me stretched on the ground, and my children playing 
 round me ? "I should reverence the sight," quoth 
 Adams ; " I myself am now the father of six, and have 
 been of eleven, and I can say I never scourged a child 
 of my own, unless as his schoolmaster, and then have 
 felt every stroke on my own posteriors. And as to 
 what you say concerning women, I have often lamented 
 my own wife did not understand Greek." The gentle- 
 man smiled, and answered, he would not be apprehended 
 to insinuate that his own had an understanding above 
 the care of her family ; on the contrary, says he, my 
 Harriet, I assure you, is a notable housewife, and few 
 gentlemen's housekeepers understand cookery or con- 
 fectionery better ; but these are arts which she hath no 
 great occasion for now : however, the wine you com- 
 mended 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 to my province. " And I assure 
 you it is as excellent," quoth Adams, " as ever I tasted." 
 We formerly kept a maid-servant, but since my girls 
 have been growing up she is unwilling to indulge them 
 m idleness ; for as the fortunes I shall give them will be 
 very small, we intend not to breed them above the rank 
 they are likely to fill hereafter, nor to teach them to 
 despise or ruin a plain husband. Indeed, I could wish 
 a man of my own temper, and a retired life, might fall 
 to their lot; for I have experienced that calm serene 
 happiness, which is seated in content, is inconsistent with 
 the hurry and bustle of the world. He was proceeding 
 thus when the little things, being just risen, ran eagerly 
 towards him and asked him blessing. They were shy 
 to the strangers, but the eldest acquainted her father, 
 that her mother and the young gentlewoman were up, 
 and that breakfast was ready. They all went in, where 
 the gentleman was surprized at the beauty of Fanny, 
 who had now recovered herself from her fatigue, and 
 
244 The Adventures of 
 
 was entirely clean drest ; for the rogues who had taken 
 away her purse had left her her bundle. But if he was 
 so much amazed at the beauty of this young creature, 
 his guests were no less charmed at the tenderness which 
 appeared in the behaviour of the husband and wife to 
 each other, and to their children, and at the dutiful 
 and affectionate behaviour of these to their parents. 
 These instances pleased the well-disposed mind of 
 Adams equally with the readiness which they exprest to 
 oblige their guests, and their forwardness to offer them 
 the best of everything in their house ; and what delighted 
 him still more was an instance or two of their charity ; 
 for whilst they were at breakfast the good woman was 
 called for to assist her sick neighbour, which she did 
 with some cordials made for the public use, and the good 
 man went into his garden at the same time to supply 
 another with something which he wanted thence, for 
 they had nothing which those who wanted it were not 
 welcome to. These good people were in the utmost 
 cheerfulness, when they heard the report of a gun, and 
 immediately afterwards a little dog, the favourite of the 
 eldest daughter, came limping in all bloody and laid him- 
 self at his mistress's feet : the poor girl, who was about 
 eleven years old, burst into tears at the sight ; and pre- 
 sently one of the neighbours came in and informed them 
 that the young squire, 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 for keeping a 
 spaniel, for that he had given notice he would not suffer 
 one in the parish. The dog, whom his mistress had 
 taken into her lap, died in 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 ; 
 nor could Fanny herself refrain. Whilst the father and 
 mother attempted to comfort her, Adams grasped his 
 crabstick and would have sallied out after the squire 
 
Joseph Andrews 245 
 
 had not Joseph withheld him. He could not however 
 bridle his tongue he pronounced the word rascal with 
 great emphasis ; said he deserved to be hanged more 
 than a highwayman, and wished he had the scourging 
 him. The mother took her child, lamenting and 
 carrying the dead favourite in her arms, out of the 
 room, when the gentleman said this was the second 
 time this squire had endeavoured to kill the little 
 wretch, and had wounded him smartly once before ; 
 adding, he could have no motive but ill-nature, for the 
 little thing, which was not near as big as one's fist, 
 had never been twenty yards from the house in the six 
 years his daughter had had it. He said he had done 
 nothing to deserve this usage, but his father had too 
 great a fortune to contend with : that he was as 
 absolute as any tyrant in the universe, and had killed 
 all the dogs and taken away all the guns in the neigh- 
 bourhood ; and not only that, but he trampled down 
 hedges and rode over corn and gardens, with no more 
 regard than if they were the highway. " I wish I 
 could catch him in my garden," said Adams, " though 
 I would rather forgive him riding through my house 
 than such an ill-natured act as this." 
 
 The cheerfulness of their conversation being inter- 
 rupted by this accident, in which the guests could be 
 of no service to their kind entertainer ; and as the 
 mother was taken up in administering consolation to 
 the poor girl, whose disposition was too good hastily 
 to forget the sudden loss of her little favourite, which 
 had been fondling with her a few minutes before ; and 
 as Joseph and Fanny were impatient to get home and 
 begin those previous ceremonies to their happiness 
 which Adams had insisted on, they now offered to 
 take their leave. The gentleman importuned them 
 much to stay dinner ; but when he found their eager- 
 ness to depart he summoned his wife ; and accordingly, 
 
246 The Adventures of 
 
 having performed all the usual ceremonies of bows and 
 curtsies more pleasant to be seen than to be related, they 
 took their leave, the gentleman and his wife heartily 
 wishing them a good journey, and they as heartily 
 thanking them for their land entertainment. They then 
 departed, Adams declaring that this was the manner 
 in which the people had lived in the golden age. 
 
 Chapter to* 
 
 A disputation on schools held on the road between Mr 
 Abraham Adams and Joseph ; and a discovery not 
 unwelcome to them both. 
 
 OUR travellers, having well refreshed themselves 
 at the gentleman's house, Joseph and Fanny 
 with sleep, and Mr Abraham Adams with ale 
 and tobacco, renewed their journey with great alacrity ; 
 and pursuing the road into which they were directed, 
 travelled many miles before they met with any adventure 
 worth relating. In this interval we shall present our 
 readers with a very curious discourse, as we apprehend 
 it, concerning public schools, which passed between Mr 
 Joseph Andrews and Mr Abraham Adams. 
 
 They had not gone far before Adams, calling to 
 Joseph, asked him, " If he had attended to the gentle- 
 man's story ? " He answered, "To all the former part." 
 " And don't you think," says he, " he was a very unhappy 
 man in his youth ? " " A very unhappy man, indeed," 
 answered the other. " Joseph," cries Adams, screwing 
 up his mouth, " I have found it ; I have discovered the 
 cause of all the misfortunes which befel him : a public 
 school, Joseph, was the cause of all the calamities which 
 he afterwards suffered. Public schools are the nurseries 
 of all vice and immorality. All the wicked fellows 
 
Joseph Andrews 247 
 
 whom I remember at the university were bred at them. 
 Ah, Lord ! I can remember as well as if it was 
 but yesterday, a knot of them ; they called them King's 
 scholars, I forget why very wicked fellows ! Joseph, 
 you may thank the Lord you were not bred at a public 
 school ; you would never have preserved your virtue as 
 you have. The first care I always take is of a boy's 
 morals ; I had rather 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 
 of great schools trouble themselves about no such thing. 
 I have known a lad of eighteen at the university, who 
 hath not been able to say his catechism ; but for my 
 own part, I always scourged a lad sooner for missing that 
 than any other lesson. Believe me, child, all that 
 gentleman's misfortunes arose from his being educated 
 at a public school." 
 
 "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 be allowed by all 
 the world to be the best teacher of a school in all our 
 county." " Yes, that," says Adams, " I believe, is 
 granted me ; that I may without much vanity pretend 
 to nay, I believe I may go to the next county too 
 but glorian non ett mcum." " However, sir, as you 
 are pleased to bid me speak," says Joseph, " you know 
 my late master, Sir Thomas Booby, was bred at a 
 public school, and he was the finest gentleman in all 
 the neighbourhood. And I have often heard him say, 
 if he had a hundred boys he would breed them all at 
 the same place. It was his opinion, and I have often 
 heard him deliver it, that a boy taken from a public 
 school and carried into the world, will learn more in 
 one year there than one of a private education will 
 in five. He used to say the school itself initiated him 
 
248 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 a great way (I remember that was his very expression), 
 for great schools are little societies, where a boy of any 
 observation may see in epitome what he will afterwards 
 find in the world at large." " Hinc ill* lachryma: for 
 that very reason," quoth Adams, " I prefer a private 
 school, where boys may be kept in innocence and igno- 
 rance ; for, according to that fine passage in the play 
 of Cato, the only English tragedy I ever read 
 
 1 If knowledge of the world must make men villains 
 May Juba ever live in ignorance 1 ' 
 
 Who would not rather preserve the purity of his child 
 than wish him to attain the whole circle of arts and 
 sciences ? which, by the bye, he may learn in the classes 
 of a private school ; for I would not be vain, but I 
 esteem myself to be second to none, nulli secundum, in 
 teaching these things ; so that a lad may have as much 
 learning in a private as in a public education." " And, 
 with submission," answered Joseph, "he may get as 
 much vice : witness several country gentlemen, who 
 were educated within five miles of their own houses, 
 and are as wicked as if they had known 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 him otherwise : I take it to be equally the 
 same among men : if a boy be of a mischievous wicked 
 inclination, no school, though ever so private, will ever 
 make him good : on the contrary, if he be of a righteous 
 temper, you may trust him to London, or wherever else 
 you please he will be in no clanger of being corrupted. 
 Besides, I have often heard my master say that the 
 discipline practised in public schools was much better 
 than that in private." " You talk like a jackanapes," 
 says Adams, "and so did your master. Discipline 
 indeed! Because one man scourges twenty or thirty 
 boys more in a morning than another, is he therefore a 
 
Joseph Andrews 249 
 
 better disciplinarian ? I do presume to confer in thia 
 point with all who have taught from Chiron's time to 
 this day ; and, if I was master of six boys only, I 
 would preserve ** good discipline amongst them as the 
 master of the greatest school in the world. I say 
 nothing, young man ; remember I say nothing ; but if 
 Sir Thomas himself had been educated nearer home, and 
 under the tuition of somebody remember I name no- 
 body it might have been better for him: but his 
 father must institute him in the knowledge of the world. 
 Nemo mortalium omnibus horis safit." Joseph, seeing 
 him run on in this manner, asked pardon many times, 
 assuring him he had no intention to offend. " I believe 
 you had not, child," said he, "and I am not angry 
 with you ; but for maintaining good discipline in a 
 school; for this." And then he ran on as before, 
 named all the masters who are recorded in old books, and 
 preferred himself to them all. Indeed, if this good man 
 had an enthusiasm, or what the vulgar call a blind side, it 
 was this : he thought a schoolmaster the greatest char- 
 acter in the world, and himself the greatest of all school- 
 masters : neither of which points he would have given 
 up to Alexander the Great at the head of his army. 
 
 Adams continued his subject till they came to one of 
 the beautifullest spots of ground in the universe. It 
 was a kind of natural amphitheatre, formed by the 
 winding of a small rivulet, which was planted with 
 thick woods, and the trees rose gradually above each 
 other by the natural ascent of the ground they stood 
 on ; which ascent as they hid with their boughs, they 
 seemed to have been disposed by the design of the 
 most skilful planter. The soil was spread with a 
 verdure which no paint could imitate ; and the whole 
 place might have raised romantic ideas in elder minds 
 than those of Joseph and Fanny, without the assistance 
 of love. 
 
25 The Adventures of 
 
 Here they arrived about noon, and Joseph proposed 
 to Adams that they should rest awhile in this delightful 
 place, and refresh themselves with some provisions which 
 the good-nature of Mrs Wilson had provided them with. 
 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 a cheerfulness which might have 
 attracted the envy of more splendid tables. I should not 
 omit that they found among their provision a little paper 
 containing a piece of gold, which Adams imagining had 
 been put there by mistake, would have returned back to 
 restore it ; but he was at last convinced by Joseph that 
 Mr Wilson had taken this handsome way of furnishing 
 them with a supply for their journey, on his having re- 
 lated the distress which they had been in, when they 
 were relieved by the generosity of the pedlar. Adams 
 said he was glad to see such an instance of goodness, 
 not so much for the conveniency which it brought them 
 as for the sake of the doer, whose reward would be 
 great in heaven. He likewise comforted himself with 
 a reflection that he should shortly have an opportunity 
 of returning it him ; for the gentleman was within a 
 week to make a journey into Somersetshire, to pass 
 through Adams's parish, and had faithfully promised to 
 call on him ; a circumstance which we thought too 
 immaterial to mention before ; but which those who 
 have as great an affection for that gentleman as our- 
 selves will rejoice at, as it may give them hopes of 
 seeing him again. Then Joseph made a speech on 
 charity, which the reader, if he is so disposed, may see 
 in the next chapter ; for we scorn to betray him into 
 any such reading, without first giving him warning. 
 
Joseph Andrews 251 
 
 Chapter tot* 
 
 Moral reflections by Joseph Andrews ; with the hunting 
 adventure, and parson Adams' s miraculous escape. 
 
 " I HAVE often wondered, sir," said Joseph, " to 
 observe so few instances of charity among man- 
 kind ; for though the goodness of a man's heart 
 did not incline him to relieve the distresses of his fellow- 
 creatures, methinks the desire of honour should move 
 him to it. What inspires a man to build fine houses, 
 to purchase fine furniture, pictures, clothes, and other 
 things, at a great expense, but an ambition to be re- 
 spected more than other people ? Now, would not one 
 great act of charity, one instance of redeeming a poor 
 family from all the miseries of poverty, restoring an 
 unfortunate tradesman by a sum of money to the means 
 of procuring a livelihood by his industry, discharging an 
 undone debtor from his debts or a gaol, or any such- 
 like example of goodness, create a man more honour 
 and respect than he could acquire by the finest house, 
 furniture, pictures, or clothes, that were ever beheld ? 
 For not only the object himself who was thus relieved, 
 but all who heard the name of such a person, must, I 
 imagine, reverence him infinitely more than the pos- 
 sessor of all those other things ; which when we so 
 admire, we rather praise the builder, the workman, the 
 painter, the lace-maker, the taylor, and the rest, by 
 whose ingenuity they are produced, than the person 
 who by his money makes them his own. For my 
 own part, when I have waited behind my lady in a 
 room hung with fine pictures, while I have been look- 
 ing at them I have never once thought of their owner, 
 nor hath any one else, as I ever observed ; for when 
 it hath been asked whose picture that was, it was 
 never once answered the master's of the house ; but 
 
252 The Adventures of 
 
 Ammyconni, Paul Varnish, Hannibal Scratch!, or 
 Hogarthi, which I suppose were the names of the 
 painters ; but if it was asked Who redeemed such 
 a one out of prison ? Who lent such a ruined trades- 
 man money to set up? Who clothed that family of 
 poor small children ? it is very plain what must be the 
 answer. And besides, these great folks are mistaken 
 if they imagine they get any honour at all by these 
 means ; for I do not remember I ever was with my 
 lady at any house where she commended the house or 
 furniture but I have heard her at her return home 
 make sport and jeer at whatever she had before com- 
 mended ; and I have been told by other gentlemen in 
 livery that it is the same in their families : but I defy 
 the wisest man in the world to turn a true good action 
 into ridicule. I defy him to do it. He who should 
 endeavour it would be laughed at himself, instead of 
 making others laugh. Nobody scarce doth any good, 
 yet they all agree in praising those who do. Indeed, 
 it is strange that all men should consent in commending 
 goodness, and no man endeavour to deserve that com- 
 mendation ; whilst, on the contrary, all rail at wicked- 
 ness, and all are as eager to be what they abuse. This 
 I know not the reason of; but it is as plain as daylight 
 to those who converse in the world, as I have done 
 these three years." " Are all the great folks wicked 
 then ? " says Fanny. " To be sure there are some 
 exceptions," answered Joseph. " Some gentlemen of 
 our cloth report charitable actions done by their lords 
 and masters ; and I have heard Squire Pope, the great 
 poet, at my lady's table, tell stories of a man that lived 
 at a place called Ross, and another at the Bath, one 
 Al Al I forget his name, but it is in the book of 
 yerses. This gentleman hath built up a stately house 
 too, which the squire likes very well ; but his charity 
 is seen farther than his house? though it stands on a hill, 
 
Joseph Andrews 253 
 
 ay, and brings him more honour too. It was his 
 charity that put him in the book, where the squire says 
 he puts all those who deserve it ; and to be sure, as he 
 lives among all the great people, if there were any such, 
 he would know them." This was all of Mr Joseph 
 Andrews' s speech which I could get him to recollect, 
 which I have delivered as near 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 
 long silence of parson Adams, especially as so many 
 occasions offered themselves to exert his curiosity and 
 observation. The truth is, he was fast asleep, and had 
 so been from the beginning of the preceding narrative ; 
 and, indeed, if the reader considers that so many hours 
 had passed 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), had been in his 
 rostrum or tub before him. 
 
 Joseph, who whilst he was speaking had continued in 
 one attitude, with his head reclining on one side, and 
 his eyes cast on the ground, no sooner perceived, on 
 looking up, the position of Adams, who was stretched 
 on his back, and snored louder than the usual braying 
 of the animal with long ears, than he turned towards 
 Fanny, and, taking her by the hand, began a dalliance, 
 which, though consistent with the purest innocence and 
 decency, neither he would have attempted nor she per- 
 mitted before any witness. Whilst they amused them- 
 selves in this harmless and delightful manner they heard 
 a pack of hounds approaching in full cry towards them, 
 and presently afterwards saw a hare pop forth from the 
 wood, and, crossing the water, land within a few yards 
 of them in the meadows. The hare was no sooner on 
 shore than it seated itself on its hinder legs, and listened 
 to the sound of the pursuers. Fanny was wonderfully 
 pleased with the little wretch, and eagerly longed to 
 
254 The Adventures of 
 
 have it in her arms that she might preserve it from the 
 dangers which seemed to threaten it ; bat the rational 
 part of the creation 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 the 
 meadows again, passed the little rivulet on the opposite 
 side ? It was, however, so spent and weak, that it fell 
 down twice or thrice in its way. This affected the 
 tender heart of Fanny, who exclaimed, with tears in 
 her eyes, against the barbarity of worrying a poor 
 innocent defenceless animal out of its life, and putting it 
 to the extremest torture for diversion. She had not 
 much time to make reflections of this kind, for on a 
 sudden the hounds rushed through the wood, which 
 resounded with their throats and the throats of their 
 retinue, who attended on them on horseback. The 
 dogs now past the rivulet, and pursued the footsteps of 
 the hare ; five horsemen attempted to leap over, three 
 of whom succeeded, and two were in the attempt thrown 
 from their saddles into the water; their companions, 
 and their own horses too, proceeded after their sport, 
 and left their friends and riders to invoke the assistance 
 of Fortune, or employ the more active means of strength 
 and agility for their deliverance. Joseph, however, was 
 not so unconcerned on this occasion ; he left Fanny for 
 a moment to herself, and ran to the gentlemen, who 
 were immediately on their legs, shaking their ears, and 
 easily, with the help of his hand, obtained the bank (for 
 the rivulet was not at all deep) ; and, without staying 
 to thank their kind assister, ran dripping across the 
 meadow, calling to their brother sportsmen to stop their 
 horses ; but they heard them not. 
 
 The hounds were now very little behind their poor 
 reeling, staggering prey, which, fainting almost at every 
 step, crawled through the wood, and had almost got 
 
Joseph Andrews 255 
 
 round to the place where Fanny stood, when it was 
 overtaken by its enemies, and being driven out of the 
 covert, was caught, and instantly tore to pieces before 
 Fanny's face, who was unable to assist it with any aid 
 more powerful than pity ; nor could she prevail on 
 Joseph, who had been himself a sportsman in his youth, 
 to attempt anything contrary to the laws of hunting in 
 favour of the hare, which he said was killed fairly. 
 
 The hare was caught within a yard or two of Adams, 
 who lay asleep at some distance from the lovers ; and 
 the hounds, in devouring it, and pulling it backwards 
 and forwards, had drawn it so close to him, that some 
 of them (by mistake perhaps for the hare's skin) laid 
 hold of the skirts of his cassock ; others at the same 
 time applying their teeth to his wig, which he had with 
 a handkerchief fastened to his head, began to pull him 
 about ; and had not the motion of his body had more 
 effect on him than seemed to be wrought by the noise, 
 they must certainly have tasted his flesh, which delicious 
 flavour might have been fatal to him ; but being roused 
 by these tuggings, he instantly awaked, and with a jerk 
 delivering his head from his wig, he with most admirable 
 dexterity recovered his legs, which now seemed the only 
 members he could entrust his safety to. Having, there- 
 fore, escaped likewise from at least a third part of his 
 cassock, which he willingly left as his exuvta or spoils 
 to the enemy, he fled with the utmost speed he could 
 summon to his assistance. Nor let this be any detraction 
 from the bravery of his character : let the number of 
 the enemies, and the surprize in which he was taken, be 
 considered ; and if there be any modern so outrageously 
 brave that he cannot admit of flight in any circum- 
 stance whatever, I say (but I whisper that softly, and 
 I solemnly declare without any intention of giving 
 offence to any brave man in the nation), I say, or rather 
 I whisper, that he is an ignorant fellow, and hath never 
 
256 The Adventures of 
 
 read Homer nor Virgil, nor knows he anything of 
 Hector or Turnus ; nay, he is unacquainted with the 
 history of some great men living, who, though as brave 
 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 the entertainment of their enemies. 
 But if persons of such heroic disposition are a little 
 offended at the behaviour of Adams, we assure them 
 they shall be as much pleased with what we shall im- 
 mediately relate of Joseph Andrews. The master of 
 the pack was just arrived, or, as the sportsmen call 
 it, come in, when Adams set out, as we have before 
 mentioned. This gentleman was generally said to be a 
 great lover of humour ; but, not to mince the matter, 
 especially as we are upon this subject, he was a great 
 hunter of men ; indeed, he had hitherto followed the 
 sport only with dogs of his own species ; for he kept 
 two or three couple of barking curs for that use only. 
 However, as he thought he had now found a man nimble 
 enough, he was willing to indulge himself with other 
 sport, and accordingly, crying out, " Stole away," en- 
 couraged the hounds to pursue Mr Adams, swearing 
 it was the largest jack-hare he ever saw ; at the 
 same time hallooing and hooping as if a conquered 
 foe was flying before him ; in which he was imitated 
 by these two or three couple of human or rather two- 
 legged curs on horseback which we have mentioned 
 before. 
 
 Now, thou, whoever thou art, whether a muse, or by 
 what other name soever thou choosest to be called, who 
 presidest over biography, and hast inspired all the writers 
 of lives in these our times : thou who didst infuse such 
 wonderful humour into the pen of immortal Gulliver ; 
 who hast carefully guided the judgment whilst thou 
 hast exalted the nervous manly style of thy Mallet: 
 thou who hadst no hand in that dedication and preface, or 
 
Joseph Andrews 257 
 
 the translations, which thou wouldst willingly have struck 
 out of the life of Cicero : lastly, thou who, without the 
 assistance of the least spice of literature, and even against 
 his inclination, hast, in some pages of his book, forced 
 Colley Gibber to write English ; do thou assist me in 
 what I find myself unequal to. Do thou introduce on 
 the plain the young, the gay, the brave Joseph Andrews, 
 whilst men shall view him with admiration and envy, 
 tender virgins with love and anxious concern for his 
 safety. 
 
 No sooner did Joseph Andrews perceive the distress 
 of his friend, when first the quick-scenting dogs attacked 
 him, than he grasped his cudgel in his right hand a 
 cudgel which his father had of his grandfather, to whom 
 a mighty strong man of Kent had given it for a present 
 in that day when he broke three heads on the stage. 
 It was a cudgel of mighty strength and wonderful art, 
 made by one of Mr Beard's best workmen, whom no 
 other artificer can equal, and who hath made all those 
 sticks which the beaus have lately walked with about 
 the Park in a morning ; but this was far his master- 
 piece. On its head was engraved a nose and chin, 
 which might have been mistaken for a pair of nut- 
 crackers. The learned have imagined it designed to 
 represent the Gorgon ; but it was in fact copied from 
 the face of a certain long English baronet, of infinite 
 wit, humour, and gravity. He did intend to have en- 
 graved here many histories : as the first night of Captain 
 
 B *s play, where you would have seen critics in 
 
 embroidery transplanted from the boxes to the pit, whose 
 ancient inhabitants were exalted to the galleries, where 
 they played on catcalls. He did intend to have painted 
 an auction room, where Mr Cock would have appeared 
 aloft in his pulpit, trumpeting forth the praises of a 
 china basin, and with astonishment wondering that 
 " Nobody bids more for that fine, that superb " 
 
2 5 8 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 He did intend to have engraved many other things, but 
 was forced to leave all out for want of room. 
 
 No sooner had Joseph grasped his cudgel in his hands 
 than lightning darted from his eyes ; and the heroick 
 youth, swift of foot, ran with the utmost speed to his 
 friend's assistance. He overtook him just as Rock- 
 wood 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, but for two reasons : 
 the first is, it would interrupt the description, which 
 ihould be rapid in this part ; but that doth not weigh 
 much, many precedents occurring for such an inter- 
 ruption: the second and much the greater 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 eyes at once the idea of friendship, courage, 
 youth, beauty, strength, and swiftness ? all which blazed 
 in the person of Joseph Andrews. Let those, there- 
 fore, that describe lions and tigers, and heroes fiercer 
 than both, raise their poems or plays with the simile of 
 Joseph Andrews, who is himself above the reach of any 
 simile. 
 
 Now Rockwood had laid fast hold on the parson's 
 skirts, and stopt his flight; which Joseph no sooner 
 perceived than he levelled his cudgel at his head and 
 laid him sprawling. Jowler and Ringwood then fell 
 on his greatcoat, and had undoubtedly brought him to 
 the ground, had not Joseph, collecting all his force, 
 given Jowler such a rap on the back, that, quitting his 
 held, he ran howling over the plain. A harder fate 
 remained for thee, O Ringwood ! Ringwood the best 
 hound that ever pursued a hare, who never threw his 
 tongue but where the scent was undoubtedly true ; good 
 at trailing, and sure in a highway ; no babler, no over- 
 runner ; respected by the whole pack, who, whenever 
 he opened, knew the game was at hand. He fell 
 
Joseph Andrews 259 
 
 by the stroke of Joseph. Thunder and Plunder, and 
 Wonder and Blunder, were the next victims of his 
 wrath, and measured their lengths on the ground. Then 
 Fairmaid, a bitch which Mr John Temple had bred up 
 in his house, and fed at his own table, and lately sent 
 the squire fifty miles for a present, ran fiercely at Joseph 
 and bit him by the leg : no dog was ever fiercer than 
 she, being descended from an Amazonian breed, and 
 had worried bulls in her own country, but now waged 
 an unequal fight, and had shared the fate of those we have 
 mentioned before, had not Diana (the reader may believe 
 it or not if he pleases) in that instant interposed, and, 
 in the shape of the huntsman, snatched her favourite up 
 in her arms. 
 
 The parson now faced about, and with his crabstick 
 felled many to the earth, and scattered others, till he 
 was attacked by Caesar and pulled to the ground. Then 
 Joseph flew to his rescue, and with such might fell on 
 the victor, that, O eternal blot to his name ! Caesar ran 
 yelping away. 
 
 The battle now raged with the most dreadful violence, 
 when, lo ! the huntsman, a man of years and dignity, 
 lifted his voice, and called his hounds from the fight, 
 telling them, in a language they understood, that it was 
 in vain to contend longer, for that fate had decreed the 
 victory to their enemies. 
 
 Thus far the muse hath with her usual dignity re- 
 lated this prodigious battle, a battle we apprehend 
 never equalled by any poet, romance or life writer 
 whatever, and, having brought it to a conclusion, she 
 ceased; we shall therefore proceed in our ordinary 
 style with the continuation of this history. The squire 
 and his companions, whom the figure of Adams and the 
 gallantry of Joseph had at first thrown into a violent 
 fit of laughter, and who had hitherto beheld the en- 
 gagement with more delight than any chase, shooting* 
 
260 The Adventures of 
 
 match, race, cock-fighting, bull or bear baiting, had 
 ever given them, began now to apprehend the dangei 
 of their hounds, many of which lay sprawling in the 
 fields. The squire, therefore, having first called his 
 friends about him, as guards for safety of his person, 
 rode manfully up to the combatants, and, summoning 
 all the terror he was master of into his countenance, 
 demanded with an authoritative voice of Joseph what 
 he meant by assaulting his dogs in that manner ? Joseph 
 answered, with great intrepidity, that they had first 
 fallen on his friend ; and if they had belonged to the 
 greatest man in the kingdom, he would have treated 
 them in the same way ; for, whilst his veins contained 
 a single drop of blood, he would not stand idle by and 
 see that gentleman (pointing to Adams) abused either 
 by man or beast ; and, having so said, both he and 
 Adams brandished their wooden weapons, and put 
 themselves into such a posture, that the squire and hie 
 company thought proper to preponderate before they 
 offered to revenge the cause of their four-footed allies. 
 
