THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 Comefcic Ibumaine 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 ADVENTURES OF 
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 AND HIS FRIEND 
 MR. ABRAHAM ADAMS 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY FIELDING
 
 Gbe Englisb 
 ComeMe Ibumaine 
 
 Masterpieces of the great 
 English novelists in which 
 are portrayed the varying 
 aspects of English life from 
 the time of Addison to the 
 present day : a series anal- 
 ogous to that in which 
 Balzac depicted the man- 
 ners and morals of his 
 French contemporaries.
 
 "The whole town hath known it this half year'
 
 Cbe Enfllteb ComcMe Ibumatnc 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 AND HIS FRIEND MR. ABRAHAM ADAMS 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY FIELDING 
 
 }!M*<Q 
 
 7S 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Gbe Century Co. 
 1904 
 
 J
 
 Copyright, 1902, by 
 The Century Co. 
 
 Published November, IQ02.
 
 345M 
 
 PR 
 J71 
 
 PUBLISHERS' NOTE 
 
 Henry Fielding, by common consent of the critics the greatest 
 of English novelists, was born near Glastonbury in Somerset- 
 shire in 1707 and died at Lisbon, whither he had gone for his 
 health, in 1754. The greater part of his life was spent in Lon- 
 don. At the outset of his career there he was obliged, as he 
 said, to choose between the work of a hackney coachman and 
 that of a hackney writer, and selecting the latter applied himself 
 to the composing of plays. Meeting with but indifferent success 
 in this occupation, he turned to the law, was admitted to the 
 bar in 1740, and later became a justice of the peace and chair- 
 man of quarter sessions. 
 
 His first novel, " Joseph_AndrejKS_" (published in 1742), was 
 suggested by, and is in part a parody of, Richardson's " Pa- 
 mela" (which is included in this " Comedie Humaine "). The 
 superfine sentiment and priggishness of that famous romance 
 were distasteful to Fielding's vigorous and eminently masculine 
 mind, and he undertook to make the career of the virtuous 
 Pamela ridiculous by means of the parallel career of her virtuous 
 brother Joseph. The burlesque was not, however, carried far, 
 for his characters soon demanded, and received, independent 
 treatment — the result being at once a masterpiece of fiction, one 
 of the most perfect of prose comedies, and a picture of real life 
 which has seldom been surpassed. It is not so much a parody 
 on the work of Richardson as its complement. The sentimental 
 printer endeavored to show, from the point of view of a very 
 commonplace moral ideal, how men and, especially, women 
 ought to conduct themselves; the virile playwright actually 
 showed how the real men and women of his time did conduct 
 themselves. There is in Fielding's picture of the life of his 
 country and time too much of frank vulgarity — too much cer- 
 tainly for modern taste; but apart from this, it is worthy to be 
 placed among the greatest masterpieces of realistic fiction.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Preface xv 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 i Of writing Lives in general, and particularly 
 of Pamela; with a word by the bye of Colley 
 
 ClBBER AND OTHERS 3 
 
 ii Of Mr Joseph Andrews, his birth, parentage, 
 
 EDUCATION, AND GREAT ENDOWMENTS; WITH A 
 WORD OR TWO CONCERNING ANCESTORS .... 5 
 
 in Of Mr Abraham Adams the curate, Mrs Slip- 
 slop THE CHAMBERMAID, AND OTHERS .... 7 
 
 iv What happened after their journey to London i i 
 v The death of Sir Thomas Booby, with the 
 
 AFFECTIONATE AND MOURNFUL BEHAVIOUR OF HIS 
 WIDOW, AND THE GREAT PURITY OF JOSEPH 
 
 Andrews '3 
 
 vi How Joseph Andrews writ a letter to his sister 
 
 Pamela J 5 
 
 vii 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 1 9 
 
 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 DE- 
 SPAIR OF SEEING FOLLOWED BY HIS SEX IN THIS 
 VICIOUS AGE 22 
 
 vii
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACE 
 
 i\ What passed between the lady and Mrs Slip- 
 slop; IN WHICH WE PROPHESY THERE ARE SOME 
 STROKES WHICH EVERY ONE WILL NOT TRULY COM- 
 PREHEND AT THE FIRST READING 26 
 
 x Joseph writes another letter: his transactions 
 with Mr Peter Pounce, etc., with his depart- 
 ure from Lady Booby 3° 
 
 xi Of several new matters not expected ... 32 
 
 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 35 
 
 xin What happened to Joseph during his sickness 
 
 AT THE INN, WITH THE CURIOUS DISCOURSE BE- 
 TWEEN him and Mr Barnabas, the parson of 
 
 THE PARISH 4 1 
 
 xiv Being very full of adventures which succeeded 
 
 each other at the inn 44 
 
 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 49 
 
 xvi The escape ote the thief. Mr Adams's dis- 
 appointmf 't. The arrival of two very ex- 
 traordi1 y personages, and the introduc- 
 TION of Parson Adams to Parson Barnabas . 53 
 
 XVII A PLEASANT DISCOURSE BETWEEN THE TWO PARSONS 
 AND THE BOOKSELLER, WHICH WAS BROKE OFF BY 
 AN UNLUCKY ACCIDENT HAPPENING IN THE INN, 
 WHICH PRODUCED A DIALOGUE BETWEEN MRS TOW- 
 WOUSE AND HER MAID OF NO GENTLE KIND . . 6l 
 
 xvm The history of Betty the chambermaid, and an 
 
 ACCOUNT OF WHAT OCCASIONED THE VIOLENT 
 SCENE IN THE PRECEDING CHAPTER 
 
 viii 
 
 66
 
 CONTENTS 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I Of divisions in authors 70 
 
 11 A surprizing instance of Mr Adams's short mem- 
 ory, WITH THE UNFORTUNATE CONSEQUENCES WHICH 
 IT BROUGHT ON JOSEPH J2 
 
 III THE OPINION OF TWO LAWYERS CONCERNING THE 
 SAME GENTLEMAN, WITH MR ADAMS'S INQUIRY INTO 
 THE RELIGION OF HIS HOST 77 
 
 iv The history of Leonora, or the unfortunate 
 
 JILT 83 
 
 V A DREADFUL QUARREL WHICH HAPPENED AT THE INN 
 WHERE THE COMPANY DINED, WITH ITS BLOODY 
 CONSEQUENCES TO MR ADAMS 98 
 
 vi Conclusion of the unfortunate jilt 106 
 
 VII A VERY SHORT CHAPTER, IN WHICH PARSON ADAMS 
 
 WENT A GREAT WAY I IO 
 
 VIII A NOTABLE DISSERTATION BY MR ABRAHAM ADAMS; 
 WHEREIN THAT GENTLEMAN APPEARS IN A POLITI- 
 CAL LIGHT 112 
 
 IX IN WHICH THE GENTLEMAN DESCANTS ON BRAVERY 
 AND HEROIC VIRTUE, TILL AN UNLUCKY ACCIDENT 
 PUTS AN END TO THE DISCOURSE I 1 5 
 
 x Giving an account of the strange catastrophe 
 of the preceding adventure, w, t ch drew poor 
 Adams into fresh calamities; nd who the 
 woman was who owed the preservation of her 
 chastity to his victorious arm 120 
 
 xi What happened to them while before the jus- 
 tice. A CHAPTER VERY FULL OF LEARNING . . . 1 25 
 
 XII A VERY DELIGHTFUL ADVENTURE, AS WELL TO THE 
 PERSONS CONCERNED AS TO THE GOOD-NATURED 
 READER 131 
 
 xiii a dissertation concerning high people and low 
 people, with Mrs Slipslop's departure in no 
 
 ix
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 VERY GOOD TEMPER OF MIND, AND THE EVIL PLIGHT 
 
 IN WHICH SHE LEFT ADAMS AND HIS COMPANY . . 135 
 
 xiv An interview between Parson Adams and Parson 
 
 Trulliber 141 
 
 xv An adventure the consequence of a new instance 
 
 which Parson Adams gave of his forgetfulness. 147 
 
 xvi a very curious adventure, in which mr adams 
 gave a much greater instance of the honest 
 simplicity of his heart, than of his experi- 
 ence in the ways of this world 150 
 
 xvii a dialogue between mr abraham adams and his 
 host, which, by the disagreement in their 
 opinions, seemed to threaten an unlucky catas- 
 trophe, had it not been timely prevented by 
 the return of the lovers 1 57 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 1 Matter prefatory in praise of biography . . . 164 
 
 ii a night-scene, wherein several wonderful ad- 
 VENTURES befel Adams and his fellow-trav- 
 ellers 169 
 
 in In which the gentleman relates the history of 
 
 his life 178 
 
 iv A description of Mr Wilson's way of living. 
 The tragical adventures of the dog, and 
 other grave matters 201 
 
 v a disputation on schools held on the road by 
 Mr Abraham Adams and Joseph; and a dis- 
 covery NOT UNWELCOME TO THEM BOTH .... 205 
 
 vi Moral reflections by Joseph Andrews; with the 
 
 HUNTING ADVENTURE, AND PARSON ADAMS'S MIRAC- 
 ULOUS ESCAPE 209 
 
 VII A SCENE OF ROASTING, VERY NICELY ADAPTED TO THE 
 
 PRESENT TASTE AND TIMES 2l8 
 
 X
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 vin Which some readers will think too short and 
 
 OTHERS TOO LONG 226 
 
 ix Containing as surprizing and bloody adventures 
 as can be found in this or perhaps any other 
 authentic history 230 
 
 x a discourse between the poet and the player; 
 of no other use in this history but to divert 
 the reader . 234 
 
 xi Containing the exhortations of Parson Adams 
 to his friend in affliction; calculated for 
 the instruction and improvement of the 
 
 READER 238 
 
 xii More adventures, which we hope will as much 
 
 please as surprize the reader 241 
 
 xiii a curious dialogue which passed between mr 
 Abraham Adams and Mr Peter Pounce, better 
 worth reading than all the works of colley 
 clbber and many others 248 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 1 The arrival of Lady Booby and the rest at 
 
 Booby-hall ' 251 
 
 ii a dialogue between mr abraham adams and 
 
 Lady Booby 255 
 
 in What passed between the lady and Lawyer Scout 258 
 
 iv A short chapter, but very full of matter; par- 
 ticularly THE ARRIVAL OF MR BOOBY AND HIS 
 LADY 261 
 
 v Containing justice business; curious precedents 
 of depositions, and other matters necessary 
 to be perused by all justices of the peace and 
 their clerks 262 
 
 vi of which you are desired to read no more than 
 
 YOU LIKE 268 
 
 xi
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 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 274 
 
 viii a discourse which happened between mr adams, 
 Mrs Adams, Joseph, and Fanny; with some be- 
 haviour of Mr Adams which will be called 
 by some few readers very low, absurd, and 
 unnatural 28 1 
 
 ix a visit which the polite lady booby and her 
 
 polite friend paid to the parson 287 
 
 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 290 
 
 xi in which the history is continued 296 
 
 xii Where the good-natured reader will see some- 
 thing WHICH WILL GIVE HIM NO GREAT PLEASURE 299 
 
 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 .... 30i 
 
 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 306 
 
 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 311 
 
 xvi Being the last. In which this true history is 
 
 BROUGHT TO A HAPPY CONCLUSION 315 
 
 Xll
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 After the drawings by W. Small 
 "THE WHOLE TOWN HATH KNOWN IT THIS HALF YEAR" Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 "Taking her in his arms, he shut her out of the 
 
 room" 68 
 
 "Adams, with a look full of ineffable contempt, told 
 
 him he deserved scourging for his pronunciation" 126 
 
 "The hare was no sooner on shore than it seated 
 
 itself on its hinder legs" 212 
 
 "Joseph threw his head so dexterously into the 
 
 stomach of the ravisher, that he fell" .... 280
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 AND HIS FRIEND MR ABRAHAM ADAMS 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 As it is possible the mere English reader may have a differ- 
 ent idea of romance with 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 con- 
 cerning 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 perhaps, 
 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, which the critic enumer- 
 ates in the constituent parts of an epic poem, namely metre ; 
 
 xv
 
 PREFACE 
 
 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 ap- 
 pears to me of the epic kind, as well as the Odyssey of Ho- 
 mer ; indeed, it is much fairer and more reasonable to give it 
 a name common with that species from which it differs only 
 in a single instance, than to confound it with those which it 
 resembles in no other. Such as those voluminous works, 
 commonly called romances, namely, Clelia, Cleopatra, Astrsea, 
 Cassandra, the Grand Cyrus, and innumerable others, which 
 contain, as I apprehend, very little instruction or entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 Now, a comic romance is a comic epic poem in prose; dif- 
 fering from comedy, as the serious epic from tragedy : its 
 action being more extended and comprehensive ; 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 
 differs in its characters by introducing persons of inferior 
 rank, and consequently, of inferior manners, whereas the 
 grave romance sets the highest before us : lastly, in its senti- 
 ments and diction ; by preserving the ludicrous instead of 
 the sublime. In the diction, I think, 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. 
 
 xvi
 
 PREFACE 
 
 But, though we have sometimes admitted this in our dic- 
 tion, we have carefully excluded it from our sentiments 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 sur- 
 prising absurdity, as in appropriating the manners of the 
 highest to the lowest, or e converso ; 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 ad- 
 mirable ; 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 char- 
 acters (the one of the whole poem, and the other of the whole 
 man), in vulgar opinion, beyond any of their greater excel- 
 lences : but surely a certain drollery in style, where charac- 
 ters and sentiments are perfectly natural, no more constitutes 
 the burlesque, than an empty pomp and dignity of words, 
 where every thing else is mean and low, can entitle any per- 
 formance 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 per- 
 
 xvii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 haps 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, whe- 
 ther 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, per- 
 haps, 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 we allow all licence, — its aim jis_to 
 e xhibit m onsters^not men ; and all distortions and exaggera- 
 tions whatever are within its proper province. 
 
 Now, what caricatura is in painting, burlesque is in writ- 
 ing; and in the same manner the comic writer and painter 
 correlate to each other. And here I shall observe, 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 mon- 
 strous is much easier to paint than describe, and the ridicu- 
 lous 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 use- 
 ful pleasure arises to us from it. He who should call the 
 
 xviii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 ingenious Hogarth a burlesque 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 mis- 
 taken, even by writers who have professed it : for to what but 
 such a mistake can we attribute the many attempts to ridicule 
 the blackest villanies, and, what is yet worse, the most dread- 
 ful calamities? What could exceed the absurdity of an au- 
 thor, 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, positively asserted what is. Nor 
 doth the Abbe Bellegarde, who hath written a treatise on this 
 subject, though he shows us many species of it, once trace it 
 to its fountain. 
 
 T4i_e only_ source of th ejxue ridiculous (as it appears to 
 me) is affectation. But though it arises from one spring only, 
 
 xix
 
 PREFACE 
 
 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 van- 
 ity puts us on affecting false characters, in order to purchase 
 applause ; so hypocrisy sets us on an endeavour to avoid cen- 
 sure, by concealing our vices under an appearance of their 
 opposite virtues. And though these two causes are often con- 
 founded (for there is some difficulty in distinguishing them), 
 yet, as they proceed from very different motives, so they are 
 as clearly distinct in their operations : for indeed, the affecta- 
 tion which arises from vanity 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 
 J noted, that affectation doth not imply an absolute negation of 
 those qualities which are affected ; and, therefore, 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 instance, the affectation of liberality in a 
 vain man differs visibly from the same affectation in the ava- 
 ricious ; 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 surprize 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 
 
 xx
 
 PREFACE 
 
 understood the ridiculous the best, hath chiefly used the hypo- 
 critical 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 them- 
 selves : nor do I believe any man living, who meets a dirty 
 fellow riding through 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 his 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 derision; 
 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. 
 
 xxi
 
 PREFACE 
 
 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 actions, and keep clear 
 from them. Secondly, that the vices to be found here, are 
 rather the accidental consequences 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 pro- 
 duce the intended evil. 
 
 Having thus distinguished Joseph Andrews from the pro- 
 ductions 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 anyone; 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 ex- 
 perience ; yet I have used the utmost care to obscure the per- 
 sons by such different circumstances, degrees, and colours, 
 that it will be impossible 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 simplicity; and 
 as the goodness of his heart will recommend him to the good- 
 
 xxii
 
 PREFACE 
 
 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 there- 
 fore excuse me, notwithstanding the low adventures in which 
 he is engaged, that I have made him a clergyman ; since no 
 other office could have given him so many opportunities of 
 displaying his worthy inclinations. 
 
 xxm
 
 I 
 
 f
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF WRITING LIVES IN GENERAL, AND PARTICULARLY OF PA- 
 MELA; WITH A WORD BY THE BYE OF COLLEY CIBBER 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 acquaintance, 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 usefulness 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 happiness of knowing the 
 originals ; and so, by communicating 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 persons 
 of both sexes. Not to mention those ancient writers which 
 of late days are little read, being written in obsolete, and as 
 they are generally thought, unintelligible languages, such as 
 
 3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Plutarch, Nepos, and others which I heard of in my youth ; 
 our own language affords many of excellent use and instruc- 
 tion, 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 his- 
 tory 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 recorded, and is by many thought to 
 have lived such a life only in order to write it. The other 
 is communicated 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 Cibber and of Mrs Pamela Andrews. How 
 artfully doth the former, by insinuating that he escaped being 
 promoted to the highest stations in Church and State, teach 
 us a contempt of worldly grandeur! how strongly doth he 
 inculcate 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 au- 
 thentic history with which I now present the public is an in- 
 stance 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 character of 
 
 4
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 II. 
 
 OF MR JOSEPH ANDREWS, HIS BIRTH, PARENTAGE, EDUCATION, 
 AND GREAT ENDOWMENTS ', WITH A WORD OR TWO CONCERN- 
 ING ANCESTORS. 
 
 MR JOSEPH ANDREWS, the hero of our ensuing his- 
 tory, was esteemed to be the only son of Gaffar and 
 Gammer Andrews, and brother to the illustrious Pamela, 
 whose virtue is at present so 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. Whe- 
 ther he had any ancestors before this, we must leave to the 
 opinion of our curious reader, finding nothing of sufficient 
 certainty to rely on. However, we cannot omit inserting an 
 epitaph which an ingenious friend of ours hath communi- 
 cated : 
 
 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, 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 wave, therefore, a circumstance, which, though men- 
 tioned in conformity to the exact rules of biography, is not 
 
 5
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 
 hundreds years backwards, 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 sup- 
 pose, 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 all 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 ac- 
 quiring 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 sportsmen term a 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 other- 
 wise for him, and constantly laid every fault the dogs were 
 at to the account of the poor boy, who was now transplanted 
 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 sur- 
 prised every one. While he was in this station, he rode sev- 
 eral races for Sir Thomas, and this with such expertness and 
 success, that the neighbouring gentlemen frequently solicited 
 * In English, sprung from a dunghill. 
 6
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 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 
 extremely raised his character, and so pleased the Lady Booby, 
 that she desired to have him (being now seventeen 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 ser- 
 vice, 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 III. 
 
 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 bq 
 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 as an infant 
 just entered into it could possibly be. As he had never any 
 intention to deceive, so he never suspected such a design in 
 others. He was generous, friendly, and brave to an excess ; 
 but simplicity was his characteristic: he did no more than 
 
 7
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mr Collev Cibber 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, however, he could not make any great figure 
 with, because he lived in a dear country, and was a little in- 
 cumbered with a wife and six children. 
 
 It was this gentleman, who having, as I have said, ob- 
 served the singular devotion of young Andrews, had found 
 means to question him concerning several particulars ; 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 jus- 
 tices 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 he 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 his father's landlord did not vote 
 on the right side for a churchwarden in a borough town, yet 
 had been himself 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 
 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, 
 
 8
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 and covered another man's meadow." This sufficiently as- 
 sured Mr Adams that the good book meant could be no 
 other than Baker's Chronicle. 
 
 The curate, surprized to find such instances of industry 
 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 part, he 
 was perfectly content with the state to which he 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 
 I wish some who have read many more good books, nay, and 
 some who have written 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 dress or fortune ; and 
 my lady was a woman of gaiety, who had been blessed 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 per- 
 haps 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 shil- 
 lings 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 plea- 
 sure (which he used indeed frequently 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 im- 
 poverished himself. 
 
 Mrs Slipslop, the waiting-gentlewoman, being herself the 
 daughter of a curate, preserved some respect for Adams : she 
 
 9
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 affector 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 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 mas- 
 ter'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 necessitous for a foot- 
 man than a gentleman? It is very proper that you clergy- 
 men must learn it, because you can't preach without it: but 
 I haye heard gentlemen say in London, that it is fit for no- 
 body else. I am confidous my lady would be angry with me 
 for mentioning 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 hap- 
 pened a few days afterwards. However, Andrews behaved 
 
 10
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 very thankfully and gratefully to him for his intended kind- 
 ness, which he told him he never would forget, and at the 
 same time received from the good man many admonitions 
 concerning the regulation of his future conduct, and his per- 
 severance in innocence and industry. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 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 footmen 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 playhouses and assemblies ; and when he 
 attended his lady at church (which was but seldom) he be- 
 haved 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 beaux 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 : 
 "Aye, 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 min- 
 
 ii
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ute, would lean on his arm, and converse with him in great 
 familiarity. Whenever she stept out of her coach, she would 
 take 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 in- 
 dulged 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 surprised?" — "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 consequence 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 repu- 
 tations which were published the day afterwards, and en- 
 grossed the whole talk of the town. 
 
 But, whatever opinion or suspicion the scandalous inclina- 
 tion 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 im- 
 puted to the violent respect he preserved for her, and which 
 served only to heighten a something she began to conceive, 
 and which the next chapter will open a little farther. 
 
 * 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. 
 
 12
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 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 
 jljL 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 disconsolate lady confined to her house, as closely as 
 if she herself had been attacked by some violent disease. Dur- 
 ing 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 
 himself to think on such things. "As young as you are," re- 
 plied 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 ? " Jo- 
 seph returned, that all the women he had ever seen were 
 equally indifferent to him. " O then," said the lady, " you are 
 a general lover. Indeed, you handsome fellows, like hand- 
 some women, are very long and difficult in fixing ; but yet 
 you shall never persuade me that your heart is 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 some- 
 times may be impertinent : but pray answer me this question. 
 Suppose a lady should happen to like you ; suppose she should 
 
 J 3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 prefer you to all your sex, and admit you to the same famil- 
 iarities as you might have hoped for if you had been born her 
 equal, are you certain that no vanity could tempt you to dis- 
 cover 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 sacrificing 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 sur- 
 prize, " 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 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 ? " Jo- 
 seph 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 rea- 
 son 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 forgiving 
 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, 
 
 14
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 " do you think it would not disoblige 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 down-stairs, 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 en- 
 dure thee more." At which words she turned away from 
 him; and Joseph retreated from the room in a most dis- 
 consolate condition, and writ that letter which the reader will 
 find in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW JOSEPH ANDREWS WRIT A LETTER TO HIS SISTER PAMELA. 
 