 At this instant Fanny, whom the apprehension of 
 Joseph's danger had alarmed so much that, forgetting 
 her own, she had made the utmost expedition, came 
 up. The squire and all the horsemen were so sur- 
 prized with her beauty, that they immediately fixed 
 both their eyes and thoughts solely on her, every one 
 declaring he had never seen so charming a creature. 
 Neither mirth nor anger engaged them a moment 
 longer, but all sat in silent amaze. The huntsman only 
 was free from her attraction, who was busy in cutting 
 the ears of the dogs, and endeavouring to recover them 
 to life ; in which he succeeded so well, that only two 
 of no great note remained slaughtered on the field of 
 action. Upon this the huntsman declared, " 'Twas 
 well it was no worse ; for his part he could not blame 
 the gentleman, and wondered his master would en- 
 
Joseph Andrews 261 
 
 courage the dogs to hunt Christians ; that it was the 
 surest way to spoil them, to make them follow vermin 
 instead of sticking 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, accosted Mr Adams with 
 a more favourable aspect than before : he told him he 
 was sorry for what had happened ; that he had en- 
 deavoured all he could to prevent it the moment he 
 was acquainted with his cloth, and greatly commended 
 the courage of his servant, for so he imagined Joseph 
 to be. He then invited Mr Adams to dinner, and 
 desired the young woman might come with him. 
 Adams refused a long while ; but the invitation was 
 repeated with so much earnestness and courtesy, that 
 at length he was forced to accept it. His wig and 
 hat, and other spoils of the field, being gathered to- 
 gether by Joseph (for otherwise probably they would 
 have been forgotten), he put himself into the best order 
 he could ; and then the horse and foot moved forward 
 in the same pace towards the squire'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 ; which the 
 reader will pardon my not relating, as they had not 
 anything new or uncommon in them : so must he like- 
 wise my not setting down the many curious jests which 
 were made on Adams ; some of them declaring that 
 parson-hunting was the best sport in the world ; others 
 commending his standing at bay, which they said he 
 had done as well as any badger ; with such like 
 merriment, which, though it would ill become the 
 dignity of this history, afforded much laughter and 
 diversion to the squire and his facetious companions. 
 
262 The Adventures of 
 
 A scene of roasting, very nicely adapted to the presem 
 taste and times. 
 
 THEY arrived at the squire's house just as his 
 dinner was ready. A little dispute arose on 
 the account of Fanny, whom the squire, who 
 was a bachelor, was desirous to place at his own table ; 
 but she would not consent, nor would Mr Adams per- 
 mit her to be parted from Joseph ; so that she was at 
 length with him consigned over to the kitchen, where 
 the servants were ordered to make him drunk ; a favour 
 which was likewise intended for Adams ; which design 
 being executed, the squire thought he should easily 
 accomplish what he had when he first saw her intended 
 to perpetrate with Fanny. 
 
 It may not be improper, before we proceed farther, 
 to open a little the character of this gentleman, and 
 that of his friends. The master of this house, then, 
 was a man of a very considerable fortune ; a bachelor, 
 as we have said, and about forty years of age : he had 
 been educated (if we may use the expression) in the 
 country, and at his own home, under the care of his 
 mother, and a tutor who had orders never to correct 
 him, nor to compel 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 addicted 
 himself entirely to hunting and other rural amusements, 
 for which his mother took care to equip him with 
 horses, hounds, and all other necessaries ; and his tutor, 
 endeavouring to ingratiate himself with his young pupil, 
 who would, he knew, be able handsomely to provide 
 for him, became his companion, not only at these exer- 
 cises, but likewise over a bottle, which the young squire 
 had a very early relish for. At the age of twenty his 
 
Joseph Andrews 263 
 
 mother began to think she had not fulfilled the duty of 
 a parent ; she therefore resolved to persuade her son, if 
 possible, to that which she imagined would well supply 
 all that he might have learned at a public school or 
 university this is what they commonly call travelling ; 
 which, with the help of the tutor, who was fixed on 
 to attend him, she easily succeeded in. He made in 
 three years the tour of Europe, as they term it, and 
 returned home well furnished with French clothes, 
 phrases, and servants, with a hearty contempt for his 
 own country ; especially what had any savour of the 
 plain spirit and honesty of our ancestors. His mother 
 greatly applauded herself at his return. And now, 
 being master of his own fortune, he soon procured 
 himself a seat in Parliament, and was in the common 
 opinion one of the finest gentlemen of his age : but 
 what distinguished him chiefly was a strange delight 
 which he took in everything which is ridiculous, odious, 
 and absurd in his own species ; so that he never chose 
 a companion without one or more of these ingredients, 
 and those who were marked by nature in the most 
 eminent degree with them were most his favourites. 
 If he ever found a man who either had not, or endea- 
 voured to conceal, these imperfections, he took great 
 pleasure in inventing methods of forcing him into ab- 
 surdities which were not natural to him, or in drawing 
 forth and exposing those that were ; for which purpose 
 he was always provided with a set of fellows, whom 
 we have before called curs, and who did, indeed, no 
 great honour to the canine kind ; their business was to 
 hunt out and display everything that had any savour of 
 the above-mentioned qualities, and especially in the 
 gravest and best characters ; but if they failed in their 
 search, they were to turn even virtue and wisdom them- 
 selves into ridicule, for the diversion of their master 
 and feeder. The gentlemen of curlike disposition who 
 
264 The Adventures of 
 
 were now at his house, and whom he had brought with 
 him from London, were, an old half-pay officer, a 
 player, a dull poet, a quack-doctor, a scraping fiddler, 
 and a lame German dancing-master. 
 
 As soon as dinner was served, while Mr Adams 
 was saying grace, the captain conveyed his chair from 
 behind him ; so that when he endeavoured to seat him- 
 self he fell down on the ground, and this completed 
 joke the first, to the great entertainment of the whole 
 company. The second joke was performed by the 
 poet, who sat next him on the other side, and took an 
 opportunity, while poor Adams was respectfully drink- 
 ing to the master of the house, to overturn a plate of 
 soup into his breeches ; which, with the many apologies 
 he made, and the parson's gentle answers, caused much 
 mirth in the company. Joke the third was served up 
 by one of the waiting-men, who had been ordered to 
 convey a quantity of gin into Mr Adams's ale, which 
 he declaring to be the best liquor he ever drank, but 
 rather too rich of the malt, contributed again to their 
 laughter. Mr Adams, from whom we had most of 
 this relation, could not recollect all the jests of this 
 kind practised on him, which the inoffensive disposition 
 of his own heart made him slow in discovering ; and 
 indeed, had it not been for the information which we 
 received from a servant of the family, this part of our 
 history, which we take to be none of the least curious, 
 must have been deplorably imperfect ; though we must 
 own it probable that some more jokes were (as they 
 call it) cracked during their dinner; but we have by 
 no means been able to come at the knowledge of 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 : 
 
Joseph Andrews 265 
 
 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 mistakes, 
 
 In smell more like to that than rusty bacon ; * 
 
 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. 
 
 At which words the bard whipt off the player's wig, 
 and received the approbation of the company, rather 
 perhaps for the dexterity of his hand than his head. 
 The player, instead of retorting the jest on the poet, 
 began to display his talents on the same subject. He 
 repeated many scraps of wit out of plays, reflecting on 
 the whole body of the clergy, which were received with 
 great acclamations by all present. It was now the 
 dancing-master's turn to exhibit his talents ; he there- 
 fore, addressing himself to Adams in broken English, 
 told him, " He was a man ver well made for de dance, 
 and he suppose by his walk dat he had learn of some 
 great master." He said, " It was ver pretty quality in 
 clergyman to dance ; " and concluded with desiring 
 him to dance a minuet, telling him, " his cassock would 
 serve for petticoats ; and that he would himself be his 
 partner." At which words, without waiting for an 
 answer, he pulled out his gloves, and the fiddler was 
 preparing his fiddle. The company all offered the 
 dancing-master wagers that the parson out-danced him, 
 which he refused, saying "he believed so too, for he 
 had never seen any man in his life who looked de dance 
 so well as de gentleman : " he then stepped forwards 
 to take Adams by the hand, which the latter hastily 
 withdrew, and, at the same time clenching his fist, 
 advised him not to carry the jest too far, for he would 
 
 * All hounds that will hunt fox or other vermin will hunt a 
 piece of rusty bacon trailed on the ground. 
 
266 The Adventures of 
 
 not endure being put upon. The dancing-master no 
 sooner saw the fist than he prudently retired out of its 
 reach, and stood aloof, mimicking Adams, whose eyes 
 were fixed on him, not guessing what he was at, but to 
 avoid his laying hold on him, which he had once at- 
 tempted. In the meanwhile, the captain, perceiving 
 an opportunity, pinned a cracker or devil to the cassock, 
 and then lighted it with their little smoking-candle. 
 Adams, being a stranger to this sport, and believing he 
 had been blown up in reality, started from his chair, and 
 jumped about the room, to the infinite joy of the be- 
 holders, who declared he was the best dancer in the 
 universe. As soon as the devil had done tormenting him, 
 and he had a little recovered his confusion, he returned 
 to the table, standing up in the posture of one who in- 
 tended to make a speech. They all cried out, " Heax 
 him, hear him ; " and he then spoke in the follow- 
 ing manner : " Sir, I am sorry to see one to whom Provi- 
 dence hath been so bountiful in bestowing his favours 
 make so ill and ungrateful a return for them ; for, though 
 you have not insulted me yourself, it is visible you have 
 delighted in those that do it, nor have once discouraged 
 the many rudenesses which have been shown towards 
 me ; indeed, towards yourself, if you rightly understood 
 them ; for I am your guest, and by the laws of hospi- 
 tality entitled to your protection. One gentleman had 
 thought proper to produce some poetry upon me, of 
 which I shall only say, that I had rather be the sub- 
 ject than the composer. He hath pleased to treat me 
 with disrespect as a parson. I apprehend my order is 
 not the subject of scorn, nor that I can become so, 
 unless by being a disgrace to it, which I hope poverty 
 will never be called. Another gentleman, indeed, hath 
 repeated some sentences, where the order itself is men- 
 tioned with contempt. He says they are taken from 
 plays. I am sure such plays are a scandal to the govern- 
 
Joseph Andrews 267 
 
 ment which permits diem, and cursed will be the nation 
 where they are represented. How others have treated 
 me I need not observe ; they themselves, when they re- 
 flect, must allow the behaviour to be as improper to my 
 years as to 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, whether it pro- 
 ceeded from the wantonness or negligence of the hunts- 
 man) : my appearance might very well persuade you 
 that your invitation was an act of charity, though in 
 reality we were well provided ; yes, sir, if we had had 
 an hundred miles to travel, we had sufficient to bear GUI' 
 expenses in a noble manner/' (At which words he 
 produced the half- guinea which was found in the basket. ) 
 " I do not show you this out of ostentation of riches, 
 but to convince you I speak truth. Your seating me at 
 your table was an honour which I did not ambitiously 
 affect. When I was here, I endeavoured to behave 
 towards you with the utmost respect ; if I have failed, 
 it was not with design ; nor could I, certainly, so far 
 be guilty as 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 very poor), the shame 
 doth not lie at my door, and I heartily pray that the sin 
 may be averted from yours." He thus finished, and re- 
 ceived a general clap 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 
 any share in it ; that the verses were, as himself had 
 well observed, so bad, that he might easily answer them ; 
 and for the serpent, it was undoubtedly a very great 
 affront done him by the dancing-master, for which, if 
 he well thrashed him, as he deserved, he should be very 
 much pleased 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 
 
268 The Adventures of 
 
 the person whom he had accused, I am a witness,' * says 
 he, " of his 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 as humanity." 
 The captain answered with a surly look and accent, 
 " That he hoped he did not mean to reflect upon him ; 
 d n him, he had as much imanity as another, and, if 
 any man said he had not, he would convince him of his 
 mistake by cutting his throat." Adams, smiling, said, 
 " He believed 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 would not 
 take these words ; but your gown protects you. If any 
 man who wears a sword had said so much, I had pulled 
 him by the nose before this." Adams replied, " If he 
 attempted any rudeness to his person, he would not find 
 any protection for himself in his gown ; " and, clenching 
 his fist, declared " he had thrashed many a stouter man." 
 The gentleman did all he could to encourage this war- 
 like disposition in Adams, and was in hopes to have 
 produced a battle, but he was disappointed ; for the 
 captain made no 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 gravest but most mischievous dog of all, in 
 i very pompous speech highly applauded what Adams 
 had said, and as much discommended the behaviour to 
 him. He proceeded to encomiums on the Church and 
 poverty ; and, lastly, recommended forgiveness of what 
 had passed to Adams, who immediately answered, 
 That everything was forgiven ; " and in the warmth 
 of his goodness he filled a bumper of strong beer (a 
 liquor he preferred to wine), and drank a health to 
 the whole company, shaking the captain and the poet 
 heartily by the hand, and addressing himself with great 
 
Joseph Andrews 269 
 
 respect to the doctor; who, indeed, had not laughed 
 outwardly at anything that past, as he had a perfect 
 command of his muscles, and could laugh inwardly 
 without betraying the least symptoms in his countenance. 
 The doctor now began a second formal speech, in 
 which he declaimed against all levity of conversation, 
 and what is usually called mirth. He said, "There 
 were amusements fitted for persons of all ages and de- 
 grees, from the rattle to the discussing a point of philo- 
 sophy ; and that men discovered themselves in nothing 
 more than in the choice of their amusements ; for," says 
 he, " as it must greatly raise our expectation of the future 
 conduct in life of boys whom in their tender years we 
 perceive, instead of taw or balls, or other childish 
 playthings, to chuse, at their leisure hours, to exercise 
 their genius in contentions of wit, learning, and such 
 like ; so must it inspire one with equal contempt of a 
 man, if we should discover him playing at taw or other 
 childish play." Adams highly commended the doctor's 
 opinion, and said, " He "had often wondered at some 
 passages in ancient authors, where Scipio, Laelius, and 
 other great men were represented to have passed many 
 hours in amusements of the most trifling kind." The 
 doctor replied, " He had by him an old Greek manu- 
 script where a favourite diversion of Socrates was re- 
 corded." " Ay ! " says the parson eagerly ; " I should 
 be most infinitely obliged to you for die favour of 
 perusing it." The doctor promised to send it him, 
 and farther said, " That he believed he could describe 
 it. I think," says he, " as near as I can remember, it 
 was this : there was a throne erected, on one side of 
 which sat a king and on the other a queen, with their 
 guards and attendants ranged on both sides ; to them 
 was introduced an ambassador, which part Socrates 
 always used to perform himself; and when he was led 
 up to the footsteps of the throne he addressed himself 
 L 467 
 
270 The Adventures of 
 
 too the monarchs in some grave speech, full of virtue, 
 and goodness, and morality, and such like. After 
 which, he was seated between the king and queen, 
 and royally entertained. This I think was the chief 
 part. Perhaps I may have forgot some particulars ; 
 for it is long since I read it." Adams said, " It was, 
 indeed, a diversion worthy the relaxation of so great 
 a man ; and thought something resembling it should be 
 instituted among our great men, instead of cards and 
 other idle pastime, in which, he was informed, they 
 trifled away too much of their lives." He added, 
 " The Christian religion was a nobler subject for 
 these speeches than any Socrates could have invented." 
 The gentleman of the house approved what Mr Adams 
 said, and declared "he was resolved to perform the 
 ceremony this very evening." To which the doctor 
 objected, as no one was prepared with a speech, 
 "unless," said he (turning to Adams with a gravity 
 of countenance which would have deceived a more 
 knowing man), "you have a sermon about you, 
 doctor." " Sir," said Adams, " I never travel with- 
 out one, for fear of what may happen." He was 
 easily prevailed on by his worthy friend, as he now 
 called the doctor, to undertake the part of the ambas- 
 sador ; so that the gentleman sent immediate orders to 
 have the throne erected, which was performed before 
 they had drank two bottles ; and, perhaps, the reader 
 will hereafter have no great reason to admire the nimble- 
 ness of the servants. Indeed, to confess the truth, the 
 throne was no more than this : there was a great tub 
 of water provided, on each side of which were placed 
 two stools raised higher than the surface of the tub, and 
 over the whole was laid a blanket ; on these stools were 
 placed the king and queen, namely, the master of the 
 house and the captain. And now the ambassador was 
 introduced between the poet and the doctor ; who, 
 
Joseph Andrews 271 
 
 having read his sermon, to the great entertainment of 
 all present, was led up to his place and seated between 
 their majesties. They immediately rose up, when the 
 blanket, wanting its supports at either end, gave way, 
 and soused Adams over head and ears in the water. 
 The captain made his escape, but, unluckily, the 
 gentleman himself not being as nimble as he ought, 
 Adams caught hold of him before he descended from 
 his throne, and pulled him in with him, to the entire 
 secret satisfaction of all the company. Adams, after 
 ducking the squire twice or thrice, leapt out of the 
 tub, and looked sharp for the doctor, whom he would 
 certainly have conveyed to the same place of honour ; 
 but he had wisely withdrawn : he then searched for 
 his crabstick, and having found that, as well as his 
 fellow travellers, he declared he would not stay a 
 moment longer in such a house. He then departed, 
 without taking leave of his host, whom he had exacted 
 a more severe revenge on than he intended ; for, as he 
 did not use sufficient care to dry himself in time, he 
 caught a cold by the accident which threw him into a 
 fever that had like to have cost him his life. 
 
 r toiti. 
 
 Which some readers 'will think too short and others 
 too long. 
 
 ADAMS, and Joseph, who was no less enraged than 
 his friend at the treatment he met with, went 
 out with their sticks in their hands, and carried 
 off Fanny, notwithstanding the opposition of the ser- 
 vants, who did all, without proceeding to violence, in 
 their power to detain them. They walked as fast as 
 they could, not so much from any apprehension of being 
 
272 The Adventures of 
 
 pursued as that Mr Adams might, by exercise, prevent 
 any harm from the water. The gentleman, who had 
 given such orders to his servants concerning Fanny that 
 he did not in the least fear her getting away, no sooner 
 heard that she was gone, than he began to rave, and 
 immediately despatched several with orders either to 
 bring her back or never return. The poet, the player, 
 and all but the dancing-master and doctor, went on this 
 errand. 
 
 The night was very dark in which our friends began 
 their journey ; however, they made such expedition, 
 that they soon arrived at an inn which was at seven 
 miles' distance. Here they unanimously consented to 
 pass the evening, Mr Adams being now as dry as he 
 was before he had set out 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 provision than bread and 
 cheese and ale ; on which, however, they made a very 
 comfortable meal ; for hunger is better than a French 
 cook. 
 
 They had no sooner supped, than Adams, returning 
 thanks to the Almighty for his food, declared he had 
 eat his homely commons with much greater satisfaction 
 than his splendid dinner ; and expressed great con- 
 tempt for the folly of mankind, who sacrificed their 
 hopes of heaven to the acquisition of vast wealth, since 
 so much comfort was to be found in the humblest state 
 and the lowest provision. "Very true, sir," says a 
 grave man who sat smoaking his pipe by the fire, and 
 who was a traveller as well as himself. " I have often 
 been as much surprized as you are, when I consider the 
 value which mankind in general set on riches, since 
 every clay's experience shows us how little is in their 
 power ; for what, indeed, truly desirable, can they 
 bestow on us ? Can they give beauty to the deformed, 
 
Joseph Andrews 273 
 
 strength to the weak, or health to the infirm ? Surely 
 if they could we should not see so many ill-favoured 
 faces haunting the assemblies of the great, nor would 
 such numbers of feeble wretches languish in their coaches 
 and palaces. No, not the wealth of a kingdom can 
 purchase any paint to dress pale Ugliness in the bloom 
 of that young maiden, nor any drugs to equip Disease 
 with the vigour of that young man. Do not riches bring 
 us to solicitude instead of rest, envy instead of affec- 
 tion, and danger instead of safety ? Can they prolong 
 their own possession, or lengthen his days who enjoys 
 them ? So far otherwise, that the sloth, the luxury, 
 the care which attend them, shorten the lives of millions, 
 and bring them with pain and misery to an untimely 
 grave. Where, then, is their value if they can neither 
 embellish nor strengthen our forms, sweeten nor prolong 
 our lives ? Again : Can they adorn the mind 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 a clergyman." "No, truly," answered the 
 other (indeed, he was a priest of the Church of Rome ; 
 but those who understand our laws will not wonder he 
 was not over-ready to own it). " Whatever you are," 
 cries Adams, " you have spoken my sentiments : I 
 believe I have preached every syllable of your speech 
 twenty times over ; for it hath always appeared to me 
 easier for a cable-rope (which by the way is the true 
 rendering of that word we have translated camel) to 
 go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to 
 get into the kingdom of heaven." " That, sir," said 
 the other, " will be easily granted you by divines, and 
 is deplorably true ; but as the prospect of our good at a 
 distance doth not so forcibly affect us, it might be of 
 
274 The Adventures of 
 
 ome service to mankind to be made thoroughly sensible 
 which I think they might be with very little serious 
 attention that even the blessings of this world are not 
 to be purchased with riches ; a doctrine, in my opinion, 
 not only metaphysically, but, if I may so say, mathe- 
 matically demonstrable ; and which I have been always 
 so perfectly convinced of that I have a contempt for 
 nothing so much as for gold." Adams now began a 
 long discourse : but as most which he said occurs among 
 many authors who have treated this subject, I shall omit 
 inserting it. During its continuance Joseph and Fanny 
 retired to rest, and the host likewise left the room. 
 When the English parson had concluded, the Romish 
 resumed the discourse, which he continued with great 
 bitterness and invective ; and at last ended by desiring 
 Adams to lend him eighteen-pence to pay his reckon- 
 ing ; promising, if he never paid him, he might be 
 assured of his prayers. The good man answered that 
 eighteen-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 ; for 
 indeed the company with whom he dined had passed 
 one jest upon him which we did not then enumerate, 
 and had picked his pocket of all that treasure which he 
 had so ostentatiously produced. 
 
 " Bless me ! " cried Adams, " I have certainly lost 
 it ; I can never have spent it. Sir, as I am a Christian, 
 I had a whole half-guinea in my pocket 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 me the money, I am contented." 
 " Sir," cries Adams, "if I had the greatest sum in the 
 world aye, if I had ten pounds about me I would 
 bestow it all to rescue any Christian from distress. I 
 
Joseph Andrews 275 
 
 am more vexed at my loss on your account than my 
 own. Was ever anything so unlucky ? Because I 
 have no money in my pocket I shall be suspected to be 
 no Christian." " I am more unlucky," quoth the 
 other, " if you are as generous as you say ; for really a 
 crown would have made me happy, and conveyed me 
 in plenty to the place I am going, which is not above 
 twenty miles off, and where I can arrive by to-morrow 
 night. I assure you I am not accustomed to travel 
 pennyless. I am but just arrived in England ; and we 
 were forced by a storm in our passage to throw all we 
 had overboard. I don't suspect but this fellow will 
 take my word for the trifle I owe him ; but I hate to 
 appear so mean as to confess myself without a shilling 
 to such people ; for these, and indeed too many others, 
 know little difference in their estimation between a 
 beggar and a thief." However, he thought he should 
 deal better with the host that evening than the next 
 morning : he therefore resolved to set out immediately, 
 notwithstanding the darkness ; and accordingly, as soon 
 as the host returned, he communicated to him the situa*- 
 tion of his affairs ; upon which the host, scratching 
 his head, answered, " Why, I do not know, master ; if 
 it be so, and you have no money, I must trust, I think, 
 though I had rather always have ready money if I could ; 
 but, marry, you look like so honest a gentleman that I 
 don't fear your paying me if it was twenty times as 
 much." The priest made no reply, but, taking leave 
 of him and Adams as fast as he could, not without 
 confusion, and perhaps with some distrust of Adams's 
 sincerity, departed- 
 He was no sooner gone than the host fell a-shaking 
 his head, and declared, if he had suspected the fellow 
 had no money, he would not have drawn him a single 
 drop of drink, saying he despaired of ever seeing his 
 face again, for that he looked like a confounded rogue. 
 
276 The Adventures of 
 
 " Rabbit the fellow," cries he, " I thought, by his talk- 
 ing so much about riches, that he had a hundred pounds 
 at least in his pocket." Adams chid him for his sus- 
 picions, which, he said, were not becoming a Christian ; 
 and then, without reflecting on his loss, or considering 
 how he himself should depart in the morning, he retired 
 to a very homely bed, as his companions had before ; 
 however, health and fatigue gave them a sweeter repose 
 than is often in the power of velvet and down to bestow. 
 
 Containing as surprizing and bloody adventures as can be 
 found in this or perhaps any other authentic history. 
 
 IT was almost morning when Joseph Andrews, whose 
 eyes the thoughts of his dear Fanny had opened, 
 as he lay fondly meditating on that lovely creature, 
 heard a violent knocking at the door over which he 
 lay. He presently jumped out of bed, and, opening 
 the window, was asked if there were no travellers in 
 the house? and presently, by another voice, if two 
 men and a woman had not taken up there their lodg- 
 ing that night? Though he knew not the voices, 
 he began to entertain a suspicion of the truth for 
 indeed he had received some information from one of 
 the servants of the squire's house of his design and 
 answered in the negative. One of the servants, who 
 knew the host well, called out to him by his name just 
 as he had opened another window, and asked him the 
 same question ; 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 she leaped from her bed, and, hastily putting 
 
Joseph Andrews 277 
 
 on her gown and petticoats, ran as fast as possible to 
 Joseph's room, who then was almost drest. He 
 immediately let her in, and, embracing her with the 
 most passionate tenderness, bid her fear nothing, for he 
 would die in her defence. " Is that a reason why I 
 should not fear," says she, " when I should lose what 
 is dearer to rae than the whole world ? " Joseph, then 
 kissing her hand, said, "He' could almost thank the 
 occasion which had extorted from her a tenderness she 
 would never indulge him with before/' He then ran 
 and waked his bedfellow Adams, who was yet fast 
 asleep, notwithstanding many calls from Joseph ; but 
 was no sooner made sensible of their danger than he 
 leaped from his bed, without considering the presence 
 of Fanny, who hastily turned her face from him, and 
 enjoyed a double benefit from the dark, which, as it 
 would have prevented any offence, to an innocence less 
 pure, or a modesty less delicate, so it conoealed even 
 those blushes which were raised in her. 
 
 Adams had soon put on all his clothes but hi-s 
 breeches, which, in the hurry, he forgot ; however, , 
 they were pretty well supplied by the length of his 
 other garments ; and now, the house-door being opened, 
 the captain, the poet, the player, ano^ three servants 
 came in. The captain told the host that two fellows, 
 who were in his house, had run away with a young 
 woman, and desired to know in which room she lay. 
 The host, who presently believed the story, directed 
 them, and instantly the captain and poet, justling one 
 another, ran up. The poet, who was the nimblest, 
 entering the chamber first, searched the bed, and every 
 other part, but to no purpose ; the bird was flown, as 
 the impatient reader, who might otherwise have been in 
 pain for her, was before advertised. They then enquired 
 where the men lay, and were approaching the chamber, 
 when Joseph roared out, in a loud voice, that he would 
 
278 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 shoot the first man who offered to attack the door. 
 The captain enquired what fire-arms they had ; to which 
 the host answered, he believed they had none ; nay, he 
 was almost convinced of it, for he had heard one ask 
 the other in the evening what they should have done if 
 they had been overtaken, when they had no arms ; to 
 which the other answered, they would have defended 
 themselves with their sticks as long as they were able, 
 and God would assist a just cause. This satisfied the 
 captain, but not the poet, w,ho prudently retreated 
 downstairs, saying, it was his business to record great 
 actions, and not to do them. The captain was no 
 sooner well satisfied that there were no fire-arms 
 than, bidding defiance to gunpowder, and swearing he 
 loved the smell of it, he ordered the servants to 
 follow him, and, marching boldly up, immediately 
 attempted to force the door, which the servants soon 
 helped him to accomplish. When it was opened, 
 they discovered the enemy drawn up three deep ; 
 Adams in the front, and Fanny in the rear. The 
 captain told Adams that if they would go all back 
 to the house again they should be civilly treated ; 
 but unless 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, notwith- 
 standing 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 ; that she was a poor 
 helpless foundling, and had no relation in the world 
 which she knew of; and, throwing herself on her 
 knees, begged that he would not attempt to take her 
 from her friends, who, she was convinced, would die 
 before they would lose her ; which Adams confirmed 
 with words not far from amounting to an oath. The 
 captain swore he had no leisure to talk, and, bidding 
 
Joseph Andrews 279 
 
 them thank themselves for what happened, he ordered 
 the servants to fall on, at the same time endeavouring 
 to pass by Adams, in order to lay hold on Fanny; 
 but the parson, interrupting him, received a blow from 
 one of them, which, without considering whence it 
 came, he returned to the captain, and gave him so 
 dexterous a knock in that part of the stomach which 
 is vulgarly called the pit, that he staggered some paces 
 backwards. The captain, who was not accustomed to 
 this kind of play, and who wisely apprehended the 
 consequence of such another blow, two of them seem- 
 ing to him equal to a thrust through the body, drew 
 forth his hanger, as Adams approached him, and was 
 levelling a blow at his head, which would probably 
 have silenced the preacher for ever, had not Joseph in 
 that instant lifted up a certain huge stone pot of the 
 chamber with one hand, which six beaus could not 
 have lifted with both, and discharged it, together with 
 the contents, full in the captain's face. The uplifted 
 hanger dropped from his hand, and he fell prostrated on 
 the floor with a lumpish noise, and his halfpence rattled 
 in his pocket ; the red liquor which his veins contained, 
 and the white liquor which the pot contained, ran in 
 one stream down his face and his clothes. Nor had 
 Adams quite escaped, some of the water having in its 
 passage shed its honours on his head, and began to 
 trickle down the wrinkles 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 duty in 
 washing the house, pushed it in the parson's face ; yet 
 could not he bear him down, for the parson, wresting 
 the mop from the fellow with one hand, with the other 
 brought his enemy as low as the earth, having given 
 him a stroke over that part of the face where, in some 
 men of pleasure, the natural and artificial noses arc 
 conjoined 
 
280 The Adventures of 
 
 Hitherto, Fortune seemed to incline the victory on 
 the travellers' side, when, according to her custom, she 
 began to show the fickleness of her disposition ; for 
 now the host, entering the field, or rather chamber of 
 battle, 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 
 him under the chin that he reeled. The youth was 
 pursuing his blow with his right hand when he received 
 from one of the servants such a stroke with a cudgel 
 on his temples, that it instantly deprived him of sense, 
 and he measured his length on the ground. 
 
 Fanny rent the air with her cries, and Adams was 
 coming to the assistance of Joseph ; but the two serv- 
 ing-men and the host now fell on him, and soon 
 subdued him, though he fought like a madman, and 
 looked so black with the impressions he had received 
 from the mop, that Don Quixote would certainly have 
 taken him for an inchanted Moor. But now follows 
 the most tragical part ; for the captain was risen again, 
 and, seeing Joseph on the floor, and Adams secured, 
 he instantly laid hold on Fanny, and, with the assistance 
 of the poet and player, who, hearing the battle was 
 over, were now come up, dragged her, crying and tear- 
 ing her hair, from the sight of her Joseph, and, with a 
 perfect deafness to all her entreaties, carried her down- 
 stairs by violence, and fastened her on the player's 
 horse ; and the captain, mounting his own, and leading 
 that on which this poor miserable wretch was, departed, 
 without any more consideration of her cries than a 
 butcher hath of those of a lamb ; for indeed his 
 thoughts were entertained only with the degree of 
 favour which he promised himself from the squire on 
 the success of this adventure. 
 
 The servants, who were ordered to secure Adami 
 
Joseph Andrews 281 
 
 and Joseph as safe as possible, that the squire might 
 receive no interruption to his design on poor Fanny, 
 immediately, by the poet's advice, tied Adams to one 
 of the bed-posts, as they did Joseph on the other side, 
 as soon as they could bring him to himself; and then, 
 leaving them together, back to back, and desiring the 
 host not to set them at liberty, nor to go near them, 
 till he had further orders, they departed towards their 
 master ; but happened to take a different road from 
 that which the captain had fallen into. 
 
 Chapter p* 
 
 ,^~\ 
 
 A discourse between the poet and the player ; of no other L^ 
 use in this history but to divert the reader. 
 
 BEFORE we proceed any farther in this tragedy 
 we shall leave Mr Joseph and Mr Adams to 
 themselves, and imitate the wise conductors of 
 the stage, who in the midst of a grave action entertain 
 you with some excellent piece of satire or humour called 
 a dance. Which piece, indeed, is therefore danced, 
 and not spoke, as it is delivered to the audience by 
 persons whose thinking faculty is by most people held 
 to lie in their heels ; 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 are of use 
 in dancing, to hang their hats on. 
 
 The poet, addressing the player, proceeded thus, " As 
 I was saying " (for they had been at this discourse all 
 the time of the engagement above- stairs), " the reason 
 you have no good new plays is evident ; it is from your 
 discouragement of authors. Gentlemen will not write, 
 sir, they will not write, without the expectation of fame 
 or profit, or perhaps both. Plays are like trees, which 
 
282 The Adventures of 
 
 will not grow without nourishment ; but like 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 best pleased with a rattle. 
 A farce- writer hath indeed some chance for success : 
 but they have lost all taste for the sublime. Though I 
 believe one reason of their depravity is the badness of 
 the actors. If a man writes like an angel, sir, those 
 fellows know not how to give a sentiment utterance." 
 "Not so fast," says the player: "the modern actors 
 are as good at least as their authors, nay, they come 
 nearer their illustrious predecessors ; and I expect a 
 Booth on the stage again, sooner than a Shakespear or 
 an Otway ; and indeed I may turn your observation 
 against you, and with truth say, that the reason no 
 authors are encouraged is because we have no good new 
 plays." " I have not affirmed the contrary," said the 
 poet ; " but I am surprized you grow so warm ; you 
 cannot imagine yourself interested in this dispute ; I 
 hope you have a better opinion of my taste than to 
 apprehend I squinted at yourself. No, sir, if we had 
 six such actors as you, we should soon rival the Bettertons 
 and Sandfords of former times ; for, without a compli- 
 ment to you, I think it impossible for any one to have 
 excelled you in most of your parts. Nay, it is solemn 
 truth, and I have heard many, and all great judges, 
 express as much ; and, you will pardon me if I tell you, 
 I think every time I have seen you lately you have 
 constantly acquired some new excellence, like a snow- 
 ball. You have deceived me in my estimation of per- 
 fection, and have outdone what I thought inimitable." 
 " You are as little interested," answered the player, 
 " in what I have said of other poets ; for d n me if 
 there are not many strokes, ay, whole scenes, in your 
 last tragedy, which at least equal Shakespear. There 
 
Joseph Andrews 283 
 
 is a delicacy of sentiment, a dignity of expression in k, 
 which I will own many of our gentlemen did not do 
 adequate justice to. To confess the truth, they are bad 
 enough, and I pity an author who is present at the 
 murder of his works." " Nay, it is but seldom that it 
 can happen," returned the poet ; " the works of most 
 modern authors, like dead- born children, cannot be 
 murdered. It is such wretched half- begotten, half- 
 writ, lifeless, spiritless, low, grovelling stuff, 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 you don't understand." " I am sure," 
 said die player, " if the sentences have little 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 adapts his action to his character. 
 I have seen a tender lover in an attitude of fighting with 
 his mistress, and a brave hero suing to his enemy with 
 his sword in his hand. I don't care to abuse my pro- 
 fession, but rot me if in my heart I am not inclined to 
 the poet's side." " It is rather generous in you than 
 just," said the poet ; " and, though I hate to speak ill 
 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 of such horrible stuff as 
 Fenton's Mariamne, Frowd's Philotas, or Mallet's 
 Eurydice ; or those low, dirty, last-dying-speeches, 
 which a fellow in the city of Wapping, your Dillo or 
 Lillo, what was his name, called tragedies ?" " Very 
 well," says the player ; " and pray what do you think 
 of such fellows as Quin and Delane, or that face-making 
 puppy young Gibber, that ill-looked dog Macklin, or 
 that saucy slut Mrs Clive? What work would they 
 make with your Shakespears, Otways, and Lees ? How 
 would those harmonious lines of the last come from 
 their tongues ? 
 
284 The Adventures of 
 
 -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 
 
 1 Who'd be that foolish sordid thing call'd man?' H 
 
 " Hold ! hold ! hold ! " said the poet : Do repeat 
 that tender speech in the third act of my play which 
 you made such a figure in." " I would willingly," 
 said the player, " but I have forgot it." " Ay, you 
 was not quite perfect in it when you played it," cries 
 the poet, " or you would have had such an applause 
 as was never given on the stage; an applause I was 
 extremely concerned for your losing." " Sure," says 
 the player, " if I remember, that was hissed more than 
 any passage in the whole play." " Ay, your speaking 
 it was hissed," said the poet. " My speaking it ! " 
 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 lay the damnation of your play to my account." 
 " I don't know what you mean by damnation," replied 
 the poet. " Why, you know it was acted but one night," 
 cried the player. " No," said the poet, " you and the 
 whole town were enemies ; the pit were all my enemies, 
 fellows that would cut my throat, if the fear of hanging 
 did not restrain them. All taylors, sir, all taylors." 
 
Joseph Andrews 285 
 
 "Why should the taylors be so angry with you?" cries 
 the player. " I suppose you don't employ so many in 
 making your clothes." " I admit your jest," answered 
 the poet ; " but you remember the affair as well as my- 
 self; you know there was a party in the pit and upper 
 gallery that would not surfer it to be given out again ; 
 though much, ay infinitely, the majority, all the boxes 
 in particular, were desirous of it ; nay, most of the ladies 
 swore they never would come to the house till it was 
 acted again. Indeed, I must own their policy was good 
 in not letting it be given but a second time : for the 
 rascals knew if it had gone a second night it would have 
 run fifty ; for if ever there was distress in a tragedy I 
 am not fond of my own performance ; but if I should 
 
 tell you what the best judges said of it Nor was it 
 
 entirely owing to my enemies neither that it did not 
 succeed on the stage as well as it hath since among the 
 polite readers ; for you can't say it had justice done it 
 by the performers." " I think," answered the player, 
 " the performers did the distress of it justice ; for I am 
 sure we were in distress enough, who were pelted with 
 oranges all the last act : we all imagined it would have 
 been the last act of our lives." 
 
 The poet, whose fury was now raised, had just 
 attempted to answer when they were interrupted, and 
 an end put to their discourse, by an accident, which if 
 the reader is impatient to know, he must skip over the 
 next chapter, which is a sort of counterpart to this, and 
 contains some of the best and gravest matters in the 
 whole book, being a discourse between parson Abraham 
 Adams and Mr Joseph Andrews. 
 
286 The Adventures of 
 
 jcu 
 
 Containing the exhortations of parson Adams to his friend 
 in affliction ; calculated for the instruction and im- 
 provement of the reader. 
 
 JOSEPH no sooner came perfectly to himself than, 
 perceiving his mistress gone, he bewailed her loss 
 with groans which would have pierced any heart 
 but those which are possessed by some people, and are 
 made of a certain composition not unlike flint in its 
 hardness and other properties ; for you may strike fire 
 from them, which will dart through the eyes, but they 
 can never distil one drop of water the same way. His 
 own, poor youth ! was of a softer composition ; and at 
 those words, " O my dear Fanny ! O my love ! shall I 
 never, never see thee more ? " his eyes overflowed with 
 tears, which would have become any but a hero. In a 
 word, his despair was more easy to be conceived than 
 related. 
 
 Mr Adams, after many groans, sitting with his back 
 to Joseph, began thus in a sorrowful tone : " You cannot 
 imagine, my good child, that I entirely blame these first 
 agonies of your grief; for, when misfortunes attack us 
 by surprize, it must require infinitely more learning than 
 you are master of to resist them ; but it is the business 
 of a man and a Christian to summon Reason as quickly 
 as he can to his aid ; and she will presently 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 have expected to have lived 
 in happiness, virtue, and innocence ; by whom you might 
 have promised yourself many little darlings, who would 
 have been the delight of your youth and the comfort of 
 your age. You have not only lost her, but have reason 
 
Joseph Andrews 287 
 
 to fear the utmost violence which lust and power can in- 
 flict upon her. Now, indeed, you may easily raise ideas 
 of horror, which might drive you to despair." " O I 
 shall run mad ! " cries Joseph. " O that I could but 
 command my hands to tear my eyes out and my flesh 
 off! " " If you would use them to such purposes, I 
 am glad you can't," answered Adams. " I have stated 
 your misfortune as strong as I possibly can ; but, oni 
 the other side, you are to consider you are a Christian, 
 that no accident happens to us without the Divine per- 
 mission, and that it is the duty of a man, and a 
 Christian, to submit. We did not make ourselves ; 
 but the same power which made us rules over us, and 
 we are absolutely at his disposal ; he may do with us 
 what he pleases, nor have we any right to complain. A 
 second reason against our complaint is our ignorance ; 
 for, as we know not future events, so neither can we tell 
 to what purpose any accident tends ; and that which at 
 first threatens us with evil may in the end produce our 
 good. I should indeed have said our ignorance is two- 
 fold (but I have not at present time to divide properly), 
 for, as we know not to what purpose any event is 
 ultimately directed, so neither can we affirm from what 
 cause it originally sprung. You are a man, and con- 
 sequently a sinner ; and this may be a punishment to 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, and averts that wrath which cannot 
 continue without our destruction. Thirdly, our im- 
 potency of relieving ourselves demonstrates the folly 
 and absurdity of our complaints : for whom do we 
 resist, or against whom do we complain, but a power 
 from whose shafts no armour can guard us, no speed 
 can fly ? a power which leaves us no hope but in 
 submission." " O sir ! " cried Joseph, " all this is 
 yery true, and very fine, and I could hear you ail day 
 
288 The Adventures of 
 
 if I was not so grieved at heart as now I am." " Would 
 you take physic," says Adams, " when you are well, 
 and refuse it when you are sick ? Is not comfort to be 
 administered to the afflicted, and not to those who rejoice 
 or those who are at ease ? " " O ! you have nofspoken 
 one word of comfort to me yet ! " returned Joseph. 
 " No ! " cries Adams ; " what am I 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 enclose that lovely creature, with all her 
 sweetness, all her untainted innocence about her ! " 
 " Why, perhaps you may," cries Adams, " but I can't 
 promise you what's to come. You must, with perfect 
 resignation, wait the event : 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 your 
 own interest, you will peaceably and quietly submit to all 
 the dispensations of Providence, being thoroughly assured 
 that all the misfortunes, ho w great soever, which happen to 
 the righteous, happen to them for their own good. Nay, 
 it is not your interest only, but your duty, to abstain 
 from immoderate grief; which if you indulge, you are 
 not worthy the name of a Christian." He spoke these 
 last words with an accent a little severer than usual ; 
 upon which Joseph begged him not to be angry, saying, 
 he mistook him if he thought he denied it was his duty, 
 for he had known that long ago. "What signifies 
 knowing your duty, if you do not perform it ? " answered 
 Adams. "Your knowledge increases your guilt. O 
 Joseph ! I never thought you had this stubbornness in 
 your mind." Joseph replied, " He fancied he mis- 
 understood him ; which I assure you," says he, " you 
 do, if you imagine I endeavour to grieve ; upon my soul 
 I don't." Adams rebuked him for swearing, and then 
 proceeded to enlarge on the folly of grief, telling him, 
 all the wise men and philosophers, even among the 
 
Joseph Andrews 289 
 
 heathens, had written against it, quoting several passages 
 from Seneca, and the Consolation, which, though it was 
 not Cicero's, was, he said, as good almost as any of his 
 works ; and concluded all by hinting that immoderate 
 grief in this case might incense that power which alone 
 could restore him his Fanny. This reason, or indeed 
 rather the idea which it raised of the restoration of his 
 mistress, had more effect than all which the parson had 
 said before, and for a moment abated his agonies ; but, 
 when his fears sufficiently set before his eyes the danger 
 that poor creature was in, his grief returned again with 
 repeated violence, nor could Adams in the least asswage 
 it ; though it may be doubted in his behalf whether 
 Socrates himself could have prevailed any better. 
 
 They remained some time in silence, and groans and 
 sighs issued from them both ; at length Joseph burst out 
 into the following soliloquy : 
 
 14 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 is nothing 
 but heathenism to be learned from plays," replied he. 
 " I never heard of any plays fit for a Christian to read, 
 but Cato and the Conscious Lovers ; and, I must own, 
 in the latter there are some things almost solemn 
 enough for a sermon." But we shall now leave them 
 a little, and enquire after the subject of their conver- 
 sation. 
 
290 The Adventures of 
 Chapter til 
 
 More adventures, which we hope will as much please as 
 surprize the reader. 
 
 NEITHER the facetious dialogue which passed 
 between the poet and the player, nor the grave 
 and truly solemn discourse of Mr Adams, will, 
 we conceive, make the reader sufficient amends for the 
 anxiety which he must have felt on the account of 
 poor Fanny, whom we left in so deplorable a condition. 
 We shall therefore now proceed to the relation of what 
 happened to that beautiful and innocent virgin, after she 
 fell into the wicked hands of the captain. 
 
 The man of war, having conveyed his charming 
 prize out of the inn a little before day, made the utmost 
 expedition in his power towards the squire's house, 
 where this delicate creature was to be offered up a 
 sacrifice to the lust of a ravisher. He was not only 
 deaf to all her bewailings and entreaties on the road, 
 but accosted her ears with impurities which, having 
 been never before accustomed to them, she happily for 
 herself very little understood. At last he changed his 
 note, and attempted to soothe and mollify her, by 
 setting forth the splendor and luxury which would be 
 her fortune with a man who would have the inclina- 
 tion, and power too, to give her whatever her utmost 
 wishes could desire ; and told her he doubted not 
 but she would soon look kinder on him, as the instru- 
 ment of her happiness, and despise that pitiful fellow 
 whom her ignorance only could make her fond of. She 
 answered, she knew not whom he meant ; she never 
 was fond of any pitiful fellow. " Are you affronted, 
 madam," says he, " at my calling him so ? But what 
 better can be said of one in a livery, notwithstand- 
 ing your fondness for him ? " She returned, that she 
 
Joseph Andrews 291 
 
 did not understand him, that the man had been her 
 fellow-servant, and she believed was as honest a crea- 
 ture as any alive ; but as for fondness for men " I 
 warrant ye," cries the captain, " we shall find means 
 to persuade you to be fond ; and I advise you to 
 yield to gentle ones, for you may be assured that it 
 is not in your power, by any struggles whatever, to 
 preserve your virginity two hours longer. It will 
 be .your interest to consent ; for the squire will be 
 much kinder to you if he enjoys you willingly than 
 by force." At which words she began to call aloud 
 for assistance (for it was now open day), but, finding 
 none, she lifted her eyes to heaven, and supplicated 
 the Divine assistance to preserve her innocence. The 
 captain told her, if she persisted in her vociferation, 
 he would find a means of stopping her mouth. 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 the handkerchief which covered 
 her bosom. A horseman now appeared in the road, 
 upon which the captain threatened her violently if she 
 complained; however, the moment they approached 
 each other she begged him with the utmost earnestness 
 to relieve a distressed creature who was in the hands 
 of a ravisher. The fellow stopt at those words, but 
 the captain assured him it was his wife, and that he 
 was carrying her home from her adulterer, which so 
 satisfied the fellow, who was an old one (and perhaps 
 a married one too), that he wished him a good journey, 
 and rode on. He was no sooner past than the captain 
 abused her violently for breaking his commands, and 
 threatened to gagg her, when two more horsemen, 
 armed with pistols, came into the road just before 
 them. She again solicited their assistance, and the 
 captain told the same story as before. Upon which ' 
 
292 The Adventures of 
 
 one said to the other, "That's a charming wench, 
 Jack ; I wish I had been in the fellow's place, who- 
 ever he is." But the other, instead of answering him, 
 cried out, " Zounds, I know her ; " and then, 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 you to my assist- 
 ance, to deliver me from this wicked man, who is 
 carrying me away for his vile purposes O for Qod's 
 - sake rescue me from him ! " A fierce dialogue imme- 
 diately ensued between the captain and these two men, 
 who, being both armed with pistols, and the chariot 
 which they attended being now arrived, the captain saw 
 both force and stratagem were vain, and endeavoured 
 to make his escape, in which however he could not 
 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; of which 
 being advertised by Fanny, whose credit was confirmed 
 by the fellow who knew her, he ordered the captain, 
 who was all bloody from his encounter at the inn, to 
 be conveyed as a prisoner behind the chariot, and very 
 gallantly took Fanny into it ; for, to say the truth, 
 this gentleman (wh*> was no other than the celebrated 
 Mr Peter Pounce, and who preceded the Lady Booby 
 only a few miles, by setting out earlier in the morning) 
 was a very gallant person, and loved a pretty girl better 
 than anything 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 poet and player 
 were disputing below-stairs, and Adams and Joseph 
 were discoursing back to back above , just at that 
 period to which we brought them both in the two pre- 
 ceding chapters the chariot stopt at the door, and in 
 
Joseph Andrews 293 
 
 an instant Fanny, leaping frtfm it, ran up to her Joseph. 
 O reader ! conceive if thou canst the joy which 
 fired the breasts of these lovers on this meeting ; and 
 if thy own heart doth not sympathetically assist thee 
 in this conception, I pity thee sincerely from my own ; 
 for let the hard-hearted villain know this, that there is 
 a pleasure in a tender sensation beyond any which he is 
 capable of tasting. 
 
 Peter, being informed by Fanny of the presence of 
 Adams, stopt to see him, and receive his homage ; for, 
 as Peter was an hypocrite, a sort of people whom Mr 
 Adams never saw through, the one paid that respect to 
 his seeming goodness which the other believed to be 
 paid to his riches ; hence Mr Adams was so much hia 
 favourite, that he once lent him four pounds thirteen 
 shillings and sixpence to prevent his going to gaol, on 
 no greater security than a bond and judgment, which 
 probably he would have made no use of, though the 
 money had not been (as it was) paid exactly at the 
 time. 
 
 It is not perhaps easy to describe the figure of 
 Adams ; he had risen in such a hurry, that he had 
 on neither breeches, garters, nor stockings ; nor had 
 he taken from his head a red spotted handkerchief, 
 which by night bound his wig, turned inside out, 
 around his head. He had on his torn cassock and 
 his greatcoat ; but, as the remainder of his cassock 
 hung down below his greatcoat, so did a small stripe 
 of white, or rather whitish, linen appear below that ; 
 to which we may add the several colours which ap- 
 peared on his face, where a long piss-burnt beard 
 served to retain the liquor of the stone-pot, and that 
 of a blacker hue which distilled from the mop. This 
 figure, which Fanny had delivered from his captivity, 
 was no sooner spied by Peter than it disordered the 
 composed gravity of his muscles ; however, lie advised 
 
294 The Adventures of 
 
 him immediately to make himself clean, nor would 
 accept his homage in that pickle. 
 
 The poet and player no sooner saw the captain in 
 captivity than they began to consider of their own safety, 
 of which flight presented itself as 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 a little surprized at this change 
 of the scene ; nor was his confusion much helped by his 
 wife, who was now just risen, and, having heard from 
 him the account of what had passed, comforted him 
 with a decent number of fools and blockheads ; asked 
 him why he did not consult her, and told him he would 
 never leave following the nonsensical dictates of his own 
 numskull till she and her family were ruined. 
 
 Joseph, being informed of the captain's arrival, and 
 seeing his Fanny now in safety, quitted her a moment, 
 and, running downstairs, went directly to him, and 
 stripping off his coat, challenged him to fight ; but the 
 captain refused, saying he did not understand boxing. 
 He then grasped a cudgel in one hand, and, catching 
 the captain by the collar with the other, gave him a 
 most severe drubbing, and ended with telling him 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 he had in his chariot, and Mr 
 Adams had put on the best appearance his clothes would 
 allow him, Pounce ordered the captain into his presence, 
 for he said he was guilty of felony, and the next justice 
 of peace should commit him ; but the servants (whose 
 appetite for revenge is soon satisfied), being sufficiently 
 contented with the drubbing which Joseph had inflicted 
 on him, and which was indeed of no very moderate 
 kind, had suffered him to go off, which he did, threaten- 
 
Joseph Andrews 295 
 
 ing a severe revenge against Joseph, which I have never 
 heard he thought proper to take. 
 
 The mistress of the house made her voluntary ap- 
 pearance before Mr Pounce, and with a thousand curtsies 
 told him, " She hoped his honour would pardon her 
 husband, who was a very nonsense man, for the sake of 
 his poor family ; that indeed if he could be ruined alone, 
 she should be very willing of it ; for because as why, 
 his worship very well knew he deserved it; but she 
 had three poor small children, who were not capable to 
 get their own living ; and if her husband was sent to 
 gaol, they must all come to the parish ; for she was a 
 poor weak woman, continually a-breeding, and had no 
 time to work for them. She therefore hoped his 
 honour would take it into his worship's consideration, 
 and forgive her husband 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, the man 
 in some things was well enough ; for she had had three 
 children by him in less than three years, and was almost 
 ready to cry out the fourth time." She would have 
 proceeded in this manner much longer, had not Peter 
 stopt her tongue, by telling her he had nothing to say 
 to her husband nor her neither. So, as Adams and the 
 rest had assured her of forgiveness, she cried and curtsied 
 out of the room. 
 
 Mr Pounce was desirous that Fanny should continue 
 her journey with him in the chariot ; but she absolutely 
 refused, saying she would ride behind Joseph on a horse 
 which one of Lady Booby's servants had equipped him 
 with. But, alas ! when the horse appeared, it was found 
 to be no other than that identical beast which Mr Adams 
 had left behind him at the inn, and which these honest 
 fellows, who knew him, had redeemed. Indeed, what- 
 ever horse they had provided for Joseph, they would 
 have prevailed with him to mount none, no, not even 
 
296 The Adventures of 
 
 to ride before his beloved Fanny, till the parson wai 
 supplied ; much less would he deprive his friend of the 
 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, and told that they 
 had brought the horse with them which he left behind, 
 he answered 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," says he, " I 
 would wage a shilling that the pedestrian outstripped the 
 equestrian travellers ; but, as I intend to take the com- 
 pany of a pipe, perad venture I may be an hour later." 
 One of the servants whispered Joseph to take him at 
 his word, and suffer the old put to walk if he would : 
 this proposal was answered with an angry look and a 
 peremptory refusal by Joseph, who, catching Fanny up 
 in his arms, averred he would rather carry her home in 
 that manner, than take away Mr Adams's horse and 
 permit him to walk on foot. 
 
 Perhaps, reader, thou hast seen a contest between 
 two gentlemen, or two ladies, quickly decided, though 
 they have both asserted they would not eat 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 not therefore conclude hence that this 
 dispute would have come to a speedy decision : for 
 here both parties were heartily in earnest, and it is 
 very probable they would have remained in the inn- 
 yard to this day, had not the good Peter Pounce put 
 a stop to it ; for, finding he had no longer hopes of 
 satisfying his old appetite with Fanny, and being 
 desirous of having some one to whom he might com- 
 municate his grandeur, he told the parson he would 
 convey him home in his chariot. This favour was 
 by Adams, with many bows and acknowledgments, 
 
Joseph Andrews 297 
 
 accepted, though he afterwards said, " he ascended the 
 chariot rather that he might not offend than from any 
 desire of riding in it, for that in his heart he preferred 
 the pedestrian even to the vehicular expedition." All 
 matters being now settled, the chariot, in which rode 
 Adams and Pounce, moved forwards ; and Joseph having 
 borrowed a pillion from the host, Fanny had just seated 
 herself thereon, and had laid hold of the girdle which 
 her lover wore for that purpose, when the wise beast, 
 who concluded that one at a time was sufficient, that 
 two to one were odds, &c., discovered much uneasiness 
 at his double load, and began to consider his hinder as 
 his fore legs, moving the direct contrary way to that 
 which is called forwards. Nor could Joseph, with all 
 his horsemanship, persuade him to advance ; but, without 
 having any regard to the lovely part of the lovely girl 
 which was on his back, he used such agitations, that, 
 had not one of the men come immediately to her 
 assistance, she had, in plain English, tumbled back- 
 wards on the ground. This inconvenience was 
 presently remedied by an exchange of horses ; and 
 then Fanny being again placed on her pillion, on a 
 better-natured and somewhat a better-fed beast, the 
 parson's horse, finding he had no longer odds to contend 
 with, agreed to march ; and the whole procession set 
 forwards for Booby-hall, where they arrived in a few 
 hours without anything remarkable happening on the 
 road, unless it was a curious dialogue between the 
 parson and the steward: which, to use the language 
 of a late Apologist, a pattern to all biographers, " waits 
 for the reader in the next chapter." 
 