 ' To Mrs Pamela Andrezvs, living with Squire Booby. 
 
 " Dear Sister, — Since I received your letter of your good 
 lady's death, we have had a misfortune 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 ; 
 
 15
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 any- 
 body ; but she ordered me to sit down by her bed-side, when 
 she was naked in bed ; and she held my hand, and talked 
 exactly as a lady does to her sweetheart in a stage-play, 
 which I have seen in Covent 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 neighbouring gentleman's, un- 
 less 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 mas- 
 ter'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 down-stairs, where he met Mrs Slipslop, with whom 
 we shall take this opportunity to bring the reader a little bet- 
 ter 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 Jo- 
 seph, in which she had not met with quite so good success as 
 she probably wished, though, besides the allurements of her 
 
 16
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 pos- 
 sible. 
 
 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 
 some warmth, "Do you intend to insult 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? " " Ma- 
 dam," answered Joseph, " I don't understand your hard 
 words ; but I am certain you have no occasion to call me un- 
 2 I7
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 grateful, 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 Airs 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 be- 
 lieve 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," says Joseph, " I am sure 
 I have always valued the honour you did me by your conver- 
 sation, 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, Jo- 
 seph, 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 ; so 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 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. 
 
 t8
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 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 ancient sage, whose name I 
 have forgot, that passions operate differently on the hu- 
 man 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 himself 
 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 dis- 
 position of Mrs Slipslop. 
 
 Another philosopher, whose name also at present escapes 
 my memory, hath somewhere said, that resolutions taken in 
 the absence of the beloved object are very apt to vanish in 
 its presence ; on both which wise sayings the following chap- 
 ter 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 disappoint- 
 ment, 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-success. However, she had 
 now got the better of it in 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 surprised 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 
 
 19
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 
 Slipslop, " 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 beheld." — " 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 chamber-maid, 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 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 vehemence. " I wish, madam," cries Slip- 
 slop, " your ladyship 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, ma- 
 dam!" 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 reluctance 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 vio- 
 lence. 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 
 
 20
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 the lady began immediately to accuse herself of want of reso- 
 lution, and to apprehend the return of her affection, with 
 its pernicious consequences ; she therefore applied herself 
 again to the bell, and resummoned Mrs Slipslop into her 
 presence ; who again returned, and was told by her mistress 
 that she had considered better of the matter, and was abso- 
 lutely 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 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 de- 
 light ! 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 
 Cibber, who confounds all number, gender, and breaks 
 through every rule of grammar at his will, hath so distorted 
 the English language as thou dost metamorphose and distort 
 the human senses. 
 
 21
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Thou puttest out our eyes, 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 tender-hearted. In short, thou turnest the heart of 
 man inside out, as a juggler doth a petticoat, and bringest 
 whatsoever pleaseth thee out from it. If there be any one 
 who doubts all this, let him read the next chapter. 
 
 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. 
 
 NOW the rake Hesperus had called for his breeches, and, 
 having well rubbed his drowsy eyes, prepared 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. Now 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 temptation, 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 
 
 22
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 conduct of a 
 woman who, perhaps, was in her own disposition as chaste 
 as those pure and sanctified virgins who, after a life inno- 
 cently 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 beaux 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 arms hung so easily, that he had all the symp- 
 toms of strength without 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 neat- 
 ness in his dress, and an air which, to those who have not seen 
 many noblemen, 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 be- 
 fore she spoke 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 be- 
 have 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, 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 imprudent 
 
 23
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 trollop who is with child by you is discharged by this 
 time." 
 
 As a person who is struck through the heart with a thun- 
 derbolt looks extremely surprized, nay, and perhaps is so too 
 
 thus the poor Joseph received the false accusation of his 
 
 mistress ; he blushed and looked confounded, which she mis- 
 interpreted to be symptoms of his guilt, and thus went on : 
 
 " Come hither, Joseph : another mistress might discard you 
 for these offences ; but I have a compassion for your youth, 
 and if I could be certain you would be no more guilty — Con- 
 sider, 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 liar." " 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 kiss- 
 ing? 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 sooner 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 your- 
 self." " 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 control them, without suffering 
 
 24
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 them to get the better of my virtue." You have heard, reader, 
 poets talk of the statue of Surprize ; you have heard like- 
 wise, 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 Phi- 
 dias 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 favour in her power, your virtue should re- 
 sist her inclination? 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 magistrates 
 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 has 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 John Booby ever kept 
 
 25
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 in her house. Sirrah ! get out of my sight, and prepare to 
 set out this night ; for I will order you your wages imme- 
 diately, 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 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 fol- 
 lowing exclamation : — " Whither doth this violent passion 
 hurry us? What meannesses do we submit to from its im- 
 pulse ! 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 infinitely more violence than was 
 necessary, — the faithful Slipslop attending near at hand : to 
 say the truth, she had conceived a suspicion at her last in- 
 terview 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 SLIPSLOP," said the lady, " I find too much reason to be- 
 lieve all thou hast told me of this wicked Joseph ; I have 
 determined to part with him instantly ; so go you to the stew- 
 
 26
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 ard, and bid him pay him his wages." Slipslop, who had pre- 
 served hitherto a distance to her lady — rather out of neces- 
 sity than inclination — and who thought the knowledge of 
 this secret had thrown down all distinction between 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 down-stairs. The 
 lady replied, she had taken a resolution, 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 Slip- 
 slop, " 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 extraor- 
 dinary 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 mistresses." " Yes, and saucy ones too," an- 
 swered the lady ; " but I assure you I shall bear no such 
 impertinence." " Impertinence! I don't know that I am im- 
 pertinent," 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 obliged to tell that to everybody," says Slipslop, " any 
 more than I am obliged to keep it a secret." ' I desire you 
 will provide yourself," answered the lady. " With all my 
 
 27
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 heart,'' replied the waiting-gentlewoman ; and so departed in 
 a passion, and slammed 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 interview. This, 
 therefore, blew up her rage against him, and confirmed her 
 in a resolution of parting with him. 
 
 But the dismissing of Mrs Slipslop was a point not so easily 
 to be resolved upon. She had the utmost tenderness 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 risk 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 spir- 
 its 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 rea- 
 son on your side to desire a change. I can't help being sur- 
 prised, therefore, that you will take the surest method to 
 offend me — I mean, repeating my words, which you know I 
 have always detested." 
 
 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 expectation. 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 recon- 
 ciled, all offences forgiven, and a present of a gown and 
 petticoat made her, as an instance of her lady's future favour. 
 
 28
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 foot- 
 men 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 encourage- 
 ment 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 any 
 thing to him ; and as to Mrs Slipslop, she imagined she could 
 bribe her to secresy. 
 
 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 hoodwinked her, that 
 she could not see him. She was a 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 vindi- 
 cate 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 
 
 2 9
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 en- 
 veloped by the careful Serjeants in doubt and obscurity. 
 
 Or, as it happens in the conscience, where honour and hon- 
 esty 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. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 JOSEPH WRITES ANOTHER LETTER: HIS TRANSACTIONS WITH 
 MR PETER POUNCE, ETC., WITH HIS DEPARTURE FROM LADY 
 BOOBY. 
 
 THE disconsolate Joseph would not have had an under- 
 standing 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 neighbours. 
 
 He then sat down, and addressed himself to his sister Pa- 
 mela 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 resolu- 
 tion 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 
 
 3°
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 more than his wife, and I shall endeavour to follow his ex- 
 ample. 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 deathbed, since 
 I may die in my sleep? But 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 pre- 
 serve your virtue against all trials; and I beg you earnestly 
 to pray I may be enabled to preserve mine; for trulv 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 
 down-stairs 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 ad- 
 vance 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 no- 
 thing, in a few years amassed a small sum of twenty thou- 
 sand 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 of his fellow-servants, and set out at seven in the 
 evening. 
 
 He had proceeded the length of two or three streets, before 
 
 3i
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 immedi- 
 ately, 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 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 per- 
 formance, we choose rather to remark the contrary in this 
 history, where the scene opens itself by small degrees; and he 
 is a sagacious 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 shown ; and secondly, 
 which will be now shown, 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 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 for- 
 merly 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 
 
 32
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 con- 
 ceived 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 to- 
 gether. 
 
 They followed this good man's advice, as indeed his word 
 was little less that 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 occasion, and very seldom acted con- 
 trary 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 suffer 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. 
 
 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 inquir- 
 ies after each other's health, with a mutual confidence 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 Jo- 
 seph, whom we left just set out on his travels by the light of 
 the moon. 
 
 Those who have read any romance or poetry, ancient or 
 
 3 33
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 foremost ; 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 Timo- 
 theus, 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 law 
 and divinity, cracks a good jest, and plays wonderfully 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 remarked, 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 compli- 
 
 34
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 meriting- 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 CONTAINING MANY SURPRISING 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, 
 notwithstanding 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 de- 
 liver. 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, remembering 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, re- 
 plied, 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 rob- 
 bers : " 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 at cudgel-playing, caught with 
 
 35
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 his, and returned the favour so successfully on his adversary, 
 that he laid him sprawling at his feet, and at the same in- 
 stant 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 belabouring poor Joseph 
 with their sticks, till they were convinced 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 be- 
 gan to recover his senses as a stage-coach came by. The 
 postilion, 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 postilion 
 said, and likewise heard the groan, called eagerly to the coach- 
 man to stop and see what was the matter. Upon which he 
 bid the postilion 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 gen- 
 tleman : " let us make all the haste imaginable, or we shall 
 be robbed too." A young man who belonged to the law an- 
 swered, 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 for his murder. He therefore thought it ad- 
 visable to save the poor creature's life, for their own sakes, if 
 possible; at least, if he died, to prevent the jury's finding 
 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 
 
 36
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 hap- 
 pening to himself, if the wretch was left behind in that con- 
 dition, 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 indicted 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, thinking the naked man would afford him frequent 
 opportunities of showing his wit to the lady, offered 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 bleed- 
 ing and shivering with the cold, he at length agreed ; and Jo- 
 seph was now advancing to the coach, where, seeing the lady, 
 who held the sticks of her fan before her eyes, he abso- 
 lutely refused, miserable as he was, to enter, unless he was 
 furnished with sufficient covering to prevent giving the least 
 offence to 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 great-coats 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 great-coats 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 
 adhered to his modest resolution, must have perished, unless 
 the postilion (a lad who hath been since transported for rob- 
 bing a henroost) had voluntarily stript off a great coat, his 
 
 37
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 only garment, at the same time swearing a great oath (for 
 which he was rebuked by the passengers), 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 great-coat, 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 accommo- 
 date him with a dram. She answered, with some resent- 
 ment, she wondered at his asking her such a question ; but 
 assured him she never tasted anv such thine. 
 
 The lawyer was inquiring into the circumstances of the 
 robbery, when the coach stopt, and one of the ruffians, put- 
 ting a pistol in, demanded their money of the passengers, 
 who readily gave it them ; and the lady, in her fright, de- 
 livered up a little silver bottle, of about a 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 afterwards assured the company was the mis- 
 take 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 daylight, and he could have 
 come at his pistols, he would not have submitted to the rob- 
 bery : 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 allusions 
 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 capable of making a con- 
 
 38
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 veyance to her, as his affairs were not fettered with any in- 
 cumbrance ; 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 
 ejectment ; 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 and a dram. Jo- 
 seph desired to alight, and that he might have a bed pre- 
 pared 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 great-coat belonging to one of the 
 hostlers, desired him to sit down and warm himself whilst 
 she made his bed. The coachman, in the mean time, 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 show 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-lack- 
 a-day ! " and then ordered the girl to carry him one of his own 
 shirts. 
 
 39
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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, ma- 
 dam." — " Where's your master ? " — " 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," an- 
 swered 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 pack- 
 ing 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 extreme danger of his life, 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 
 
 40
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 topoor 
 Joseph, and inquire into the circumstances of this melancholy 
 affair. 
 
 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. _ 
 
 AS soon as Joseph had communicated a particular history 
 .x\ of the robbery, together with a short account of himself, 
 and his intended journey, he asked the surgeon if he appre- 
 hended 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 ; 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, 
 
 4i
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 endea- 
 vours 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 land- 
 lord, 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 him- 
 self in the following manner: 
 
 " O most adorable Pamela ! most virtuous sister ! whose 
 example could alone enable me to withstand all the tempta- 
 tions 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 pleasures, can make us amends for the 
 loss of innocence? Doth not that alone afford us more con- 
 solation 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 pain- 
 ful 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 re- 
 pining. 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 envying 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 an- 
 other world ; and I heartily pray thou may'st meet comfort 
 in this." — Barnabas thought he had heard enough, so down- 
 stairs he went, and told Tow-wouse he could do his guest no 
 service; for that he was very light-headed, and had uttered 
 
 42
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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, there- 
 fore, he hoped he had repented of all his sins. Joseph an- 
 swered 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 with a young woman whom he loved as tenderly 
 as he did his heart-strings. Barnabas bade 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 affec- 
 tions, and think of better things. Joseph said, that neither 
 in this world nor the next he could forget his Fanny ; and 
 that the thought, however 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 concerning 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 jus- 
 tice." — " Yes," said Joseph, " but if T was to meet them again, 
 I am afraid I should attack them, and kill them too, if I could." 
 — " Doubtless," answered Barnabas, " 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. 
 
 43
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ' 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 un- 
 repented 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 answered, he could not recol- 
 lect 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 increase 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 her- 
 self, and attended him with it ; where we will leave her and 
 Joseph together for some time, to entertain the reader with 
 other matters. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BEING VERY FULL OF ADVENTURES WHICH SUCCEEDED EACH 
 
 OTHER AT THE END. 
 
 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 
 
 44
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 committed the night before, and on the poor wretch who lay 
 above in the dreadful condition in which we have already 
 seen him. Mrs Tow-wouse said, she wondered what the devil 
 Tom Whipwcll meant by bringing 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, no- 
 thing 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 gentlemen 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 ob- 
 served 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 himself never gave more expres- 
 sion to a picture. 
 
 Her person was short, thin, and crooked. Her forehead 
 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 conceived 
 a greater dislike for his landlady or compassion for her un- 
 happy guest. He inquired very earnestly of the 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 pro- 
 fessions 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 
 
 45
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 gentle- 
 man. " A smattering, — ho, ho, ho ! " said the surgeon ; " I 
 believe it is a smattering indeed." 
 
 The company were all attentive, expecting to hear the doc- 
 tor, who was what they call a dry fellow, expose the gentle- 
 man. 
 
 He began therefore with an air of triumph : " I suppose, 
 sir, you have travelled ? " — " No, really, sir," said the gentle- 
 man. " Ho ! then you have practised in the hospitals per- 
 haps ? " — " 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 gen- 
 tleman. " How ! you understand surgery," answers the doc- 
 tor, "and not read Galen and Hippocrates?" — "Sir," cries 
 the other, " I believe there are many surgeons who have never 
 read these authors." — " 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 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. — Veni- 
 ente accurrite morbo: that is my method. I suppose, brother, 
 you understand Latin?" — "A little," says the gentleman. 
 " Ay, and Greek now, I'll warrant you : Ton dapomibominos 
 poluftosboio thalasses. But I have almost forgot these things : 
 
 46
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 I could have repeated Homer by heart once." " I fags ! 
 
 the gentleman has caught a traitor," 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 suffi- 
 ciently sounded his depth, told him, he was thoroughly con- 
 vinced 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 perfor- 
 ated the internal membrane of the occiput, and divellicated 
 that radical small minute invisible nerve which coheres to the 
 pericranium ; and this was attended with a fever at first symp- 
 tomatic, then pneumatic ; and he is at length grown deliruus, 
 or delirious, as the vulgar express it." 
 
 He was proceeding in this learned manner, when a mighty 
 noise interrupted him. Some young fellows in the neighbour- 
 hood had taken one of the thieves, and were bringing him 
 into the inn. Betty ran up-stairs with this news to Joseph, 
 who begged they might search for a little piece of broken 
 gold, which had a ribbon 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 innocence, 
 the mob were very busy in searching him, and presently, 
 among other things, pulled out the piece of gold just men- 
 tioned ; which Betty no sooner saw than she laid violent hands 
 on it, and conveyed it up to Joseph, who received it with rap- 
 tures of joy, and, hugging it in his bosom, declared he could 
 now die contented. 
 
 Within a few minutes afterwards came in some other fel- 
 lows, with a bundle which they had found in a ditch, and 
 which was indeed the clothes 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 declared 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, 
 
 47
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 con- 
 cerning the perfect health of his Fanny, he was on his side 
 very inquisitive into all the particulars which had produced 
 this unfortunate accident. 
 
 To return therefore to the kitchen, where a great 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 countenance 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 discourse 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 clothes, 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," 
 sajs 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 
 
 48
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 stolen. Now, goods that are both stolen and found are 
 waviata; and they belong to the lord of the manor." — " So 
 the lord of the 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 al- 
 most (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 thousand. 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 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 ACCOUNT- 
 ING 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 ac- 
 quaintance, 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 misfortunes of a Christian as soon as an- 
 other. Tow-wouse said, " If the traveller be a gentleman, 
 though he hath no money about him now, we shall most 
 likely be paid hereafter; so you may begin to score when- 
 
 4 49
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ever you will." Mrs Tow-wouse answered, " Hold your sim- 
 ple 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 any thing 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 en- 
 treaties be brought to deliver it out of his own possession. 
 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 ob- 
 taining 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, de- 
 clared he would support 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 soporiferous draught, and would 
 see him in the morning. After which Barnabas and he de- 
 parted, and left Mr Joseph and Mr Adams together. 
 
 Adams informed Joseph of the occasion of this journey 
 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 a 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 three pence halfpenny 
 in his pocket, which he was welcome to use as he pleased. 
 
 5°
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 appe- 
 tite 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 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 mea- 
 sures 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 well enough to give them 
 a sermon or a dose of physic for nothing. 
 
 To help our reader, therefore, as much as possible to ac- 
 count 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 
 
 5i
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 physical, concerning their abilities in a science, in whicn, 
 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 knowledge 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 with- 
 out producing the gold ; the parson, c contra, totis viribus. 
 To 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 man- 
 kind 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 be- 
 long only to heroic virtue. Thou odious, deformed monster ! 
 whom priests have 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 en- 
 joy thee in private? nay, thou art the pursuit of most men 
 through their lives. The greatest villainies are daily prac- 
 tised 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 plun- 
 dered 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 
 
 52
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 chap- 
 ter, and so I return to my history. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE ESCAPE OF THE THIEF. MR ADAMS'S DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 THE ARRIVAL OF TWO VERY EXTRAORDINARY PERSONAGES, 
 AND THE INTRODUCTION OF PARSON ADAMS TO PARSON BAR- 
 NABAS. 
 
 BARNABAS and the surgeon, being returned, as 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 choosing, 
 in imitation of some great men, to distinguish himself at 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 disposi- 
 tion the latter apprehended not the least danger, as the con- 
 stable 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 an equal chance. 
 
 53
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 He wisely, therefore, to prevent this inconvenience, slipt out 
 of the room himself, and locked the door, waiting without 
 with his staff in 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 understood to 
 affect the honour of making any such discovery), very much 
 resembles a game of chess ; for as in the latter, while a game- 
 ster 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 per- 
 ceived 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 without uttering anything to the consta- 
 ble 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 concerned in the 
 taking the thief, he could not have been entitled to any 
 part of the reward if he had been convicted ; that the thief 
 had several guineas iu 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 ; 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 innocence ; having been 
 positively assured of it by those who received their informa- 
 
 54
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 tions 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 break- 
 fast." " 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 cider, and at the fire ; 
 which we will leave them merry over, and return to Joseph. 
 
 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 
 
 55
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 vol- 
 umes in his hands by way of pledge ; not doubting but that he 
 would have the honesty to return it on his payment 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 coun- 
 try ; 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. 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 down- 
 stairs without any fear of breaking his neck. 
 
 Poor Adams was extremely dejected at this disappointment, 
 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 
 great coat, which half covered his cassock, — a dress which, 
 added to something comical enough in his countenance, com- 
 posed a figure likely to attract the eyes of those who were not 
 over given to observation. 
 
 Whilst he was smoking 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 point- 
 ers, after which another young fellow leapt from the box, 
 and shook the former by the hand ; and both, together with the 
 dogs, were instantly conducted by Mr Tow-wouse into an 
 
 56
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 apartment ; whither as they passed, they entertained them- 
 selves 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 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 pep- 
 pered 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 ; ' t 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 I 
 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 bet." " If you have a mind for a bet," 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 bet your own 
 way, to be sure ! I will match Hannibal with Slouch for a 
 thousand, if you dare; and I say done first." 
 
 They were now arrived ; and the reader will be very con- 
 tented to leave them, and repair to the kitchen ; where Bar- 
 nabas, the surgeon, and an exciseman were smoking their 
 pipes over some cider-and ; and where the servants, who 
 
 * To blink is a term used to signify the dog's passing by a bird 
 without pointing at it. 
 
 57
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 attended the two noble gentlemen we have just seen alight, 
 were now arrived. 
 
 ' Tom," cries one of the footmen, " there's parson Adams 
 smoking 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 first 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 show a proper 
 respect for the cloth : but what say you, doctor, shall we ad- 
 journ into a room, and invite him to take part of a bowl of 
 punch ? " 
 
 This proposal was immediately agreed to and executed ; 
 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 un- 
 luckily dropping from one of them introduced a dissertation 
 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, 
 " Xot twelve pence, I assure you," answered Barnabas : " nay, 
 the dog refused me a concordance in exchange. At last I 
 offered to give him the printing them, for the sake of dedi- 
 cating them to that very gentleman who just now drove bis 
 own 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 afterward given away in exchange for a 
 pointer, to one who — but I will not say anything against the 
 
 58
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 cloth. So you may guess, Mr Adams, what you are to ex- 
 pect ; 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 of Tillotson's sermons ; and, I am sure, if a man prac- 
 tised half so much as is in one of those sermons, he will go to 
 heaven." — " Doctor," cried Barnabas, " you have a profane 
 way of talking, for which I must reprove you. A man can 
 never have his duty too frequently inculcated in 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 some 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 un- 
 worthy 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 de- 
 sire 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 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 
 preservation 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 ha- 
 rangue, was a little too much addicted to liquor, and publicly 
 kept a mistress. 1 believe I must take a common sermon, 
 
 59
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 de- 
 scended 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 sana- 
 tive 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 doc- 
 tor 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. 
 