29 y The Adventures of 
 Chapter pit;* 
 
 A curious dialogue which passed between Mr Abraham 
 Adams and Mr Peter Pounce, better worth reading 
 than all the works of Colley Gibber and many others. 
 
 THE chariot had not proceeded far before Mr 
 Adams observed it was a very fine day. " Ay, 
 and a very fine country too," answered Pounce. 
 " I should think so more," returned Adams, " if I 
 had not lately travelled over the Downs, which I take 
 to exceed this and all other prospects in the universe/' 
 " A fig for prospects ! " answered Pounce ; " one 
 acre here is worth ten there ; and for my own part, 
 I have no delight in the prospect of any land but my 
 own." " Sir," said Adams, " you can indulge yourself 
 with 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 a little, Mr Adams, 
 with which I do as much good as I can." Adams 
 answered, " That riches without charity were nothing 
 worth ; for that they were a blessing only to him who 
 made them a blessing to others." " You and I," said 
 Peter, "have different notions of charity. I own, as 
 it is generally used, I do not like the word, nor do I 
 think it becomes one of us gentlemen ; it is a mean 
 parson-like quality; though I would not infer many 
 parsons have it neither." " Sir," said Adams, " my 
 definition of charity is, a generous disposition to relieve 
 the distressed." " There is something in that defini- 
 tion," answered Peter, " which I like well enough ; it 
 is, as you say, a disposition, and does not so much con- 
 sist in the act as in the disposition to do it. But, alas ! 
 Mr Adams, who are meant by the distressed ? Believe 
 me, the distresses of mankind are mostly imaginary, and 
 it would be rather folly than goodness to relieve them." 
 
Joseph Andrews 299 
 
 " Sure, sir," replied Adams, " hunger and thirst, cold 
 and nakedness, and other distresses which attend the 
 poor, can never be said to be imaginary evils/' " How 
 can any man complain of hunger," said Peter, " in a 
 country where such excellent salads are to be gathered 
 in almost every field ? or of thirst, where every river 
 and stream produces such delicious potations ? And as 
 for cold and nakedness, they are evils introduced by 
 luxury and custom. A man naturally wants clothes no 
 more than a horse or any other animal ; and there are 
 whole nations who go without them ; but these are things 
 perhaps which you, who do not know the world" 
 " You will pardon me, sir," returned Adams ; " I 
 have read of the Gymnosophists." "A plague of your 
 Jehosaphats ! " cried Peter ; " the greatest fault in our 
 constitution is the provision made for the poor, except 
 that perhaps made for some others. Sir, I have not 
 an estate which doth not contribute almost as much 
 again to the poor as to the land-tax ; and I do assure 
 you I expect to come myself to the parish in the end." 
 To which Adams giving a dissenting smile, Peter thus 
 proceeded : " I fancy, Mr Adams, you are one of those 
 who imagine I am a lump of money ; for there are 
 many who, I fancy, believe that not only my pockets, 
 but my whole clothes, are lined with bank-bills ; but I 
 assure you, you are all mistaken ; I am not the man 
 the world esteems me. If I can hold my head above 
 water it is all I can. I have injured myself by pur- 
 chasing. I have been too liberal of my money. Indeed, 
 I fear my heir will 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 the world is so liberal to bestow on me ? 
 Where could I possibly, without I had stole it, acquire 
 such a treasure ? " " Why, truly," says Adams, " I 
 
300 The Adventures of 
 
 have been always of your opinion ; I have wondered as 
 well as yourself with what confidence they could report 
 such things of you, which have to me appeared as mere 
 impossibilities ; for you know, sir, and I have often 
 heard you say it, that your wealth is of your own 
 acquisition ; and can it be credible that in your short 
 time you should have amassed such a heap of treasure 
 as these people will have you worth ? Indeed, had 
 you inherited ah estate like Sir Thomas Booby, which 
 had descended in your family for many generations, 
 they might have had a colour for their assertions." 
 " Why, what do they say I am worth ? " cries Peter, 
 with a malicious sneer. " Sir/' answered Adams, " I 
 have heard some aver you are not worth less than twenty 
 thousand pounds." At which Peter frowned. " Nay, 
 sir," said Adams, " you ask me only the opinion of 
 others ; for my own part, I have always denied it, nor 
 did I ever believe you could possibly be worth half that 
 Bum." " However, Mr Adams," said he, squeezing 
 him by the hand, " I would not sell them all I am 
 worth for double that sum ; and as to what you believe, 
 or they believe, I care not a fig, no not a fart. I am 
 not poor because you think me so, nor because you 
 attempt to undervalue me in the country. I know the 
 envy of mankind very well ; but I thank Heaven I am 
 above them. It is true, my wealth is of my own acqui- 
 sition. I have not an estate, like Sir Thomas Booby, 
 that has descended in my family through many genera- 
 tions ; but I know heirs of such estates who are forced to 
 travel about the country like some people in torn cassocks, 
 and might be glad to accept of a pitiful curacy for what 
 I know. Yes, sir, as shabby fellows as yourself, whom 
 no man of my figure, without that vice of good- nature 
 about him, would suffer to ride in a chariot with him." 
 " Sir," said Adams, " I value not your chariot of a 
 rush ; and if I had knowp you had intended to affront 
 
Joseph Andrews 301 
 
 me, I would have walked to the world's end on foot 
 ere I would have accepted a place in it. However, 
 sir, I will soon rid you of that inconvenience ; " and, 
 so saying, he opened the chariot door, without calling 
 to the coachman, and leapt out into the highway, 
 forgetting to take his hat along with him ; which, how- 
 ever, Mr Pounce threw after him with great violence. 
 Joseph and Fanny stopt to bear him company the rest 
 of the way, which was not above a mile. 
 
 M 467 
 
BOOK IV. 
 Chapter u 
 
 The arrival of Lady Booby and the rest at Booby-hall. 
 
 THE coach and six, in which Lady Booby rode, 
 overtook the other travellers as they entered the 
 parish. She no sooner saw Joseph than her 
 cheeks glowed with red, and immediately after became 
 as totally pale. She had in her surprize almost stopt 
 her coach ; but recollected herself timely enough to 
 prevent it. She entered the parish amidst the ringing 
 of bells and the acclamations of the poor, who were 
 rejoiced to see their patroness returned after so long an 
 absence, during which time all her rents had been drafted 
 to London, without a shilling being spent among 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 much more must the absence of a person 
 of great fortune be felt in a little country village, for 
 whose inhabitants such a family finds a constant employ- 
 ment and supply ; and with the offals of whose table 
 the infirm, aged, and infant poor are abundantly fed, 
 with a generosity which hath scarce a visible effect on 
 their benefactors' pockets ! 
 
 But, if their interest inspired so public a joy into 
 every countenance, how much more forcibly did the 
 affection which they bore parson Adams operate upon 
 all who beheld his return ! They flocked about him 
 
Joseph Andrews 303 
 
 like dutiful children round an indulgent parent, and vyed 
 with each other in demonstrations of duty and love. 
 The parson on his side shook every one by the hand, 
 enquired heartily after the healths of all that were absent, 
 of their children, and relations ; and exprest a satis- 
 faction in his face which nothing but benevolence made 
 happy by its objects could infuse. 
 
 Nor did Joseph and Fanny want a hearty welcome 
 from all who saw them. In short, no three persons 
 could be more kindly received, as, indeed, none ever 
 more deserved to be universally beloved. 
 
 Adams carried his fellow-travellers home to his 
 house, where he insisted on their partaking whatever 
 his wife, whom, with his children, he found in health 
 and joy, could provide : where we shall leave them 
 enjoying perfect happiness over a homely meal, to view 
 scenes of greater splendour, but infinitely less bliss. 
 
 Our more intelligent readers will doubtless suspect, 
 by this second appearance of Lady Booby on the 
 stage, that all was not ended by the dismission of 
 Joseph ; and, to be honest with them, they are in 
 the right : the arrow had pierced deeper than she 
 imagined ; nor was the wound so 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 his person, but this remained lurking in her mind 
 with his image. Restless, interrupted slumbers, and 
 confused horrible dreams were her portion the first 
 night. In the morning, fancy painted her a more deli- 
 cious scene ; but to delude, not delight her ; for, before 
 she could reach the promised happiness, it vanished, 
 and left her to curse, not bless, the vision. 
 
 She started from her sleep, her imagination being all 
 on fire with the phantom, when, her eyes accidentally 
 glancing towards the spot where yesterday the real 
 Joseph had stood, that little circumstance raised hi 
 
304 The Adventures of 
 
 idea in the liveliest colours in her memory. Each 
 look, each word, each gesture rushed back on her 
 mind with charms which all his coldness could not 
 abate. Nay, she imputed that to his youth, his folly, 
 his awe, his religion, 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 this beautiful youth no more ; nay, suggested 
 to her that she herself had dismissed him for no other 
 fault than probably that of too violent an awe and 
 respect for herself; and which she ought rather to 
 have esteemed a merit, the effects of which were besides 
 so easily and surely to have been removed ; she then 
 blamed, she cursed the hasty rashness of her temper ; 
 her fury was vented all on herself, and Joseph appeared 
 innocent in her eyes. Her passion at length grew so 
 violent, that it forced her on seeking relief, and now 
 she thought of recalling him : but pride forbad that ; 
 pride, which soon drove all softer passions from her 
 soul, and represented to her the meanness of him she 
 was fond of. That thought soon began to obscure his 
 beauties ; contempt succeeded next, and then disdain, 
 which presently introduced her hatred of the creature 
 who had given her so much uneasiness. These enemies 
 of Joseph had no sooner taken possession of her mind 
 than they insinuated to her a thousand things in his 
 disfavour ; everything but dislike of her person ; a 
 thought which, as it would have been intolerable to 
 bear, she checked the moment it endeavoured to arise. 
 Revenge came now to her assistance; and she con- 
 sidered her dismission of him, stript, and without a 
 character, with the utmost pleasure. She rioted in 
 the several kinds of misery which her imagination 
 suggested to her might be his fate ; and, with a smile 
 
Joseph Andrews 305 
 
 composed of anger, mirth, and scorn, viewed him in 
 the rags in which her fancy had drest him. 
 
 Mrs Slipslop, being summoned, attended her mistress, 
 who had now in her own opinion totally subdued this 
 passion. Whilst she was dressing she asked if that 
 fellow had been turned away according to her orders. 
 Slipslop answered, she had told her ladyship so (a* 
 indeed she had). "And how did he behave?" re- 
 plied the lady. " Truly, madam," cries Slipslop, " in 
 such a manner that infected everybody who saw him. 
 The poor lad had but little wages to receive ; for he 
 constantly allowed his father and mother half his in- 
 come ; so that, when your ladyship's livery was stript 
 off, he had not wherewithal to buy a coat, and must 
 have gone naked if one of the footmen had not incom- 
 modated him with one ; and whilst he was standing 
 in his shirt (and, to say truth, he was an amorous 
 figure), being told your ladyship would not give 
 him a character, he sighed, and said he had done 
 nothing willingly to offend ; that for his part, he should 
 always give your ladyship a good character wherever he 
 went ; and he prayed God to bless you ; for you was 
 the best of ladies, though his enemies had set you against 
 him. I wish you had not turned him away ; for I 
 believe you have not a faithfuller servant in the house." 
 " How came you then," replied the lady, " to ad- 
 vise me to turn him away ? " " I, madam ! " said 
 Slipslop ; " I am sure you will do me the justice to 
 say, I did all in my power to prevent it ; but I saw 
 your ladyship was angry ; and it is not the business of 
 us upper servants to hinterfear on these occasions." 
 " And was it not you, audacious wretch ! " cried the 
 lady, "who made me angry? Was it not your tittle- 
 tattle, in which I believe you belyed the poor fellow, 
 which incensed me against him ? He may thank you 
 for all that hath happened ; and so may I for the loss 
 
306 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 of a good servant, and one who probably had more 
 merit than all of you. Poor fellow ! I am charmed 
 with his goodness to his parents. Why did not you 
 tell me of that, but suffer me to dismiss so good a 
 creature without a character ? I see the reason of your 
 whole behaviour now as well as your complaint ; you 
 was jealous of the wenches." " I jealous ! " said Slip- 
 slop ; " I assure you, I look upon myself as his betters ; 
 I am not meat for a footman, I hope." These words 
 threw the lady into a violent passion, and she sent 
 Slipslop from her presence, who departed, tossing her 
 nose, and crying, " Marry, come up ! there are some 
 people more jealous than I, I believe." Her lady 
 affected not to hear the words, though in reality she 
 did, and understood them too. Now ensued a second 
 conflict, so like the former, that it might savour of 
 repetition to relate it minutely. It may suffice to say 
 that Lady Booby found good reason to doubt whether 
 she had so absolutely conquered her passion as she had 
 flattered herself; and, in order to accomplish it quite, 
 took a resolution, more common than wise, to retire 
 immediately into the country. The reader hath long 
 ago seen the arrival of Mrs Slipslop, whom no pertness 
 could make her mistress resolve to part with ; lately, 
 that of Mr Pounce, her forerunners ; and, lastly, that 
 of the lady herself. 
 
 The morning after her arrival being Sunday, she went 
 to church, to the great surprize of everybody, who won- 
 dered to see her ladyship, being no very constant church- 
 woman, there so suddenly upon her journey. Joseph 
 was likewise there ; and I have heard it was remarked 
 that she fixed her eyes on him much more than on the 
 parson ; but this I believe to be only a malicious 
 rumour. When the prayers were ended Mr Adams 
 stood up, and with a loud voice pronounced, " I publish 
 the banns of marriage between Joseph Andrews and 
 
Joseph Andrews 307 
 
 Frances Goodwill, both of this parish," &c. Whether 
 this had any effect on Lady Booby or no, who was 
 then in her pew, which the congregation could not see 
 into, I could never discover : but certain it is that in 
 about a quarter of an hour she stood up, and directed 
 her eyes to that part of the church where the women sat, 
 and persisted in looking that way during the remainder 
 of the sermon in so scrutinizing a manner, and with so 
 angry a countenance, that most of the women were 
 afraid she was offended at them. The moment she 
 returned home she sent for Slipslop into her chamber, 
 and told her she wondered what that impudent fellow 
 Joseph did in that parish ? Upon which Slipslop gave 
 her an account of her meeting Adams with him on the 
 road, and likewise the adventure with Fanny. At the 
 relation of which the lady often changed her counte- 
 nance ; and when she had heard all, she ordered Mr 
 Adams into her presence, to whom she behaved as the 
 reader will see in the next chapter. 
 
 tj. 
 
 A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and the 
 Lady Booby. 
 
 MR ADAMS was not far off, for he was drinking 
 her ladyship's health below in a cup of her ale. 
 He no sooner came before her than she began 
 in the following manner 2 " I wonder, sir, after the 
 many great obligations you have had to this family" 
 (with all which the reader hath in the course of this 
 history been minutely acquainted), "that you will un- 
 gratefully show any respect to a fellow who hath been 
 turned out of it for his misdeeds. Nor doth it, I can 
 tell you, sir, become a man of your character, to run 
 
308 The Adventures of 
 
 about the country with an idle fellow and wench 
 Indeed, as for the girl, I know no harm of her. Slip- 
 slop tells me she was formerly bred up in my house, 
 and behaved as she ought, till she hankered after this 
 fellow, and he spoiled her. Nay, she may still, perhaps, 
 do rery well, if he will let her alone. You are, there- 
 fore, doing a monstrous thing in endeavouring to procure 
 a match between these two people, which will be to the 
 ruin of them both." "Madam/' said Adams, "if 
 your ladyship will but hear me speak, I protest I never 
 heard any harm of Mr Joseph Andrews ; if I had, I 
 should have corrected him for it ; for I never have, nor 
 will, encourage the faults of those under my cure. As 
 for the young woman, I assure your ladyship I have as 
 good an opinion of her as your ladyship yourself or any 
 other can have. She is the sweetest-tempered, honestest, 
 worthiest young creature ; indeed, as to her beauty, I 
 do not commend her on that account, though all men 
 allow she is the handsomest woman, gentle or simple, 
 that ever appeared in the parish." "You are very 
 impertinent," says she, " to talk such fulsome stuff to 
 me. It is mighty becoming truly in a clergyman to 
 trouble himself about handsome women, and you are a 
 delicate judge of beauty, no doubt. A man who hath 
 lived all his life in such a parish as this is a rare judge 
 of beauty ! Ridiculous ! beauty indeed ! a country 
 wench 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 
 vagabonds settled here." "Madam," says Adams, 
 " your ladyship is offended with me, I protest, without 
 any reason. This couple were desirous to consummate 
 long ago, and I dissuaded them from it ; nay, I may 
 venture to say, I believe I was the sole cause of their 
 delaying it." "Well," says she, "and you did very 
 
Joseph Andrews 309 
 
 wisely and honestly too, notwithstanding she is tne 
 greatest beauty m the parish." " And now, madam," 
 continued he, " I only perform my office to Mr Joseph." 
 " Pray, don't mister such fellows to me," cries the 
 lady. "He," said the parson, "with the consent of 
 Fanny, before my face, put in the banns." "Yes," 
 answered the lady, " I suppose the slut is forward 
 enough ; Slipslop tells me how her head runs upon 
 fellows ; that is one of her beauties, I suppose. But if 
 they have put in the banns, I desire you will publish 
 them no more without my orders." " Madam," cries 
 Adams, " if any one puts in a sufficient caution, and 
 assigns a proper reason against them, I am willing to 
 surcease." " I tell you a reason," says she : " he is a 
 vagabond, and he shall not settle here, and bring a nest 
 of beggars into the parish ; it will make us but little 
 amends that they will be beauties." " Madam," 
 answered Adams, " with the utmost submission to your 
 ladysKip, I have been informed by lawyer Scout that 
 any person who serves a year gains a settlement in the 
 parish where he serves." " Lawyer Scout," replied 
 the lady, " is an impudent coxcomb ; I will have no 
 lawyer Scout interfere with me. I repeat to you again, 
 I will have no more incumbrances brought on us : so 
 I desire you will proceed no farther." "Madam," 
 returned Adams, " I would obey your ladyship in 
 everything that is lawful ; but surely the parties being 
 poor is no reason against their marrying. God for- 
 bid there should be any such law ! The poor have 
 little share enough of this world already ; it would 
 be barbarous indeed to deny them the common privi- 
 leges and innocent enjoyments which nature indulges 
 to the animal creation." " Since you understand 
 yourself no better," cries the lady, " nor the re- 
 spect due from such as you to a woman of my dis- 
 tinction, than to affront my ears by such loose discourse, 
 
310 The Adventures of 
 
 I shall mention but one short word ; it is my orders to 
 you that you publish these banns no more ; and if you 
 dare, I will recommend it to your master, the doctor, 
 to discard you from his service. I will, sir, notwith- 
 standing your poor family; and then you and the 
 greatest beauty in the parish may go and beg together." 
 " Madam," answered Adams, " I know not what 
 your ladyship means by the terms master and service. 
 I am in 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 a licence) thinks 
 proper to turn me from my cure, God will provide me, 
 I hope, another. At least, my family, as well as my- 
 self, have hands ; and he will prosper, I doubt not, 
 our endeavours to get our bread honestly with them. 
 Whilst my conscience is pure, I shall never fear what 
 man can do unto me/' " I condemn my humility," 
 said the lady, " for demeaning myself to converse with 
 you go long. I shall take other measures ; for I see 
 you are a confederate with them. But the sooner you 
 leave me the better ; and I shall give orders that my 
 doors may no longer be open to you. I will suffer no 
 parsons who run about the country with beauties to be 
 entertained here." " Madam," said Adams, " I shall 
 enter into no persons' doors against their will ; but I 
 am assured, when you have enquired farther into this 
 matter, you will applaud, not blame, my proceeding ; 
 and so I humbly take my leave : " which he did with 
 many bows, or at least many attempts at a bow. 
 
Joseph Andrews 3 I 
 
 (H. 
 
 What passed between the lady and lawyer Scout. 
 
 IN the afternoon the lady sent for Mr Scout, whom 
 she attacked most violently for intermeddling with 
 her servants, which he denied, and indeed with 
 truth, for he had only asserted accidentally, and per- 
 haps rightly, that a year's service gained a settlement ; 
 and so far he owned he might have formerly informed 
 the parson and believed it was law. " I am resolved," 
 said the lady, " to have no discarded servants of mine 
 settled here ; and so, if this be your law, I shall send 
 to another lawyer." Scout said, " If she sent to a 
 hundred lawyers, not one or all of them could alter the 
 law. The utmost that was in the power of a lawyer 
 was to prevent the law's taking effect ; and that he 
 himself could do for her ladyship as well as any other ; 
 and I believe," says he, " madam, your ladyship, not 
 being conversant in these matters, hath mistaken a 
 difference ; for I asserted only that a man who served 
 a year was settled. Now there is a material difference 
 between being settled in law and settled in fact ; and 
 as I affirmed generally he was settled, and law is pre- 
 ferable to fact, my settlement must be understood in 
 law and not in fact. And suppose, madam, we admit 
 he was settled in law, what use will they make of it I \ 
 how doth that relate to fact ? He is not settled in ' 
 fact ; and if he be not settled in fact, he is not an 
 inhabitant ; 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 Adams hath told me your lady- 
 ship's pleasure, and the reason, which is a very good one, 
 to prevent burdening us with the poor ; we have too many 
 already, and I think we ought to have an act to hang or 
 transport half of them. If we can prove in evidence that 
 
3 1 2 The Adventures of 
 
 he is not settled in fact, it is another matter. What I said 
 to Mr Adams was on a supposition that he was settled in 
 fact ; and indeed, if that was the case, I should doubt." 
 " Don't tell me your facts and your ifs," said the 
 lady; "I don't understand your gibberish; you take 
 too much upon you, and are very impertinent, in pre- 
 tending to direct in this parish ; and you shall be 
 taught better, I assure you, you shall. But as to the 
 wench, I am resolved she shall not settle here ; I will 
 not suffer such beauties as these to produce children 
 for us to keep." *' Beauties, indeed ! your ladyship is 
 pleased to be merry," answered Scout. " Mr Adams 
 described her so to me," said the lady. " Pray, what 
 sort of dowdy is it, Mr Scout?" "The ugliest crea- 
 ture almost I ever beheld 5 a poor dirty drab, your 
 ladyship never saw such a wretch." "Well, but, 
 dear Mr Scout, let her be what she will, these ugly 
 women will bring children, you know ; so that we 
 must prevent the marriage."" True, madam," replied 
 Scout, " for the subsequent marriage co-operating with 
 the law will carry law into fact. When a man is 
 married he is settled in fact, and then he is not remov- 
 able. I will see Mr Adams, and I make no doubt of 
 prevailing with him. His only objection is, doubtless, 
 that he shall lose his fee ; but that being once made 
 easy, as it shall be, I am confident no farther objection 
 will remain. No, no, it is impossible ; but your lady- 
 ship can't discommend his unwillingness to depart from 
 his fee. Every man ought to have a proper value for 
 his fee. As to the matter in question, if your ladyship 
 pleases to employ me in it, I will venture to promise 
 you success. The laws of this land are not so vulgar to 
 permit a mean fellow to contend with one of your lady- 
 ship's fortune. We have one sure card, which is, to 
 carry him before Justice Frolick, who, upon hearing 
 your ladyship's name, will commit him without any 
 
Joseph Andrews 3 1 3 
 
 farther questions. As for the dirty slut, we shall have 
 nothing to do with her } for, if we get rid of the fellow, 
 the ugly jade will " "Take what measures you 
 please, good Mr Scout,'* answered the lady : " but I 
 wish you could rid the parish of both; for Slipslop 
 tells me such stories of this wench, that I abhor the 
 thoughts of her ; and, though you say she is such an 
 ugly slut, yet you know, dear Mr Scout, these forward 
 creatures, who run after men, will always find some as 
 forward as themselves ; so that, to prevent the increase 
 of beggars, we must get rid of her. " Your ladyship 
 is very much in the right," answered Scout ; " but I 
 am afraid the law is a little deficient in giving us any 
 such power of prevention ; however, the justice 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 the commission, for he hath taken several poor 
 off our hands that the law would never lay hold on. 
 I know some justices who think as much of committing 
 a man to Bridewell as his lordship at 'size would oi 
 hanging him ; but it would do a man good to see his 
 worship, our justice, commit a fellow to Bridewell, he 
 takes so much pleasure in it ; and when ance we ha'um 
 there, we seldom hear any more o'um. He's either 
 starved or eat up by vermin in a month's time." Here 
 the arrival of a visitor put an end to the conversation, 
 and Mr Scout, having undertaken the cause and pro- 
 mised it success, departed. 
 
 This Scout was one of those fellows who, without 
 any knowledge of the law, or being bred to it, take 
 upon them, in defiance of an act of Parliament, to act 
 as lawyers in the country, and are called so. They are 
 the pests of society, and a scandal to a profession, to 
 which indeed they do not belong, and which owes to 
 such kind of rascallions the ill-will which weak persons 
 bear towards it. With this fellow, to whom a little 
 
3 1 4 The Adventures of 
 
 before she would not have condescended to have 
 spoken, did a certain passion for Joseph, and the 
 jealousy and the disdain of poor innocent Fanny, 
 betray the Lady Booby into a familiar discourse, in 
 which she inadvertently confirmed many hints with 
 which Slipslop, whose gallant he was, had pre- 
 acquainted him ; and whence he had taken an oppor- 
 tunity to assert those severe falsehoods of little Fanny 
 which possibly the reader might not have been well 
 able to account for if we had not thought proper to 
 give him this information. 
 
 Chapter tfc. 
 
 A short chapter, but very full of matter ; particularly the 
 arrival of Mr Booby and his lady. 
 
 A.,L that night, and the next day, the Lady 
 Booby past with the utmost anxiety ; her 
 mind was distracted and her soul tossed up and 
 down by many turbulent and opposite passions. She 
 loved, hated, pitied, scorned, admired, despised the 
 same person by fits, which changed in a very short 
 interval. On Tuesday morning, which happened to 
 be a holiday, she went to church, where, to her sur- 
 prize, Mr Adams published the banns again with as 
 audible a voice as before. It was lucky for her that, 
 as there was no sermon, she had an immediate oppor- 
 tunity of returning home to vent her rage, which she 
 could not have concealed from the congregation five 
 minutes ; indeed, it was not then very numerous, the 
 assembly consisting of no more than Adams, his clerk, 
 his wife, the lady, and one of her servants. At her 
 return she met Slipslop, who accosted her in these 
 words : " O meam, what doth your ladyship think ? 
 
Joseph Andrews 315 
 
 To be sure, lawyer Scout hath carried Joseph and 
 Fanny both before the justice. All the parish are 
 in tears, and say they will certainly be hanged; for 
 nobody knows what it is for." "I fuppose they 
 deserve it," says the kdy. " What ! dost thou mention 
 such wretches to me ? " " O dear madam," answered 
 Slipslop, " is it not a pity such a graceless young man 
 should die a virulent 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 ; and 
 if poor Joseph hath done anything, I could venture to 
 swear she traduced him to it : few men ever come to a 
 fragrant punishment, but by those nasty creatures, who 
 are a scandal to our sect." The lady was no more 
 pleased at this news, after a moment's reflection, than 
 Slipslop herself; for, though she wished Fanny far 
 enough, she did not desire the removal of Joseph, 
 especially with her. She was puzzled how to act or 
 what 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 and his lady. She 
 ordered them to be conducted into a drawing-room, 
 whither she presently repaired, having composed her 
 countenance as well as she could, and being a little 
 satisfied that the wedding would by these means be at 
 least interrupted, and that she should have an oppor- 
 tunity to execute any resolution she might take, for 
 which she saw herself provided with an excellent 
 instrument in Scout. 
 