 Joseph passed that day, and the three following, with 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 uneasiness, 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 conceived it, 
 of Mr Tow-wouse, and the envy (for such he thought it) of 
 Mr Barnabas, had great expectations from his sermons : see- 
 ing 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 procure him one day's conveyance in it, and after- 
 wards he would be able to get on on foot, or might be fa- 
 voured 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 proceed to the great city. 
 
 60
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 smoking 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 cham- 
 ber, 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 therefore fell both on their knees, and spent 
 a considerable time in prayer and thanksgiving. 
 
 They had just finished when Betty came in and told Mr 
 Adams Mr Barnabas desired to speak to him on some busi- 
 ness of consequence below-stairs. Joseph desired, 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 XVII. 
 
 A PLEASANT DISCOURSE BETWEEN THE TWO PARSONS AND THE 
 BOOKSELLER, WHICH WAS BROKE OFF BY AN UNLUCKY AC- 
 CIDENT HAPPENING IN THE INN, WHICH PRODUCED A DIA- 
 LOGUE BETWEEN MRS TOW-WOUSE AND HER MAID OF NO 
 GENTLE KIND. 
 
 AS soon as Adams came into the room, Mr Barnabas in- 
 -ZjL troduced him to the stranger, who was, he told him, a 
 bookseller, and would be as likely to deal with him for his ser- 
 mons 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 re- 
 turning with the young man, who was just recovered of his 
 misfortune. He then snapt his fingers (as was usual with 
 him), and took two or three turns about the room in an 
 ecstasy. And to induce the bookseller to be as expeditious 
 
 61
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 indigent condition. " So that nothing," says he, 
 " could 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, I don't care to touch ; unless now it was a ser- 
 mon preached on the 30th of January ; or we could say in the 
 title-page, published at the earnest request of the congrega- 
 tion, or the inhabitants ; but, truly, for a dry piece of ser- 
 mons, 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 ob- 
 jected 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 possession. ; ' 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 so?" said the bookseller, " for they 
 got hundreds by it." — " But is there no difference between 
 
 62
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 conveying good or ill instructions to mankind ? " said Adams : ~ 
 " Would no t-a-g- Tio t ir^f -t ninH r^thpr lose money by the-^oa e ^y^ K 
 
 than gain ithv _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 Whitefield's as any farce what- 
 ever." 
 
 " 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 ex- 
 ample 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 liter- 
 ally ; 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 flourishing and es- 
 tablished 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 re- 
 mained, 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, fur- 
 niture, rich dainties, and vast fortunes, of her ministers. 
 Surely those things, which savour so strongly of this world, 
 become not the servants of one who professed his kingdom 
 was not of it. But when he began to call nonsense and en- 
 thusiasm to his aid, and set up the detestable doctrine of 
 faith against good works, I was his friend no longer ; for 
 surely that doctrine 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 
 of God than for men to imagine that the all-wise Being will
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 hereafter say to the good and virtuous, ' Notwithstanding 
 the purity of thy life, notwithstanding that constant rule of 
 virtue and goodness in which you walked upon earth, still, 
 as thou didst not believe everything in the true orthodox man- 
 ner, 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." — " Ay, sir," said Adams ; 
 " the contrary, I thank Heaven, is inculcated in almost every 
 page, or I should belie my own opinion, which hath always 
 been, that a virtuous and good Turk, or heathen, are more ac- 
 ceptable in the sight of their Creator than a vicious and wicked 
 Christian, though his faith was as perfectly orthodox as St. 
 Paul 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 backward- 
 ness 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 liberty 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 cheerful 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 ser- 
 vant attending, he bid him bring a bill immediately ; for that 
 he was in company, for aught he knew, with the devil him- 
 
 64
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 self; and he expected to hear the Alcoran, the Leviathan, 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 apprehending any possibility 
 of offence, that he would be so kind to propose any ob- 
 jections 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 sounds : — " 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 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 ser- 
 vant ! 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 an- 
 other name, which we do not care to stain our paper with. 
 It was a monosyllable beginning with a 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-men- 
 tioned 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 yourself," 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," cried she, sobbing, " that's no reason you should 
 call me out of my name ; my be-betters are wo-worse 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 
 
 5 65
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF * 
 
 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 exe- 
 cuting 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 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 herself, 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 XVIII. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF BETTY THE CHAMBERMAID, AND AN ACCOUNT 
 OF WHAT OCCASIONED THE VIOLENT SCENE IN THE PRE- 
 CEDING 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 controlled them, were by 
 no means able to endure the ticklish situation of a chamber- 
 maid at an inn ; who is daily liable to the solicitations of lovers 
 of all complexions ; to the dangerous addresses of fine gentle- 
 
 66
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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, brib- 
 ing, and every other weapon which 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 es- 
 caped 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 neighbouring 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 permitted 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 languishing 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 vio- 
 lence of his passion had considerably 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 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 
 
 67
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 extra- 
 ordinary 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 regard to mod- 
 esty ; 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 disappoint- 
 ment. Rage and lust pulled her heart, as with two strings, 
 two different ways ; one moment she thought of stabbing Jo- 
 seph ; the next, of taking him in her arms, and devouring 
 him with kisses ; but the latter passion was far more preva- 
 lent. Then she thought of revenging his refusal on herself; 
 but, whilst she was engaged in this meditation, happily death 
 presented himself to her in so many shapes, of drowning, 
 hanging, poisoning, &c, that her distracted mind could resolve 
 on none. In this perturbation of spirit, it accidentally oc- 
 curred 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 
 
 68
 
 •• Taking- her in his arms, he shut her out of the room"
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 mas- 
 ter'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 conjecture 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 bearing to be 
 reminded of his transgressions, as a kind of penance, once or 
 twice a-day during the residue of his life. 
 
 6 9
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 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 gen- 
 tlemen 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 tailor'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 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 journeys 
 the traveller stays some time to repose himself, and consider 
 of what he hath seen in the parts he hath already passed 
 
 70
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 through ; a consideration which I take the liberty to recom- 
 mend 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 inscrip- 
 tions 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 otherwise necessary to those readers 
 who (though they read with great improvement and ad- 
 vantage) 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, according to the opinion of 
 some very sagacious critics, hawked them all separately, de- 
 livering only one book at a time (probably by subscription). 
 He was the first inventor 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 
 exhibited piecemeal to the public ; nay, one bookseller hath 
 
 7i
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 (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 in 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 critics 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 observation : 
 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 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. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A SURPRISING 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 dif- 
 ferent 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 husband would want 
 
 72
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 shirts more than sermons on his journey, had carefully pro- 
 vided him. 
 
 This discovery was now luckily owing to the presence of 
 Joseph at the opening of 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 nutshell, 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 hap- 
 pened that he had taken forth his last shirt, and the vehicle 
 remained visibly empty. " Sure, sir," says Joseph, " there is 
 nothing in the bags." Upon which Adams, starting, and tes- 
 tifying 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 disappointment ; 
 he begged him to pursue his journey, and promised he would 
 himself return with the books to him with the utmost expe- 
 dition. "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 nt ita 
 dicam, the sole cause, the aitia 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 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 
 
 73
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 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 hap- 
 pens that he on horseback outgoes him on foot, the custom is, 
 that, when he arrives at the distance agreed on, he is to dis- 
 mount, 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 suffering the beasts them- 
 selves 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 hus- 
 band; 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 extremely 
 puzzled him. The sum due for horse-meat was twelve shil- 
 lings (for Adams, who had borrowed the beast of his clerk, 
 had ordered him to be fed as well 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 
 
 74
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 conse- 
 quently 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 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 iEschylus, 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 won- 
 
 75
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 dered 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 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. 
 
 76
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE OPINION OF TWO LAWYERS CONCERNING THE SAME GEN- 
 TLEMAN, 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, undoubtedly he can; it is an adjudged 
 case, and I have known it tried. 
 
 Adams, who, though he was, as the reader may suspect, a 
 little inclined to forgetfulness, never wanted more 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 procure 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, enquired to whom it be- 
 longed ; 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 reproachful 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 
 
 77
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 horsewhip 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 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 gentleman 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 satisfaction : that 
 so far from tyrannizing 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 his 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 acquainted 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 
 
 78
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 been speaking of two several gentlemen. " 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 that kind ; and as to making reparation, he is not so free 
 of his money as that comes 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 ques- 
 tion 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 belie the char- 
 acter of their neighbour from a little private affection, or, 
 what is infinitely worse, a private spite. I rather believe we 
 have mistaken 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 lie 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 malicious with a design to hang a man, or bring him into 
 trouble ; but surely, out of love to oneself, one must speak 
 better of a friend than an enemy." — " Out of love to yourself, 
 you should confine yourself to truth," says Adams, " for by 
 
 79
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 doing otherwise you injure the noblest part of yourself, your 
 immortal soul. I can hardly believe any man such an idiot 
 to risk the loss of that by any trifling gain, and the greatest 
 gain in this world is but dirt in comparison of what shall be 
 revealed 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 in another world ? " To which 
 the host answered, yes ; he was no atheist. " And you be- 
 lieve you have an immortal soul ? " cries Adams. He an- 
 swered, 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, " be- 
 lieve what thou hearest at church? " — " Most part of it, mas- 
 ter," 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 another? " 
 
 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 you." Adams asked him, if he 
 had not seen a young man on horseback on the road (de- 
 scribing Joseph). " Ay," 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 sat- 
 isfy himself who this charitable woman was ; but what was 
 his surprize when he saw his old acquaintance, madam Slip- 
 slop? 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 
 
 80
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 the hostess for denying the gentleman to be there when she 
 asked for him ; but indeed the poor woman had not erred 
 designedly; for Mrs Slipslop asked for a clergyman, and she 
 had unhappily mistaken Adams for a person travelling to a 
 neighbouring fair with the thimble and button, or some other 
 such operation ; for he marched in a swinging 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, saying, 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, address- 
 ing herself to the parson, spoke thus : — " There hath been a 
 strange alteration in our family, Mr Adams, since Sir 
 Thomas's death." " A strange alteration indeed," says Adams, 
 " as I gather from some hints which have dropped from Jo- 
 seph." — " Ay," 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 communicate any- 
 thing. 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 any- 
 where shortly ; for ever since the boy's departure she hath 
 behaved more like a mad woman than anything else." 
 1 Truly, I am heartily concerned," says Adams, " for she was 
 6 81
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 knowledge. 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 remem- 
 bered she used to commend her mistress and blame her mas- 
 ter) 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 deceived; 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 op- 
 posite 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 un- 
 fortunate whom we must own at the same time guilty and 
 the author of her own calamity." This was abundantly suf- 
 ficient to awaken the curiosity of Mr Adams, as indeed it 
 did that of the whole company, 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. 
 
 82
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF LEONORA, OR THE UNFORTUNATE JTLT. 
 
 LEONORA was the daughter of a gentleman of fortune ; 
 4 she was tall and well-shaped, with a sprightliness in her 
 countenance which often attracts beyond more regular fea- 
 tures joined with an insipid air : nor is this kind of beauty 
 less apt to deceive than allure ; the good humour which it in- 
 dicates being 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 op- 
 portunities 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 music 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 Ho- 
 ratio, that she often smiled even when it was too delicate 
 for her comprehension. 
 
 ' Prav, 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 satur- 
 nine complexion, but 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 pas- 
 
 &3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 sion for Leonora, was the last person who perceived the prob- 
 ability 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 passion to her ; for it was 
 his opinion (and perhaps he was there in the right) that it 
 is highly impolitic to talk seriously of love to a woman before 
 you have made such a progress in her affections, that she her- 
 self 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 impossible that Horatio's 
 passion should so blind his discernment as to prevent his 
 conceiving hopes from the behaviour of Leonora, whose fond- 
 ness 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 com- 
 municate to her of great consequence. " 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 company, 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 trembling, 
 gently by the hand, he fetched a deep sigh, and then, looking 
 on her eyes with all the tenderness 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 
 
 84
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 man- 
 kind." 
 
 Leonora, covered with blushes, and with as angry a look 
 as she could possibly put on, told him, that had she sus- 
 pected 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 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. 
 
 85
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 HORATIO TO LEONORA. 
 
 " How vain, most adorable creature, is the pursuit of plea- 
 sure 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 learn- 
 ing, which, however agreeable it might have formerly been to 
 me, now only gave me a suspicion that they imputed my ab- 
 sence in conversation to the true cause. For which reason, 
 when your engagements forbid me the ecstatic happiness of 
 seeing you, I am always desirous to be alone ; since my senti- 
 ments for Leonora are so delicate, that I cannot bear the 
 apprehension of another's prying into those delightful endear- 
 ments with which the warm imagination of a lover will some- 
 times indulge him, and which I suspect my eyes then betray. 
 To fear this discovery of our thoughts may perhaps appear too 
 ridiculous a nicety to minds not susceptible of all the tender- 
 nesses 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 be- 
 loved, whose happiness it ultimately respects, may give us 
 charming opportunities of being brave in her defence, gener- 
 ous to her wants, compassionate 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 oc- 
 casions. 
 
 " 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 rea- 
 son to believe than myself 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 
 
 86
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 impossible my good 
 opinion of Horatio could have been heightened to any addi- 
 tional proof of merit. This very thought was my amusement 
 when I received your last letter, which, when I opened, I con- 
 fess 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 na- 
 ture 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 affections, 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 conversation of 
 men of wit and learning tedious to you, what anxious hours 
 must I spend, who am condemned by custom to the conver- 
 sation of women, whose natural curiosity leads them to pry 
 into all my thoughts, and whose envy can never suffer 
 Horatio's heart to be possessed 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 be- 
 ing in that most uneasy of all the situations I can figure 
 
 * This letter was written by a young lady on reading the former. 
 
 87
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 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 know- 
 ledge 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 repaired 
 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 advancing 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 remarkable words, " O, I am in 
 love with that equipage ! " which, though her friend Florella 
 at that time did not greatly regard, she hath since remem- 
 bered. 
 
 In the evening an assembly was held, which Leonora hon- 
 oured with her company ; but intended to pay her dear Ho- 
 ratio the compliment of refusing to dance in his absence. 
 
 O, why have not women as good resolution to maintain 
 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 equi- 
 page could be. He soon attracted the eyes of the company; 
 
 88
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 satin, 
 embroidered all over with gold ; his waistcoat, which was 
 cloth of silver, was embroidered with gold likewise. I can- 
 not be particular as to the rest of his dress ; but it was all in 
 the French fashion, for Bellarmine (that was his name) was 
 just arrived from Paris. 
 
 This fine figure did not more entirely engage the eyes oi 
 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 endea- 
 voured, by all possible means, to prevent : many of them say- 
 ing 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, " O ! 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 convul- 
 sive 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, so she could not disengage 
 her thoughts one moment from the contemplation of it. She 
 had never tasted anything like this happiness. She had be- 
 fore 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 
 
 89
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 insensibility 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 cir- 
 cumstances of her father (for he himself, notwithstanding all 
 his finery, was not quite so rich as a Crcesus or an Attalus). 
 — " Attalus," says Mr Adams : " but pray how came you ac- 
 quainted 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 ten- 
 derness, been so long obtaining, the French-English Bellar- 
 mine 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. 
 
 90
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 Here Adams groaned a second time ; but the ladies, who 
 began to smoke, took no notice. 
 
 From the opening of the assembly till the end of Bellar- 
 mine's visit, Leonora had scarce one thought of Horatio; 
 but he now began, though an unwelcome guest, to enter 
 into her mind. She wished she had seen the charming Bel- 
 larmine and his charming equipage 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? Ay, but Bel- 
 larmine is the genteeler, 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? Ay, but yesterday I had not seen Bellarmine. 
 But doth not Horatio dote on me, and may he not in despair 
 break his heart if I abandon him? Well, and hath not Bel- 
 larmine a heart to break too? Yes, but I promised Horatio 
 first ; but that was poor Bellarmine's misfortune ; if I had 
 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 ! Jf I marry Horatio, 
 I shall triumph over no more than one rival ; but by marry- 
 ing Bellarmine I shall be the envy of all my acquaintance. 
 \\ nat happiness ! But can I suffer Horatio to die ? for he 
 hath sworn he cannot survive my loss : but perhaps 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 pres- 
 ence of her aunt, whom he sufficiently informed of his passion 
 for Leonora. He was no sooner withdrawn than the old 
 lady began to advise her niece on this occasion. " You see, 
 
 9 1
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 child," says she, " what fortune hath thrown in your way ; 
 and I hope you will not withstand your own preferment." 
 Leonora, sighing, 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 condemn me? " — " The world is always on the 
 side of prudence," cries the aunt, " and would surely condemn 
 you if you sacrificed your interest to any motive whatever. 
 O ! I know the world very well ; and you show 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 con- 
 siderations, who did not afterwards heartily repent it. Be- 
 sides, 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." 
 — " O ! 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 evening, 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 tailor even to imitate it. There 
 
 92
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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. " All French," says he, " I assure you, except the 
 great-coats ; I never trust anything more than a great-coat 
 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 interest, 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 Bellarmine 
 entertain his beloved Leonora, when the door opened on a 
 sudden, and Horatio entered the room. Here 'tis impossible 
 to express the surprize of Leonora. 
 
 ' 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; 
 " ay, 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 pres- 
 ence of Bellarmine no less surprized Horatio. At length Leo- 
 nora, 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 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 
 
 93
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 vet ; " adding " she could not guess the meaning of his ques- 
 tion." Horatio told her softly, it did not arise from jeal- 
 ousy. — " Jealousy ! I assure you, it would be very strange 
 in a common acquaintance to give himself any of those airs." 
 These words a little surprized Horatio ; but, before he had 
 time to answer, Bellarmine 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 intrusted 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 persuade me that I am in one. I know no pretensions 
 a common acquaintance can have to lay aside the ceremonies 
 of good breeding." " Sure," said he, " I am in a dream ; for 
 it is impossible I should be really esteemed a common ac- 
 quaintance 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 Bellar- 
 mine, cocking 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 protec- 
 tor; and, d — n me, if I understand your meaning." "Sir," 
 answered Horatio, " she is rather your protectress ; but give 
 
 94
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 yourself no more airs, for you see I am prepared for you" 
 (shaking his whip at him). "Oh! serviteur tres humble," 
 says Bellarmine: " Je vous attend pa/rfaitment bicn." 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 alteration 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 prevented 
 it by laying violent hands on the latter; upon which the 
 former took his leave without any great ceremony, and de- 
 parted, 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 appre- 
 hend from him was an action. 
 
 They at length therefore agreed to permit Bellarmine 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 
 
 95
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 Ho- 
 ratio." " Speak not to me," cried the disconsolate 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 : " think of re- 
 gaining the affections of Horatio." " What reason," said the 
 niece, " have I to hope he would forgive 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 persua- 
 sions they never would have made any impression on me ; 
 I should have defied all the fortune and equipage 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 sur- 
 prized, 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- 
 
 9 6
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 mine, when he breakfasted with her and her niece, had com- 
 plimented 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 : 
 
 " 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 ruclle; till when, unless you would do 
 me an honour which I have scarce the hardiesse to think of, 
 your absence will be the greatest anguish which can be felt 
 by, madam, avec toute le respecte in the world, your most 
 obedient, most absolute devote, 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 pos- 
 sible she might be a little alarmed at the hints which her 
 niece had given her concerning the presents. She might ap- 
 prehend such rumours, should they get abroad, might injure 
 a reputation which, by frequenting church twice a-day, and 
 preserving the utmost rigour and strictness in her counte- 
 nance 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 pro- 
 posed to her aunt to make him a visit in his confinement, 
 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 be- 
 haviour with this lover may 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 off." 
 Leonora said, she should be indifferent to whatever might 
 
 7 97
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 happen in such a case ; for she had now so absolutely placed 
 her affections on this dear men (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 afternoon 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. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A DREADFUL QUARREL WHICH HAPPENED AT THE INN WHERE 
 THE COMPANY DINED, WITH ITS BLOODY CONSEQUENCES TO 
 MR ADAMS. 
 
 AS soon as the passengers had alighted from the coach, 
 ±\. Mr Adams, as was his custom, made directly to the kit- 
 chen, where he found Joseph sitting by the fire, and the hostess 
 anointing his leg; for the horse which Mr Adams had bor- 
 rowed 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 
 rider least expected it. This foible, however, was of no great 
 inconvenience to the parson, who was accustomed 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 
 
 98
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 misfor- 
 tune before the host likewise entered. He was by no means 
 of Mr Tow-wouse's gentle disposition; and was, indeed, per- 
 fect master of his house, and everything 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 cir- 
 cumstances, "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 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 occa- 
 sioned a dialogue between Adams and the host, in which there 
 were two or three sharp replies, till Joseph bade the latter 
 know how to behave himself to his betters. At which the 
 host (having first strictly surveyed Adams) scornfully re- 
 peated 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 out- 
 done 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 
 
 99
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 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 de- 
 livering 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, besides 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 alehouse with Adams. There was like- 
 wise 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 
 
 ioo
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 conquerors being satisfied with the vengeance they had taken, 
 and the conquered having no appetite to renew the fight. The 
 principal figure, and which engaged the eyes of all, was 
 Adams, who was all over covered with blood, which the 
 whole company concluded 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 his wife for wasting the hog's puddings, and telling 
 her all would have been very well if she had not intermeddled, 
 like a b — as she was ; adding, he was very glad the gentle- 
 woman had paid her, though not half what she deserved. The 
 poor woman had indeed fared much the worse ; having, besides 
 the unmerciful cuff's received, lost a quantity of hair, which 
 Mrs Slipslop in triumph held in her left hand. 
 
 The traveller, addressing himself to Mrs Grave-airs, de- 
 sired her not to be frightened ; for here had been only a little 
 boxing, which he said, to their disgracia, the English were 
 accustoinata to : adding, it must be, however, a sight some- 
 what strange to him, who was just come from Italy; the 
 Italians not being addicted to the cuff ar do, but bastonza, 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, for he could not say he did it. Adams very inno- 
 cently answered, " Sir, I am far from accusing you." He then 
 returned to the lady, and cried, " I find the bloody gentle- 
 man is uiio insipido del nullo scnso. Damnato di me, if I have 
 seen such a spcctaculo in my way from Viterbo." 
 
 One of the gentlemen having learnt from the host the oc- 
 casion 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 ! 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 gentleman, " 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 
 
 IOI
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 whilst the law is open to revenge 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, especially of the Italian traveller, who was 
 a person of great dignity, withheld his rage. 
 
 Whilst one of the above-mentioned gentlemen was em- 
 ployed, as we have seen him, on the behalf of the landlord, 
 the other was no less hearty on the side of Mr Adams, whom 
 he advised to bring his action immediately. He said the assault 
 of the w r ife 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 pos- 
 sibly appear to the court ; for here was no 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 
 
 102
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 congratulating each 
 other on the success of their good offices in procuring a per- 
 fect reconciliation between the contending parties ; and the 
 traveller went to his repast, crying, " As the Italian poet says, 
 
 ' Je voi very well que tutta e pace, 
 So send up dinner, good Boniface.' " 
 
 The coachman began now to grow importunate with his 
 passengers, whose entrance into the coach was retarded by 
 Miss Grave-airs insisting, against the remonstrances 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 wag- 
 gons 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 lady; " I am not much used to stage- 
 coaches ; I seldom travel in them." — " That may be, madam," 
 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 paltry little gentlewoman in the kingdom. Miss 
 Grave-airs cried, she believed her mistress would not encour- 
 age such sauciness to her betters. " My betters," says Slip- 
 slop, " 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 
 
 io 3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 lady was one of the great gentry; and such little paltry gen- 
 tlewomen 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 coachman answered, he 
 was now a gentleman, and kept his horse and man. " But 
 times are altered, master," said he ; " I remember when he was 
 no better born than myself." — "Aye! aye!'' says Adams. 
 " My father drove the squire's coach," answered he, " when 
 that very man rode postilion ; 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 gentlewoman, 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 wished 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 recol- 
 lected she had left her fan, a second her gloves, a third a 
 
 104
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 to- 
 gether 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 censoriousness of such a prude." 
 The fourth added, " O, madam! all these creatures are censo- 
 rious ; 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 hath some- 
 thing 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 her- 
 self 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 main- 
 tain 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 con- 
 sequence ; one of them therefore desired the lady to conclude 
 the story. " Aye, madam," said Slipslop, " I beg your lady- 
 ship to give us that story you commensated in the morning; " 
 which request that well-bred woman immediately complied 
 with. 
 
 i°5
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CONCLUSION OF THE UNFORTUNATE JILT. 
 
 LEONORA, having once broke through the bounds which 
 > custom and modesty impose on her sex, soon gave an un- 
 bridled 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 en- 
 tirely 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 reputation ; for such was the envy that Lindamira's 
 virtue had attracted, that, notwithstanding her own strict be- 
 haviour and strict inquiry 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 com- 
 panions, and with two or three of whom she had been bar- 
 barously 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 crea- 
 ture, or to be seen in her company; and that, for her part, 
 she should always 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 
 
 106
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 Leonora's father's, in order to propose the match, and settle 
 all matters with him touching settlements, and the like. 
 
 A little before his arrival the old gentleman had received 
 an intimation of the affair by the following letter, which 1 
 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 her- 
 self, 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 un- 
 known to you, a very great respect for your family." 
 
 The old gentleman did not give himself the trouble to an- 
 swer 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 attend them, 
 so was he no less pleased with any opportunity to rid him- 
 self 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 conveniences, and almost neces- 
 saries, of life; which his neighbours attributed to a desire 
 of raising immense fortunes for his children : but in fact it 
 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 be- 
 loved 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 con- 
 stitute 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 
 
 107
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 counte- 
 nance, 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 hap- 
 pen from the too early generosity of parents, that he had made 
 a vow never to part with a shilling whilst he lived. He com- 
 mended the saying of Solomon, he that spareth the rod spoil- 
 eth 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 regard to worldly matters neces- 
 sary; 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 six. The old gentleman answered, " Four will 
 do, four will do ; " and then took a turn from horses to ex- 
 travagance and from extravagance to horses, till he came 
 round to the equipage again ; whither he was no sooner ar- 
 rived 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 situ- 
 ation of his affairs it was impossible 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 in- 
 clination, at present it was not in his power to advance a 
 shilling: that he had had great losses, and been at great ex- 
 penses on projects ; which, though he had great expectation 
 from them, had yet produced him nothing: that he did not 
 know what might happen hereafter, as on the birth of a son, 
 or such accident ; but he would make no promise, nor enter 
 
 108
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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, Bellar- 
 mine, 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 as soon as he arrived at his home he presently de- 
 spatched a messenger with the following epistle to Leonora : 
 
 " Adorable and Charmante, — I am sorry to have the hon- 
 our to tell you I am not the heureux person destined for your 
 divine arms. Your papa hath told me so with a politcsse 
 not often seen on this side Paris. You may perhaps guess 
 his manner of refusing me. Ah, mon Dieu! You will cer- 
 tainly believe me, madam, incapable myself of delivering this 
 triste message, which I intend to try the French air to cure 
 the consequences of. A jamais! Cceur! Angel An diable! 
 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 en- 
 tirely of my sighs. Adieu, ma princesse! Ah, I' 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 behold- 
 ing. She immediately left the place where she was the sub- 
 ject of conversation and ridicule, and retired to that house 
 I showed you when I began the story; where she hath ever 
 since led a disconsolate life, and deserves, perhaps, pity for 
 her misfortunes, 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 dis- 
 cern any misfortune in her missing such a husband as Bellar- 
 
 mine." 
 
 109
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ' 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 Our-asho? '" 
 
 He remains, said the lady, still unmarried, and hath ap- 
 plied 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 Leonora without a sigh, 
 nor hath ever uttered one syllable to charge her with her ill- 
 conduct towards him. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 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 two- 
 pence 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 greyhound, and, giving the parson 
 two or three hearty curses, he cried, " Softly, softly, boys," 
 to his horses, which the civil beasts immediately obeyed. 
 
 But we will be more courteous to our reader than he was 
 
 no
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 to Mrs Slipslop ; and, leaving the coach and its company to 
 pursue their journey, we will carry our reader on after par- 
 son 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 yEschylus, 
 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 partridge 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 great coat, that is to 
 say, it reached his knees, whereas the skirts of his great coat 
 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, began, on perceiving a 
 book in his hand and smoking 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 
 
 in
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 out this whole afternoon, and the devil a bird have I seen till 
 I came hither." 
 
 " Perhaps then the game is not very plenty hereabouts ? " 
 cries Adams. " No, sir," said the gentleman : " the soldiers, 
 who are quartered in the neighbourhood, have killed it all." 
 — " It is very probable," cries Adams, " for shooting is their 
 profession." — " Aye, 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 counte- 
 nance, 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 gen- 
 tleman he would willingly have gone many miles to have met 
 a man of his generous way of thinking; 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 discourse which 
 we have placed by itself, as it is not only the most curious in 
 this but perhaps in any other book. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A NOTABLE DISSERTATION BY MR ABRAHAM ADAMS; WHEREIN 
 THAT GENTLEMAN APPEARS IN A POLITICAL LIGHT. 
 
 I 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 
 
 112
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 opportu- 
 nities 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. In- 
 deed, 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 ap- 
 peared 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 gentleman whom I had 
 never heard tidings of till that instant. I told the rector I 
 had no power over my nephew's vote (God forgive me for 
 such prevarication !) ; that I supposed he would give it accord- 
 ing 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 Squire 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. I then answered boldly, if he 
 thought I had given my promise, he affronted me in propos- 
 ing 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? Ne verbum qiiidem, ut ita dicam: within 
 two years he got a place, and hath ever since lived in Lon- 
 don ; 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 considerable time without any cure, and lived 
 a full month on one funeral sermon, which I preached on the 
 indisposition 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 him- 
 8 113
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 self ! that very identical Mr Fickle, who had formerly told me 
 the colonel was an enemy to both the church and the state, 
 had the confidence to solicit my nephew for him ; and the col- 
 onel himself offered me to make me chaplain to his regiment, 
 which I refused 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 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 in 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 discourse 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 
 interest, 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 possumus 
 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 promised 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 Sun- 
 day — for I preached at four churches — have I recruited my 
 
 114
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 tal- 
 ents 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 prom- 
 ised 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 exceptionable life; 
 though, as he was never at an university, the bishop refuses 
 to ordain him. Too much care cannot indeed be taken in ad- 
 mitting 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 endea- 
 voured 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 Provi- 
 dence 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." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN WHICH THE GENTLEMAN DESCANTS ON BRAVERY AND HE- 
 ROIC 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 
 np more of shooting a man that would not die for his country, 
 than—" 
 
 "5
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Sir," said he, " I have disinherited a nephew, who is in 
 the army, because he would not exchange his commission 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 705th year of Rome, when the 
 great Pompey, who had won so many battles and been hon- 
 oured with so many triumphs, and of whose valour several 
 authors, especially Cicero and Paterculus, have formed such 
 eulogiums ; this very Pompey left the battle of Pharsalia be- 
 fore 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. 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 in- 
 stances." He concluded, therefore, that, had he taken any such 
 hasty resolutions against his nephew, he hoped he would con- 
 sider 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 in- 
 tended 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 your- 
 self almost three miles before us." — " I protest and so they 
 are," cries Adams ; " then I must make haste and followthem." 
 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 pres- 
 ently 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 
 
 116
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 him to his house, which was very little out of his way, assur- 
 ing him that he would find some country fellow in his parish 
 who would conduct 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 in- 
 famy 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 compa- 
 nion'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." — " You are not 
 mad enough, I hope," says the gentleman trembling : " do you 
 consider this gun is only charged with shot, and that the rob- 
 bers 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 crab- 
 stick, 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 
 overpowered 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 antients, the 
 brains of some persons are deposited, and which he had un- 
 doubtedly 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 
 
 TT7
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 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 some- 
 times to make that part perfectly solid. 
 
 As the 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. How- 
 ever, he clenched his fist, and presently darted it at that part 
 of Adams's breast where the heart is lodged. Adams stag- 
 gered 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 dexterously 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 antients, for a weapon of offence ; another reason to 
 admire the cunningness of Nature, in composing it of those 
 impenetrable 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, lay- 
 ing 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 business ; " or, in the language of poetry, " that 
 he had sent him to the shades below ; " in plain English, " that 
 he was dead." * 
 
 Eut Adams, who was no chicken, and could bear a drubbing 
 as well as any boxing champion in the universe, lay still only 
 to watch his opportunity; and now, perceiving his antagonist 
 to pant with his labours, he exerted his utmost force at once, 
 
 118
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 fear he had struck 
 him once too often ; for he often asserted he should be con- 
 cerned 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, dur- 
 ing the engagement, stood trembling, being disabled by fear 
 even from running away, hearing her champion was victori- 
 ous, came up to him, but not without apprehensions even of 
 her deliverer; 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 accidentally met with the person from whom 
 he had delivered her, who told her he was likewise on his 
 journey to the same place, 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 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 Providence, 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 
 
 119
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 came up and prevented him. Adams encouraged her for say- 
 ing she had put her whole trust in Providence, and told her, 
 he doubted not but Providence had sent him to her deliver- 
 ance, as a reward for that trust. He wished indeed he had not 
 deprived the wicked wretch of life, but G — 's will be done. 
 He said, he hoped the goodness of his intention 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 medi- 
 tation ended as the reader will see in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 GIVING AN ACCOUNT OF THE STRANGE CATASTROPHE OF THE 
 PRECEDING 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 apprehen- 
 sion into the poor woman's mind ; she began to fear as great 
 an enemy in her 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 coun- 
 try ; and had rescued her out of the hands of one rifler in 
 order to rifle her himself. Such were the suspicions 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; for 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 
 
 I20
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 his eyes, and spied a light at a distance, to which he instantly 
 addressed himself with Hens tu, traveller, hens tu! He pres- 
 ently heard several voices, and perceived the light approach- 
 ing 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 sus- 
 picions 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 perhaps if thou 
 hast never travelled beyond Kensington, Islington, Hackney, 
 or the Borough, thou mayst be), I will inform thee, is per- 
 formed by holding a large clapnet before a lantern, 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 light, and so are enticed within the net. Adams 
 immediately told them what had happened, and desired them 
 to hold the lantern 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 atten- 
 tively to the discourse between him and the young woman ; 
 for whose departure he had patiently waited, that he might 
 likewise withdraw himself, having no longer hopes of suc- 
 ceeding 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 
 
 121
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 an- 
 swer, when one of the young fellows cried, " D — n them, let's 
 carry them both before the justice." The poor woman be- 
 gan to tremble, and Adams lifted up his voice, but in vain. 
 Three or four of them laid hands on him ; and one holding 
 the lantern to his face, they all agreed he had the most vil- 
 lainous countenance they ever beheld ; and an attorney's clerk, 
 who was of the company, declared he was sure he had re- 
 membered him at the bar. As to the woman, her hair was 
 dishevelled in the struggle, and her nose had bled ; so that 
 they could not perceive whether she was handsome or ugly, 
 but they said her fright plainly discovered 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 catching 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 lantern 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 beneficial one ; for 
 that they would all be entitled to their proportions of 80/. 
 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 lantern to the man's 
 face on the ground, by which, he said, the whole was dis- 
 
 122
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 covered. The clerk claimed four-fifths of the reward for hav- 
 ing proposed to search the prisoners, and likewise the car- 
 rying them before the justice: he said, indeed, in strict justice, 
 he ought to have the whole. 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 proportion 
 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 prevented him from being as for- 
 ward as any in laying hold of the robbers (for so those in- 
 nocent people were called) ; that if he had not occupied the 
 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 con- 
 tention 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 Shepherd 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 resistance (which was impos- 
 sible, as there were six lusty young fellows, besides the vil- 
 lain himself, present), he walked with perfect resignation 
 the way they thought proper to conduct him. 
 
 Adams frequently vented himself in ejaculations during 
 their journey ; at last, poor Joseph Andrews occurring to his 
 mind, he could not refrain sighing forth his name, which be- 
 ing heard by his companion in affliction, she cried with some 
 vehemence, " Sure I should know that voice ; you cannot cer- 
 tainly, sir, be Mr Abraham Adams ? " — " Indeed, damsel," 
 says he, " that is my name ; there is something also in your 
 voice which persuades me I have heard it before." — " La ! 
 
 123
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 sir," says she, " don't you remember poor Fanny ? " — " How, 
 Fanny ! " answered Adams : " indeed I very well remember 
 you ; what can have brought you hither? " — " I have told you, 
 sir," replied she, " I was travelling towards 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 deserves much 
 better of you." — " La ! Mr Adams," said she, " what is Mr 
 Joseph to me ? I am sure I never had any thing 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 lis- 
 tened 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 mis- 
 fortune, 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 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 consulting any one, immediately 
 set forward in pursuit of one whom, notwithstanding her shy- 
 ness to the parson, she loved with inexpressible violence, 
 though with the purest and most delicate passion. This shy- 
 ness, therefore, as we trust it will recommend her character 
 to all 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. 
 
 124
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM WHILE BEFORE THE JUSTICE. 
 CHAPTER VERY FULL OF LEARNING. 
 
 T 
 
 HEIR fellow-travellers were so engaged in the hot dis- 
 pute concerning the division of the reward for appre- 
 hending 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 them to carry 
 the prisoners into the stable, whither they were attended by 
 all the servants in the house, and all the people in the neigh- 
 bourhood, who flocked together to see them with as much 
 curiosity as if there was something 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 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 mean time. 
 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 service. A third said, he warranted she 
 was a relation of Turpin. To which one of the company, a 
 great wit, shaking his head, and then his sides, answered, 
 
 125
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 great-coat of Adams, cried out, " What have 
 we here, a parson?" "How, sirrah," says the justice, "do 
 you go a robbing in the dress of a clergyman? 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, 
 
 " Molle meum levibus cord est vilebile telis." 
 
 Upon which Adams, with a look full of ineffable contempt, 
 told him, he deserved scourging for his pronunciation. 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 an S. 
 
 " ' Si licet, ut fulvum spectatur in ignibus liaurum.' " 
 
 ' What, canst not with an M neither ? Thou art a pretty 
 fellow for a parson ! Why didst not steal some of the par- 
 son'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 fresh man, 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 for- 
 merly. Let's see, what did I end with ? — an M again — ay 
 
 '"Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, 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" 
 
 126
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 " I'll hold thee a guinea of that," said the wit, throwing 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 retract, and own he had no money 
 about him ; which set them all a laughing, and confirmed the 
 triumph 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 ignoramus, and so no harm done." '' Is it no pun- 
 ishment, 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 yEschylus, 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 JEschylus." " Who ? 
 who?" said the justice. Adams repeated, " JEschylus." 
 " That is an outlandish name," cried the clerk. " A ficti- 
 
 127
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tious 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 imme- 
 diately." The parson, taking up the book, and putting on his 
 spectacles and gravity together, muttered some words to him- 
 self, and then pronounced aloud — " Aye, indeed, it is a Greek 
 manuscript ; a very fine piece of antiquity. I make no doubt 
 but it was stolen from the same clergyman from whom the 
 rogue took the cassock." " What did the rascal mean by his 
 yEschylus?" says the justice. "Pooh!" answered the doc- 
 tor, with a contemptuous grin, " do you think that fellow knows 
 anything of this book ? ^Eschylus ! ho ! 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. Aye, aye, question and answer. The be- 
 ginning is the catechism in Greek. Aye, aye, Pollaki toi: 
 
 What's your name ? " " Aye, what's your name ? " says 
 
 the justice to Adams; who answered, " It is yEschylus, and I 
 will maintain it." — " O ! it is," says the justice : " make Mr 
 YEschylus 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, 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 inquire 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 
 
 128
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 Adams, " I assure you she is as innocent as myself." — " Per- 
 haps," 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 
 whet his whistle before he begins. I know how to behave 
 myself to a gentleman as well as another. Nobody can say 
 I have committed a gentleman since I have been in the com- 
 mission." 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, be- 
 lieved every syllable of his story on his bare affirmation, not- 
 withstanding the depositions 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 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 promised to use their best endea- 
 vours 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 be- 
 fore 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 pres- 
 ence soon put an end to the fray. On his return into the. 
 9 129
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 parlour, he reported, that the occasion of the quarrel was no 
 other than a dispute to whom, if Adams had been convicted, 
 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 competition between three young fellows for the place 
 of the clerk, which I disposed of, to the best of my abilities, ac- 
 cording 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 dis- 
 appointed candidates concerning their excellence ; each con- 
 tending on whom, had they two been the only competitors, 
 my election would have fallen. This dispute frequently dis- 
 turbed the congregation, 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 fighting. 
 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 pro- 
 ceeded to make some philosophical observations on the folly 
 of growing warm in disputes in which neither party is in- 
 terested. He then applied himself vigorously to smoking; 
 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 main- 
 tained he ought to have been committed, and the justice as 
 vehemently held he ought not. This had most probably pro- 
 duced 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
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 accord- 
 ingly 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A VERY DELIGHTFUL ADVENTURE, AS WELL TO THE PERSONS 
 CONCERNED AS TO THE GOOD-NATURED READER. 
 
 ADAMS, Fanny, and the guide, set out together about one 
 jljL 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 con- 
 tent, 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 fel- 
 low who was their guide; they all conceived they had never 
 seen anything half so handsome ; 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 petis 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, Coclum ipsum 
 pctimus stultitia. 
 
 Fanny was now in the nineteenth year of her age ; she was 
 
 131
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 
 breasts. Nor did her hips want the assistance of a hoop to ex- 
 tend 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 handkerchief discovered any part of her 
 neck, a whiteness appeared which the finest Italian paint would 
 be unable to reach. Her hair was of a chestnut 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 mod- 
 ern 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 neighbour 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 in- 
 credible ; and a sweetness, whenever she smiled, beyond either 
 imitation or description. To conclude all, she had a natural 
 gentility superior to the acquisition of art, and which sur- 
 prized 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 following song: — 
 
 THE SONG. 
 
 Say, Chloe, where must the swain stray 
 
 Who is by thy beauties undone? 
 To wash their remembrance away, 
 
 To what distant Lethe must run? 
 
 132
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 The wretch who is sentenced to die 
 May escape, and leave justice behind; 
 
 From his country perhaps he may fly, 
 But O ! can he fly from his mind ? 
 
 O rapture ! 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 ! 
 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 ! 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. 
 
 *33
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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! 
 Ah, Strephon, she blushing replied, 
 
 You ne'er was so pressing before. 
 
 Adams had been ruminating all this time on a passage in 
 ^Eschylus, without attending in the least to the voice, though 
 one of the most melodious that ever was heard, when, cast- 
 ing his eyes on Fanny, he cried out, " Bless us, you look ex- 
 tremely pale ! " — " Pale ! Mr Adams," says she; " O Jesus ! " 
 and 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 songster among the rest ; but, O reader ! 
 when this nightingale, who was no other than Joseph An- 
 drews himself, saw his beloved Fanny in the situation we 
 have described her, canst thou conceive the agitations of his 
 mind? If thou canst not, wave 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 whis- 
 per, " Are you Joseph Andrews? " — " Art thou my Fanny? " 
 he answered eagerly; and, pulling her to his heart, he im- 
 printed numberless kisses on her lips, without considering who 
 were present. 
 J 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 philoso- 
 phers may perhaps doubt whether he was not the happiest 
 of the three; for the goodness of his heart enjoyed the bless- 
 ings 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 
 
 T 34
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 tumults of Adams's rapture were over he cast his eyes towards 
 the lire, where /Eschylus lay expiring; and immediately res- 
 cued the poor remains, to wit, the sheep-skin covering, of his 
 clear 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, re- 
 flecting 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 ad- 
 vance to her; but that high woman would not return her 
 curtsies ; but, casting her eyes another way, immediately with- 
 drew into another room, muttering, as she went, she wondered 
 who the creature was. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 for- 
 get her. And indeed the truth is, that she remembered her 
 very well. As we would not willingly, therefore, that any- 
 thing should appear unnatural 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 
 Slipslop did not in the least deviate from the common road 
 in this behaviour; and, indeed, had she done otherwise, she 
 must have descended below herself, and would have very 
 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 
 
 *35
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 concep- 
 tion 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 him- 
 self in the fashion of the times ; and the word really and truly 
 signifies no more at this day. Now, the world being 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 correspon- 
 dence in private. In this contention it is difficult to say which 
 party succeeded : for, whilst the people of fashion seized sev- 
 eral 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 pos- 
 session 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 playhouse they abase themselves in the same 
 degree under their feet. This distinction I 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 lan- 
 guage, 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 
 
 136
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 dependence 
 like a kind of ladder : as, for instance ; early in the morning 
 arises the postilion, 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 la- 
 bours for Mr Second-hand, the squire's gentleman; the gen- 
 tleman 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 dependence, 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 
 choose to be a great man at six in the morning or at two in 
 the afternoon. And yet there are scarce 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 digres- 
 sion, which seemed to me necessary to vindicate the great char- 
 acter 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, imagining Mrs 
 Slipslop's memory had been much worse than it really was, 
 followed her into the next room, crying out, " Madam Slip- 
 slop, here is one of your old acquaintance; do but see what 
 
 137
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 a fine woman she is grown since she left Lady Booby's ser- 
 vice." — " 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 won- 
 der at his having strayed so far out of his way, and at meet- 
 ing him, as she said, in the company of that wench, 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 proceeded 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 clergyman. 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 repected him of having 
 his sluts waylaid 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 good people to- 
 
 138
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 gether." 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 ; 
 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 ; 
 and concluded a long speech, full of bitterness and very hard 
 words, and with some reflections on the clergy not decent to 
 repeat; at last, finding Joseph unmovable, she flung herself 
 into the chaise, casting a look at Fanny as she went, not un- 
 like that which Cleopatra gives Octavia in the play. To say 
 the truth, she was most disagreeably disappointed by the pres- 
 ence 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 entertaining to the reader, 
 we shall hasten to the morning; only observing that none of 
 them went to bed that night. Adams, when he had smoked 
 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 of which none of my readers who have 
 never been in love are capable of the least conception, 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, you have won 
 me; I will be yours for ever." Joseph, having thanked her 
 
 i39
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 re- 
 quest, and told him he would by no means consent to any- 
 thing 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 befel great folks in marriage; concluding, "As many 
 as are joined together otherwise than God's word doth allow, 
 are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony 
 lawful." 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 now been risen some hours, when Joseph, 
 finding his leg surprizingly recovered, proposed to walk for- 
 wards; 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 con- 
 sider 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 : 
 
 t. s. d. 
 Mr Adams and company, Dr 070 
 
 In Mr Adams's pocket 00 6 l / 2 
 
 In Mr Joseph's 000 
 
 In Mrs Fanny's 000 
 
 Balance ....06 $ l / 2 
 140
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN PARSON ADAMS AND PARSON 
 
 TRULLIBER. 
 