 The Lady Booby apprehended her servant had 
 made a mistake when he mentioned Mr Booby's lady ; 
 for she had never heard of his marriage : but how great 
 was her surprize when, at her entering the room, her 
 nephew presented his wife to her; saying, "Madam, 
 this is that charming Pamela, of whom I am convinced 
 you have heard so much." The lady received her 
 
3 1 6 The Adventures of 
 
 with more civility than he expected ; indeed with 
 the utmost ; for she was perfectly polite, nor had any 
 vice inconsistent with good-breeding. They past 
 some little time in ordinary discourse, when a servant 
 came and whispered Mr Booby, who presently told 
 the ladies he must desert them a little on some business 
 of consequence; and, as their discourse during his 
 absence would afford little improvement or entertain^ 
 ment to the reader, we will leave them for a while to 
 attend Mr Booby. 
 
 Containing justice business ; curious precedents of deposi- 
 tions , and other matters necessary to be perused by all 
 justices of the peace and their clerks 
 
 THE young squire and his lady were no sooner 
 alighted from their coach than the servants began 
 to inquire after Mr Joseph, from whom they 
 said their lady had not heard a word, to her great sur- 
 prize, since he had left Lady Booby's. Upon this they 
 were instantly informed of what had lately happened, 
 with which they hastily acquainted their master, who 
 took an immediate resolution to go himself, and en- 
 deavour to restore his Pamela her brother, before she 
 even knew she had lost him. 
 
 The justice before whom the criminals were carried, 
 and who lived within a short mile of the lady's house, 
 was luckily Mr Booby's acquaintance, by his having an 
 estate in his neighbourhood. Ordering therefore his 
 horses to his coach, he set out for the judgment-seat, 
 and arrived when the justice had almost finished his 
 business. He was conducted into a hall, where he was 
 acquainted that his worship would wait on him in a 
 
Joseph Andrews 317 
 
 moment ; for he had only a man and a woman to com- 
 mit to Bridewell first. As he was now convinced he 
 had not a minute to lose, he insisted on the servant's 
 introducing him directly into the room where the justice 
 was then executing his office, as he called it. Being 
 brought thither, and the first compliments being passed 
 between the squire and his worship, the former asked 
 the latter what crime those two young people had been 
 guilty of? "No great crime," answered the justice; 
 " I have only ordered them to Bridewell for a month." 
 " But what is their crime ? " repeated the squire. 
 " Larceny, an't please your honour," said Scout. 
 " Ay," says the justice, " a kind of felonious larcenous 
 thing. I believe I must order them a little correction 
 too, a little stripping and whipping." (Poor Fanny, 
 who had hitherto supported all with the thoughts of 
 Joseph's company, trembled at that sound ; but, indeed, 
 without reason, for none but 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 a deposition which, in the absence 
 of his clerk, he had writ himself, of which we have with 
 great difficulty procured an authentic copy ; and here it 
 follows verbatim et literatim : 
 
 The depusltlon of James Scout, layer , and Thomas Trotter ', 
 yeoman^ taken before mce, one of his magesty* s justasses 
 of the piece for Zumer set shire. 
 
 "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 
 
3 1 8 The Adventures of 
 
 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 for a twig ? " " Yes," said the 
 lawyer, " and with great lenity too ; for if we had called 
 it a young tree, they would have been both hanged." 
 "Harkee," says the justice, taking aside the squire; 
 " I should not have been so severe on this occasion, but 
 Lady Booby desires to get them out of the parish ; so 
 lawyer Scout will give the constable orders to let them 
 run away, if they please, but it seems they intend to 
 marry together, and the lady hath no other means, as 
 they are legally settled there, to prevent their bringing 
 an incumbrance on her own parish." "Well," said 
 the squire, " I will take care my aunt shall be satisfied 
 in this point ; and likewise I promise you, Joseph here 
 shall never be any incumbrance on 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 desire it," answered the justice ; and without 
 more ado Joseph and Fanny were delivered over to 
 Squire Booby, whom Joseph very well knew, but little 
 guessed how nearly he was related to him. The 
 justice burnt his mittimus, the constable was sent about 
 his business, the lawyer made no complaint for want of 
 justice ; and the prisoners, with exulting hearts, gave a 
 thousand thanks to his honour Mr Booby ; who did 
 not intend their obligations to him should cease here ; 
 
Joseph Andrews 319 
 
 for, ordering his man to produce a cloak-bag, which 
 he had caused to be brought from Lady Booby's on 
 purpose, he desired the justice that he might have 
 Joseph with him into a room ; where, ordering his 
 servant to take out a suit of his own clothes, with linnen 
 and other necessaries, he left Joseph to dress himself, 
 who, not yet knowing the cause of all this civility, ex- 
 cused his accepting such a favour as long as decently he 
 could. Whilst Joseph was dressing, the squire repaired 
 to the justice, whom he found talking with Fanny ; for, 
 daring the examination, she had flopped her hat over 
 her eyes, which were also bathed in tears, and had by 
 that means concealed from his worship what might 
 perhaps have rendered the arrival of Mr Booby un- 
 necessary, at least for herself. The justice no sooner 
 saw her countenance cleared up, and her bright eyes 
 shining through her tears, than he secretly cursed him- 
 self for having once thought of Bridewell for her. He 
 would willingly have sent his own wife thither, to have 
 had Fanny in her place. And, conceiving almost at 
 the same instant desires and schemes to accomplish 
 them, he employed the minutes whilst the squire was 
 absent with Joseph in assuring her how sorry he was 
 for having treated her so roughly before he knew hei 
 merit ; and told her, that since Lady Booby was un- 
 willing that she should settle in her parish, she was 
 heartily welcome to his, where he promised her his 
 protection, adding that he would take Joseph and her 
 into his own family, if she liked it ; which assurance 
 he confirmed with a squeeze by the hand. She 
 thanked him very kindly, and said, " She would ac- 
 quaint Joseph with the offer, which he would certainly 
 be glad to accept ; for that Lady Booby was angry 
 with them both ; though she did not know either had 
 done anything to offend her, but imputed it to Madam 
 Slipslop, who had always been her enemy." 
 
320 The Adventures of 
 
 The squire now returned, and prevented any farther 
 continuance of this conversation; and the justice, out 
 of a pretended respect to his guest, but in reality from 
 an apprehension of a rival (for he knew nothing of his 
 marriage), ordered Fanny into the kitchen, whither 
 she gladly retired ; nor did the squire, who declined 
 the trouble of explaining the whole matter, oppose it. 
 
 It would be unnecessary, if I was able, which indeed 
 I am not, to relate the conversation between these two 
 gentlemen, which rolled, as I have been informed, en- 
 tirely on the subject of horse- racing. Joseph was soon 
 drest in the plainest dress he could find, which was a 
 blue coat and breeches, with a gold edging, and a red 
 waistcoat with the same : 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 
 his quality as his shape ; nor have suspected, as one 
 
 might, when my Lord , or Sir , or Mr , 
 
 appear in lace or embroidery, that the taylor's man wore 
 those clothes home on his back which he should have 
 carried under his arm. 
 
 The squire now took leave of the justice ; and, 
 calling for Fanny, made her and Joseph, against their 
 wills, get into the coach with him, which he 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 the field ; for, added 
 he, I never saw one take such strides before. Joseph 
 answered eagerly, " O, sir, it is parson Adams ! " " O 
 la, indeed, and so it is," 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." " The best creature living 
 ure," cries Fanny. " Is he ? " says the squire ; " then 
 
Joseph Andrews 3 2 1 
 
 I am resolved to have the best creature living in my 
 coach ; " and so saying, he ordered it to stop, whilst 
 Joseph, at his request, hallowed to the parson, who, 
 well knowing his voice, made all the haste imaginable, 
 and soon came up with them. He was desired by the 
 master, who could scarce refrain from laughter at his 
 figure, to mount into the coach, which he with many 
 thanks refused, saying he could walk by its side, and 
 he'd warrant he kept up with it ; but he was at length 
 over-prevailed on. The squire now acquainted Joseph 
 with his marriage; but he might have spared himself 
 that labour ; for his servant, whilst Joseph was dressing, 
 had performed that office before. He continued to 
 express the vast happiness he enjoyed in his sister, and 
 the value he had for all who belonged to her. Joseph 
 made many bows, and exprest as many acknowledg- 
 ments : and parson Adams, who now first perceived 
 Joseph's new apparel, burst into tears with joy, and fell 
 to rubbing his hands and snapping his fingers as if he 
 had been mad. 
 
 They were now arrived at the Lady Booby's, and 
 the squire, desiring them to wait a moment in the court, 
 walked in to his aunt, and calling her out 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 her relations, and show them all a 
 proper respect ; I shall think myself therefore infinitely 
 obliged to all mine who will do the same. It is true, 
 her brother hath been your servant, but he is now be- 
 come my brother ; and I have one happiness, that 
 neither his character, his behaviour, or appearance, give 
 me any reason to be ashamed of calling him so. In 
 short, he is now below, dressed like a gentleman, in 
 which light I intend he shall hereafter be seen; and 
 you will oblige me beyond expression if you will 
 admit him to be of our party ; for I know it will 
 
322 The Adventures of 
 
 give great pleasure to my wife, though she will not 
 mention it. 
 
 This was a stroke of fortune beyond the Lady 
 Booby's hopes or expectation ; she answered him 
 eagerly, "Nephew, you know how easily I am pre- 
 vailed on to do anything which Joseph Andrews 
 desires Phoo, I mean which you desire me ; and, as 
 he is now your relation, I cannot refuse to entertain 
 him as such." The squire told her he knew his 
 obligation to her for her compliance ; and going three 
 steps, returned and told her he had one more favour, 
 which he believed she would easily grant, as she had ac- 
 corded him the former. " There is a young woman " 
 " Nephew," says she, " don't let my good-nature 
 make you desire, as is too commonly the case, to impose 
 on me. Nor think, because I have with so much con- 
 descension 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 the dirty trollops in the 
 country." " Madam," answered the squire, " I believe 
 you never saw this young creature. I never beheld 
 such sweetness and innocence joined with such beauty, 
 and withal so genteel." " Upon my soul I won't 
 admit her," replied the lady in a passion ; " the whole 
 world shan't prevail on me ; I resent even the desire 
 
 as an affront, and " The squire, who knew her 
 
 inflexibility, interrupted her, by asking pardon, and 
 promising not to mention it more. He then returned 
 to Joseph, and she to Pamela. He took Joseph aside, 
 and told him he would carry him to his sister, but could 
 not prevail as yet for Fanny. Joseph begged that he 
 might see his sister alone, and then be with his Fanny ; 
 but the squire, knowing the pleasure his wife would have 
 in her brother's company, would not admit it, telling 
 Joseph there would be nothing in so short an absence 
 from Fanny, whilst he was assured of her safety ; adding, 
 
Joseph Andrews 323 
 
 he hoped he could not so easily quit a sister whom 
 he had not seen so long, and who so tenderly loved him. 
 Joseph immediately complied ; for indeed no brother 
 could love a sister more ; and, recommending Fanny, 
 who rejoiced that she was not to go before Lady Booby, 
 to the care of Mr Adams, he attended the squire 
 upstairs, whilst Fanny repaired with the parson to 
 his house, where she thought herself secure of a kind 
 reception. 
 
 Chapter tot* 
 
 Of which you are desired to read no more than you like. 
 
 THE meeting between Joseph and Pamela was not 
 without tears of joy on both sides ; and their 
 embraces were full of tenderness and affection. 
 They were, however, regarded with much more pleasure 
 by the nephew than by the aunt, to whose flame they 
 were fuel only ; and this was increased by the addition 
 of dress, which was indeed not wanted to set off the 
 lively colours in which Nature had drawn health, 
 strength, comeliness, and youth. In the afternoon 
 Joseph, at their request, entertained them with an 
 account of his adventures : nor could Lady Booby 
 conceal her dissatisfaction at those parts in which 
 Fanny was concerned, especially when Mr Booby 
 launched forth into such rapturous praises of her beauty. 
 She said, applying to her niece, that she wondered her 
 nephew, who had pretended to marry for love, should 
 think such a subject proper to amuse his wife with ; 
 adding, that, for her part, she should be jealous of a 
 husband who spoke so warmly in praise of another 
 woman. Pamela answered, indeed, she thought she 
 had cause ; but it was an instance of Mr Booby's apt- 
 ness to see more beauty in women than they were 
 
324 The Adventures of 
 
 mistresses of. At which words both the women fixed 
 their eyes on two looking-glasses $ and Lady Booby 
 replied, that men were, in the general, very ill judges of 
 beauty ; and then, whilst both contemplated only their 
 own faces, they paid a cross compliment to each other's 
 charms. When the hour of rest approached, which the 
 kdy of the house deferred as long as decently she could, 
 she informed Joseph (whom for the future we shall call 
 Mr Joseph, he having as good a title to that appellation 
 as many others I mean that incontested one of good 
 clothes) that she had ordered a bed to be provided for 
 him. He declined this favour to his utmost ; for his 
 heart had long been with his Fanny ; but she insisted 
 on his accepting it, alledging that the parish had no proper 
 accommodation for such a person as he was now to 
 esteem himself. The squire and his lady both joining 
 with her, Mr Joseph was at last forced to give over his 
 design of visiting Fanny that evening ; who, on her 
 side, as impatiently expected him till midnight, when, 
 in complacence to 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 her waking, 
 and his not returning according to his promise filled her 
 with uneasiness ; of which, however, she could not 
 assign any other cause than merely that of being absent 
 from him. 
 
 Mr Joseph rose early in the morning, and visited her 
 in whom his soul delighted. She no sooner heard his 
 voice in the parson's parlour than she leapt from her 
 bed, and, dressing herself in a few minutes, went down 
 to him. They passed two hours with inexpressible 
 happiness together ; and then, having appointed Mon- 
 day, by Mr Adams's permission, for their marriage, 
 Mr Joseph returned, according to his promise, to break- 
 fast at the Lady Booby's, with whose behaviour, since 
 the evening, we shall now acquaint the reader. 
 
Joseph Andrews 325 
 
 She was no sooner retired to her chamber than she 
 asked Slipslop "What she thought of thi* wonderful 
 creature her nephew had married ? " " Madam ? " said 
 Slipslop, not yet sufficiently understanding what answer 
 she was to make. " I ask you," answered the lady, 
 " what you think of the dowdy, my niece, I think I 
 am to call her ? " Slipslop, wanting no further hint, 
 began to pull her to pieces, and so miserably defaced 
 her, that it would have been impossible for any one to 
 have known the person. The lady gave her all the 
 assistance she could, and ended with saying, " I think, 
 Slipslop, you have done her justice ; but yet, bad as she 
 is, she is an angel compared to this Fanny." Slipslop 
 then fell on Fanny, whom she hacked and hewed in the 
 like barbarous manner, concluding with an observation 
 that there was always something in those low-life 
 creatures which must eternally extinguish them from 
 their betters. " Really," said the lady, " I think there 
 is one exception to your rule ; I am certain you may 
 guess who I mean." " Not I, upon my word, madam," 
 said Slipslop. " I mean a young fellow ; sure you are the 
 dullest wretch," said the lady. " O la ! I am indeed. 
 Yes, truly, madam, he is an accession," answered Slip- 
 slop. " Ay, is he not, Slipslop ? " returned the lady. 
 " Is he not so genteel that a prince might, without a 
 blush, acknowledge him for his son ? His behaviour 
 is such that would not shame the best education. He 
 borrows from his station a condescension in everything 
 to his superiors, yet unattended by that mean servility 
 which is called good behaviour in such persons. Every- 
 thing he doth hath no mark of the base motive of fear, 
 but visibly shows some respect and gratitude, and carries 
 with it the persuasion of love. And then for his virtues : 
 such piety to his parents, such tender affection to his 
 sister, such integrity in his friendship, such bravery, such 
 goodness, that, if he had been born a gentleman, his wife 
 
326 The Adventures of 
 
 would have possessed the most invaluable blessing." 
 " To be sure, ma'am," says Slipslop. " But as he is," 
 answered the lady, " if he had a thousand more good 
 qualities, it must render a woman 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 ? n 
 replied the lady ; " thou art always one's echo. Is he 
 not more worthy of affection than a dirty country clown, 
 though born of a family as old as the flood ? or an idle 
 worthless rake, or little puisny beau of quality ? And 
 yet these we must condemn ourselves to, in order to 
 avoid the censure of the world ; to shun the contempt 
 of others, we must ally ourselves to those we despise ; 
 we must prefer birth, tide, and fortune, to real merit. 
 It is a tyranny of custom, a tyranny we must comply 
 with ; for we people of fashion are the slaves of custom." 
 " Marry come up ! " said Slipslop, who now knew 
 well which party to take. " If I was a woman of your 
 ladyship's fortune and quality, I would be a slave to 
 nobody." " Me," said the lady ; " I am speaking 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 not imagine- " " No, 
 ma'am, to be sure," cries Slipslop. " No ! what no ? " 
 cried the lady. " Thou art always ready to answer 
 before thou hast heard one. 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 
 husband who but if I should reflect I should run mad. 
 My future ease must depend upon forgetfulness. Slip- 
 slop, let mo hear some of thy nonsense, to turn my 
 thoughts another way. What dost thou think of Mr 
 Andrews ? " " Why, I think," says Slipslop, " he is 
 the handsomest, most properest man I ever saw ; and 
 if I was a lady of the greatest degree it would be well 
 
Joseph Andrews 327 
 
 for some folks. Your ladyship may talk of custom, if 
 you please : but I am confidous there is no more com- 
 parison between young Mr Andrews and most of the 
 young gentlemen who come to your ladyship's house in 
 London ; a parcel of whipper-snapper sparks : I would 
 sooner marry our old parson Adams. Never tell me 
 what people say, whilst I am happy in the arms of him I 
 love. Some folks rail against other folks because other 
 folks have what some folks would be glad of." " And 
 so," answered the lady, " if you was a woman of con- 
 dition, you would really marry Mr Andrews ? " " Yes, 
 I assure your ladyship," replied Slipslop, " if he would 
 have me." " Fool, idiot ! " cries the lady ; " if he 
 would have a woman of fashion ! is that a question ? " 
 " No, truly, madam," said Slipslop, " I believe it 
 would be none if Fanny was out of the way ; and I am 
 confidous, if I was in your ladyship's place, and liked 
 Mr Joseph Andrews, she should not stay in the parish 
 a moment. I am sure lawyer Scout would send her 
 packing if your ladyship would but say the word." 
 This last speech of Slipslop raised a tempest in the 
 mind of her mistress. She feared Scout had betrayed 
 her, or rather that she had betrayed herself. After 
 some silence, and a double change of her complexion, 
 first to pale and then to red, she thus spoke : " I am 
 astonished at the liberty you give your tongue. Would 
 you insinuate that I employed Scout against this wench 
 on account of the fellow ? " " La, ma'am," said Slip- 
 slop, frighted out of her wits, " I assassinate such a 
 thing ! " " I think you dare not," answered the lady ; 
 " I believe my conduct may defy malice itself to assert 
 so cursed a slander. If I had ever discovered any 
 wantonness, any lightness in my behaviour; if I had 
 followed the example of some whom thou hast, I believe, 
 seen, in allowing myself indecent liberties, even with a 
 husband ; but the dear man who is gone " (here she 
 
3 a8 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 began to sob), "was he alive again" (then she pro- 
 duced tears), "could not upbraid me with any one 
 act of tenderness or passion. No, Slipslop, all the 
 time I cohabited with him he never obtained even a 
 kiss from me without my expressing reluctance in the 
 granting 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 wants but a day) ago, 
 I have not admitted one visitor till this fool my nephew 
 arrived. I have confined myself quite to one party of 
 , friends. And can such a conduct as this fear to be 
 arraigned ? To be accused, not only of a passion which 
 I have always despised, but of fixing it on such an 
 object, a creature so much beneath my notice ! " 
 " Upon my word, ma'am," says Slipslop, " I do not 
 understand your ladyship ; nor know I anything of the 
 matter." " I believe indeed thou dost not understand 
 me. Those are delicacies which exist only in superior 
 * minds ; thy coarse ideas cannot comprehend them. 
 Thou art a low creature, of the Andrews breed, a 
 reptile of a lower order, a Weed that grows in the 
 common garden of the creation." " I assure your 
 ladyship," says Slipslop, whose passions were almost 
 of as high an order as her lady's, " I have no more 
 to do with Common Garden than other folks. Really, 
 your ladyship talks of servants as if they were not 
 born of the Christian specious. Servants have flesh 
 and blood as well as quality ; and Mr Andrews himself 
 is a proof that they have as good, if not better. And 
 for my own part, I can't perceive my dears * are 
 coarser than other people's ; and I am sure, if Mr 
 Andrews was a dear of mine, I should not be ashamed 
 of him in company with gentlemen ; for whoever hath 
 seen him in his new clothes must confess he looks as 
 much like a gentleman as anybody. Coarse, quotha! 
 * Meaning perhaps ideas. 
 
Joseph Andrews 329 
 
 I can't bear to hear the poor young fellow run down 
 neither ; for I will say this, I never heard him say an 
 ill word of anybody in his life. I am sure his coarse- 
 ness doth not lie in his heart, for he is the best-natured 
 man in the world ; and as for his skin, it is no coarser 
 than other people's, I am sure. His bosom, when a 
 boy, was as white as driven 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 
 envy the best she who wears a head. A woman that 
 could not be happy with such a man ought never to be 
 so ; for if he can't make a woman happy, I never yet 
 beheld the man who could. I say again, I wish I was 
 a great lady for his sake. I believe, when I had made 
 a gentleman of him, he'd behave so that nobody should 
 deprecate what I had done ; and I fancy few would 
 venture to tell him he was no gentleman to his face, 
 nor to mine neither." 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 ? 
 who mildly answered, she had none ; and, telling her 
 she was a comical creature, bid her good-night. 
 
 r bin 
 
 Philosophical reflections, the like not to be found In any 
 light French romance. Mr Booby's grave advice to 
 Joseph, and Fanny 9 s encounter with a beau. 
 
 HABIT, my good reader, hath so vast a prevalence 
 over the human mind, that there is scarce any- 
 thing too strange or too strong to be asserted of 
 it. The story of the miser, who, from long accustom- 
 ing to cheat others, came at last to cheat himself, and 
 with great delight and triumph picked his own pocket 
 
330 The Adventures of 
 
 of a guinea to convey to his hoard, is not impossible or 
 improbable. In like manner it fares with the practisers 
 of deceit, who, from having long deceived their acquaint- 
 ance, gain at last a power of deceiving themselves, and 
 acquire that very opinion (however false) of their own 
 abilities, excellencies, and virtues, into which they 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 iove exercises most of the talents of the female 
 or fair world, so in this they now and then discover a 
 small inclination to deceit ; for which thou wilt not be 
 angry with the beautiful creatures when thou hast con- 
 sidered that at the age of seven, or something earlier, 
 miss is instructed by her mother that master is a very 
 monstrous kind of animal, who will, if she suffers him 
 to come too near her, infallibly eat her up and grind 
 her to pieces : that, so far from kissing or toying with 
 him of her own accord, she must not admit him to kiss 
 or toy with her : and, lastly, that she must never have 
 any affection towards him ; for if she should, all her 
 friends in petticoats would esteem her a traitress, point 
 at her, and hunt her out of their society. These im- 
 pressions, being first received, are farther and deeper 
 inculcated by their school-mistresses and companions ; 
 so that by the age of ten they have contracted such a 
 dread and abhorrence of the above-named monster, that 
 whenever they see him they fly from him as the innocent 
 hare doth from the greyhound. Hence, to the age of 
 fourteen or fifteen, they entertain a mighty antipathy to 
 master ; they resolve, and frequently profess, that they 
 will never have any commerce with him, and entertain 
 fond hopes of passing their lives out of his reach, of the 
 possibility of which they have so visible an example in 
 their good maiden aunt. But when they arrive at this 
 period, and have now passed their second climacteric, 
 
Joseph Andrews 331 
 
 when their wisdom, grown riper, begins to see a little 
 farther, and, from almost daily falling in master's way, 
 to apprehend the great difficulty of keeping out of it ; 
 and when they observe him look often at them, and 
 sometimes very eagerly and earnestly too (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 they cannot easily avoid him, the wiser part 
 bethink themselves of providing by other means for 
 their security. They endeavour, by all methods they 
 can invent, to render themselves so amiable in his eyes, 
 that he may have no inclination to hurt them ; in which 
 they generally succeed so well, that his eyes, by frequent 
 languishing, soon lessen their idea of his fierceness, and 
 so far abate their fears, that they venture to parley with 
 him; and when they perceive him so different from 
 what he hath been described, all gentleness, softness, 
 kindness, tenderness, fondness, their dreadful apprehen- 
 sions vanish in a moment ; and now (it being usual 
 with the human mind to skip from one extreme to its 
 opposite, as easily, and almost as suddenly, as a bird 
 from one bough to another) love instantly succeeds to 
 fear : but, as it happens to persons who have in their 
 infancy been thoroughly frightened with certain no- 
 persons called ghosts, that they retain their dread of 
 those beings after they are convinced that there are no 
 such things, so these young ladies, though they no longer 
 apprehend devouring, cannot so entirely shake off all 
 that hath been instilled into them ; they still entertain 
 the idea of that censure which was so strongly imprinted 
 on their tender minds, to which the declarations of abhor- 
 rence they every day hear from their companions greatly 
 contribute. To avoid this censure, therefore, is now 
 their only care ; for which purpose they still pretend the 
 same aversion to the monster : and the more they love 
 him, the more ardently they counterfeit the antipathy. 
 
332 The Adventures of 
 
 By the continual and constant practice of which deceit 
 on others, they at length impose on themselves, and 
 really believe they hate what they love. Thus, indeed, 
 it happened to Lady Booby, who loved Joseph long 
 before she knew it; and now loved him much more 
 than she suspected. She had indeed, from the time of 
 his sister's arrival in the quality of her niece, and from 
 the instant she viewed him in the dress and character of 
 a gentleman, began to conceive secretly a design which 
 love had concealed from herself till a dream betrayed it 
 to her. 
 
 She had no sooner risen than she sent for her 
 nephew. When he came to her, after many compli- 
 ments on his choice, she told him, " He might per- 
 ceive, in her condescension to admit her own servant 
 to her table, that she looked on the family of Andrews 
 as his relations, and indeed hers ; that, as he had 
 married into such a family, it became him to endeavour 
 by all methods to raise it as much as possible. At 
 length she advised him to use all his heart to dissuade 
 Joseph from his intended match, which would still 
 enlarge their relation to meanness and poverty; con- 
 cluding that, by a commission in the army, or some 
 other genteel employment, he might soon put young 
 Mr Andrews on the foot of a gentleman ; and, that 
 being once done, his accomplishments might quickly 
 gain him an alliance which would not be to their 
 discredit." 
 