 PARSON ADAMS came to the house of Parson Trul- 
 liber, 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 occu- 
 pied a small piece of land of his own, besides which he rented 
 a considerable 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 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, ren- 
 dered 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 in- 
 creased 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 accent 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 
 
 141
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 his parlour-window. They were no sooner 
 arrived there than he cried 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 artifi- 
 cial, 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 contempt, " 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, " Nil habeo cum porcis: 
 I am a clergyman, sir, and am not come to buy hogs." Trul- 
 liber 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 
 
 142
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 clean himself, that he would only fasten up the stye and 
 follow him. Adams desired leave to dry his great-coat, 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 conducted 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 silence Adams said, " I fancy, sir, you 
 already perceive me to be a clergyman." — " Aye, aye," 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 misfortune 
 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 
 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 be- 
 hind her husband's chair, as was, it seems, her custom. Trul- 
 liber ate 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 ad- 
 mirer of her husband's greatness and importance, of which 
 she had frequent hints from his own mouth, that she almost 
 
 M3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 been so well edified by her hus- 
 band's sermons, that she had resolved to receive the bad things 
 of this 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." — " 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 embrace 
 such an opportunity of laying up a treasure in a better place 
 than any this world affords." 
 
 144
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 Suppose a stranger, who entered the chambers of a lawyer, 
 being imagined a client, when the lawyer was preparing his 
 palm for the fee, should pull out a writ against him. Sup- 
 pose 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 broom- 
 stick. 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 trades- 
 man 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 supposition of waiting. In short, 
 — suppose what you will, you never can nor will suppose any- 
 thing 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 Trul- 
 liber by the hand in a rapture, " Brother," says he, " heavens 
 bless the accident by which I came to see you ! I would have 
 walked many a mile to have communed with you ; and, be- 
 lieve 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 immediately." 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, 
 
 10 i45
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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. Four- 
 teen shillings indeed ! I won't give thee a farthing. I be- 
 lieve 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 clergy- 
 man, art obliged to relieve my distress." " Dost preach to 
 me ? " replied Trulliber : " dost pretend to instruct me in my 
 duty?" "Hacks, 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 aft a 
 fool. Poor's reate ! Hold thy nonsense," answered Trulli- 
 ber ; and then, turning to Adams, he told him, " he would 
 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 
 Scriptures ? " cries Trulliber. " No ; but you do," answered 
 Adams, " if I may reason from your practice ! for their com- 
 mands are so explicit, and their rewards and punishments so 
 immense, that it is impossible a man should steadfastly 
 believe without obeying. Now, there is no command more 
 express, no duty more frequently enjoined, than charity! 
 Whoever, therefore, is void of charity, I make no scruple of 
 
 146
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 pronouncing that he is no Christian." ' I would not advise 
 thee," says Trulliber, " to say that I am no Christian : I won't 
 take it of you ; for I believe I am as good a man as thyself " 
 (and indeed, though he was now rather too corpulent for 
 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 orders, departed without further ceremony. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE THE CONSEQUENCE OF A NEW INSTANCE 
 WHICH PARSON ADAMS GAVE OF HIS FORGETFULNESS. 
 
 WHEN he came back to the inn he found Joseph and 
 Fanny sitting together. They were so far from think- 
 ing 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 despaired of her doing, as she was one 
 of the sourest-faced women she had ever beheld. 
 
 But she was agreeably disappointed ; for the hostess was 
 no sooner asked the question than she readily agreed ; and, 
 with a curtsy and smile, wished them a good journey. How- 
 ever, lest Fanny's skill in physiognomy 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 
 
 147
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 inquiry 
 after him. Now Mr Trulliber had, by his professions 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 there- 
 fore no wonder that 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 recol- 
 lected he had left his great-coat and hat at Mr Trulliber's. 
 As he was not desirous of renewing his visit, the hostess her- 
 self, having no servant at home, offered to fetch them. 
 
 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 travelling 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 possibly, nor would she, trust any- 
 body ; no, not her own father. That money was never scarcer, 
 and she wanted to make up a sum. That she expected, there- 
 fore, 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 himself 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 
 
 148
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 a very good character as to other qualities in the neighbour- 
 hood, but was reputed a man 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 zvhen 
 the most exquisite cunning fails, chance often hits the mark, 
 and that by means the least expected. Virgil expresses this 
 very boldly : — 
 
 Tunic, quod oplanti diviun promittere nemo 
 Auderet, volvenda dies, en! attulit ultra. 
 
 I would quote more great men if I could ; but my memory 
 not permitting me, I will proceed to exemplify these observa- 
 tions 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 regiment, and now 
 travelled the country as a pedlar. This man, having atten- 
 tively 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 cried out, it would do ; for that he had sixpence himself. 
 And thus these poor people, who could not engage the com- 
 passion 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 observations he 
 pleases on this incident : it is sufficient for me to inform him 
 that, after Adams and his companions had returned him a 
 thousand thanks, and told him where he might call to be re- 
 paid, they all sallied out of the house without any compli- 
 ments 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. 
 
 149
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A VERY CURIOUS ADVENTURE, IN WHICH MR ADAMS GAVE A 
 MUCH GREATER INSTANCE OF THE HONEST SIMPLICITY OF 
 HIS HEART THAN OF HIS EXPERIENCE IN THE WAYS OF 
 THIS WORLD. 
 
 OUR travellers had walked about two miles from that inn, 
 which they had more reason to have mistaken for a cas- 
 tle than Don Quixote ever had any of those in which he so- 
 journed, 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 smoking 
 a pipe at the door, of whom Adams enquired 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 the 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 disagreeable to you ; and I can recommend my land- 
 lord's 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 distilled from 
 those grains her generous husband bestowed on his hogs. 
 Having therefore abundantly thanked the gentleman for his 
 kind invitation, 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, 
 
 15°
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 with appetites infinitely more voracious than arc 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 fa- 
 miliarity 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 intrusted to his cure to stand to 
 him in that relation. The gentleman, shaking him by the 
 hand, highly applauded those sentiments. ' They are, in- 
 deed," 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 him- 
 self. He seldom speaks to any, unless some few of the rich- 
 est 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 church-yard like a turkey-cock through rows of his pa- 
 rishioners, who bow to him with as much submission, and are 
 as unregarded, as a. set of servile courtiers by the proudest 
 prince in Christendom. But if such temporal pride is ridicu- 
 lous, surely the spiritual is odious and detestable ; if such a 
 puffed-up empty human bladder, strutting in princely robes, 
 just 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 disadvantageous to you 
 neither. At present I shall only say to you that the incum- 
 bent 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
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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; however, I have another in the parish (for 
 the parsonage-house is not good enough), which I will fur- 
 nish 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 maintained them." 
 " Sir," said Adams, in an ecstasy, " you are too liberal ; in- 
 deed 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 ! you 
 are indeed a Christian of the true primitive kind, and an hon- 
 
 i5 2
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 our to the country wherein you live. I would willingly have 
 taken a pilgrimage to the Holy Land to have beheld you ; for 
 the advantages 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 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 morning." 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 seem- 
 ing to meditate by himself for the space of about a minute, 
 exclaimed thus : " Sure never any thing was so unlucky ; I 
 had forgot that my housekeeper 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 wor- 
 ship," 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 disappoint- 
 ment. 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 re- 
 turn to." "Aye!" 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 morn- 
 ing, the gentleman took his leave of them, and departed to his 
 own house. Adams and his companions returned to the table, 
 where the parson smoked another pipe, and then they all re- 
 tired to rest. 
 
 Mr Adams rose very early, and called Joseph out of his 
 
 153
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 recov- 
 ered, and was as capable of taking care of Fanny as any other 
 person could be. But Adams would not agree to it, and de- 
 clared 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 prevented from lend- 
 ing 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 unlucky 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 con- 
 cerned 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 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 de- 
 spatched a boy with it to the gentleman, and then seated him- 
 self by the door, lighted his pipe, and betook himself to medi- 
 tation. 
 
 The boy staying longer than seemed to be necessary, Jo- 
 seph, who with Fanny was now returned to the parson, ex- 
 pressed some apprehensions that the gentleman's steward had 
 
 154
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 gen- 
 tleman 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 horses 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 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 lend- 
 ing 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 sometimes 
 longer, he is acquainted in the end that the gentleman is gone 
 
 J 55
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 out of town and could do nothing in the business." — " Good 
 Lord! " says Adams, " what wickedness is therein the Chris- 
 tian world ! I profess almost equal to what I have read of the 
 heathens. But surely, Joseph, your suspicions of this gentle- 
 man 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 de- 
 ceiving us in his professions? " — " It is not for me," answered 
 Joseph, " to give reasons for what men do to a gentleman of 
 your learning." — " You say right," quoth Adams ; " know- 
 ledge of men is only to be learnt 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 
 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 the 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 be- 
 fore?" — "Aye! marry have I," answered the host: "it is 
 no business of mine, you know, sir, to say anything to a gen- 
 tleman 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, declared, he had never read of such a monster. " But 
 what vexes me most," says he, " is, that he hath decoyed us 
 into running up a long debt 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 
 
 156
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 you would lose your money for want of our finding any con- 
 veniency 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 life-time, 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 you never pay me 
 a shilling the loss will not ruin me." Adams liked the invi- 
 tation 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, 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 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. 
 
 <QIR," said the host, " I assure you you are not the first to 
 ^ whom our squire hath promised more than he hath per- 
 formed. He is so famous for this practice, that his word 
 will not be taken for much by those who know him. I re- 
 member a young fellow whom he promised his parents to 
 
 157
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 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 prom- 
 ises ; 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 trans- 
 portation, the news of which broke the mother's heart. — I 
 will tell you another true story of him : There was a neigh- 
 bour 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 find- 
 ing friends to maintain him in his learning, as he had ex- 
 pected, 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 partly with good liquor, fell into a consump- 
 tion, and died. — Nay, I can tell you more still : there was an- 
 
 *5*
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 other, a young woman, and the handsomest in all this neigh- 
 bourhood, whom he enticed up to London, promising 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 himself, 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 sea- faring 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 beginning of the war; and 
 after a fight, wherein I lost the greater part of my crew, my 
 rigging being all demolished, 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 lieu- 
 tenancy 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 as- 
 sured I might be satisfied now, for I was certain of the first 
 vacancy ; and, what surprizes me still, when I reflect on it, 
 these assurances were given me with no 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 indeed I feared he had solicited the af- 
 fair with more coldness than he pretended. And what an- 
 swer do you think my friend sent me? Truly, sir, he ac- 
 
 159
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 quainted 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 wel- 
 come; 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 
 God 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 liars ; sure he must despise himself to so 
 intolerable 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 countenance suffi- 
 cient symptoms of that bona indoles, that sweetness of dispo- 
 sition, 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, 
 perhaps, to see whether a man had the smallpox, but for 
 nothing else." He spoke this with so little regard to the 
 parson's observation, that it a good deal nettled him; and, 
 taking the pipe hastily from his mouth, he thus answered : 
 ' Master of mine, perhaps I have travelled a great deal far- 
 ther than you without the assistance of a ship. Do you im- 
 agine sailing by different cities or countries is travelling? 
 No. 
 
 ' Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt. 
 
 I can go farther in an afternoon than you in a twelvemonth. 
 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 straits which take their name from the unfortunate 
 
 1 60
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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," re- 
 plied 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 Le- 
 vant ? " 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 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 
 tenor of all this great man's actions, and the generally re- 
 ceived opinion concerning him, incensed the boys of Athens 
 so that they threw stones at the physiognomist, and would 
 have demolished him for his ignorance, had not Socrates 
 himself prevented them by confessing the truth of his ob- 
 servations, and acknowledging that, though he corrected his 
 disposition by philosophy, he was indeed naturally as inclined 
 to vice as had been predicted of him. Now, pray 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 opportunities enough of knowing the world 
 without troubling his head with Socrates, or any such fel- 
 11 161
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 lows." " Friend," cries Adams, " if a man should sail round 
 the world, and anchor in every harbour of it, without learn- 
 ing, he would return home as ignorant as he went out." 
 " Lord help you! " answered the host; " there was my boat- 
 swain, 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 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 lie on my table, though it hath been offered me for 
 nothing." " Not I truly," said Adams ; " I never write any- 
 thing 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 what 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 necessaries, 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, meek- 
 ness, 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 
 
 162
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 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 to- 
 gether renewed their journey. 
 
 163
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MATTER PREFATORY IN PRAISE OF BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the preference which may be 
 vulgarly given to the authority of those romance-wri- 
 ters who entitle their books the History of England, the His- 
 tory 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 chorogra- 
 phers ; 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 ac- 
 tions and characters of men, their writings are not quite so au- 
 thentic, of which there needs no other proof than those eternal 
 contradictions occurring between two topographers who un- 
 dertake the history of the same country : for instance, between 
 my Lord Clarendon and Mr Whitlock, 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, and others to the other party ; some repre- 
 senting the same man as a rogue, to whom others give 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 
 
 164
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 Mar- 
 cella, 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 Car- 
 denio, the perfidy of Ferdinand, the impertinent curiosity of 
 Anselmo, the weakness of Camilla, the irresolute friendship 
 of Lothario? though perhaps, as to the time and place where 
 those several persons lived, the good historian may be deplor- 
 ably deficient. But the most known 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 San- 
 grado, 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 his- 
 tory, know that Spain was not the country in which this doc- 
 tor 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 like- 
 wise 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 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 the mate- 
 rials are selected. Not that such writers deserve no honour ; so 
 far otherwise, that perhaps they merit the highest; for what 
 can be nobler than to be as an example of the wonderful ex- 
 tent 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 sup- 
 port themselves as with crutches) ; but these of whom I am 
 
 165
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 now speaking seem to be possessed of those stilts, which the 
 excellent Voltaire tells us, in his letters, " carry the genius 
 far off, but without any regular pace." Indeed, far out of 
 the sight of the reader, 
 
 Beyond the realms 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 Mari- 
 ana'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-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 mo- 
 ment 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. Per- 
 haps 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 God will indulge his life as many 
 yet to come. He hath not indeed confined himself to one pro- 
 fession, 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 
 
 166
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 a person as I have described exists on earth, so long shall 
 he remain upon it. It is therefore doing him little honour 
 to imagine he endeavours to mimic some little obscure fel- 
 low, because he happens to resemble him in one particular 
 feature, or perhaps in his profession ; whereas his appearance 
 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 corrects the fault for the 
 benefit of the person, like a parent ; the latter publicly ex- 
 poses the person himself, as an example to others, like an 
 executioner. 
 
 There are besides little circumstances to be considered ; as 
 the drapery of a picture, which though fashion varies at dif- 
 ferent times, the resemblance of the countenance is not by 
 those means diminished. Thus I believe we may venture to 
 say Mrs Tow-wouse 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. In 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 inclination, eclipsed by a poverty of spirit 
 and understanding, 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 
 
 167
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 great- 
 ness, enriched with knowledge, and embellished with genius. 
 I have seen 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 obligation itself; and who 
 is so great a master of affability, that, if he could divest him- 
 self 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 de- 
 clare they are taken from the life, and not intended to exceed 
 it. By those high people, therefore, whom I have described, 
 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 dis- 
 regard who are at least equal to the founders of their own 
 splendour. 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 dis- 
 grace 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. 
 
 r68
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A NIGHT-SCENE, WHEREIN SEVERAL WONDERFUL ADVENTURES 
 BEFEL ADAMS AND HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLERS. 
 
 IT was so late when our travellers left the inn or alehouse 
 (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 par- 
 ticular 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 herself a little ; for 
 that she was so tired she could walk no farther. Joseph im- 
 mediately 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 vEschylus ; but was a little com- 
 forted 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, 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 in- 
 fused such happiness into Joseph, that he would not have 
 changed 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 
 
 169
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 unsubstantial 
 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 himself 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 wea- 
 pon, 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 all regarding the presence of 
 Adams, and in a soothing voice declared, she would die in 
 his arms. Joseph, clasping her with inexpressible eagerness, 
 whispered her, that he preferred death in hers to life out of 
 them. Adams, brandishing his crabstick, said, he despised 
 death as much 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 sud- 
 den 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 Lord, what wouldst thou 
 
 170
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 in- 
 stantly disappeared, which greatly frightened both Joseph 
 and Fanny: indeed, if the light had permitted them to see it, 
 they would scarce have refrained laughing to see the parson 
 rolling down the hill ; which he did from top to bottom, with- 
 out receiving any harm. 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 
 advanced 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 owri^v 
 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 v 
 beaux and pctit-mditres 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 life, 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 de- 
 clared he could swim, but doubted how it was possible to get 
 
 171
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 cere- 
 mony; and, the door being 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 surfer 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 immediately 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, if 
 evil spirits did not use to walk in that neighbourhood? To 
 which receiving no answer, he began to inform him of the 
 adventure which they had 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, 
 
 172
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 
 several voices discoursing pretty loudly. Adams was 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 himself, he was convinced 
 of the truth of apparitions for all that. 
 
 They now sat cheerfully 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 great-coat, 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 gentle- 
 man was surprized to see one of Mr Adams's character con- 
 descend 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 familiarity. I 
 know not how those who think otherwise can profess them- 
 selves followers and servants of Him who made no distinction, 
 unless, peradventure, by preferring the poor to the rich. — Sir," 
 said he, addressing himself to the gentleman, " these two 
 poor young people are my parisioners, and I look on them 
 
 173
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and love them as my children. There is something singular 
 enough in their history, but I have not now time to recount 
 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 professions. 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 classics. 
 " Why, truly," replied 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 gentleman. "Do you 
 know, sir," cried Adams, " where I can buy an iEschylus ? an 
 unlucky misfortune lately happened to mine." ^schylus was 
 beyond the gentleman, though he knew him very well by 
 name; he therefore, returning back to Homer, asked Adams, 
 what part of the 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, indeed," continued he, " what Cicero 
 says of a complete orator may well be applied to a great poet : 
 He ought to comprehend all perfections. Homer did this 
 in the most excellent degree ; it is not without reason, there- 
 fore, that the philosopher, in the twenty-second chapter of his 
 Poetics, mentions him by no other appellation 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 Mar- 
 gites, 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 remember, to the Odyssey. First, then, 
 as to his subject, can anything be more simple, and at the 
 
 i74
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 same time more noble? He is rightly praised by the first of 
 those judicious critics for not choosing 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 ob- 
 serve, 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 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 wis- 
 dom of Nestor, which is the result of long reflection and ex- 
 perience, 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 Androm- 
 ache is introduced in the former lamenting the danger, and 
 in the latter the death, of Hector. The images are so ex- 
 tremely tender in these, that I am convinced the poet had 
 the worthiest and best heart imaginable. Nor can I help ob- 
 serving how Sophocles falls short of the beauties of the origi- 
 ns
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 nal, 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 remarkable for the utmost per- 
 fection on that head, namely, propriety; and as to the latter, 
 Aristotle, whom doubtless 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; 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 13th and 14th 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 is 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 ex- 
 travagant 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 fire-side, he would set 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- 
 up vards 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 
 
 176
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 this kind proposal, in which solicitation he was seconded by 
 Joseph. Nor was she very difficultly prevailed on ; for she 
 had slept little the last night and not at all the preceding; 
 so that love itself 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 them- 
 selves, 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 re- 
 quest 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 con- 
 trary, drew round the fire-side, 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 gracefulness 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 his- 
 tory. 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 cheerfulness, and returned many thanks to Adams, 
 who 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 
 
 * The author hath by some been represented to have made a blunder 
 12 I?7
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN WHICH THE GENTLEMAN RELATES THE HISTORY OF 
 
 HIS LIFE. 
 
 SIR, I am descended of a good family, and was born a 
 gentleman. 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 was sixteen, and left me master of 
 myself. He bequeathed 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 dis- 
 cretion. 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 incli- 
 nations of my dead father, which were sufficiently certain to 
 
 here: for Adams had indeed shown some learning (say they), perhaps 
 all the author had ; but the gentleman hath shown none, unless his ap- 
 probation 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 bcaute mediocre plait plus generalc- 
 ment qu'une beaute sans defaut. Mr. Congreve hath made such an- 
 other blunder in his Love for Love, where Tattle tells Miss Prue, 
 ' She should admire him as much for the beauty he commends in her 
 as if he himself was possessed of it.' 
 
 178
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 intro- 
 duction 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 scnool, and went to Lon- 
 don 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 tailor, a periwig-maker, and some 
 few more tradesmen, who deal in 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 
 tradesmen 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 reputa- 
 
 179
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tion of it ; for I had heard some of my school-fellows 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 fashionable 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 reputation of 
 it ; and indeed I was so successful, that in a very short time 
 I had half-a-dozen with the finest women in the town. 
 
 At these words Adams fetched a deep groan, and then, 
 blessing himself, cried out, "Good Lord! what wicked times 
 these are ! " 
 
 Not so wicked as you imagine, continued the gentleman ; 
 for I assure you they were all vestal virgins for anything 
 which I knew to the contrary. The reputation of intriguing 
 with them was all I sought, and was what I arrived at : and 
 perhaps I only flattered myself even in that ; for very prob- 
 ably 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 char- 
 acters 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, " Aye, 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 tailor'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 
 
 180
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 this course of life I continued full three years — " What course 
 of life?" answered Adams; "I do not remember you have 
 mentioned any." — Your remark 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 jour- 
 nal 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 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 some- 
 thing 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 vegetation : and I 
 am surprized what could lead a man of your sense into it." 
 What leads us into more follies than you imagine, doctor, an- 
 swered the gentleman — vanity ; for as contemptible a creature 
 as I was, and I assure you, yourself cannot have more con- 
 tempt for such a wretch than I now have, I then admired 
 myself, and should have despised a person of your present 
 appearance (you will pardon me), with all your learning 
 and those excellent qualities which I have remarked in you. 
 Adams bowed, and begged him to proceed. After I had con- 
 tinued 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 
 
 181
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of the guards, who was present, thought proper to give me 
 the lie. 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. 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 therefore 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 resolved 
 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 beaux of the 
 Temple are only the shadows of the others. They are the 
 affectation 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 
 put a stop to by my surgeon, who convinced me of the neces- 
 sity 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 beaux and smarts of every kind, 
 and to avoid, if possible, any occasion of returning to this 
 
 182
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 place of confinement. " I think," said Adams, " the advice 
 of a month's retirement and reflection was very proper; but 
 I should rather have expected it from a divine than a sur- 
 geon." The gentleman smiled at Adams's simplicity, and, 
 without explaining himself farther on such an odious sub- 
 ject, 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 deter- 
 mined, 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 settlement 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 
 separation 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 the army, and in all the campaigns 
 under the Duke of Marlborough, 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 gov- 
 ernment, 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 acqaintance with her, solicited in marriage 
 by a young fellow in good circumstances. He was apprentice 
 to a linen-draper, 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, 
 
 183
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 af- 
 fected 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 indigna- 
 tion be raised when you hear the fatal conseqences of this bar- 
 barous, 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, continued 
 the gentleman, as happy as the possession of a fine young crea- 
 ture, who had a good education, and was endued with many 
 agreeable qualities, could make me. We lived some months 
 with vast fondness together, without any company or conver- 
 sation, more than we found in one another : but this could not 
 continue always ; and, though I still preserved a great affec- 
 tion for her, I began more and more to want relief of other 
 company, and consequently to leave her by degrees — at last, 
 whole days to herself. She failed not to testify some uneasi- 
 ness on these occasions, and complained of the melancholy 
 life she led; to remedy which, I introduced her into the ac- 
 quaintance 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 inno- 
 cence 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, ex- 
 travagant 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 affec- 
 tions 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 
 
 184
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 departed herself, having first broken open my escritoire, 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 vengeance 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 ag- 
 gressor, 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, concluding myself her murderer (" As you very 
 well might," cries Adams, with a groan), was pleased that 
 God Almighty had taken this method of punishing me, and re- 
 solved 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 profligate; and, after being some years a 
 common prostitute, at last ended her miserable life in New- 
 gate. — 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 pro- 
 ceeded 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 compensate 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 bv a passion for the charming Sapphira, which, hav- 
 
 185
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ing 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, however, he had not the reputation of having. She 
 was indeed a coquette achevee. " Pray, sir," says 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 usefulness, 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 ridicu- 
 lous birds and beasts, and which would persuade the beholder 
 that the silly wretch was aiming at our contempt. Indeed 
 its characteristic is affectation, and this led and governed by 
 whim only : for as beauty, wisdom, wit, good-nature, polite- 
 ness, and health, are sometimes affected by this creature, so 
 are ugliness, folly, nonsense, ill-nature, ill-breeding, and 
 sickness, likewise 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 therefore be assured, when they 
 endeavour to persuade you of their liking, that they are in- 
 different to you at least. And indeed this was the case of 
 my Sapphira, who no sooner saw me in the number of her 
 admirers than she gave me what is commonly called encour- 
 agement : she would often look at me, and, when she per- 
 ceived 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; 
 
 186
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 con- 
 vinced 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 as- 
 siduity 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 pas- 
 sion : she wondered what I had seen in her conduct which 
 could induce me to affront her in this manner ; and, break- 
 ing 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 impression 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 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 an- 
 other ; and, as the pleasures we sought lay in a mutual grati- 
 fication, we soon found and enjoyed them. I thought myself 
 
 187
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 at first greatly happy in the possession of this new mistress, 
 whose fondness 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 hus- 
 band 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 apprehen- 
 sions appeared also too well grounded, for in the end he dis- 
 covered 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 un- 
 easy life with her ; for, besides that my passion was now much 
 abated, her excessive jealousy was very troublesome. At 
 length death delivered me from an inconvenience which the 
 consideration of my having been the author of her misfor- 
 tunes would never suffer me to take any other method of 
 discarding. 
 
 I now bade adieu to love, and resolved to pursue other less 
 dangerous and expensive pleasures. I fell into the acquain- 
 tance 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 conversation was nothing but 
 noise : singing, hollowing, wrangling, drinking, toasting, 
 sp — wing, smoking, were the chief ingredients of our enter- 
 tainment. And yet, bad as these were, they were more tol- 
 erable 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 
 
 188
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 antient 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 re- 
 gard to their morality, that I would have trusted them with 
 whatever was nearest and dearest to me. Whilst I was en- 
 gaged in this delightful dream, two or three accidents hap- 
 pened successively, which at first much surprized me ; — for 
 one of our greatest philosophers, or rule-of-right men, with- 
 drew 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 remembering 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 in- 
 consistent 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 with 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 
 very 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 
 
 189
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 reduced to a state of solitude which I did not like, I became 
 a great frequenter of the playhouses, which indeed was al- 
 ways 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 entertainment was commonly the best 
 pleased of the company; 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, etc. 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 
 1 have before mentioned is grounded; but doth not the per- 
 son who expends vast sums in the furniture of his house or 
 the ornaments of his person, who consumes much time and 
 employs great pains in dressing himself, or who thinks him- 
 self paid for self-denial, labour, or even villany, by a title or 
 a ribbon, sacrifice as much to vanity as the poor wit who is 
 desirous to read you his poem or his play? My second re- 
 mark 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 ren- 
 ders him the mark of his antipathy. Adams now began to 
 fumble in his pockets, and soon cried out, " O la ! I have it 
 not about me." Upon this, the gentleman asking him 
 
 190
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 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 : in- 
 deed, I have never been a greater enemy to any passion than 
 that silly one of vanity." The gentleman smiled, and pro- 
 ceeded — From this society I easily passed to that of the 
 gamesters, 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, attor- 
 neys, 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 for- 
 merly taken tickets of other poets for their benefits, long be- 
 fore the appearance of their performances ; 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 tailor 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 what is the worst consequence of poverty, — 
 I mean attendance and dependence on the great. Many a 
 morning have I waited hours in the cold parlours of men of 
 
 191
 
 THE ADVENTURES 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 as- 
 surance 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 pa- 
 trons of wit and learning, thought fit to encourage them far- 
 ther by entering into voluntary subscriptions for their en- 
 couragement. Thus Prior, Rowe, Pope, and some other men 
 of genius, received large sums for their labours from the pub- 
 lic. This seemed so easy a method of getting money, that 
 many of the lowest scribblers of the times ventured to pub- 
 lish their works in the same way ; and many had the assurance 
 to take in subscriptions for what was not writ, nor ever in- 
 tended. Subscriptions in this manner growing infinite, and 
 a kind of tax on the public, 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 pre- 
 vent 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 consideration 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 griev- 
 ance ; and this is what they call being tied up from sub- 
 scribing. " I can't say but the term is apt enough, and some- 
 what 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. Sometimes 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 
 
 192
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 it had been spent in honest industry, might have brought 
 me more profit with infinitely more satisfaction. After about 
 two months spent in this disagreeable way, with the ut- 
 most mortification, 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 in- 
 formed 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 indignation, 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 gentleman, 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 repu- 
 tation of any kind. After revolving many things in my 
 mind, I could see no other possibility of furnishing myself 
 with the miserable necessaries of life than to retire to a garret 
 near the Temple, and commence hackney-writer to the law- 
 yers, for which I was well qualified, being an excellent pen- 
 man. This purpose I resolved on, and immediately put it 
 in execution. I had an acquaintance with an attorney who 
 had formerly transacted 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 of this kind from 
 others, I found that Plato himself did not hold poets in 
 greater abhorrence than these men of business do. When- 
 ever 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 cov- 
 ered by a good education and politeness, delights in making 
 another uneasy or dissatisfied with himself. This abun- 
 dantly appears in all assemblies, except those which are filled 
 
 13 i93
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 by people of fashion, and especially among the younger peo- 
 ple 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 I 
 continued in this miserable state, with scarce sufficient busi- 
 ness to keep me from starving, the reputation of a poet being 
 my bane, I accidentally became acquainted with a bookseller, 
 who told me, it was 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 condi- 
 tions, 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 I almost writ myself blind. I like- 
 wise 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 un- 
 luckily 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 hav- 
 ing 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 For- 
 tune's lap, and try if she would make me amends for the in- 
 juries she had done me at the gaming-table. This pur- 
 chase, 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 di- 
 rected by the bookseller. He arrested me at my tailor's suit 
 for thirty-five pounds ; a sum for which I could not pro- 
 cure 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 indisposition), 
 liberty, money, or friends ; and had abandoned all hopes, 
 
 194
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 and even the desire, of life. ; ' But this could not last long," 
 said Adams ; " for doubtless the tailor released you the mo- 
 ment 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 cus- 
 tomer 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 and industry pro- 
 cure, 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 lie 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, trespasses, 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 counte- 
 nance, 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 3000/. 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 un- 
 fortunate sale he began to revile me and remind me of all the 
 ill-conduct and miscarriages of my life. He said I was one 
 
 195
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 weakness to 
 compassionate the misfortunes of a man who ran headlong to 
 his own destruction. He then painted to me, in as lively 
 colours as he was able, the happiness I should have now en- 
 joyed, 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 crowded 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 dreadful cir- 
 cumstances I applied by letter to several of my old acquain- 
 tance, and such to whom I had formerly lent money without 
 any great prospect of its being returned, 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 pun- 
 ishment for a little inadvertency and indiscretion; whilst I 
 was in this condition, a fellow came into the prison, and, in- 
 quiring 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 circum- 
 stances, 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/. — " 200/. ? " says Adams, in a rapture. 
 
 196
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 No less, I assure you, answered 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 over- 
 flowing 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 up- 
 wards of fifty pounds in my pocket, to thank my kind deliv- 
 erer. 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 be- 
 come 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 endea- 
 voured to express all the gratitude in my power to this pro- 
 fusion of goodness, though perhaps it was my enemy, and 
 began to afflict my mind with more agonies than all the mis- 
 eries 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 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 tenderness : such bewitching smiles ! — O Mr 
 Adams, in that moment I lost myself, and, forgetting our 
 
 197
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 different situations, nor considering what return I was mak- 
 ing to her goodness by desiring her, who had given me so 
 much, to bestow her all, I laid gently hold on her hand, and, 
 conveying 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 trembling; her eyes cast 
 on the ground, and mine stedfastly fixed on her. Good God, 
 what was then the condition 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 re- 
 covering 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 absolutely 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 un- 
 bounded 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 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 ask nothing in reason which 
 I will refuse." Madam, said I, you mistake me if you im- 
 agine, 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 hear- 
 
 198
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 ing of yours ; and if Fortune will make that complete, I will 
 forgive her all her wrongs to me. " You may, indeed," an- 
 swered she, smiling, " for your own happiness must be in- 
 cluded 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 cannot ask me what I will deny." 
 
 She uttered these words with a sweetness not to be imagined. 
 I immediately started ; my blood, which lay freezing at my 
 heart, rushed tumultuously 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, re- 
 covering 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 too long in relating the particulars of the 
 former interview. " So far otherwise," said Adams, licking 
 his lips, " that I could willingly hear it over again." Well, 
 sir, continued the gentleman, to be as concise as possible, 
 within a week she consented to make me the happiest of man- 
 kind. We were married shortly after ; and when I came to 
 examine the circumstances of my wife's fortune (which, I 
 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 mer- 
 chant, and she seemed willing, if I liked it, that I should carry 
 on the same trade. I readily, and too inconsiderately, un- 
 dertook it ; for, not having been bred up to the secrets of the 
 business, and endeavouring 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; 
 
 199
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 adversity, and now very forwardly 
 renewed their acquaintance with me. In short, I had suffi- 
 ciently seen that the pleasures of the world are chiefly folly, 
 and the business 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 busi- 
 ness from envy in getting it. My happiness consisted en- 
 tirely in my wife, whom I loved with an inexpressible fond- 
 ness, 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 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 re- 
 duced 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 conver- 
 sation 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 nor drink with the other. " Sir," 
 says Adams, " Fortune hath, I think, paid you all her debts 
 in this sweet retirement." 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 chil- 
 dren, 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 bit- 
 terly.) " Sir," says Adams, "we must submit to Providence, 
 and consider death as common to all." We must submit, in- 
 deed, 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 unwit- 
 
 200
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 tingly dropt from his eyes, as did likewise from those of 
 Adams, who always sympathized with his friends on those oc- 
 casions. Thus, sir, said the gentleman, I have finished my 
 story, in which if I have been too particular, I ask your par- 
 don ; and now, if you please, I will fetch you another bottle : 
 which proposal the parson thankfully accepted. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A DESCRIPTION OF MR WILSON'S WAY OF LIVING. THE TRA- 
 GICAL 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, " God 
 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 chamber 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 
 * Whoever the reader pleases. 
 
 20 1 ^\t
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 filbert-hedge, with a small alcove at one end, whither in hot 
 weather the gentleman and his wife used to retire and divert 
 themselves with their children, who played in the walk be- 
 fore 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 admira- 
 tion 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, with- 
 out assistance from physic. Hither I generally repair at the 
 dawn, and exercise myself whilst my wife dresses her children 
 and prepares our breakfast ; after which we are seldom asun- 
 der during the residue of the day, for, when the weather will 
 not permit them to accompany 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 dullness 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 delivering them more agree- 
 ably; nor do I believe any one possessed of a faithfuller or 
 braver friend. And sure as this friendship is sweetened with 
 more delicacy and tenderness, so is it confirmed by dearer 
 pledges than can attend the closest male alliance ; for what 
 union can be so fast as our common interests 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 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 
 
 202
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 have often lamented my own wife did not understand Greek." 
 — The gentleman smiled, and answered, he would not be appre- 
 hended 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 the housekeepers 
 of few gentlemen understand cookery or confectionery better; 
 but these are arts which she hath no great occasion for now : 
 however, the wine you commended so much last night at 
 supper was of her own making, as is indeed all the liquor 
 in my house, except my beer, which falls 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 
 in 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 gentle- 
 man was surprized at the beauty of Fanny, who had now re- 
 covered herself from her fatigue, and 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 ten- 
 derness 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 break- 
 fast the good woman was called for to assist her sick neigh- 
 bour, which she did with some cordials made for the public 
 
 203
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 cheer- 
 fulness, 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 himself at his mistress's 
 feet: the poor girl, who was about eleven years old, burst 
 into tears at the sight; and presently 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 passed 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 her 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 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 neighbourhood ; 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." 
 
 204
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 The cheerfulness of their conversation being interrupted 
 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 fa- 
 vourite, 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 eagerness to depart he summond his 
 wife; and accordingly, having performed all the usual cere- 
 monies 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 kind entertainment. They then de- 
 parted, Adams declaring that this was the manner in which 
 the people had lived in the golden age. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A DISPUTATION ON SCHOOLS HELD ON THE ROAD BY MR ABRA- 
 HAM ADAMS AND JOSEPH ; AND A DISCOVERY NOT UNWEL- 
 COME 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 jour- 
 ney 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 pre- 
 sent our readers with a very curious discourse, as we appre- 
 hend 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 gentleman'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 
 
 205
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 calam- 
 ities which he afterwards suffered. Public schools are the 
 nurseries of all vice and immorality. All the wicked fellows 
 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 mis- 
 fortunes 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 gloriari non est meum." — " 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 of 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 educa- 
 tion will in five. He used to say the school itself initiated 
 him a great way (I remember that was his very expression), 
 for great schools are little societies, where a boy of any ob- 
 
 206
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 servation may see in epitome what he will afterwards find in 
 the world at large." — " Hinc ilia lachryuuc: for that very rea- 
 son," quoth Adams, " I prefer a private school, where boys 
 may be. kept in innocence and ignorance : for, according to 
 that fine passage in the play of Cato, the only English tragedy 
 I ever read, 
 
 " I f knowledge of the world must make men villains, 
 May Juba ever live in ignorance ! " 
 
 Who would not rather preserve the purity of his child than 
 wish him 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, nalli secundum, in teaching these things ; so 
 that a lad may have as much learning in a private as in a pub- 
 lic education." — " And, with submission," answered Joseph, 
 " he may get as much vice : witness several country gentle- 
 men, 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 better disciplinarian ? 
 I do presume to confer in this point with all who have taught 
 from Chiron's time to this day; and, if T was master of six 
 boys only, I would preserve as good discipline amongst them 
 as the master of the greatest school in the world. I say no- 
 thing, 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 nobody — it might have been 
 
 207
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 better for him : — but his father must institute him in the 
 knowledge of the world. Nemo mortalium omnibus horis 
 sapit" Joseph, seeing him run on in this manner, asked par- 
 don 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 character in the world, and himself the greatest 
 of all schoolmasters : 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 Jo- 
 seph and Fanny, without the assistance of love. 
 
 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 
 related 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 
 
 208
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 Adam's parish, and had faithfully promised 
 to call on him ; a circumstance which we thought too imma- 
 terial to mention before ; but which those who have as great 
 an affection for that gentleman as ourselves 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 dis- 
 posed, may see in the next chapter ; for we scorn to betray 
 him into any such reading without first giving him warning. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MORAL REFLECTIONS BY JOSEPH ANDREWS; WITH THE HUNT- 
 ING ADVENTURE, AND PARSON ADAMS'S MIRACULOUS ESCAPE. 
 
 I HAVE often wondered, sir," said Joseph, " to observe so 
 few instances of charity among mankind ; 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 hon- 
 our 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 respected 
 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 possessor of all those 
 other things ; which, when we so admire, we rather praise the 
 14 209
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 builder, the workman, the painter, the lace-maker, the tailor, 
 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 looking 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 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 tradesman 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 commended ; and I have been told 
 by other gentlemen in livery that it is the same in their fam- 
 ilies : 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 commendation ; whilst, on the con- 
 trary, all rail at wickedness, 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," an- 
 swered Joseph. " Some gentlemen of our cloth report char- 
 itable 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 an- 
 other at the Bath, one Al — Al — I forget his name, but it is 
 in the book of verses. 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, — 
 
 210
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 aye, 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 Andrew's speech which I could get 
 him to recollect, which I have delivered as near as was pos- 
 sible in his own words, with a very small embellishment. 
 But I believe the reader hath not been a little surprised at 
 the long silence of parson Adams, especially as so many oc- 
 casions offered themselves to exert his curiosity and observa- 
 tion. 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 permitted 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 have it in her arms, that she 
 might preserve it from the dangers which seemed to threaten 
 it ; but 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 mea- 
 dows again, passed the little rivulet on the opposite side? It 
 was, however, so spent and weak, that it fell down twice or 
 
 211
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 at- 
 tended on them on horseback, The dogs now past the rivulet, 
 and pursued the footsteps of the hare ; five horsemen at- 
 tempted 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 sports- 
 men 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 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 close to him, that some of them (by mistake per- 
 haps 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 
 
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 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 awakened, 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, therefore, escaped likewise from at least 
 a third part of his cassock, which he willingly left as his 
 exuvia or spoils to the enemy, he fled with the utmost speed 
 he could summon to his assistance. Nor let this be any de- 
 traction 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 circumstance whatever, 
 I say (but I whisper that softly, and I solemnly declare with- 
 out 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 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, aye, 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 per- 
 sons 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 immediately relate of Joseph An- 
 drews. 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, espe- 
 cially as we are upon this subject, he was a greater 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 in- 
 dulge himself with other sport, and accordingly, crying out, 
 stole away, encouraged 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 
 
 213
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 
 hese our times : thou who didst infuse such wonderful hu- 
 mour 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 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 Cibber 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 Deard's best 
 workmen, whom no other artificer can equal, and who hath 
 made all those sticks which the beaux have lately walked 
 with about the Park in a morning; but this was far his 
 masterpiece. On its head was engraved a nose and chin, 
 which might have been mistaken for a pair of nutcrackers. 
 The learned have imagined it designed to represent the Gor- 
 gon ; 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 engraved 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 
 
 214
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 with astonishment wondering that " Nobody bids more for 
 
 that fine, that superb " 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 heroic youth, 
 swift of foot, ran with the utmost speed to his friend's assist- 
 ance. He overtook him just as Rockwood 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 
 should be rapid in this part; but that doth not weigh much, 
 many precedents occurring for such an interruption : the sec- 
 ond 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 swift- 
 ness? all which blazed in the person of Joseph Andrews. 
 Let those, therefore, that describe lions and tigers, and heroes 
 fiercer than both, raise their poems or plays with the simile 
 of Joseph Andrews, who 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 great-coat, 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 hold, 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 babbler, no overrunner ; 
 respected by the whole pack, who, whenever he opened, they 
 knew the game was at hand. He fell 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 
 
 215
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 as he pleases) 
 in that instant interposed, and, in the shape of the hunts- 
 man, 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 con- 
 tend longer, for that fate had decreed the victory to their 
 enemies. 
 
 Thus far the muse hath with her usual dignity related 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 engagement with 
 more delight than any chase, shooting-match, race, cock-fight- 
 ing, bull or bear baiting, had ever given them, began now to 
 apprehend the danger 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 per- 
 son, rode manfully up to the combatants, and, summoning 
 all the terror he was master of into his countenance, de- 
 manded 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 
 
 216
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 by man or beast; and, having so said, both he and Adams 
 brandished their wooden weapons, and put themselves in such 
 a posture, that the squire and his 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 surprized 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 suc- 
 ceeded 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 
 encourage 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 endeavoured all he could to prevent it the mo- 
 ment he was acquainted with his cloth, and greatly com- 
 mended 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 earnest- 
 ness and courtesy, that at length he was forced to accept it. 
 His wig and hat, and other spoils of the field, being gathered 
 together 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 dis- 
 tance. 
 
 Whilst they were on the road the lovely Fanny attracted 
 
 217
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 likewise my not setting down the many 
 curious jests which were made on Adams ; some of them de- 
 claring 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. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A SCENE OF ROASTING, VERY NICELY ADAPTED TO THE PRESENT 
 
 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 permit 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 con- 
 siderable fortune ; a bachelor, as we have said, and about 
 forty years of age: he had been educated (if we may here 
 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 
 
 218
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 exercises, but likewise over a bottle, which the 
 young squire had a very early relish for. At the age of 
 twenty his 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, 
 — that 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 endeavoured 
 to conceal, these imperfections, he took great pleasure in in- 
 venting methods of forcing him into absurdities 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 busi- 
 ness 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 themselves 
 into ridicule, for the diversion of their master and feeder. 
 