 Her nephew heartily embraced this proposal j and, 
 finding Mr Joseph with his wife, at his return to her 
 chamber, he immediately began thus : " My love to 
 my dear Pamela, brother, will extend to all her 
 relations; nor shall I show them less respect than if 
 I had married into the family of a duke. I hope I 
 have given you some early testimonies of this, and 
 shall continue to give you daily more. You will 
 
Joseph Andrews 333 
 
 excuse me therefore, brother, if my concei n for youi 
 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 decline any thoughts of engaging 
 farther with a girl who is, as you are a relation of mine, 
 so much beneath you. I know there may be at first 
 some difficulty in your compliance, but that will daily 
 diminish ; and you will in the end sincerely thank me 
 for my advice. I own, indeed, the girl is handsome ; 
 but beauty alone is a poor ingredient, and will make 
 but an uncomfortable marriage." " Sir," said Joseph, 
 " I assure you her beauty is her least perfection ; nor 
 do I know a virtue which that young creature 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 so many, you wifi find her equal 
 in these among her superiors in birth and fortune, 
 which now you are to esteem on a footing with your- 
 aelf ; at least I will take care they shall shortly be so, 
 unless you prevent me by degrading yourself with such 
 a match, a match I have hardly patience to think of, 
 and which would break the hearts of your parents, who 
 now rejoice in the expectation of seeing you make a 
 figure in the world." " I know not," replied Joseph, 
 " that my parents have any power over my inclinations ; 
 nor am I obliged to sacrifice my happiness to their 
 whim or ambition : besides, I shall be very sorry to 
 see that the unexpected advancement of my sister should 
 so suddenly inspire them with this wicked pride, and 
 make them despise their equals. I am resolved on no 
 account to quit my dear Fanny; no, though I could 
 raise her as high above her present station as you have 
 raised my sister." " Your sister, as well as myself," 
 said Booby, " are greatly obliged to you for the com- 
 parison : but, sir, she is not worthy to be compared in 
 N 467 
 
334 r l^ e Adventures of 
 
 /'" 
 beauty to my Pamela ; nor hath she half her merit. 
 And besides, sir, as you civilly throw my marriage 
 with your sister in my teeth, I must teach you the 
 wide difference between us : my fortune enabled me to 
 please myself; and it would have been as overgrown a 
 folly in me to have omitted it as in you to do it." 
 " My fortune enables me to please myself likewise," 
 said Joseph ; " for all my pleasure is centered in Fanny ; 
 and whilst I have health I shall be able to support her 
 with my labour in that station to which she was born, 
 and with which she is content." " Brother," said 
 Pamela, " Mr Booby advises you as a friend ; and no 
 doubt my papa and mamma will be of his opinion, and 
 will have great reason to be angry with you for destroy- 
 ing what his goodness hath done, and throwing down 
 our family again, after he hath raised it. It would 
 become you better, brother, to pray for the assistance 
 of grace against such a passion than to indulge it." 
 " Sure, sister, you are not in earnest ; I am sure she is 
 your equal, at least." " She was my equal," answered 
 Pamela ; " but I am no 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, and question not the assistance of grace 
 to that purpose." They were now summoned to break- 
 fast, 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 to her. She had not a 
 shilling in the world, and had subsisted ever since her 
 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 not the Lady Booby's 
 house before him ? This, indeed, he well knew ; but 
 
Joseph Andrews 335 
 
 had framed the question for no other reason than to 
 make her look up, and discover if her face was equal 
 to the delicacy of her shape. He no sooner saw it 
 than he was struck with amazement. He stopt his 
 horse, and swore she was the most beautiful creature 
 he ever beheld. Then, instantly alighting and deliver- 
 ing his horse to his servant, he rapt out half-a-dozen 
 oaths that he would kiss her ; to which she at first 
 submitted, begging he would not be rude ; but he was 
 not satisfied with the civility of a salute, nor even with 
 the rudest attack he could make on her lips, but caught 
 her in his arms, and endeavoured to kiss her breasts, 
 which with all her strength she resisted, and, as our 
 spark was not of the Herculean race, with some diffi- 
 culty prevented. The young gentleman, being soon out 
 of breath in the struggle, quitted her, and, remounting 
 his horse, called one of his servants to him, whom he 
 ordered to stay behind with her, and make her any 
 offers whatever to prevail on her to return home with 
 him in the evening ; and to assure her he would take 
 her into keeping. He then rode on with his other 
 servants, and arrived at the lady's house, to whom he 
 was a distant relation, and was come to pay a visit. 
 
 The trusty fellow, who was employed in an office 
 he had been long accustomed to, discharged his part 
 with all the fidelity and dexterity imaginable, but to 
 no purpose. She was entirely deaf to his offers, and 
 rejected them with the utmost disdain. At last the 
 pimp, who had perhaps more warm blood about him 
 than his master, began to sollicit for himself; he told 
 her, though he was a servant, he was a man of some 
 fortune, which he would make her mistress of; and 
 this without any insult to her virtue, for that he would 
 marry her. She answered, if his master himself, or the 
 greatest lord in the land, would marry her, she would 
 refuse him. At last, being weary with persuasions, and 
 
336 The Adventures of 
 
 on fire with charms which would have almost kindled 
 a flame in the bosom of an ancient philosopher or 
 modern divine, he fastened his horse to the ground, 
 and attacked her with much more force than the gentle- 
 man had exerted. Poor Fanny would not have been 
 able to resist his rudeness a short time, but the deity 
 who presides over chaste love sent her Joseph to her 
 assistance. He no sooner came within sight, and per- 
 ceived her struggling with a man, than, like a cannon- 
 ball, or like lightning, or anything that is swifter, if 
 anything be, he ran towards her, and, coming up just 
 as the ravisher had torn her handkerchief from her 
 breast, before his lips had touched that seat of inno- 
 cence and bliss, he dealt him so lusty a blow in that 
 part of his neck which a rope would have become with 
 the utmost propriety, that the fellow staggered back- 
 wards, and, perceiving he had to do with something 
 rougher than the little, tender, trembling hand of Fanny, 
 he quitted her, and, turning about, saw his rival, with 
 fire flashing from his eyes, again ready to assail him ; 
 and, indeed, before he could well defend himself, or 
 return the first blow, he received a second, which, had 
 it fallen on that part of the stomach to which it was 
 directed, would have been probably the last he would 
 have had any occasion for ; but the ravisher, lifting up 
 his hand, drove the blow upwards to his mouth, whence 
 it dislodged three of his teeth ; and now, not conceiving 
 any extraordinary affection for the beauty of Joseph's 
 person, nor being extremely pleased with this method 
 of salutation, he collected all his force, and aimed a 
 blow at Joseph's breast, which he artfully parried with 
 one fist, so that it lost its force entirely in air ; and, 
 stepping one foot backward, he darted his fist so fiercely 
 at his enemy, that, had he not caught it in his hand 
 (for he was a boxer of no inferior fame), it must have 
 tumbled him on the ground. And now the ravisher 
 
Joseph Andrews 337 
 
 meditated another blow, which he aimed at that part 
 of the breast where the heart is lodged ; Joseph did 
 not catch it as before, yet so prevented its aim that it 
 fell directly on his nose, but with abated force. Joseph 
 then, moving both fist and foot forwards at the same 
 time, threw his head so dexterously into the stomach 
 of the ravisher that he fell a lifeless lump on the field, 
 where he lay many minutes breathless and motionless. 
 
 When Fanny saw her Joseph receive a blow in his 
 face, and blood running in a stream from him, she began 
 to tear her hair and invoke all human and divine power 
 to his assistance. She was not, however, long under 
 this 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 at the 
 same time preserved him from being injured in attempting 
 it. She offered, with her handkerchief, to wipe his 
 blood from his face ; but he, seeing his rival attempting 
 to recover his legs, turned to him, and asked him if he 
 had enough ? To which the other answered he had ; 
 for he believed he had fought with the devil instead of 
 a man ; and, loosening his horse, said he should not 
 have attempted the wench if he had known she had 
 been so well provided for. 
 
 Fanny now begged Joseph to return with her to 
 parson Adams, and to promise that he would leave her 
 no more. These were propositions so agreeable to 
 Joseph, that, had he heard them, he would have given 
 an immediate assent ; but indeed his eyes were now his 
 only sense ; for you may remember, reader, that the 
 ravisher had tore her handkerchief from Fanny's neck, 
 by which he had discovered such a sight, that Joseph 
 hath declared all the statues he ever beheld were so 
 much inferior to it in beauty, that it was more capable 
 of convening a man into a statue than of being imitated 
 
The Adventures of 
 
 by the greatest master of that art. This modest creature, 
 whom no warmth in summer could ever induce to expose 
 her charms to the wanton sun, a modesty to which, 
 perhaps, they owed their inconceivable whiteness, had 
 stood many minutes bare-necked in the presence of 
 Joseph before her apprehension of his danger and the 
 horror of seeing his blood would suffer her once to 
 reflect on what concerned herself ; till at last, when the 
 cause of her concern had vanished, an admiration at his 
 silence, together with observing the fixed position of his 
 eyes, produced an idea in the lovely maid which brought 
 more blood into her face than had flowed from Joseph's 
 nostrils. The snowy hue of her bosom was likewise 
 changed to vermilion at the instant when she clapped 
 her handkerchief round her neck. Joseph saw the 
 uneasiness she suffered, and immediately removed his 
 eyes from an object, in surveying which he had felt the 
 greatest delight which the organs of sight were capable 
 of conveying to his soul ; so great was his fear of 
 offending her, and so truly did his passion for her 
 deserve the noble name of love. 
 
 Fanny, being recovered from her confusion, which 
 was almost equalled by what Joseph had felt from 
 observing it, again mentioned her request ; this was 
 instantly and gladly complied with ; and together they 
 crossed two or three fields, which brought them to the 
 habitation of Mr Adams. 
 
Joseph Andrews 339 
 
 Chapter bit** 
 
 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. 
 
 parson and his wife had just ended a long 
 dispute when the lovers came to the door. 
 Indeed, this young couple had been the subject 
 of the dispute ; for Mrs Adams was one of those 
 prudent people who never do anything to injure their 
 families, or, perhaps, one of those good mothers who 
 would even stretch their conscience to serve their 
 children. She had long entertained hopes of seeing 
 her eldest daughter succeed Mrs Slipslop, and of 
 making her second son an exciseman by Lady Booby's 
 interest. These were expectations she could not endure 
 the thoughts of quitting, and was, therefore, very uneasy 
 to see her husband so resolute to oppose the lady's 
 intention in Fanny's affair. She told him, " It be- 
 hoved every man to take the first care of his family ; 
 that he had a wife and six children, the maintaining 
 and providing for whom would be business enough for 
 him without intermeddling in other folks' affairs ; that 
 he had always preached up submission to superiors, 
 and would do ill to give an example of the contrary 
 behaviour in his own conduct ; that if Lady Booby 
 did wrong she must answer for it herself, and the sin 
 would not lie at their door ; that Fanny had been a 
 servant, and bred up in the lady's own family, and 
 consequently she must have known more of her than 
 they did, and it was very improbable, if she had be- 
 haved herself well, that the lady would have been so 
 bitterly her enemy ; that perhaps he was too much 
 inclined to think well of her because she was handsome, 
 
34 The Adventures of 
 
 but handsome women were often no better than they 
 should be ; that G made ugly women as well as 
 handsome ones ; and that if a woman had virtue it 
 signified nothing whether she had beauty or no." For 
 all which reasons she concluded he should oblige the 
 lady, and stop the future publication of the banns. But 
 all these excellent arguments had no effect on the 
 parson, who persisted in doing his duty without re- 
 garding the consequence it might have on his worldly 
 interest. He endeavoured to answer 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 Joseph and Fanny entered their kitchen, where 
 the parson and his wife then sat at breakfast over some 
 bacon and cabbage. There was a coldness in the 
 civility of Mrs Adams which persons of accurate 
 speculation might have observed, but escaped her 
 present guests ; indeed, it was a good deal covered 
 by the heartiness of Adams, who no sooner heard 
 that Fanny had neither eat nor drank that morning 
 than he presented her a bone of bacon he had just 
 been gnawing, being the only remains of his provision, 
 and then ran nimbly to the tap, and produced a mug of 
 small beer, which he called ale ; however, it was the 
 best in his house. Joseph, addressing himself to the 
 parson, told him the discourse which had past be- 
 tween Squire Booby, his sister, and himself concerning 
 Fanny ; he then acquainted him with the dangers 
 whence he had rescued her, and communicated some 
 apprehensions on her account. He concluded that 
 he should never have an easy moment till Fanny was 
 absolutely his, and begged that he might be suffered 
 to fetch a licence, saying he could easily borrow the 
 money. The parson answered, That he had already 
 given his sentiments concerning a licence, and that a 
 very few days would make it unnecessary. " Joseph," 
 
Joseph Andrews 341 
 
 says he, " I wish this haste doth not arise rather from 
 your impatience than your fear ; but, as it certainly 
 springs from one of these causes, I will examine 
 both. Of each of these therefore in their turn ; and 
 first for the first of these, namely, impatience. Now, 
 child, I must inform you that, if in your purposed 
 marriage with this young woman you have no intention 
 but the indulgence of carnal appetites, you are guilty 
 of a very heinous sin. Marriage was ordained for 
 nobler purposes, as you will learn when you hear the 
 service provided on that occasion read to you. Nay, 
 perhaps, if you are a good lad, I, child, shall give you a 
 sermon gratis, wherein I shall demonstrate how little 
 regard ought to be had to the flesh on such occasions. 
 The text will be Matthew the 5th, and part of the 28th 
 verse Whosoever looketh on a woman, so as to lust after 
 her. The latter part I shall omit, as foreign to my 
 purpose. Indeed, all such brutal lusts and affections 
 are to be greatly subdued, if not totally eradicated, 
 before the vessel can be said to be consecrated to 
 honour. To marry with a view of gratifying those 
 inclinations is a prostitution of that holy ceremony, and 
 must entail a curse on all who so lightly undertake it. 
 If, therefore, this haste arises from impatience, you are 
 to correct, and not give way to it. Now, as to the 
 second head which I proposed to speak to, namely, 
 fear : it argues a diffidence, highly criminal, of that 
 Power in which alone we should put our trust, seeing 
 we may be well assured that he is able, not only to 
 defeat the designs of our enemies, but even to turn 
 their hearts. Instead of taking, therefore, any un- 
 justifiable or desperate means to rid ourselves of fear, 
 we should resort to prayer only on these occasions ; 
 and we may be then certain of obtaining what is best 
 for us. When any accident threatens us we are not 
 to despair, nor, when it overtakes us, to grieve; we 
 
The Adventures of 
 
 must submit in all things to the will of Providence, 
 and set our affections so much on nothing here 
 that we cannot quit it without reluctance. 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 in their excess ; and even love itself, if it 
 is not subservient to our duty, may render us blind to 
 it. Had Abraham so loved his son Isaac as to refuse 
 the sacrifice required, is there any of us who would 
 not condemn him ? Joseph, I know your many good 
 qualities, and value you for them ; but, as I am to 
 render an account of your soul, which is committed to 
 my cure, I cannot see any fault without reminding you 
 of it. You are too much inclined to passion, child, 
 and have set your affections so absolutely on this young 
 woman, that, if G required her at your hands, I fear 
 you would reluctantly part with her. Now, believe 
 me, no Christian ought so to set his heart on any per- 
 , son or thing in this world, but that, whenever it shall 
 ] be required or taken from him in any manner by Divine 
 I Providence, he may be able, peaceably, quietly, and 
 | contentedly to resign it." At which words one came 
 hastily in, and acquainted Mr Adams that his youngest 
 1 son was drowned. He stood silent a moment, and 
 soon began to stamp about the room and deplore his 
 loss with the bitterest agony. Joseph, who was over- 
 whelmed with concern likewise, recovered himself 
 sufficiently to endeavour to comfort the parson ; in 
 which attempt he used many arguments that he had at 
 several times remembered out of his own discourses, 
 both in private and public (for he was a great enemy 
 to the passions, and preached nothing more than the 
 conquest of them by reason and grace), but he was not 
 at leisure now to hearken to his advice. " Child, 
 child," said he, "do not go about impossibilities. 
 Had it been any other of my children I could have 
 
Joseph Andrews 343 
 
 borne it with patience ; but my little prattler, the 
 darling and comfort of my old age the little wretch, 
 to be snatched out of life just at his entrance into it ; 
 the sweetest, best-tempered boy, who never did a thing 
 to offend me. It was but this morning I gave him his 
 first lesson in Qua Genus. This was the very book he 
 learnt ; poor child ! it is of na further use to thee now. 
 He would have made the best scholar, and have been 
 an ornament to the Church ; such parts and such 
 goodness never met in one so young." "And the 
 handsomest lad too," says Mrs Adams, recovering from 
 a swoon in Fanny's arms. " My poor Jacky, shall I 
 never see thee more ? " cries the parson. " Yes, 
 surely," says Joseph, " and in a better place ; you will 
 meet again, never to part more." I believe the par- 
 son did not hear these words, for he paid little regard 
 to them, but went on lamenting, whilst the tears 
 trickled down into his bosom. At last 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 will sympathize, he met his son in a wet 
 condition indeed, but alive and running towards him. 
 The person who brought the news of his misfortune 
 had been a little too eager, as people sometimes are, 
 from, I believe, no very good principle, to relate ilJ 
 news ; and, seeing him fall into the river, instead of 
 running to his assistance, directly ran to acquamt his 
 father of a fate which he had concluded to be in- 
 evitable, but whence the child was relieved by the 
 same poor pedlar who had relieved his father before 
 from a less distress. The parson's joy was now as 
 extravagant as his grief had been before j he kissed and 
 embraced his 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, and heard the 
 fresh obligation he had to him, what were his sensa- 
 
'344 The Adventures of 
 
 tions ? not those which two courtiers feel in one 
 another's embraces ; not those with which a great man 
 receives the vile treacherous engines of his wicked 
 purposes, not those with which a worthless younger 
 brother wishes his elder joy of a son, or a man con- 
 gratulates his rival on his obtaining a mistress, a place, 
 or an honour. No, reader ; he felt the ebullition, the 
 overflowings of a full, honest, open heart, towards the 
 person who had conferred a real obligation, and of 
 which, if thou canst not conceive an idea within, I will 
 not vainly endeavour to assist thee. 
 
 When these tumults were over, the parson, taking 
 Joseph aside, proceeded thus "No, Joseph, do not 
 give too much way to thy passions, if thou dost expect 
 happiness." The patience of Joseph, nor perhaps of 
 Job, could bear no longer ; he interrupted the parson, 
 saying, " It was easier to give advice than take it ; 
 nor did he perceive he could so entirely conquer him- 
 self, when he apprehended he had lost his son, or when 
 he found him recovered." " Boy," replied Adams, 
 raising his voice, " it doth not become green heads to 
 advise grey hairs. Thou art ignorant of the tenderness 
 of fatherly affection ; when thou art a father thou wilt 
 be capable then only of knowing what a father can feel. 
 No man is obliged to impossibilities ; and the loss of a 
 child is one of those great trials where 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 is foolishness and wrong in 
 itself, and ought to be conquered," answered Adams ; 
 " it savours too much of the flesh." u Sure, sir," says 
 Joseph, " it is not sinful to love my wife, no, not even 
 to doat on her to distraction ! " " Indeed but it is," 
 says Adams. " Every man ought to love his wife, no 
 doubt ; we are commanded so to do ; but we ought to 
 
Joseph Andrews 345 
 
 love her with moderation and discretion." u I am afraid 
 I shall be guilty of some sin in spite of all my endea- 
 vours," says Joseph ; " for I shall love without any 
 moderation, I am sure."" You talk foolishly and 
 childishly," cries Adams. " Indeed," saya Mn 
 Adams, who had listened to the latter part of their 
 conversation, "you talk more foolishly yourself. I 
 hope, my dear, you will never preach any such doctrine 
 as that husbands can love their wives too well. If I 
 knew you had such a sermon in the house I am sure I 
 would burn it, and I declare, if I had not been con- 
 vinced you had loved me as well as you could, I can 
 answer for myself, I should have hated and despised 
 you. Marry come up ! Fine doctrine, indeed ! A 
 wife hath a right to insist on her husband's loving her 
 as much as ever he can ; and he is a sinful viDain 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 repeated it 
 over but yesterday, and shall never forget it. Besides, 
 I am certain you do not preach as you practise ; for 
 you have been a loving and a cherishing husband to 
 me ; that's the truth on't ; and why you should en- 
 deavour to put such wicked nonsense into this young 
 man's head I cannot devise. Don't hearken to him, 
 Mr Joseph ; be as good a husband as you are able, and 
 love your wife with all your body and soul too." 
 Here a violent rap at the door put an end to their dis- 
 course, and produced a scene which the reader will 
 find in the next chapter. 
 
346 The Adventures of 
 Chapter fp. 
 
 A visit which the poTtte Lady Booby and her polite friend 
 faid to the parson. 
 
 THE Lady Booby had no sooner had an account 
 from the gentleman of his meeting a wonderful 
 beauty near her house, and perceived the raptures 
 with which he spoke of her, than, immediately conclud- 
 ing it must be Fanny, she began to meditate a design of 
 bringing them better acquainted ; and to entertain hopes 
 that the fine clothes, presents, and promises of this 
 youthj would prevail on her to abandon Joseph : she 
 therefore 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 most 
 ridiculous 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 about twenty pounds a year ; 
 adding, that there was not such another ragged family 
 in the parish. They all readily agreed to this visit, 
 and arrived whilst Mrs Adams was declaiming as in 
 the last chapter. Beau Didapper, which was the name 
 of the young gentleman we have seen riding towards 
 Lady Booby's, with his cane mimicked the rap of a 
 London footman at the door. The people within, 
 namely, Adams, his wife and three children, Joseph, 
 Fanny, and the pedlar, were all thrown into confusion 
 by this knock, but Adams went directly to the door, 
 which being opened, the Lady Booby and her company 
 walked in, and were received by the parson with about 
 two hundred bows, and by his wife with as many 
 curtsies ; the latter 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 expected such ao 
 
Joseph Andrews 347 
 
 honour from her ladyship she should have found her in 
 a better manner." The parson made no apologies, 
 though he was in his half-cassock and a flannel night- 
 cap. He said "They were heartily welcome to his 
 poor cottage," and turning to Mr Didapper, cried 
 out, " Non mea renidet in domo facunar." The beau 
 answered, " He did not understand Welsh ; " at which 
 the parson stared and made no reply. 
 
 Mr Didapper, or beau Didapper, was a young gentle- 
 man of about four foot five inches in height. He wore 
 his own hair, though the scarcity of it might have given 
 him sufficient excuse for a periwig. His face was thin 
 and pale ; the shape of his body and legs none of the 
 best, for he had very narrow shoulders and no calf; 
 and his gait might more properly be called hopping 
 than walking. The qualifications of his mind were 
 well adapted to his person. We shall handle them 
 first negatively. He was not entirely ignorant ; for 
 he could talk a little French and sing two or three 
 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 to avarice, for he was 
 profuse in his expenses ; nor had he all the features 
 of prodigality, for he never gave a shilling : no hater 
 of women, for he always dangled after them ; yet 
 so little subject to lust, that he had, among those 
 who knew him best, the character of great moderation 
 in his pleasures ; no drinker of wine ; nor so addicted 
 to passion but that a hot word or two from an adversary 
 made him immediately cool. 
 
 Now, to give him only a dash or two on the affirma- 
 tive side : though he was born to an immense fortune, 
 he chose, for the pitiful and dirty consideration of a 
 place of little consequence, to depend entirely on the 
 will of a fellow whom they call a great man ; who 
 treated him with the utmost disrespect, and exacted 
 
348 The Adventures of 
 
 of him a plenary obedience to his commands, which 
 he implicitly submitted to, at the expense of his con- 
 science, his honour, and of his country, in which he 
 had himself so very large a share. And to finish his 
 character; as he was entirely well satisfied with his 
 own person and parts, so he was very apt to ridicule 
 and laugh at any imperfection in another. Such was 
 i the little person, or rather thing, that hopped after Lady 
 Booby into Mr Adams's kitchen. 
 
 The parson and his company retreated from the 
 chimney-side, where they had been seated, to give 
 room to the lady and hers. Instead of returning any 
 of the curtsies or extraordinary civility of Mrs Adams, 
 the lady, turning to Mr Booby, cried out, " Quelle Bete I 
 Qucl Animal!" And presently after discovering Fanny 
 (for she did not need the circumstance of her standing 
 by Joseph to assure the identity of her person), she 
 asked 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 
 liked you, I warrant," cries the beau. " Ridiculous! " 
 said she : " you know you was always my aversion." 
 " I would never mention aversion," answered the beau, 
 " with that face ; * dear Lady Booby, wash your face 
 before you mention aversion, I beseech you." He 
 then kughed, and turned about to coquet it with 
 Fanny. 
 
 Mrs Adams had been all this time begging and 
 praying the ladies to sit down, a favour which she at 
 kst obtained. The little boy to whom the accident 
 had happened, still keeping his place by the fire, was 
 chid by his mother for not being more mannerly : but 
 
 * Lest this should appear unnatural to some readers, we think 
 proper to acquaint them, that it is taken verbatim from very 
 polite conversation. 
 
Joseph Andrews 349 
 
 Lady Booby took his part, and, commending his beauty, 
 told the parson he was his very picture. She then, 
 seeing a book in his hand, asked " If he could read ? " 
 " Yes," cried Adams, " a little Latin, madam : he 
 is just got into Quae Genus." "A fig for quere 
 genius ! " answered she ; "let me hear him read a 
 little English." " Lege, Dick, lege," said Adams : 
 but the boy made no answer, till he saw the parson 
 knit his brows, and then cried, " I don't understand 
 you, father." " How, boy i " says Adams ; " what 
 doth lego make in the imperative mood ? Legito, doth 
 it not?" "Yes," answered Dick. "And what be- 
 sides ? " 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 5 
 "what, hath the water washed away your learning! 
 Why, what is Latin for the English verb read ? Con- 
 sider before you speak." The child considered some 
 time, and then the parson cried twice or thrice, " Le , 
 Le ." Dick answered, " Lego." " Very well ; 
 and then what is the English," says the parson, " of 
 the verb lego?" "To read," cried Dick. "Very 
 well," said the parson ; " a good boy : you can do well 
 if you will take pains. I assure your ladyship he is not 
 much above eight years old, and is out of his Propria 
 quae Maribus already. Come, Dick, read to her lady- 
 ship ; " which she again desiring, in order to give the 
 beau time and opportunity with Fanny, Dick began as 
 in the following chapter. 
 
350 The Adventures of 
 
 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. 
 
 EONARD and Paul were two friends."" Pro- 
 nounce it Leonard, child," cried the parson. 
 " Pray, Mr Adams," says Lady Booby, " let 
 your son read without interruption." Dick then pro- 
 ceeded. " Lennard and Paul were two friends, who, 
 having been educated together at the same school, com- 
 menced a friendship which they preserved a long time 
 for each other. It was so deeply fixed in both their 
 minds, that a long absence, during which they had main- 
 tained no correspondence, did not eradicate nor lessen it : 
 but it revived in all its force at their first meeting, which 
 was not till after fifteen years' absence, most of which 
 time Lennard had spent in the East Indi-es." " Pro- 
 nounce it short, Indies,'* says Adams. - " Pray, sir, 
 be quiet," says the lady. The boy repeated " in the 
 East Indies, whilst Paul had served his king and country 
 in the army. In which different services they had 
 found such different success, that Lennard was now 
 married, and retired with a fortune of thirty thousand 
 pounds ; and Paul was arrived to the degree of a lieu- 
 tenant of foot ; and was not worth a single shilling. 
 
 " The regiment in which Paul was stationed happened 
 to be ordered into quarters within a small distance from 
 the estate which Lennard had purchased, and where he 
 was settled. This latter, who was now become a country 
 gentleman, and a justice of peace, came to attend the 
 quarter sessions in the town where his old friend was 
 quartered, soon after his arrival. Some affair in which 
 a soldier was concerned occasioned Paul to attend the 
 justices. Manhood, and time, and the change of climate, 
 
Joseph Andrews 351 
 
 had so much altered Leonard, that Paul did not im- 
 mediately recollect the features of his old acquaintance : 
 but it was otherwise with Lennard. He knew Paul 
 the moment he saw him ; nor could he contain himself 
 from quitting the bench, and running hastily to embrace 
 him. Paul stood at first a little surprized ; but had soon 
 sufficient information from his friend, whom he no sooner 
 remembered than he returned his embrace with a passion 
 which made many of the spectators laugh, and gave to 
 some few a much higher and more agreeable sensation. 
 
 " Not to detain the reader with minute circumstances, 
 Lennard insisted on his friend's returning with him to 
 his house that evening ; which request was complied 
 with, and leave for a month's absence for Paul obtained 
 of the commanding officer. 
 
 " If it was possible for any circumstance to give any 
 addition to the happiness which Paul proposed in this 
 visit, he received that additional pleasure by finding, on 
 his arrival at his friend's house, that his lady was an old 
 acquaintance which he had formerly contracted at his 
 quarters, and who had always appeared to be of a most 
 agreeable temper ; a character she had ever maintained 
 among her intimates, being of that number, every indi- 
 vidual of which is called quite the best sort of woman 
 in the world. 
 
 " But, good as this lady was, she was still a woman ; 
 that is to say, an angel, and not an angel." " You must 
 mistake, child," cries the parson, "for you read non- 
 sense." " It is so in the book," answered the son. Mr 
 Adams was then silenced by authority, and Dick pro- 
 ceeded " For though her 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 of 
 obstinacy gave the most remarkable and perhaps most 
 pernicious instance. 
 
 "A day or two passed after Paul's arrival before 
 
352 The Adventures of 
 
 any instances of this appeared ; but it was impossible 
 to conceal it long. Both she and her husband soon 
 lost all apprehension from their friend's presence, and fell 
 to their disputes with as much vigour as ever. These 
 were atill pursued with the utmost ardour and eager- 
 ness, however trifling the causes were whence they first 
 arose. Nay, however incredible it may seem, the little 
 consequence of the matter in debate was frequently given 
 as a reason for the fierceness of the contention, as 
 thus : ' If you loved 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 equally 
 on both sides, and was constantly retorted with some 
 addition, as * I am sure I have much more reason to 
 eay so, who am in the right.' During all these dis- 
 putes, Paul always kept strict silence, and preserved an 
 even countenance, without showing the least visible in- 
 clination to either party. One day, however, when 
 madam had left the room in a violent fury, Leonard 
 could not refrain from referring his cause to his friend. 
 Was ever anything so unreasonable, says he, as this 
 woman ? What shall I do with her ? I doat on her 
 to distraction ; nor have I any cause to complain of, 
 more than this obstinacy in her temper ; whatever she 
 asserts, she will maintain against all the reason and 
 conviction in the world. Pray give me your advice. 
 First, says Paul, I will give my opinion, which is, 
 flatly, that you are in the wrong ; for, supposing she 
 is in the wrong, was the subject of your contention any 
 ways material? What signified it whether you was 
 married in a red or a yellow waistcoat ? for that was 
 your dispute. Now, suppose she was mistaken ; as 
 you love her you say so tenderly, and I believe she 
 deserves it, would it not have been wiser to have 
 yielded, though you certainly knew yourself in the 
 right, than to give either her or yourself any uneasiness. 
 
Joseph Andrews 353 
 
 For my own part, if ever I marry, I am resolved to enter 
 into an agreement with my wife, that in all disputes 
 (especially about trifles) that party who is most con- 
 vinced they are right shall always surrender the victory ; 
 by which means we shall both be forward to give up 
 the cause. I own, said Lennard, my dear friend, 
 shaking him by the hand, there is great truth and 
 reason in what you say ; and I will for the future en- 
 deavour to follow your advice. They soon after broke 
 up the conversation, and Lennard, going to his wife, 
 asked her pardon, and told her his friend had convinced 
 him he had been in the wrong. She immediately 
 began a vast encomium on Paul, in which he seconded 
 her, and both agreed he was the worthiest and wisest 
 man upon earth. When next they met, which was at 
 supper, though she had promised not to mention what 
 her husband told her, she could not forbear casting the 
 kindest and most affectionate looks on Paul, and asked 
 him, with the sweetest voice, whether she should help 
 him to some potted woodcock ? Potted partridge, my 
 dear, you mean, says the husband. My dear, says she, 
 I ask your friend if he will eat any potted woodcock ; 
 and I am sure I must know, who potted it. I think 
 I should know too, who shot them, replied the hus- 
 band, and I am convinced that I have not seen a 
 woodcock this year ; however, though I know I am 
 in the right, I submit, and the potted partridge is potted 
 woodcock 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's senses ; to be sure, 
 you are always in the right in your own opinion ; but 
 your 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 being con- 
 vinced he was her friend, and of her side, accosted him 
 
354 The Adventures of 
 
 thus : I arn certain, sir, you have long since wondered 
 at the unreasonableness of my husband. He is indeed, 
 in other respects, a good sort of man, but so positive, 
 that no woman but one of my complying temper could 
 possibly live with him. Why, last night, now, was 
 ever any creature so unreasonable ? I am certain you 
 must condemn him. Pray, answer me, was he not in 
 the wrong? Paul, after a short silence, spoke as 
 follows: I am sorry, madam, that, as good manners 
 obliges me to answer against my will, so an adherence 
 to truth forces me to declare myself of a different 
 opinion. To be plain and honest, you was entirely in 
 the wrong ; the cause I own not worth disputing, but 
 the bird was undoubtedly a partridge. O sir ! replyed 
 the lady, I cannot possibly help your taste. Madam, 
 returned Paul, that is very little material ; for, had it 
 been otherwise, a husband might have expected sub- 
 mission. Indeed ! sir, says she, I assure you ! Yes, 
 madam, cryed he, he might, from a person of your ex- 
 cellent understanding ; and pardon me for saying, such 
 a condescension would have shown a superiority of sense 
 even to your husband himself. But, dear sir, said she, 
 why should I submit when I am in the right ? For 
 that very reason, answered he ; it would be the 
 greatest instance of affection imaginable ; for can any- 
 thing be a greater object of our compassion than a 
 person we love in the wrong ? Ay, but I should en- 
 deavour, said she, to set him right. Pardon me, 
 madam, answered Paul : I will apply to your own 
 experience if you ever found your arguments had that 
 effect. The more our judgments err, the less we are 
 willing to own it: for my own part, I have always 
 observed the persons who maintain the worst side in 
 any contest are the warmest. Why, says she, I must 
 confess there is truth in what you say, and I will en- 
 deavour to practise it. The husband then coining in, 
 
Joseph Andrews 355 
 
 Paul departed. And Lennard, approaching his wife 
 with an air of good humour, told her he was sorry for 
 their foolish dispute the last night; but he was now 
 convinced of his error. She answered, smiling, she 
 believed she owed his condescension to his compla- 
 cence ; that she was ashamed to think a word had 
 passed on so silly an occasion, especially as she was 
 satisfyed she had been mistaken. A little contention 
 followed, but with the utmost good-will to each other, 
 and was concluded by her asserting that Paul had 
 thoroughly convinced her she had been in the wrong. 
 Upon which they both united in the praises of their 
 common friend. 
 
 "Paul now passed his time with great satisfaction, 
 these disputes being much less frequent, as well as 
 shorter than usual ; but the devil, or some unlucky 
 accident in which perhaps the devil had no hand, 
 shortly put an end to his happiness. He was now 
 eternally the private referee of every difference ; in 
 which, after having perfectly, as he thought, established 
 the doctrine of submission, he never scrupled to assure 
 both privately that they were in the right in every 
 argument, as before he had followed the contrary 
 method. One day a violent litigation happened in his 
 absence, and both parties agreed to refer it to his 
 decision. The husband professing himself sure the 
 decision would be in his favour ; the wife answered, 
 he might be mistaken ; for she believed his friend was 
 convinced how seldom she was to blame ; and that if 
 he knew all The husband replied, My dear, I have 
 no desire of any retrospect ; but I believe, if you knew 
 all too, you would not imagine my friend so entirely 
 on your side. Nay, says she, since you provoke me, I 
 will mention one instance. You may remember our 
 dispute about sending Jackey to school in cold weather, 
 which point I gave up to you from mere compassion, 
 
356 The Adventures of 
 
 knowing myself to be in the right ; and Paul himself 
 told me afterwards he thought me so. My dear, re- 
 plied the husband, I will not scruple 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 the same manner. They then proceeded to 
 produce numberless other instances, in all which Paul 
 had, on vows of secresy, given his opinion on both 
 sides. In the conclusion, both believing each other, 
 they fell severely on the treachery of Paul, and agreed 
 that he had been the occasion of almost every dispute 
 which had fallen out between them. They then became 
 extremely loving, and so full of condescension on both 
 sides, that they vyed with each other in censuring their 
 own conduct, and jointly vented their indignation on 
 Paul, whom the wife, fearing a bloody consequence, 
 earnestly entreated her husband to suffer quietly to 
 depart the next day, which was the time fixed for his 
 return to quarters, and then drop his acquaintance. 
 
 "However ungenerous this behaviour in Lennard 
 may be esteemed, his wife obtained a promise from 
 him (though with difficulty) to follow her advice ; but 
 they both expressed such unusual coldness that day to 
 Paul, that he, who was quick of apprehension, taking 
 Lennard aside, pressed him so home, that he at last 
 discovered the secret. Paul acknowledged the truth, 
 but told him the design with which he had done it. 
 To which the other answered, he would have acted 
 more friendly to have let him into the whole design ; 
 for that he might have assured himself of his secresy. 
 Paul replyed, with some indignation, he had given him 
 a sufficient proof how capable he was of concealing a 
 secret from his wife. Lennard returned with some 
 warmth he had more reason to upbraid him, for that 
 he had caused most of the quarrels between them by 
 his strange conduct, and might (if they had not dis- 
 
Joseph Andrews 357 
 
 covered the affair to each other) have been the occasion 
 of their separation. Paul then said *' But something 
 now happened which put a stop to Dick's reading, and 
 of which we shall treat in the next chapter. 
 
 j;t 
 
 In 'which the history is continued* 
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS had borne with great uneasiness 
 the impertinence of beau Didapper to Fanny, who 
 had been talking pretty freely to her, and offering 
 her settlements; but the respect to the company had 
 restrained him from interfering whilst the beau confined 
 himself to the use of his tongue only ; but the said beau, 
 watching an opportunity whilst the ladies' eyes were 
 disposed another way, offered a rudeness to her with 
 his hands ; which Joseph no sooner perceived than he 
 presented him with so sound a box on the ear, that it 
 conveyed him several paces from where he stood. The 
 ladies immediately screamed out, rose from their chairs ; 
 and the beau, as soon as he recovered himself, drew his 
 hanger : which Adams 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 offence in his 
 other hand, stept in before Joseph, and exposed himself 
 to the enraged beau, who threatened such perdition and 
 destruction, that it frighted the women, who were all 
 got in a huddle together, out of their wits, even to hear 
 his denunciations of vengeance. Joseph was of a different 
 complexion, and begged Adams to let his rival come on ; 
 for he had a good cudgel in his hand, and did not fear 
 him. Fanny now fainted into Mrs Adams's arms, and 
 the whole room was in confusion, when Mr Booby, 
 passing by Adams, who lay snug under the pot-lid, 
 
358 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 came up to Didapper, and insisted on his sheathing the 
 hanger, promising he should have satisfaction ; which 
 Joseph declared he would give him, and fight him at 
 any weapon whatever. The beau now sheathed his 
 hanger, and taking out a pocket- glass, and vowing 
 vengeance all the time, re-adjusted his hair ; the parson 
 deposited his shield ; and Joseph, running to Fanny, 
 soon brought her back to life. Lady Booby chid Joseph 
 for his insult on Didapper ; but he answered, he would 
 have attacked an army in the same cause. "What 
 cause ? " said the lady. " Madam," answered Joseph, 
 " he was rude to that young woman." " What," says 
 the lady, " I suppose he would have kissed the wench ; 
 and is a gentleman to be struck for such an offer ? 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's 
 champion." " I can commend him," says Adams : 
 " he is a brave lad ; and it becomes any man to be the 
 champion of the innocent ; and he must be the basest 
 coward who would not vindicate a woman with whom 
 he is on the brink of marriage." " Sir," says Mr 
 Booby, " my brother is not a proper match for such a 
 young woman as this." " No," says Lady Booby ; 
 " nor do you, Mr Adams, act in your proper character 
 by encouraging any such doings ; and I am very much 
 surprized you should concern yourself in it. I think 
 your wife and family your properer care." " Indeed, 
 madam, your ladyship says very true," answered Mrs 
 Adams : " he talks a pack of nonsense, that the whole 
 parish are his children. I am sure I don't understand 
 what he means by it ; it would make some women 
 suspect he had gone astray, but I acquit him of that ; 
 I can read Scripture as well as he, and I never found 
 that the parson was obliged to provide for other folks 1 
 
Joseph Andrews 359 
 
 children ; and besides, he is but a poor curate, and hath 
 little enough, 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 is acting a very foolish part, and opposing 
 his own interest, seeing my nephew is violently set 
 against this match : and indeed I can't blame him ; it 
 is by no means one suitable to our family." In this 
 manner the lady proceeded with Mrs Adams, whilst 
 the beau hopped about the room, shaking his head, 
 partly from pain and partly from anger ; and Pamela 
 was chiding Fanny for her assurance in aiming at such 
 a match as her brother. Poor Fanny answered only 
 with her tears, which had long since begun to wet her 
 handkerchief; which Joseph perceiving, took her by 
 the arm, and wrapping it in his carried her off, swearing 
 he would own no relation to any one who was an enemy 
 to her he loved more than all the world. He went 
 out with Fanny under his left arm, brandishing a cudgel 
 in his right, and neither Mr Booby nor the beau thought 
 proper to oppose him. Lady Booby and her company 
 made a very short stay behind him ; for the lady's bell 
 now summoned them to dress ; for which they had just 
 time before dinner. 
 
 Adams seemed now very much dejected, which his 
 wife perceiving, began to apply some matrimonial balsam. 
 She told him he had reason to be concerned, for that he 
 had probably ruined his family with his tricks almost ; 
 but perhaps he was grieved for the loss of his two chil- 
 dren, Joseph and Fanny. His eldest, daughter went on : 
 " Indeed, father, it is very hard to bring strangers here 
 to eat your children's bread out of their mouths. You 
 have kept them ever since they came home ; and, for 
 anything I see to the contrary, may keep them a month 
 longer ; are you obliged to give her meat, tho'f she 
 
360 The Adventures of 
 
 was never so handsome ? But I don't see she is so 
 much handsomer than other people. If people were to 
 be kept 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 of honest 
 principles, and will pay some time or other for what he 
 hath ; but for the girl why doth she not return to her 
 place she ran away from ? I would not give such a 
 vagabond slut a halfpenny though I had a million of 
 money ; no, though she was starving." " Indeed but 
 I would," cries little Dick ; " and, father, rather than 
 poor Fanny shall be starved, I will give her all this 
 bread and cheese" (offering what he held in his 
 hand). Adams smiled on the boy, and told him he 
 rejoiced to see he was a Christian ; and that if he had 
 a halfpenny in his pocket, he would have given it him ; 
 telling him it was his duty to look upon all his neigh- 
 bours as his brothers and sisters, and love them accord- 
 ingly. " Yes, papa," says he, " I love her better than 
 my sisters, for she is handsomer than any of them." 
 " Is she so, saucebox ? " says the sister, giving him a 
 box on the ear ; which the father would probably have 
 resented, had not Joseph, Fanny, and the pedlar at that 
 instant returned together. Adams bid his wife prepare 
 some food for their dinner ; she said, " Truly she could 
 not, she had something else to do." Adams rebuked 
 her for disputing his commands, and quoted many texts 
 of Scripture to prove " That the husband is the head of 
 the wife, and she is to submit and obey." The wife 
 answered, " It was blasphemy to talk Scripture out of 
 church ; that such things were very proper to be said 
 in the pulpit, but that it was profane to talk them in com- 
 mon discourse." Joseph told Mr Adams "He was 
 not come with any design to give him or Mrs Adams 
 any trouble ; but to desire the favour of all their com- 
 pany to the George (an ale-house in the parish), where 
 
Joseph Andrews 361 
 
 he had bespoke a piece of bacon and greens 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 walked together, not 
 omitting little Dick, to whom Joseph gave a shilling 
 when he heard of his intended liberality to Fanny. 
 
 Chapter pij. 
 
 Where the good-natured reader will see something which 
 will give him no great pleasure. 
 
 THE pedlar had been very inquisitive from the 
 time he had first heard that the great house in 
 this parish belonged to the Lady Booby, and 
 had learnt that she was the widow of Sir Thomas, and 
 that Sir Thomas had bought Fanny, at about the age 
 of three or four years, of a travelling woman ; and, now 
 their homely but hearty meal was ended, he told Fanny 
 he believed he could acquaint her with her parents. 
 The whole company, especially she herself, started at 
 this offer of the pedlar's. He then proceeded thus, 
 while they all lent their strictest attention : " Though 
 I am now contented with this humble way of getting 
 my livelihood, I was formerly a gentleman ; for so all 
 those of my profession are called. In a word, I was a 
 drummer in an Irish regiment of foot. Whilst I was 
 in this honourable station I attended an officer of our 
 regiment into England a-recruiting. In our march from 
 Bristol to Froome (for since the decay of the woollen 
 trade the clothing towns have furnished the army with 
 a great number of recruits) we overtook on the road a 
 woman, who seemed to be about thirty years old or 
 thereabouts, not very handsome, but well enough for a 
 
362 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 goldier. As we came up to her, she mended her pace, 
 and falling into discourse with our ladies (for every man 
 of the party, namely, a serjeant, two private men, and 
 a drum, were provided with their woman except myself), 
 she continued to travel on with us. I, perceiving she must 
 fall to my lot, advanced presently to her, made love to 
 her in our military way, and quickly succeeded to my 
 wishes. We struck a bargain within a mile, and lived 
 together as man and wife to her dying day." " I 
 suppose/' says Adams, interrupting him, " you were 
 married with a licence ; for I don't see how you could 
 contrive to have the banns published while you were 
 marching from place to place." "No, sir," said the 
 pedlar, " we took a licence to go to bed together with- 
 out any banns." "Ay! ay I" said the parson ; "ex 
 necessitate, a licence may be allowable enough ; but 
 surely, surely, the other is the more regular and eligible 
 way." The pedlar proceeded thus : " She returned 
 with me to our regiment, and removed with us from 
 quarters to quarters, till at last, whilst we lay at Galloway, 
 she fell ill of a fever and died. When she was on her 
 death-bed she called me to her, and, crying bitterly, 
 declared she could not depart this world without dis- 
 covering a secret to me, which, she said, was the only 
 sin which sat heavy on her heart. She said she had 
 formerly travelled in a company 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, since probably it might have occasioned the 
 death of the parents ; for, added she, it is almost im- 
 possible to describe the beauty of the young creature, 
 which was about a year and a half old when I kid- 
 napped it. We kept her (for she was a girl) above two 
 years in our company, when I sold her myself, for three 
 guineas., to Sir Thomas Booby, in Somersetshire. Now, 
 
Joseph Andrews 363 
 
 you know whether there are any more of that name in 
 this county." " Yes," says Adams, " there are several 
 Boobys who are squires, but I believe no baronet now 
 alive ; besides, it answers so exactly in every point, 
 there is no room for doubt; but you have forgot to 
 tell us the parents from whom the child was stolen." 
 " Their name," answered the pedlar, " was Andrews. 
 They lived about thirty miles from the squire ; and she 
 told me that I might be sure to find them out by one 
 circumstance ; for that they had a daughter of a very 
 strange name, Pamela, or Pamela ; some pronounced 
 it one way, and some the other." Fanny, who had 
 changed colour at the first mention of the name, now 
 fainted away ; Joseph turned pale, and poor Dicky 
 began to roar ; the parson fell on his knees, and ejacu- 
 lated many thanksgivings that this discovery had been 
 made before the dreadful sin of incest was committed ; 
 and the pedlar was struck with amazement, not being 
 able to account for all this confusion ; the cause of 
 which was presently opened by the parson's daughter, 
 who was the only unconcerned person (for the mother 
 was chafing Fanny's temples, and taking the utmost 
 care of her) : and, indeed, Fanny was the only creature 
 whom the daughter would not have pitied in her situa- 
 tion ; wherein, though we compassionate her ourselves, 
 we shall leave her for a little while, and pay a short 
 visit to Lady Booby. 
 
364 The Adventures of 
 
 Chapter );iij 
 
 The history, returning to the Lady Booby, gives somt 
 account of the terrible conflict in her breast between 
 love and pride ; with what happened on the present 
 discovery. 
 
 THE lady sat down with her company to dinner, 
 but eat nothing. As soon as her cloth was 
 removed she whispered Pamela that she was 
 taken a little ill, and desired her to entertain her 
 husband and beau Didapper. She then went up into 
 her chamber, sent for Slipslop, threw herself on the 
 bed in the agonies of love, rage, and despair ; nor 
 could she conceal these boiling passions longer without 
 bursting. Slipslop now approached her bed, and asked 
 how her ladyship did ; but, instead of revealing her 
 disorder, as she intended, she entered into a long en- 
 comium on the beauty and virtues of Joseph Andrews ; 
 ending, at last, with expressing her concern that so 
 much tenderness should be thrown away on so despic- 
 able an object as Fanny. Slipslop, well knowing how 
 to humour her mistress's frenzy, proceeded to repeat, 
 with exaggeration, if possible, all her mistress had said, 
 and concluded with a wish that Joseph had been a 
 gentleman, and that she could see her lady in the arms 
 of such a husband. The lady then started from the 
 bed, and, taking a turn or two across the room, cryed 
 out, with a deep sigh, " Sure he would make any 
 woman happy! " "Your ladyship," says she, "would 
 be the happiest woman in the world with him. A fig 
 for custom and nonsense! What 'vails what people 
 say ? Shall I be afraid of eating sweetmeats because 
 people may say I hare a sweet tooth ? If I had a 
 mind to marry a man, all the world should not hinder 
 me. Your ladyship hath no parents to tutelar your 
 
Joseph Andrews 365 
 
 infections ; besides, he is of your ladyship's family 
 now, and as good a gentleman as any in the country ; 
 and why should not a woman follow her mind as well 
 as man ? Why should not your ladyship marry the 
 brother as well as your nephew the sister. I am sure, 
 if it was a fragrant crime, I would not persuade your 
 ladyship to it." " But, dear Slipslop," answered the 
 lady, " if I could prevail on myself to commit such 
 a weakness, there is that cursed Fanny in the way, 
 whom the idiot O how I hate and despise him ! " 
 " She ! a little ugly mynx," cries Slipslop ; "leave her 
 to me. I suppose your ladyship hath heard of Joseph's 
 fitting with one of Mr Didapper'a servants about her ; 
 and his master hath ordered them to carry her away by 
 force this evening. I'll take care they shall not want 
 assistance. I was talking with this gentleman, who 
 was below, just when your ladyship sent for me." 
 " Go back," says the Lady Booby, " this instant, 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 will endeavour to return to the company ; 
 but let me know as soon as she is carried off." Slip- 
 slop went away ; and her mistress began to arraign her 
 own conduct in the following manner : 
 
 " What am I doing ? How do I suffer this passion 
 to creep imperceptibly upon me ? How many days are 
 past since I could have submitted to ask myself the 
 question ? Marry a footman ! Distraction ! Can I 
 afterwards bear the eyes of my acquaintance ? But I 
 can retire from them ; retire with one in whom I pro- 
 pose more happiness than the world without him can 
 give me ! Retire to feed continually on beauties 
 which my inflamed imagination sickens witfr eagerly 
 gazing on ; to satisfy every appetite, every desire, with 
 their utmost wish. Ha ! and do I doat thus on a foot- 
 man ? I despise, I detest my passion. Yet why ? Is 
 o 467 
 
366 The Adventures of 
 
 he not generous, gentle, kind ? Kind ! to whom ? to 
 the meanest wretch, a creature below my consideration. 
 Doth he not yes, he doth prefer her, Curse his 
 beauties, and the little low heart that possesses them ; 
 which can basely descend to this despicable wench, and 
 be ungratefully deaf to all the honours I do him. And 
 can I then love this monster ? No, I will tear his image 
 from my 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 the little jade I hate to 
 riot in the beauties I contemn. No ; though I despise 
 him myself, though I would spurn him from my feet, 
 was he to languish at them, no other should taste the 
 happiness I scorn. Why do I say happiness ? To me 
 it would be misery. To sacrifice my reputation, my 
 character, my rank in life, to the indulgence of a mean 
 and a vile appetite i How I detest the thought ! How 
 much more exquisite is the pleasure resulting from the 
 reflection of virtue and prudence than the faint relish of 
 what flows from vice and folly ! Whither did I suffer 
 this improper, this mad passion to hurry me, only by 
 neglecting to summon the aids of reason to my assist- 
 ance? Reason, which hath now set before me my 
 desires in their proper colours, and immediately helped 
 me to expel them. Yes, I thank Heaven and my pride, 
 I have now perfectly conquered this unworthy passion ; 
 and if there was no obstacle in its way, my pride would 
 disdain any pleasures which could be the consequence 
 of so base, so mean, so vulgar " Slipslop returned 
 at this instant in a violent hurry, and with the utmost 
 eagerness cryed out, " O madam ! I have strange news. 
 Tom the footman is just come from the George ; where, 
 it seems, Joseph and the rest of them are a jinketting ; 
 and he says there is a strange man who hath discovered 
 that Fanny and Joseph are brother and sister." " How, 
 Slipslop ? " cries the lady, in a surprize. " I had not 
 
Joseph Andrews 367 
 
 time, madam," cries Slipslop, " to enquire about particles, 
 but Tom says it is most certainly true." 
 
 This unexpected account entirely obliterated all those 
 admirable reflections which the supreme power of reason 
 had so wisely made just before. In short, when despair, 
 which had more share in producing the resolutions of 
 hatred we have seen taken, began to retreat, the lady 
 hesitated a moment, and then, forgetting all the purport 
 of her soliloquy, dismissed her woman again, with orders 
 to bid Tom attend her in the parlour, whither she now 
 hastened to acquaint Pamela with the news. Pamela 
 said she could not believe it ; for she had never heard 
 that her mother had lost any child, or that she had ever 
 had any more than Joseph and herself. The lady flew 
 into a violent rage with her, and talked of upstarts and 
 disowning relations who had so lately been on a level 
 with her. Pamela made no answer ; but her husband, 
 taking up her cause, severely reprimanded his aunt for 
 her behaviour to his wife : he told her, if it had been 
 earlier in the evening she should not have staid a moment 
 longer in her house ; that he was convinced, if thii 
 young woman 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 be sent 
 for, and the young woman with him, which Lady 
 Booby immediately ordered ; and, thinking proper to 
 make some apology to Pamela for what she had said, 
 it was readily accepted, and all things reconciled. 
 
 The pedlar now attended, as did Fanny and Joseph, 
 who would not quit her ; the parson likewise was in- 
 duced, not only by curiosity, of which he had no 
 small portion, but his duty, as he apprehended it, to 
 follow them ; for he continued all the way to exhort 
 them, who were now breaking their hearts, to offer 
 up thanksgivings, and be joyful for so miraculous an 
 escape. 
 
3 68 
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 When they arrived at Booby- Hall they were pre 
 sently called into the parlour, where the pedlar repeated 
 the same story he had told before, and insisted on the 
 truth of every circumstance ; so that all who heard 
 him were extremely well satisfied of the truth, except 
 Pamela, who imagined, as she had never heard either 
 of her parents mention such an accident, that it must 
 be certainly false ; and except the Lady Booby, who 
 suspected the falsehood of the story from her ardent 
 desire that it should be true ; and Joseph, who feared 
 its truth, from his earnest wishes that it might prove 
 false. 
 
 Mr Booby now desired them all to suspend their 
 curiosity and absolute belief or disbelief till the next 
 morning, when he expected old Mr Andrews and his 
 wife to fetch himself and Pamela home in his coach, 
 and then they might be certain of certainly knowing 
 the truth or falsehood of this relation ; in which, he 
 said, as there were many strong circumstances to induce 
 their credit, so he could not perceive any interest the 
 pedlar could have in inventing it, or in endeavouring 
 to impose such a falsehood on them. 
 
 The Lady Booby, who was very little used to such 
 company, entertained them 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 the 
 pedlar, she ordered him to be made as welcome as 
 possible by her servants. All the company in the 
 parlour, except the disappointed lovers, who sat sullen 
 and silent, were full of mirth ; for Mr Booby had 
 prevailed on Joseph to ask Mr Didapper's pardon, 
 with which he was perfectly satisfied. Many jokes 
 passed between the beau and the parson, chiefly on 
 each other's dress ; these afforded much diversion to 
 the company. Pamela chid her brother Joseph for 
 the concern which he exprest at discovering a new 
 
Joseph Andrews 369 
 
 sister. She said, if he loved Fanny as he ought, 
 with a pure affection, he had no reason to lament being 
 related to her. Upon which Adams began to dis- 
 course on Platonic love; whence he made a quick 
 transition to the joys in the next world, and concluded 
 with strongly asserting that there was no such thing 
 as pleasure in this. At which Pamela and her husband 
 smiled on one another. 
 
 This happy pair proposing to retire (for no other 
 person gave the least symptom of desiring rest), they 
 all repaired to several beds provided for 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 home with the parson ; but hei 
 stay was so strongly insisted on, that she at last, by 
 Joseph's advice, consented. 
 
 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. 
 