 219
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The gentlemen of curlike disposition who 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 say- 
 ing grace, the captain conveyed his chair from behind him; 
 so that when he endeavoured to seat himself 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 
 drinking 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, con- 
 tributed 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 disposi- 
 tion of his own heart made him slow in discovering ; and in- 
 deed, had it not been for the information which we re- 
 ceived 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 ex- 
 tempore. The following is a copy of them, procured with 
 the greatest difficulty: 
 
 An extempore Poem on parson Adams. 
 
 Did ever mortal such a parson view? 
 His cassock old, his wig not over-new, 
 Well might the hounds have him for fox mistaken, 
 In smell more like to that than rusty bacon ; * 
 * All hounds that will hunt fox or other vermin will hunt a piece of 
 rusty bacon trailed on the ground. 
 
 220
 
 JOSErH ANDREWS 
 
 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 therefore, 
 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 pritty quality in clergyman to dance ; " and con- 
 cluded with desiring him to dance a minuet, telling him, his 
 cassock would serve for petticoats ; and that he would him- 
 self be his partner. At which words, without waiting for 
 an answer, he pulled out his gloves, and the fiddler was pre- 
 paring his fiddle. The company all offered the dancing- 
 master wagers that the parson out-danced him, which he re- 
 fused, saying he believed so too, for he had never seen any 
 man in his life who " looked de dance so well as de gentle- 
 man : " 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 not endure being put upon. The 
 dancing-master no sooner saw the fist than he prudently re- 
 tired 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 mean while, the captain, perceiving an op- 
 portunity, 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 beholders, who declared he was the 
 best dancer in the universe. As soon as the devil had done 
 
 221
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tormenting him, and he had a little recovered his confusion, 
 he returned to the table, standing up in the posture of one 
 ■who intended to make a speech. They all cried out, " Hear 
 him, hear him ; " and he then spoke in the following manner : 
 " Sir, I am sorry to see one to whom Providence hath been 
 so bountiful in bestowing his favours make so ill and un- 
 grateful 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 hospitality entitled to your protection. One gen- 
 tleman had thought proper to produce some poetry upon me, 
 of which I shall only say, that I had rather be the subject 
 than the composer. He hath pleased to treat me with disre- 
 spect 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 mentioned with contempt. He says they are 
 taken from plays. I am sure such plays are a scandal to 
 the government which permits them, and cursed will be the 
 nation where they are represented. How others have treated 
 me I need not observe ; they themselves, when they reflect, 
 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 proceeded from the wantonness 
 or negligence of the huntsman) : 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 our 
 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 hon- 
 our 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, 
 
 222
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 received 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 the person whom he had ac- 
 cused, 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 hu- 
 manity." 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 gentle- 
 man did all he could to encourage this warlike 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 a very 
 pompous speech highly applauded what Adams had said, 
 
 223
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and as much discommended the behaviour to him. He pro- 
 ceeded 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 re- 
 spect 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 degrees, from the rattle to the discussing a point of phi- 
 losophy ; 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 con- 
 duct in life of boys whom in their tender years we perceive, 
 instead of taw or balls, or other childish playthings, to choose, 
 at their leisure hours, to exercise their genius in conten- 
 tions 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 com- 
 mended the doctor's opinion, and said, he had often won- 
 dered at some passages in ancient authors, where Scipio, 
 Lselius, 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 manuscript where 
 a favourite diversion of Socrates was recorded. " Aye ! " 
 says the parson eagerly : " I should be most infinitely obliged 
 to you for the 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 
 
 224
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 himself ; and when he was led up to the footsteps of the throne 
 he addressed himself to 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. Per- 
 haps 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 re- 
 sembling it should be instituted among our great men, in- 
 stead of cards and other idle pastime, in which, he was in- 
 formed, 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 without one, for fear of 
 what may happen." He was easily prevailed on by his wor- 
 thy friend, as he now called the doctor, to undertake the part 
 of the ambassador; 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 nimbleness 
 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, having read his sermon, to the great entertain- 
 ment of all present, was led up to his place and seated be- 
 tween 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 
 15 225
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 being as nimble as he ought, Adams caught hold of him be- 
 fore 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. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHICH SOME READERS WILL THINK TOO SHORT AND OTHERS 
 
 TOO LONG. 
 
 ADAMS, and Joseph, who was no less enraged than his 
 Jl\. friend at the treatment he met with, went out with their 
 sticks in their hands, and carried off Fanny, notwithstanding 
 the opposition of the servants, who did all, without proceed- 
 ing to violence, in their power to detain them. They walked 
 as fast as they could, not so much from any apprehension of 
 being 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 doc- 
 tor, 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. 
 
 226
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 ate his homely 
 commons with much greater satisfaction than his splendid 
 dinner ; and expressed great contempt for the folly of man- 
 kind, 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 smoking 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 day'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, 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 solicitude 
 instead of rest, envy instead of affection, 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 pro- 
 long 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 
 
 227
 
 THE ADVENTURES 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 deplor- 
 ably true ; but as the prospect of our good at a distance doth 
 not so forcibly affect us, it might be of some service to man- 
 kind 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, mathematically 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 par- 
 son 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 reckoning ; 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 
 
 228
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 dis- 
 tress. I 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 gen- 
 erous 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 immedi- 
 ately, notwithstanding the darkness ; and accordingly, as soon 
 as the host returned, he communicated to him the situation 
 of his affairs ; upon which the host, scratching his head, an- 
 swered, " 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 re- 
 ply, 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, 
 
 229
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 saying he despaired of ever seeing his face again, for that he 
 looked like a confounded rogue. " Rabbit the fellow," cries 
 he, " I thought, by his talking so much about riches, that he 
 had a hundred pounds at least in his pocket." Adams chid 
 him for his suspicions, which, he said, were not becoming a 
 Christian ; and then, without reflecting on his loss, or con- 
 sidering how he himself should depart in the morning, he re- 
 tired 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. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 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 young woman had not taken up their lodg- 
 ings there 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 the door. Fanny, 
 who was as wakeful as Joseph, no sooner heard all this than 
 she leaped from her bed, and, hastily putting on her gown 
 and petticoats, ran as fast as possible to Joseph's room, who 
 then was almost drest. He immediately let her in, and, em- 
 bracing her with the most passionate tenderness, bid her fear 
 
 230
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 me 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 pre- 
 vented any offence to an innocence less pure, or a modesty less 
 delicate, so it concealed even those blushes which were raised 
 in her. 
 
 Adams had soon put on all his clothes but his 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, and 
 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, jostling 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 other- 
 wise have been in pain for her, was before advertised. They 
 then inquired where the men lay, and were approaching the 
 chamber, when Joseph roared out, in a loud voice, that he 
 would shoot the first man who offered to attack the door. The 
 captain inquired what fire-arms they had ; to which the host 
 answered, he believed they had none ; nay, he was almost con- 
 vinced of it, for he had heard one ask the other in the even- 
 ing 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 satis- 
 fied the captain, but not the poet, who prudently retreated 
 down-stairs, saying, it was his business to record great actions, 
 and not to do them. The captain was no sooner well satis- 
 
 231
 
 ft 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fied 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, im- 
 mediately attempted to force the door, which the servants soon 
 helped him to accomplish. When it was opened, they dis- 
 covered 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, notwithstanding her 
 disguise, her air, which she could not conceal, sufficiently dis- 
 covered 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 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 cap- 
 tain, who was not accustomed to this kind of play, and who 
 wisely apprehended the consequence of such another blow, 
 two of them seeming 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 beaux 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, 
 
 232
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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, wrest- 
 ing 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 are conjoined. 
 
 Hitherto, Fortune seemed to incline the victory on the 
 travellers' side, when, according to her custom, she began to 
 show the fickleness of her disposition ; for now the host, enter- 
 ing 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 serving-men and 
 the host now fell on him, and soon subdued him, though he 
 fought like a madman, and looked so black with the im- 
 pressions he had received from the mop, that Don Quixote 
 would certainly have taken him for an enchanted 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 tearing her hair, from 
 the sight of her Joseph, and, with a perfect deafness to all 
 her entreaties, carried her down-stairs by violence, and fas- 
 tened 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 
 
 233
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 ad- 
 venture. 
 
 The servants, who were ordered to secure Adams and Jo- 
 seph as safe as possible, that the squire might receive no in- 
 terruption 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 X. 
 
 A DISCOUSE BETWEEN THE POET AND THE PLAYER; OF NO 
 OTHER 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 au- 
 dience 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 no 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 au- 
 thors. Gentlemen will not write, sir, they will not write, 
 without the expectation of fame or profit, or perhaps both. 
 Plays are like trees, which will not grow without nourishment ; 
 
 234
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 Shakspeare 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 dis- 
 pute ; 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 Sand- 
 fords of former times ; for, without a compliment 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 snowball. 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 manly strokes, 
 aye, whole scenes, in your last tragedy, which at least equal 
 Shakspeare. There is a delicacy of sentiment, a dignity of 
 expression in it, 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 
 
 235
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to get it by heart, which must be almost as difficult to remem- 
 ber as words in a language you don't understand." — " I am 
 sure," said the 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 profession, 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, Frowde'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 Cibber, that ill-looked dog 
 Macklin, or that saucy slut Mrs Clive? What work would 
 they make with your Shakspears, Otways, and Lees? How 
 would those harmonious lines of the last come from their 
 tongues ? — 
 
 "' No more; for I disdain 
 
 All pomp when thou art by : far be the noise 
 Of kings and crowns from us, whose gentle souls 
 Our kinder fates have steer'd another way. 
 Free as the forest birds we'll pair together, 
 Without rememb'ring who our fathers were: 
 Fly to the arbours, grots, and flow'ry meads ; 
 There in soft murmurs interchange our souls ; 
 Together drink the crystal of the stream, 
 Or taste the yellow fruit which autumn yields, 
 And, when the golden evening calls us home, 
 Wing to our downy nests, and sleep till morn.' " 
 
 Or how would this disdain of Otway — 
 
 "Who 'd be that foolish sordid thing called man?"' 
 
 236
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 " 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." — " Aye, you was not quite perfect enough 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." — " Aye, 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 ac- 
 count." — " I don't know what you mean by damnation," re- 
 plied 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 tailors, sir, all tailors." — " Why should the tailors 
 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 myself ; you know there was a party in the pit and 
 upper-gallery that would not suffer it to be given out again ; 
 though much, aye 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 out 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 
 
 2 3/
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 impa- 
 tient 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CONTAINING THE EXHORTATIONS OF PARSON ADAMS TO HIS 
 FRIEND IN AFFLICTION ; CALCULATED FOR THE INSTRUCTION 
 AND IMPROVEMENT OF THE READER. 
 
 JOSEPH no sooner came perfectly to himself than, per- 
 ceiving 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 compo- 
 sition, 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 composi- 
 tion ; and at those words, O my dear Fanny ! O my love ! 
 shall I never, never see thee more? his eves 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 im- 
 agine, 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 Chris- 
 tian 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 
 
 238
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 to fear the ut- 
 most violence which lust and power can inflict 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, on 
 the other side, you are to consider you arc a Christian, that no 
 accident happens to us without the Divine permission, and 
 that it is the duty of a man, much more of 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 pro- 
 duce our good. I should indeed have said our ignorance is 
 twofold (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 origi- 
 nally sprung. You are a man, and consequently 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 impotency 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 very true, and very fine, and I 
 could hear you all day 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 
 
 2 39
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to be administered to the afflicted, and not to those who re- 
 joice or those who are at ease? " " O ! you have not spoken 
 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 inno- 
 cence 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 misfor- 
 tunes, how great soever, which happen to the righteous, hap- 
 pen 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 misunderstood 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 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 res- 
 toration 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 dan- 
 ger that poor creature was in, his grief returned again with 
 
 240
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 repeated violence, nor could Adams in the least assuage it; 
 though it may be doubted in his behalf whether Socrates him- 
 self 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 : — 
 
 " 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. " Aye, 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 Con- 
 scious 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 
 conversation. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 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 rav- 
 
 16 241
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 isher. He was not only deaf to all her bewailings and en- 
 treaties 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 splendour and luxury which would be her fortune 
 with a man who would have the inclination, 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 instrument 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, notwithstanding your fondness for 
 him ? " She returned, that she did not understand him, that 
 the man had been her fellow-servant, and she believed was 
 as honest a creature 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 gen- 
 tle 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 as- 
 sistance 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, perceiv- 
 ing 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 com- 
 plained ; however, the moment they approached each other 
 she begged him with the utmost earnestness to relieve a dis- 
 tressed creature who was in the hands of a ravisher. The 
 fellow stopt at these words, but the captain assured him it 
 
 242
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 cap- 
 tain abused her violently for breaking his commands, and 
 threatened to gag her, when two more horsemen, armed with 
 pistols, came into the road just before them. She again so- 
 licited their assistance, and the captain told the same story 
 as before. Upon which one said to the other, ' That's a 
 charming wench, Jack ; I wish I had been in the fellow's 
 place, whoever he is." But 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 assistance, to deliver me from 
 this wicked man, who is carrying me away for his vile pur- 
 poses — O for God's sake rescue me from him ! " A fierce 
 dialogue immediately 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 gentle- 
 man 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 (who 
 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 
 
 243
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 both in the two preceding chapters the chariot stopt at the 
 door, and in an instant Fanny, leaping from it, ran up to her 
 Joseph. — 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 con- 
 ception, 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. 
 
 Feter, being informed by Fanny of the presence of Adams, 
 stopt to see him, and receive his homage; for, as Feter 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 his 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, that 
 was turned inside out, around his head. He had on his torn 
 cassock and his great-coat ; but, as the remainder of his cas- 
 sock hung down below his great-coat, so did a small stripe of 
 white, or rather whitish, linen appear below that; to which 
 we may add the several colours which appeared 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, he advised 
 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 expe- 
 ditious retreat in their power. 
 
 244
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 The host, who well knew Mr Tounce and the 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 see- 
 ing his Fanny now in safety, quitted her a moment, and, 
 running down-stairs, 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, threatening a severe revenge against 
 Joseph, which I have never heard he thought proper to 
 take. 
 
 The mistress of the house made her voluntary appearance 
 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 
 
 245
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 hus- 
 band 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, whatever horse they had provided for 
 Joseph, they would have prevailed with him to mount none, 
 no not even to ride before his beloved Fanny, till the parson 
 was supplied ; much less would he deprive his friend of the 
 beast which belonged to him, and which he knew the moment 
 he saw, though Adams did not ; however, when he was re- 
 minded 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 his horse, and declared he could very easily walk 
 home. " If I walked alone," says he, " I would wage a shil- 
 ling that the pedestrian outstripped the equestrian travellers ; 
 but, as I intend to take the company of a pipe, peradventure 
 I may be an hour later." One of the servants whispered Jo- 
 seph 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 
 
 246
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 gen- 
 tlemen, 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 ap- 
 petite with Fanny, and being desirous of having some one 
 to whom he might communicate his grandeur, he told the 
 parson he would convey him home in his chariot. This fa- 
 vour was by Adams, with many bows and -acknowledgments, 
 accepted, though he afterwards said, he ascended the chariot 
 rather that he might not offend than from any desire of rid- 
 ing in it, for that in his heart he preferred the pedestrian 
 even to the vehicular expedition. All matters being now set- 
 tled, 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 horseman- 
 ship, persuade him to advance ; but, without having any re- 
 gard 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 backwards 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 
 
 247
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 arrived in a few hours without anything remarkable happen- 
 ing 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A CURIOUS DIALOGUE WHICH PASSED BETWEEN MR ABRAHAM 
 ADAMS AND MR PETER POUNCE, BETTER WORTH READING 
 THAN ALL THE WORKS OF COLLEY CIBBER AND MANY OTHERS. 
 
 THE chariot had not proceeded far before Mr Adams ob- 
 served it was a very fine day. " Aye, 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 definition," an- 
 swered Peter, " which I like well enough ; it is, as you say, a 
 disposition, and does not so much consist 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 good- 
 
 248
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 ness to relieve them." — " 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 
 produce such delicious potations ? And as for cold and naked- 
 ness, 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 consti- 
 tution 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 purchasing. 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 have been always of your opin- 
 ion ; I have wondered as well as yourself with what confi- 
 dence 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 an estate 
 
 249
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 sum." " 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 acquisition. I have not 
 an estate, like Sir Thomas Booby, that has descended in my 
 family through many generations ; 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 known you had intended to affront 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, 
 however, Mr Pounce threw after him with great violence. 
 Joseph and Fanny stopped to bear him company the rest of 
 the way, which was not above a mile. 
 
 2 5°
 
 BOOK IV. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL OF LADY BOOBY AND THE REST AT BOOBY-HALL. 
 
 THE coach and six, in which Lady Booby rode, overtook 
 the other travellers as they entered the parish. She no 
 sooner saw Joseph than her cheeks glowed with red, and imme- 
 diately 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, dur- 
 ing which time all her rents had been drafted to London, with- 
 out 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 employment 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 benefactor's 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 re- 
 turn ! They flocked about him like dutiful children round 
 an indulgent parent, and vied with each other in demonstra- 
 tions of duty and love. The parson on his side shook every 
 one by the hand, inquiring heartily after the healths of all 
 that were absent, of their children and relations ; and exprest 
 a satisfaction in his face which nothing but benevolence made 
 happy by its objects could infuse. 
 
 Nor did Joseph and Fanny want a hearty welcome from 
 
 251
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 in- 
 finitely 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 delicious 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 his 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 proba- 
 bly 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 re- 
 moved ; she then blamed, she cursed the hasty rashness of her 
 temper; her fury was vented all on herself, and Joseph ap- 
 
 252
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 peared 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 ene- 
 mies 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 considered her dismission of him, stript, and without 
 a character, with the utmost pleasure. She rioted in the sev- 
 eral kinds of misery which her imagination suggested to her 
 might be his fate ; and, with a smile 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 (as indeed she had). — "And 
 how did he behave ? " replied 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 incommodated 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 
 
 253
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 then," replied the lady, " to advise 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 hint or fear 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 belied the poor fellow, which incensed me against 
 him ? He may thank you for all that hath happened ; and so 
 may I for the loss 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 Slipslop ; " I assure you, I look upon my- 
 self 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 surprise of everybody, who wondered 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 believed 
 to be only a malicious rumour. When the prayers were ended 
 Mr Adams stood up, and with a loud voice pronounced, " I 
 
 254
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 publish the banns of marriage between Joseph Andrews 
 and 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 countenance ; and when she had heard all, 
 she ordered Mr Adams into her presence, to whom she be- 
 haved as the reader will see in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN MR ABRAHAM ADAMS AND 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 man- 
 ner : " 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 ungratefully 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 about 
 the country with an idle fellow and wench. Indeed, as for 
 the girl, I know no harm of her. Slipslop 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 very well, if he will let her alone. 
 You are, therefore, doing a monstrous thing in endeavouring 
 
 255
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to procure a match between these two people, which will be 
 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 cor- 
 rected 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 ; in- 
 deed, 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 im- 
 pertinent," 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 are 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 de- 
 sirous 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 
 wisely and honestly too, notwithstanding she is the greatest 
 beauty in 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 on 
 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 rea- 
 son," 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 
 
 256
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 but little amends that they will be beauties." — " Madam," 
 answered Adams, " with the utmost submission to your lady- 
 ship, 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 impu- 
 dent 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 forbid 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 privileges and innocent enjoyments which nature 
 indulges to the animal creation." — " Since you understand- 
 yourself no better," cries the lady, " nor the respect due from 
 such as you to a woman of my distinction, than to affront my 
 ears by such loose discourse, 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, not- 
 withstanding 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 pro- 
 vide me, I hope, another. At least, my family, as well as 
 myself, 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 de- 
 meaning myself to converse with you so 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 enter- 
 tained here." — " Madam," said Adams, " I shall enter into no 
 persons' doors against their will ; but I am assured, when you 
 17 257
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 have inquired 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. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 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 ser- 
 vants, which he denied, and indeed with truth, for he had 
 only asserted accidentally, and perhaps 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 ser- 
 vants of mine settled here ; and so, if this be your law, I shall 
 send to another lawyer." Scout said, " if she sent to a hun- 
 dred 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, " ma- 
 dam, 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 differ- 
 ence between being settled in law and settled in fact ; and 
 as I affirmed generally he was settled, and law is preferable 
 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? 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 ladyship's 
 pleasure, and the reason, which is a very good one, to pre- 
 vent 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 he is not settled 
 in fact, it is another matter. What I said to Mr Adams was 
 
 258
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 imper- 
 tinent, in pretending- 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." — " Beau- 
 ties, 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 
 creature almost I ever beheld ; a poor dirty drab ; your lady- 
 ship 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-oper- 
 ating with the law will carry law into fact. When a man is 
 married he is settled in fact, and then he is not removable. 
 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 con- 
 fident no farther objection will remain. No, no, it is impos- 
 sible; but your ladyship 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 lady- 
 ship 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 ladyship's fortune. 
 We have one sure card, which is, to carry him before Justice 
 Frolick, who, upon hearing your ladyship's name, will com- 
 mit him without any 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 
 
 2 59
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 make 
 as much of committing a man to Bridewell as his lordship 
 at 'size would of 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 once we ha'un 
 there, we seldom hear any more o'un. 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 promised 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 before she would not have condescended to 
 have spoken, did a certain passion for Joseph, and the jeal- 
 ousy 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 opportunity 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 in- 
 formation. 
 
 260
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A SHORT CHAPTER, BUT VERY FULL OF MATTER ; PARTICULARLY 
 THE ARRIVAL OF MR BOOBY AND HIS LADY. 
 
 ALL that night, and the next day, the Lady Booby passed 
 iV. 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 in- 
 terval. On Tuesday morning, which happened to be a holi- 
 day, she went to church, where, to her surprize, 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 opportunity 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 as- 
 sembly 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? 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 suppose they deserve it," 
 says the lady. " 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 ven- 
 ture 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 
 
 261
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the arrival of her nephew Booby and his lady. She ordered 
 them to be conducted into a drawing-room, whither she pres- 
 ently 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 opportunity to execute any resolution she might take, 
 for which she saw herself provided with an excellent instru- 
 ment in Scout. 
 
 The Lady Booby apprehended her servant had made a mis- 
 take 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 with more civility than he expected ; indeed with the ut- 
 most ; for she was perfectly polite, nor had any vice incon- 
 sistent with good-breeding. They passed 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 dis- 
 course during his absence would afford little improvement 
 or entertainment to the reader, we will leave them for a while 
 to attend Mr. Booby. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CONTAINING JUSTICE BUSINESS J CURIOUS PRECEDENTS OF 
 DEPOSITIONS, AND OTHER MATTERS NECESSARY TO BE PE- 
 RUSED 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 surprize, 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 
 
 262
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 endeavour 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 jus- 
 tice had almost finished his business. He was conducted 
 into a hall, where he was acquainted that his worship would 
 wait on him in a moment ; for he had only a man and a wo- 
 man to commit to bridewell first. As he was now convinced 
 he had not a minute to lose, he insisted on the servant's in- 
 troducing 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. " Aye," says the justice, " a kind of felonious 
 larcenous thing. I believe I must order them a little correc- 
 tion 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 depnsition of James Scout, layer, and Thomas Trotter, 
 yeoman, taken before mee, one of his magestys justasses 
 of the piece for Zumersetshire. 
 