 A5OUT an hour after they had all separated (it 
 being now past three in the morning), beau 
 Didapper, whose passion for Fanny permitted 
 him not to close his eyes, but had employed his imagi- 
 nation in contrivances how to satisfy his desires, at last 
 hit on a method by which he hoped to effect it. He 
 had ordered his servant to bring him word where Fanny 
 lay, and had received his information ; he therefore 
 arose, put on his breeches and nightgown, and stole 
 softly along the gallery which led to her apartment ; 
 and, being come to the door, as he imagined it, he 
 
370 The Adventures of 
 
 opened it with the least noise possible and entered the 
 chamber. A savour now invaded his nostrils which he 
 did not expect in the room of so sweet a young creature, 
 and which might have probably had no good effect on 
 a cooler lover. However, he groped out the bed with 
 difficulty, for there was not a glimpse of light, and, 
 opening the curtains, he whispered in Joseph's voice 
 (for he was an excellent mimic), "Fanny, my angel ! 
 I am come to inform thee that I have discovered the 
 falsehood of the story we last night heard. I am no 
 longer thy brother, but the lover ; nor will I be delayed 
 the enjoyment of thee one moment longer. You have 
 sufficient assurances of my constancy not to doubt my 
 marrying you, and it would be want of love to deny 
 me the possession of thy charms." So saying, he 
 disencumbered himself from the little clothes he had 
 on, and, leaping into bed, embraced his angel, as he 
 conceived her, with great rapture. If he was surprized 
 at receiving no answer, he was no less pleased to find 
 his hug returned with equal ardour. He remained not 
 long in this sweet confusion ; for both he and his para- 
 mour presently discovered their error. Indeed it was 
 no other than the accomplished Slipslop whom he had 
 engaged ; but, though she immediately knew the person 
 whom she had mistaken for Joseph, he was at a loss to 
 guess at the representative of Fanny. He had so little 
 seen or taken notice of this gentlewoman, that light itself 
 would have afforded him no assistance in his conjecture. 
 Beau Didapper no sooner had perceived his mistake 
 than he attempted to escape from the bed with much 
 greater haste than he had made to it ; but the watchful 
 Slipslop prevented him. For that prudent woman, 
 being disappointed of those delicious offerings which 
 her fancy had promised her pleasure, resolved to make 
 an immediate sacrifice to her virtue. Indeed she wanted 
 an opportunity to heal some wounds, which her late 
 
Joseph Andrews 371 
 
 conduct had, she feared, given her reputation ; and, as 
 she had a wonderful presence of mind, she conceived the 
 person of the unfortunate beau to be luckily thrown in 
 her way to restore her lady's opinion of her impregnable 
 chastity. At that instant, therefore, when he offered 
 to leap from the bed, she caught fast hold of his shirt, 
 at the same time roaring out, " O thou villain ! who 
 hast attacked my chastity, and, I believe, ruined me in 
 my sleep ; I will swear a rape against thee, I will 
 prosecute thee with the utmost vengeance." The beau 
 attempted to get loose, but she held him fast, and when 
 he struggled she cried out " Murder ! murder ! rape ! 
 robbery ! ruin ! " At which words, parson Adams, 
 who lay in the next chamber, wakeful, and meditating 
 on the pedlar's discovery, jumped out of bed, and, 
 without staying to put a rag of clothes on, hastened 
 into the apartment whence the cries proceeded. He 
 made directly to the bed in the dark, where, laying 
 hold of the beau's skin (for Slipslop had torn his shirt 
 almost off), and finding his skin extremely soft, and 
 hearing him in a low voice begging Slipslop to let 
 him go, he no longer doubted but this was the young 
 woman in danger of ravishing, and immediately falling on 
 the bed, and laying hold on Slipslop's chin, where he 
 found a rough beard, his belief was confirmed ; he there- 
 fore rescued the beau, who presently made his escape, 
 and then, turning towards Slipslop, received such a 
 cuff on his chops, that, his wrath kindling instantly, 
 he offered to return the favour so stoutly, that had 
 poor Slipslop received the fist, which in the dark passed 
 by her and fell on the pillow, she would most probably 
 have given up the ghost. Adams, missing his blow, 
 fell directly on Slipslop, who cuffed and scratched as 
 well as she could ; nor was he behindhand with her in 
 his endeavours, but happily the darkness of the night 
 befriended her. She then cried she was a woman ; but 
 
372 The Adventures of 
 
 Adams answered, she was rather the devil, and if she 
 was he would grapple with him ; and, being again irri- 
 tated by another stroke on his chops, he gave her such 
 a remembrance in the guts, that she began to roar loud 
 enough to be heard all over the house. Adams then, 
 seizing her by the hair (for her double-clout had fallen 
 off in the scuffle), pinned her head down to the bolster, 
 and then both called for lights together. The Lady 
 Booby, who was as wakeful as any of her guests, had 
 been alarmed from the beginning ; and, being a woman 
 of a bold spirit, she slipt on a nightgown, petticoat, and 
 slippers, and taking a candle, which always burnt in her 
 chamber, in her hand, she walked undauntedly to Slip- 
 slop's room ; where she entered just at the instant as 
 Adams had discovered, by the two mountains which 
 Slipslop carried before her, that he was concerned with 
 a female. He then concluded her to be a witch, and 
 said he fancied those breasts gave suck 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 she 
 found the naked condition of Adams, suffer her to 
 approach farther. She then began to revile the parson 
 as the wickedest of all men, and particularly railed at 
 his impudence in chusing her house for the scene of 
 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 Lady 
 Booby herself, and immediately whipt under the bed- 
 clothes, whence the chaste Slipslop endeavoured in vain 
 to shut him out. Then putting forth his head, on 
 which, by way of ornament, he wore a flannel night- 
 cap, he protested his innocence, and asked ten thousand 
 
Joseph Andrews 373 
 
 pardons of Mrs Slipslop for the blows he had struck 
 her, vowing he had mistaken her for a witch. Lady 
 Booby, then casting her eyes on the ground, observed 
 something sparkle with great lustre, which, when she 
 had taken it up, appeared to be a very fine pair of 
 diamond buttons for the sleeves. A little farther she 
 saw lie the sleeve itself of a shirt with laced ruffles. 
 "Heyday! " says she, "what is the meaning of this?" 
 "O, madam," says Slipslop, "I don't know what hath 
 happened, I have been so terrified. Here may have 
 been a dozen men in the room." " To whom belongs 
 this laced shirt and jewels ? " says the lady. " Un- 
 doubtedly," cries the parson, " to the young gentleman 
 whom J mistook for a woman on coming into the room, 
 whence proceeded all the subsequent mistakes ; for if I 
 had suspected him for a man, I would have seized him, 
 had he been another Hercules, though, indeed, he seems 
 rather to resemble Hylas." He then gave an account 
 of the reason of his rising from bed, and die rest, till 
 the lady came into the room ; at which, and the figures 
 of Slipslop and her gallant, whose heads only were 
 visible at the opposite corners of the bed, she could 
 not refrain from laughter ; nor did Slipslop persist in 
 accusing the parson of any motions towards a rape. 
 The lady therefore desired him to return to his bed 
 as soon as she was departed, and then ordering Slipslop 
 to rise and attend her in her own room, she returned 
 herself thither. When she was gone, Adams renewed 
 his petitions for pardon to Mrs Slipslop, who, with a 
 most Christian temper, not only forgave, but began to 
 move with much courtesy towards him, which he taking 
 as a hint to begin, immediately quitted the bed, and 
 made the best of his way towards his own ; but un- 
 luckily, instead of turning to the right, he turned to the 
 left, and went to the apartment where Fanny lay, who 
 (as the reader may remember) had not slept a wink the 
 
374 Th e Adventures of 
 
 preceding night, and who was so hagged out with what 
 had happened to her in the day, that, notwithstanding 
 all thoughts of her Joseph, she was fallen into so pro- 
 found a sleep, that all the noise in the adjoining room 
 had not been able to disturb her. Adams groped out 
 the bed, and, turning the clothes down 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 woman had always assigned him. 
 
 As the cat or lap-dog of some lovely nymph, for 
 whom ten thousand lovers languish, lies quietly by the 
 side of the charming maid, and, ignorant of the scene 
 of delight on which they repose, meditates the future 
 capture of a mouse, or surprisal of a plate of bread and 
 butter : so Adams lay by the side of Fanny, ignorant 
 of the paradise to which he was so near ; nor could the 
 emanation of sweets which flowed from her breath 
 overpower the fumes of tobacco which played in the 
 parson's nostrils. And now sleep had not overtaken 
 the good man, when Joseph, who had secretly ap- 
 pointed Fanny to come to her at the break of day, 
 rapped softly at the chamber-door, which when he had 
 repeated twice, Adams cryed, " Come in, whoever you 
 are." Joseph thought he had mistaken the door, 
 though she had given him the most exact directions ; 
 however, knowing his friend's voice, he opened it, and 
 saw some female vestments lying on a chair. Fanny 
 waking at the same instant, and stretching out her 
 hand on Adams's beard, she cried out, " O heavens ! 
 where am I ? " " Bless me ! where am I ? " said the 
 parson. Then Fanny screamed, Adams leapt out of 
 bed, and Joseph stood, as the tragedians call it, like the 
 statue of Surprize. " How came she into my room ? " 
 cryed Adams. " How came you into hers ? " cryed 
 Joseph, in an astonishment. " I know nothing of the 
 matter," answered Adams, "but that she is a vestal 
 
Joseph Andrews 375 
 
 for me. As I am a Christian, I know not whether 
 she is a man or woman. He is an infidel who doth 
 not believe in witchcraft They as surely exist now 
 as in the days of Saul. My clothes are bewitched 
 away too, and Fanny's brought into their place." 
 For he still insisted he was in his own apartment ; but 
 Fanny denied it vehemently, and said his attempting to 
 persuade Joseph of such a falsehood convinced her of 
 his wicked designs. " How ! " said Joseph in a rage, 
 "hath he offered any rudeness to you?" She an- 
 swered She could not accuse him of any more than 
 villanously stealing to bed to her, which she thought 
 rudeness sufficient, and what no man would do without 
 a wicked intention. 
 
 Joseph's great opinion of Adams was not easily to 
 be staggered, and when he heard from Fanny that no 
 harm had happened he grew a little cooler ; yet still he 
 wai confounded, and, as he knew the house, and that 
 the 'women's apartments were on this side Mrs Slip- 
 slop's room, and the men's on the other, he was con- 
 vinced that he was in Fanny's chamber. Assuring 
 Adams therefore of this truth, he begged him to give 
 some account how he came there. Adams then, 
 standing in his shirt, which did not offend Fanny, as 
 the curtains of the bed were drawn, related all that had 
 happened ; and when he had ended Joseph told him, 
 It was plain he had mistaken by turning to the right 
 instead of the left. " Odso ! " cries Adams, " that's 
 true : as sure as sixpence, you have hit on the very 
 thing." He then traversed the room, rubbing his 
 hands, and begged Fanny's pardon, assuring her he 
 did not know whether she was man or woman. That 
 innocent creature firmly believing all he said, told him 
 she was no longer angry, and begged Joseph to conduct 
 him into his own apartment, where he should stay him- 
 self till she had put her clothes on. Joseph and Adams 
 
376 The Adventures of 
 
 accordingly departed, and the latter soon was convinced 
 of the mistake he had committed ; however, whilst he 
 was dressing himself, he often asserted he believed in the 
 power of witchcraft notwithstanding, and did not see 
 how a Christian could deny it. 
 
 Chapter jcto. 
 
 The arrival of Gaffar and Gammar Andrews^ with 
 another person not much expected ; and a perfect solu- 
 tion of the difficulties raised by the pedlar. 
 
 A3 soon as Fanny was drest Joseph returned to her, 
 and they had a long conversation together, the 
 conclusion of which was, that, if they found 
 themselves to be really brother and sister, they vowed 
 a perpetual celibacy, and to live together all their <jays, 
 and indulge a Platonic friendship for each other. 
 
 The company were all very merry at breakfast, and 
 Joseph and Fanny rather more chearful than the preced- 
 ing night The Lady Booby produced the diamond 
 button, which the beau most readily owned, and alledged 
 that he was very subject to walk in his sleep. Indeed, 
 he was far from being ashamed of his amour, and rather 
 endeavoured to insinuate that more than was really true 
 had passed between him and the fair Slipslop. 
 
 Their tea was scarce over when news came of the 
 arrival of old Mr Andrews and his wife. They were 
 immediately introduced, and kindly received by the 
 Lady Booby, whose heart went now pit-a-pat, as did 
 those of Joseph and Fanny. They felt, perhaps, little 
 less anxiety in this interval than CEdipus himself, whilst 
 his fate was revealing. 
 
 Mr Booby first opened the cause by informing the 
 old gentleman that he had a child in the company more 
 
Joseph Andrews 377 
 
 than he knew of, and, taking Fanny by the hand, told 
 him, this was that daughter of his who had been stolen 
 away by gypsies in her infancy. Mr Andrews, after 
 expressing some astonishment, assured his honour that 
 he had never lost a daughter by gypsies, nor ever had 
 any other children than Joseph and Pamela. These 
 words were a cordial to the two lovers ; but had a 
 different effect on Lady Booby. She ordered the 
 pedlar to be called, who recounted his story as he had 
 done before. At the end of which, old Mrs Andrews, 
 running to Fanny, embraced her, crying out, " She is, 
 she is my child ! " The company were all amazed at this 
 disagreement between the man and his wife ; and the 
 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, and having a little recovered 
 her own spirits, delivered herself as follows : " You 
 may remember, my dear, when you went a Serjeant to 
 Gibraltar, you left me big with child ; you stayed 
 abroad, you know, upwards of three years. In your 
 absence I was brought to bed, I verily believe, of this 
 daughter, whom I am sure I have reason to remember, 
 for I suckled her at this 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, or thereabouts, 
 two gypsy- women came to the door and offered to tell 
 my fortune. One of them had a child in her lap. 
 I showed them my hand, and desired to know if you 
 was ever to come home again, which I remember 
 as well as if it was but yesterday : they faithfully 
 promised me you should. I left the girl in the cradle 
 and went to draw them a cup of liquor, the best I had : 
 when I returned with the pot (I am sure I was not 
 absent longer than whilst I am telling it to you) the 
 women were gone. I was afraid they had stolen some- 
 thing, and looked and looked, but to no purpose, and, 
 
378 The Adventures of 
 
 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 I had put into the cradle, 
 who was as fine a fat thriving child as you shall see in 
 a summer's day, a poor sickly boy, that did not seem 
 to have an hour to live. I ran out, pulling my hair off 
 and crying like any mad after the women, but never 
 could hear a word of them from that day to this. 
 When I came back the poor infant (which is our 
 Joseph there, as stout as he now stands) lifted up its 
 eyes upon me so piteously, that, to be sure, notwithstand- 
 ing my passion, I could not find in my heart to do it any 
 mischief. A neighbour of mine, happening to come in at 
 the same time, and hearing the case, advised me to take 
 care of this poor child, and God would perhaps one day 
 restore me my own. Upon which I took the child up, 
 and suckled it to be sure, all the world as if it had been 
 born of my own natural body ; and as true as I am 
 alive, in a little time I loved the boy all to nothing as 
 if it had been my own girl. Well, as I was saying, 
 times growing very hard, I having two children and 
 nothing but my own work, which was little enough, 
 God knows, to maintain them, was obliged to ask 
 relief of the parish ; but, instead of giving it me, they 
 removed me, by justices' warrants, fifteen miles, to the 
 place where I now live, where I had aot been long 
 settled before you came home. Joseph (for that was 
 the name I gave him myself 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 re* 
 turned ; for I believe he is two or three years older 
 than our daughter here (for I am thoroughly convinced 
 she is the same) ; and when you saw him you said he 
 was a chopping boy, without ever minding his age ; 
 and so I, seeing you did not suspect anything of the 
 
Joseph Andrews 379 
 
 matter, thought I might e'en as well keep 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 any justice in the kingdom." 
 
 The pedlar, who had been summoned by the order 
 of Lady Booby, listened with the utmost attention to 
 Gammar Andrews' s story ; and, when she had finished, 
 asked her if the supposititious child had no mark on 
 its breast ? To which she answered, " Yes, he had 
 as fine a strawberry as ever grew in a garden." This 
 Joseph acknowledged, and, unbuttoning his coat, at the 
 intercession of the company, showed to them, " Well," 
 says GafFar Andrews, who was a comical sly old fellow, 
 and very likely desired to have 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 you 
 certain that the girl is ours ? " The parson then brought 
 the pedlar forward, and desired him to repeat the story 
 which he had communicated to him the preceding day 
 at the ale-house ; which he complied with, and related 
 what the reader, as well as Mr Adams, hath seen before. 
 He then confirmed, from his wife's report, all the 
 circumstances of the exchange, and of the strawberry 
 on Joseph's breast. At the repetition of the word 
 strawberry, Adams, who had seen it without any emo- 
 tion, started and cried, " Bless me ! something comes 
 into my head." But before he had time to bring any- 
 thing out a servant called him forth. When he was 
 gone the pedlar assured Joseph that his parents were 
 persons or much greater circumstances than those he 
 had hitherto mistaken for such ; for that he had been 
 stolen from a gentleman's house by those whom they 
 call gypsies, and had been kept by them during a whole 
 year, when, looking on him as in a dying condition, 
 they had exchanged him for the other healthier child, 
 in the manner before related. He said, As to the name 
 
380 The Adventures of 
 
 of his father, his wife had either never known or forgot 
 it ; but that she had acquainted him he lived about 
 forty miles from the place where the exchange had 
 been made, and which way, promising to spare no pains 
 in endeavouring with him to discover the place. 
 
 But Fortune, which seldom doth good or ill, or 
 makes men happy or miserable, by halves, resolved to 
 spare him this labour. The reader may please to re- 
 collect that Mr Wilson had intended a journey to the 
 west, in which he was to pass through Mr Adams's 
 parish, and had promised to call on him. He was 
 now arrived at the Lady Booby's gates for that purpose, 
 being directed thither from the parson's house, and had 
 sent in the servant whom we have above seen call Mr 
 Adams forth. This had no sooner mentioned the dis- 
 covery of a stolen child, and had uttered the word 
 strawberry, than Mr Wilson, with wildness in his looks, 
 and the utmost eagerness in his words, begged to be 
 shewed into the room, where he entered without the 
 least regard to any of the company but Joseph, and, 
 embracing him with a complexion all pale and trembling, 
 desired to see the mark on his breast ; the parson 
 followed him capering, rubbing his hands, and crying 
 out, Hie est quern quteris ; inventus est, &c. Joseph 
 complied with the request of Mr Wilson, who no 
 sooner saw the mark than, abandoning himself to the 
 most extravagant rapture of passion, he embraced Joseph 
 with inexpressible ecstasy, and cried out in tears 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 with his father (for so in reality 
 he was) ; however, he returned some warmth to his 
 embraces : but he no sooner perceived, from his father's 
 account, the agreement of every circumstance, of person, 
 time, and place, than he threw himself at his feet, and, 
 embracing his knees, with tears begged his blessing, 
 
Joseph Andrews 381 
 
 which was given with much affection, and received 
 with such respect, mixed with such tenderness on both 
 sides, that it affected all present ; but none so much as 
 Lady Booby, who left the room in an agony, which 
 was but too much perceived, and not very charitably 
 accounted for by some of the company. 
 
 pfct* 
 
 Being the last, in which this true history is brought to a 
 happy conclusion. 
 
 FANNY was very little behind her Joseph in the duty 
 she exprest towards her parents, and the joy 
 she evidenced in discovering them. Gammar 
 Andrews kissed her, and said, She was heartily glad to 
 see her ; but for her part, she could never love any 
 one better than Joseph. Gaffar Andrews testified no 
 remarkable emotion: he blessed and kissed her, but 
 complained bitterly that he wanted his pipe, not having 
 had a whiff that morning. 
 
 Mr Booby, who knew nothing of his aunt's fondness, 
 imputed her abrupt departure to her pride, and disdain 
 of the family into which he was married; he was 
 therefore desirous to be gone with the utmost celerity ; 
 and now, having congratulated Mr Wilson and Joseph 
 on the discovery, he saluted 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 a good journey, but was too 
 disordered to see any company : he therefore prepared 
 to set out, having invited Mr Wilson to his house ; 
 and Pamela and Joseph both so insisted on his comply- 
 ing, that he at last consented, having first obtained a 
 
382 The Adventures of 
 
 messenger from Mr Booby to acquaint his wife with the 
 news ; which, as he knew it would render her completely 
 happy, he could not prevail on himself to delay a 
 moment in acquainting her with. 
 
 The company were ranged in this manner : the two 
 old people, with their two daughters, rode in the coach ; 
 the squire, Mr Wilson, Joseph, parson Adams, and the 
 pedlar, proceeded on horseback. 
 
 In their way, Joseph informed his father of his 
 intended match with Fanny; to which, though he 
 expressed some reluctance at first, on the eagerness of 
 his son's instances he consented ; saying, if she was so 
 good a creature as she appeared, and he described her, 
 he thought the disadvantages of birth and fortune might 
 be compensated. He however insisted on the match 
 being deferred till he had seen his mother ; in which, 
 Joseph perceiving him positive, with great duty obeyed 
 him, to the great delight of parson Adams, who by 
 these means saw an opportunity of fulfilling the Church 
 forms, and marrying his parishioners without a licence. 
 
 Mr Adams, greatly exulting on this occasion (for 
 such ceremonies were matters of no small moment with 
 him), accidentally gave spurs to his horse, which the 
 generous beast disdaining for he was of high mettle, 
 and had been used to more expert riders than the 
 gentleman who at present bestrode him, for whose 
 horsemanship he had perhaps some contempt im- 
 mediately ran away full speed, and played so many 
 antic tricks that he tumbled the parson from his back ; 
 which Joseph perceiving, came to his relief. 
 
 This accident afforded infinite merriment to the 
 servants, and no less frighted poor Fanny, who beheld 
 him as he passed by the coach ; but the mirth of the 
 one and terror of the other were soon determined, when 
 the parson declared he had received no damage. 
 
 The horse having freed himself from his unworthy 
 
Joseph Andrews 383 
 
 rider, as he probably thought him, proceeded to make 
 the best of his way ; but was stopped by a gentleman 
 and his servants, who were travelling the opposite way, 
 and were now at a little distance from the coach. 
 They soon met ; and as one of the servants delivered 
 Adams his horse, his master hailed him, and Adams, 
 looking up, presently recollected he was the justice of 
 peace before whom he and Fanny had made their 
 appearance. The parson presently saluted him verj 
 kindly ; and the justice informed him that he had 
 found the fellow who attempted to swear against him 
 and the young woman the very next day, and had 
 committed him to Salisbury gaol, where he was charged 
 with many robberies. 
 
 Many compliments having passed between the par- 
 son and the justice, the latter proceeded on his journey ; 
 and the former, having with some disdain refused 
 Joseph's offer of changing horses, and declared he was 
 as able a horseman as any in the kingdom, remounted 
 his beast ; and now the company again proceeded, and 
 happily arrived at their journey's end, Mr Adams, by 
 good luck, rather than by good riding, escaping a 
 second fall. 
 
 The company, arriving at Mr Booby's house, were 
 all received by him in the most courteous and enter- 
 tained in the most splendid manner, after the custom of 
 the old English hospitality, which is still preserved in 
 some very few families in the remote parts of England. 
 They all passed that day with the utmost satisfaction ; 
 it being perhaps impossible to find any set of people 
 more solidly and sincerely happy. Joseph and Fanny 
 found means to be alone upwards of two hours, which 
 were the shortest but the sweetest imaginable. 
 
 In the morning Mr Wilson proposed to his son to 
 make a visit with him to his mother ; which, notwith- 
 standing his dutiful inclinations, and a longing desire he 
 
384 The Adventures of 
 
 had to see her, a little concerned him, as he must be 
 obliged 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, whom Pamela so very 
 earnestly invited, that Mr Wilson at length agreed 
 with the entreaties of Mr Booby and Joseph, and 
 suffered the coach to go empty for his wife. 
 
 On Saturday night the coach returned with Mrs 
 Wilson, who added one more to this happy assembly. 
 The reader may imagine much better and quicker too 
 than I can describe the many embraces and tears of joy 
 which succeeded her arrival. It is sufficient to say 
 she was easily prevailed with 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 to the 
 Lady Booby's parish so to do ; being particularly 
 charged not to omit publishing the banns, being the 
 third and last time. 
 
 At length the happy day arrived which was to put 
 Joseph in the possession of all his wishes. He arose, 
 and drest himself in a neat but plain suit of Ml 
 Booby's, which exactly fitted him ; for he refused all 
 finery ; as did Fanny likewise, who could be prevailed 
 on by Pamela to attire herself in nothing richer than a 
 white dimity nightgown. Her shift indeed, which 
 Pamela presented her, was of the finest kind, and had 
 an edging of lace round the bosom. She likewise 
 equipped her with a pair 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 a little 
 straw hat, lined with cherry-coloured silk, and tied 
 with a cherry- coloured ribbon. In this dress she came 
 forth from her chamber, blushing and breathing sweets ; 
 and was by Joseph, whose eyes sparkled fire, led to 
 
Joseph Andrews 385 
 
 church, the whole family attending, where Mr Adams 
 performed the ceremony ; at which nothing was so re- 
 markable as the extraordinary and unaffected modesty 
 of Fanny, unless the true Christian piety of Adams, 
 who publickly rebuked Mr Booby and Pamela for 
 laughing in so sacred a place, and on so solemn an occa- 
 sion. Our parson would have done no less to the 
 highest prince on earth ; for, though he paid all sub- 
 mission and deference to his superiors in other matters, 
 where the least spice of religion intervened he im- 
 mediately lost all respect of persons. It was his 
 maxim, that he was a servant of the Highest, and 
 could not, without departing from his duty, give up the 
 least article of his honour or of his cause to the greatest 
 earthly potentate. Indeed, he always asserted that Mr 
 Adams at church with his surplice 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 Mr Booby's (for the distance 
 was so very little they did not think proper to use a 
 coach) ; the whole company attended them likewise 
 on foot; and now a most magnificent entertainment 
 was provided, at which parson Adams demonstrated 
 an appetite surprizing as well as surpassing every one 
 present. Indeed the only persons who betrayed any 
 deficiency on this occasion were those on whose account 
 the feast was provided. They pampered their imagina- 
 tions with the much more exquisite repast which the 
 approach of night promised them ; the thoughts of 
 which filled both their minds, though with different 
 sensations ; the one all desire, while the other had her 
 wishes tempered with fears. 
 
 At length, after a day passed with the utmost merri- 
 ment, corrected by the strictest decency, in which, 
 however, parson Adams, being well filled with ale and 
 
386 The Adventures of 
 
 pudding, had given a loose to more facetiousness than 
 was usual to him, the happy, the blest moment arrived 
 when Fanny retired 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 was properly 
 discovering, not putting off, ornaments ; for, as all her 
 charms were the gifts of nature, she could divest 
 herself of none. How, reader, shall I give thee an 
 adequate idea of this lovely young creature ? the bloom 
 of roses and lilies might a little illustrate her com- 
 plexion, or their smell her sweetness ; but to com- 
 prehend her entirely, conceive youth, health, bloom, 
 neatness, and innocence, in her bridal bed; conceive 
 all these in their utmost perfection, and you may place 
 the charming Fanny's picture before your eyes. 
 
 Joseph no sooner heard she was in bed than he fled 
 with the utmost eagerness to her. A minute carried 
 him into her arms, where we shall leave this happy 
 couple to enjoy the private rewards of their constancy ; 
 rewards so great and sweet, that I apprehend Joseph 
 neither envied the noblest 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 scarce ever equalled. 
 Mr Booby hath, with unprecedented generosity, given 
 Fanny a fortune of two thousand pounds, which Joseph 
 hath laid out in a little estate in the same parish with 
 his father, which he now occupies (his father having 
 stocked it for him) ; and Fanny presides with most 
 excellent management in his dairy ; where, however, 
 she is not at present very able to bustle much, being, as 
 Mr Wilson informs me in his last letter, extremely big 
 with her first child. 
 
Joseph Andrews 387 
 
 Mr Booby hath presented Mr Adams with a living 
 of one hundred and thirty pounds a year. He at first 
 refused it, resolving not to quit his parishioners, with 
 whom he had lived so long ; but, on recollecting he 
 might keep a curate at this living, he hath been lately 
 inducted into it. 
 
 The pedlar, besides several handsome presents, both 
 from Mr Wilson and Mr Booby, is, by the latter' s 
 interest, made an exciseman ; a trust which he dis- 
 charges with such justice, that he is greatly beloved 
 in his neighbourhood. 
 
 As for the Lady Booby, she returned to London 
 in a few days, where a young captain of dragoons, 
 together with eternal parties at cards, soon obliterated 
 the memory of Joseph. 
 
 Joseph remains blest with his Fanny, whom he doats 
 on with the utmost tenderness, which is all returned on 
 her side. The happiness of this couple is a perpetual 
 fountain of pleasure to their fond parents ; and, what 
 is particularly remarkable, he declares he will imitate 
 them in their retirement, nor will be prevailed on by 
 any booksellers, or their authors, to make his appear- 
 ance in high life. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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