 " These deponants saith, and first Thomas Trotter for 
 himself saith that on the of this instant October, being Sab- 
 bath-day, betwin the ours of 2 and 4 in the afternoon, he 
 
 263
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 zeed Joseph Andrews and Francis Goodwill walk akross a 
 certane felde belunging to layer Scout, and out of the path 
 which ledes thru the said felde, and there he zede Joseph An- 
 drews 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 he 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 incum- 
 brance 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 bride- 
 well, 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 exult- 
 ing hearts, gave a thousand thanks to his honour Mr Booby ; 
 who did not intend their obligations to him should cease 
 there ; 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 
 
 264
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 of his own clothes, with linen and other necessaries, he left 
 Joseph to dress himself, who, not yet knowing the cause of 
 all this civility, excused 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, during the examination, she had looped her hat over her 
 eyes, which were also bathed in tears, and had by that means 
 concealed from his worship what might perhaps have ren- 
 dered the arrival of Mr Booby unnecessary, at least for her- 
 self. The justice no sooner saw her countenance cleared up, 
 and her bright eyes shining through her tears, than he secretly 
 cursed himself 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 as- 
 suring her how sorry he was for having treated her so 
 roughly before he knew her merit; and told her, that since 
 Lady Booby was unwilling that she should settle in her par- 
 ish, 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 acquaint 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 Slip- 
 slop, who had always been her enemy. 
 
 The squire now returned, and prevented any farther con- 
 tinuance of this conversation; and the justice, out of a pre- 
 tended respect to his guest, but in reality from an apprehen- 
 sion 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 mat- 
 ter, 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, entirely on the sub- 
 ject of horse-racing. Joseph was soon drest in the plainest 
 
 265
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 em- 
 broidery, that the tailor'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." — " Aye," said Joseph ; " God bless 
 him ! for there is not such another in the universe." " The 
 best creature living sure," cries Fanny. 'Is he?" says the 
 squire ; " then 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 ac- 
 quainted Joseph with his marriage ; but he might have spared 
 himself that labour ; for his servant, whilst Joseph was dress- 
 ing, had performed that office before. He continued to ex- 
 press 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 acknowledgments : and parson 
 Adams, who now first perceived Joseph's new apparel, burst 
 into tears with joy, and fell to rubbing his hands and snap- 
 ping his fingers as if he had been mad. 
 
 266
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 mar- 
 ried 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 become 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 be- 
 yond expression if you will admit him to be of our party; for 
 I know it will 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 prevailed 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 enter- 
 tain him as such." The squire told her he knew his obliga- 
 tion to her for her compliance ; and going three steps, re- 
 turned and told her — he had one more favour, which he 
 believed she would easily grant, as she had accorded him the 
 former. " There is a young woman — " — " Nephew," says she, 
 " don't let my good-nature make you desire, as is too com- 
 monly the case, to impose on me. Nor think, because I have 
 with so much condescension 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 coun- 
 try." " 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 pas- 
 sion ; " 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 Jo- 
 
 267
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 seph, 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 plea- 
 sure 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 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 up-stairs, whilst Fanny re- 
 paired with the parson to his house, where she thought herself 
 secure of a kind reception. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 OF WHICH YOU ARE DESIRED TO READ NO MORE THAN 
 
 YOU LIKE. 
 
 THE meeting between Joseph and Pamela was not with- 
 out tears of joy on both sides ; and their embraces were 
 full of tenderness and affection. They were, however, re- 
 garded with much more pleasure by the nephew than by the 
 aunt, to whose flame they were fuel only ; and this was in- 
 creased 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 the account of his adven- 
 tures : 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 
 
 268
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 spoke so warmly in praise of another woman. Pamela an- 
 swered, indeed, she thought she had cause ; but it was an in- 
 stance of Mr Booby's aptness to see more beauty in women 
 than they were 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 lady 
 of the house deferred as long as decently she could, she in- 
 formed 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 fa- 
 vour to his utmost; for his heart had long been with his 
 Fanny ; but she insisted on his accepting it, alleging 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 compla- 
 cence 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, dress- 
 ing herself in a few minutes, went down to him. They 
 passed two hours with inexpressible happiness together; and 
 then, having appointed Monday, by Mr Adams's permission, 
 for their marriage, Mr Joseph returned, according to his 
 promise, to breakfast at the Lady Booby's, with whose be- 
 haviour, since the evening, we shall now acquaint the reader. 
 
 She was no sooner retired to her chamber than she asked 
 Slipslop what she thought of this wonderful creature her 
 nephew had married ? — " Madam ! " said Slipslop, not yet 
 
 269 f
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 assis- 
 tance 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 some- 
 thing in those low-life creatures which must eternally dis- 
 tinguish 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 Slipslop. 
 " Aye, 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 conde- 
 scension 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 mo- 
 tive 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 
 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?" 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 
 
 270
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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, title, and fortune, to real merit. It is a tyranny of cus- 
 tom, a tyranny we must comply with ; for we people of fashion 
 are the leaves of custom." — " Marry come up ! " said Slip- 
 slop, 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. Slipslop, let me 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 for some folks. Your ladyship may talk of custom, 
 if you please : but I am confidous there is no more comparison 
 between young Mr Andrews and most of the young gentle- 
 men 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 condition, 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 
 
 271
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 lib- 
 erty you give your tongue. Would you insinuate that I em- 
 ployed Scout against this wench on account of the fellow ? " 
 — " La, ma'am," said Slipslop, frighted out of her wits, " I 
 assassinate such a thing ! " — " I think you dare not," an- 
 swered the lady ; " I believe my conduct may defy malice it- 
 self to assert so cursed a slander. If I had ever discovered 
 any wantonness, any lightness in my behaviour ; if I had fol- 
 lowed 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 began to sob), 
 "was he alive again" (then she produced tears), "could 
 not upbraid me with any one act of tenderness or passion. 
 No, Slipslop, all the time I cohabited with him he never ob- 
 tained 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 under- 
 stand your ladyship ; nor know I anything of the matter." — 
 " I believe indeed thou dost not understand me. These 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 
 
 272
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 gen- 
 tleman as anybody. Coarse, quotha ! 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 coarseness 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. 'Ifaukins ! 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 depre- 
 cate 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 mis- 
 tress, who had been some time in her bed, if she had any far- 
 ther commands ? who mildly answered, she had none ; and, 
 telling her she was a comical creature, bid her good night. 
 
 * Meaning perhaps ideas. 
 
 jr 
 
 18 2?3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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. 
 
 HABIT, my good reader, hath so vast a prevalence over 
 the human mind, that there is scarce anything too 
 strange or too strong to be asserted of it. The story of the 
 miser, who, from long accustoming to cheat others, came at 
 last to cheat himself, and with great delight and triumph 
 picked his own pocket 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 
 acquaintance, 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 love 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 considered 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 impressions, being first received, are farther 
 and deeper inculcated by their school-mistresses and com- 
 panions ; 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 re- 
 
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 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 solve, 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, 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 some- 
 times very eagerly and earnestly too (for the monster sel- 
 dom 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 pro- 
 viding by other means for their security. They endeavour, 
 by all methods they can invent, to render themselves so amia- 
 ble 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 fierce- 
 ness, 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, ten- 
 derness, fondness, their dreadful apprehensions 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 in- 
 stantly 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 de- 
 vouring, cannot so entirely shake off all that hath been in- 
 stilled into them ; they still entertain the idea of that censure 
 which was so strongly imprinted on their tender minds, to 
 which the declarations of abhorrence they every day hear 
 from their companions greatly contribute. To avoid this cen- 
 sure, 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. By the continual and constant practice of which 
 deceit on others, they at length impose on themselves, and 
 
 275
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 compliments on his choice, 
 she told him, he might perceive, 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 ; concluding 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 ; and, finding 
 Mr Joseph with his wife, at his return to her chamber, he 
 immediately began thus : " My love to my dear Pamela, bro- 
 ther, will extend to all her relations ; nor shall I show them 
 less respect than if I 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 excuse me 
 therefore, brother, if my concern for your interest makes me 
 mention what may be, perhaps, disagreeable to you to hear : 
 but I must insist upon it, that, if you have any value for my 
 alliance or my friendship, you will 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 dimin- 
 ish ; 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 mar- 
 riage." — " Sir," said Joseph, " I assure you her beauty is her 
 
 276
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 least perfection; nor do I know a virtue which that young 
 creature is not possest 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 will find her equal in these 
 among her superiors in birth and fortune, which now you are 
 to esteem on a footing with yourself, 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 my 
 sister." — " Your sister, as well as myself," said Booby, " are 
 greatly obliged to you for the comparison : but, sir, she is 
 not worthy to be compared in 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 centred 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 destroying 
 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 
 
 277
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 breakfast, and thus 
 ended their discourse for the present, very little to the satis- 
 faction 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 know ; but 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 delivering 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 difficulty prevented. 
 The young gentleman, being soon out of breath in the strug- 
 gle, 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 solicit for himself; 
 
 278
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 on fire with charms which would 
 have almost kindled a flame in the bosom of an ancient phi- 
 losopher or modern divine, he fastened his horse to the 
 ground, and attacked her with much more force than the gen- 
 tleman had exerted. Poor Fanny would not have been able to 
 resist his rudeness any long time, but the deity who presides 
 over chaste love sent her Joseph to her assistance. He no 
 sooner came within sight, and perceived 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, com- 
 ing up just as the ravisher had torn her handkerchief from 
 her breast, before his lips had touched that seat of innocence 
 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 backwards, and, perceiving he had 
 to do with something rougher than the little, tender, trem- 
 bling 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 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 
 
 279
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 assis- 
 tance. She was not, however, long under this affliction be- 
 fore 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 at- 
 tempting 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 re 
 member, 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 
 converting a man into a statue than of being initiated 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 
 
 280
 
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 '
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 handker- 
 chief round her neck. Joseph saw the uneasiness she suf- 
 fered, 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 pas- 
 sion 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 THE 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 chil- 
 dren. She had long entertained hopes of seeing her eldest 
 daughter succeeded Mrs Slipslop, and of making her second 
 son an exciseman by Lady Booby's interest. These were ex- 
 pectations 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 behoved 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 inter- 
 meddling in other folks' affairs ; that he had always preached 
 
 281
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 up submission to superiors, and would do ill to give an exam- 
 ple 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 behaved 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 hand- 
 some, but handsome women were often no better than they 
 should be ; that God 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 pub- 
 lication of the banns. But all these excellent arguments had 
 no effect on the parson, who persisted in doing his duty with- 
 out regarding 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 re- 
 mains 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 between 
 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 suf- 
 fered to fetch a licence, saying he could easily borrow the 
 money. The parson answered, that he had already given his 
 
 282
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 sentiments concerning a licence, and that a very few days 
 would make it unnecessary. " Joseph," 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 indul- 
 gence 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 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, child, Matthew the 5th, and part of the 28th verse — Who- 
 soever looketh on a zvoman, so as to lust after her. The lat- 
 ter 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 cor- 
 rect, and not give way to it. Now, as to the second head 
 which I proposed to speak to, namely, fear : it argues a diffi- 
 dence, 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 unjus- 
 tifiable 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 must submit in all things to the will of Provi- 
 dence, and not set our affections so much on anything here as 
 not to be able to 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 ex- 
 cess; and even love itself, if it is not subservient to our duty, 
 
 283
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 mav 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 ab- 
 solutely on this young woman, that, if God 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 re- 
 quired or taken from him in any manner by Divine Provi- 
 dence, he may be able, peaceably, quietly, and contentedly to 
 resign it." At which words one came hastily in, and ac- 
 quainted Mr Adams that his youngest 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 overwhelmed with concern likewise, recovered him- 
 self 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 impossibili- 
 ties. Had it been any other of my children I could have borne 
 it with patience ; but my little prattler, the darling and com- 
 fort 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 Quce Genus. This was 
 the very book he learnt ; poor child ! it is of no further use to 
 thee now. He would have made the best scholar, and have 
 been an ornament to the church ; — such parts and such good- 
 ness 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 
 
 284
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 parson 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 dar- 
 ling? " 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 be- 
 lieve, no very good principle, to relate ill news ; and, having 
 seen him fall into the river, instead of running to his assis- 
 tance, directly ran to acquaint his father of a fate which he 
 had concluded to be inevitable, but whence the child was re- 
 lieved by the same poor pedlar who had relieved his father 
 before from a less distress. The parson's joy was now as ex- 
 travagant as his grief had been before ; he kissed and em- 
 braced 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 sensations ? 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 pur- 
 poses, not those with which a worthless younger brother wishes 
 his elder joy of a son, or a man congratulates 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 pa- 
 tience of Joseph, nor perhaps of Job, could bear no longer ; he 
 interrupted the parson, saying, it was easier to give advice 
 than to take it ; nor did he perceive he could so entirely con- 
 quer himself, when he apprehended he had lost his son, or 
 when he found him recovered. — " Boy," replied Adams, rais- 
 ing his voice, " it doth not become green heads to advise grey 
 hairs. — Thou art ignorant of the tenderness of fatherly affec- 
 tion ; when thou art a father thou wilt be capable then only of 
 
 285
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 knowing what a father can feel. No man is obliged to im- 
 possibilities ; 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." — " Sure, sir," says Joseph, " it is not sin- 
 ful to love my wife, no, not even to doat on her to distrac- 
 tion ! " — " 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 love her with moderation and discretion." — " I am 
 afraid I shall be guilty of some sin in spite of all my endeav- 
 ours," says Joseph ; " for I shall love without any moderation, 
 I am sure." — " You talk foolishly and childishly," cries 
 Adams. — " Indeed," says Mrs 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 convinced 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 hus- 
 band's loving her as much as ever he can ; and he is a sinful 
 villain who doth not. Doth he not promise to love her, and to 
 comfort her, and to cherish her, and all that ? I am sure I re- 
 member 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 cher- 
 ishing husband to me ; that's the truth on't ; and why you 
 should endeavour to put such wicked nonsense into this young 
 man's head I cannot devise. Don't hearken to him, Mr Jo- 
 seph ; 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 discourse, and produced a scene 
 which the reader will find in the next chapter. 
 
 286
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A VISIT WHICH THE POLITE LADY BOOBY AND HER POLITE 
 FRIEND PAID 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 concluding 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 youth, would prevail on her to abandon Joseph : she there- 
 fore proposed to her company a walk in the fields before din- 
 ner, 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, laugh- 
 ing, 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 lat- 
 ter telling the ladv 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 an 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 
 renidct in domo lacunar." The beau answered, he did not un- 
 
 287
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 derstand Welsh; at which the parson stared and made no 
 reply. 
 
 Mr Didapper, or beau Didapper, was a young gentleman 
 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 adver- 
 sary made him immediately cool. 
 
 Now, to give him only a dash or two on the affirmative 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 of him a plenary obedience to his commands, which he 
 implicitly submitted to, at the expense of his conscience, 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 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 extraordi- 
 nary civility of Mr Adams, the lady, turning to Mr Booby, 
 cried out, "Quelle Bete! Quel Animal!" And presently 
 
 288
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 after discovering Fanny (for she did not need the circum- 
 stance 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 war- 
 rant," cries the beau. " Ridiculous ! " said she : " you know 
 you was always my aversion." " I would never mention aver- 
 sion," answered the beau, "with that face ; * dear Lady Booby, 
 wash your face before you mention aversion, I beseech you." 
 He then laughed, 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 last 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 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 ! " says Adams ; " what doth lego make 
 in the imperative mood? Legito, doth it not? " — " Yes," an- 
 swered Dick. — "And what besides?" says the father. "Lege," 
 quoth the son, after some hesitation. " A good boy," says 
 the father: " and now, child, what is the English of lego? " — 
 To which the boy, after long puzzling, answered, he could 
 not tell. " How ! " cries Adams, in a passion ; — " what, hath 
 the water washed away your learning? Why, what is Latin 
 for the English verb read? Consider 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 
 
 * Lest this should appear unnatural to some readers, we think proper 
 to acquaint them, that it is taken verbatim from very polite conver- 
 sation. 
 
 19 289
 
 THE ADVENTURES 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 ladyship ; "—which she again desir- 
 ing, in order to give the beau time and opportunity with 
 Fanny, Dick began as in the following chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF TWO FRIENDS, WHICH MAY AFFORD AN USE- 
 FUL LESSON TO ALL THOSE PERSONS WHO HAPPEN TO TAKE 
 UP THEIR RESIDENCE IN MARRIED FAMILIES. 
 
 LEONARD and Paul were two friends." — " Pronounce it 
 / Lennard, child," cried the parson.—" Pray, Mr Adams," 
 says Lady Booby, " let your son read without interruption." 
 Dick then proceeded. " 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 maintained 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." — " Pronounce 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 lieutenant 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. 
 
 290
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 Some affair in which a soldier was concerned occasioned 
 Paul to attend the justices. Manhood, and time, and the 
 change of climate, had so much altered Lennard, that Paul 
 did not immediately recollect the features of his old acquain- 
 tance : 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 first a little surprized ; but had soon sufficient informa- 
 tion 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, Len- 
 nard 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 addi- 
 tion 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 individual 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 nonsense." — " It is so 
 in the book," answered the son. Mr Adams was then silenced 
 by authority, and Dick proceeded. — " 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 any in- 
 stances 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 still pursued with the 
 
 291
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 utmost ardour and eagerness, 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 ob- 
 vious; 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 say so, who am in the right.' 
 During all these disputes, Paul always kept strict silence, and 
 preserved an even countenance, without showing the least 
 visible inclination to either party. One day, however, when 
 madam had left the room in a violent fury, Lennard could not 
 refrain from referring his cause to his friend. Was ever any- 
 thing 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? 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 convinced 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 endeavour to follow your 
 advice. They soon after broke up the conversation, and Len- 
 nard, 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 
 
 292
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 husband, 
 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 an- 
 swered nothing, and the dispute continued, as usual, the 
 greatest part of the evening. The next morning the lady, 
 accidentally meeting Paul, and being convinced he was her 
 friend, and of her side, accosted him thus : — I am 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 dis- 
 puting, but the bird was undoubtedly a partridge. O sir! 
 replied 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 submission. — In- 
 deed ! sir, says she, I assure you ! — Yes, madam, cried he, he 
 might, from a person of your excellent 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 
 
 2 93
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 right? — For that very reason, answered he; it would be the 
 greatest instance of affection imaginable; for can anything 
 be a greater object of our compassion than a person we love 
 in the wrong? Aye, but I should endeavour, said she, to 
 set him right. Pardon me, madam, answered Paul: I will 
 apply to your own experience if you ever found your argu- 
 ments 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 endeavour to prac- 
 tise it. The husband then coming in, Paul departed. And 
 Lennard, approaching his wife with the 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 com- 
 placence; that she was ashamed to think a word had passed 
 on so silly an occasion, especially as she was satisfied she had 
 been mistaken. A little contention- followed, but with the 
 utmost good-will to each other, and was concluded by her as- 
 serting 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 per- 
 haps the devil had no hand, shortly put an end to his hap- 
 piness. 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 
 
 294
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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, knowing myself to be in the 
 right ; and Paul himself told me afterwards he thought me 
 so. My dear, replied 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 conclu- 
 sion, 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 conde- 
 scension on both sides, that they vied with each other in cen- 
 suring their own conduct, and jointly vented their indignation 
 on Paul, whom the wife, fearing a bloody consequence, ear- 
 nestly 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 replied, with 
 some indignation, he had given him a sufficient proof how ca- 
 pable 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 discovered 
 the affair to each other) have been the occasion of their sepa- 
 ration. 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. 
 
 2 95
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 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 inter- 
 ferine 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 frightened 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 dif- 
 ferent 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, came up to Di- 
 dapper, and insisted on his sheathing his 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 par- 
 son 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 
 
 296
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 be- 
 comes 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 surprised you should concern 
 yourself in it. I think your wife and family your properer 
 care." — " Indeed, madam, your ladyship says very true," an- 
 swered 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' 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 chicling 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 hand- 
 kerchief ; 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 
 
 297
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 nor the beau thought proper to oppose hm. 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 prob- 
 ably ruined his family with his tricks; but perhaps he was 
 grieved for the loss of his two children, 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 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 neigh- 
 bours, 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 neighbours as his brothers and sisters, and 
 love them accordingly. "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 re- 
 sented, 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 
 
 298
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 common 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 
 company to the George (an alehouse in the parish), where 
 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 economics, 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 XII. 
 
 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 be- 
 longed 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 pa- 
 rents. 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 con- 
 tented 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 
 
 299
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 woman, who seemed to be about thirty years old or there- 
 abouts, not very handsome, but well enough for a soldier. 
 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 pro- 
 vided 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 bar- 
 gain 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 without any banns." 
 " Aye ! aye ! " 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 Gallo- 
 way, 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 discovering 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 gipsies, who had made a practice of stealing away chil- 
 dren ; 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 kidnapped 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, 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 be- 
 lieve no baronet now alive; besides, it answers so exactly in 
 every point, there is no room for doubt ; but you have forgot 
 
 300
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 to tell us the parents from whom the child was stolen." 
 "The 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 Pamala; 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 
 ejaculated 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 ac- 
 count for all this confusion ; the cause of which was presently 
 opened by the parson's daughter, who was the only uncon- 
 cerned 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 situation ; wherein, though we compassionate her our- 
 selves, we shall leave her for a little while, and pay a short 
 visit to Lady Booby. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE HISTORY, RETURNING TO THE LADY BOOBY, GIVES SOME 
 ACCOUNT OF THE TERRIBLE CONFLICT IN HER BREAST BE- 
 TWEEN LOVE AND PRIDE; WITH WHAT HAPPENED ON THE 
 PRESENT DISCOVERY. 
 
 THE lady sat down with her company to dinner, but ate 
 nothing. As soon as her cloth was removed she whis- 
 pered 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 con- 
 ceal these boiling passions longer without bursting. Slip- 
 slop now approached her bed, and asked how her ladyship 
 did; but, instead of revealing her disorder, as she intended, 
 she entered into a long encomium on the beauty and 
 
 301
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 virtues of Joseph Andrews ; ending, at last, with express- 
 ing her concern that so much tenderness should be thrown 
 away on so despicable an object as Fanny. Slipslop, 
 well knowing how to humour her mistress's frensy, pro- 
 ceeded to repeat, with exaggeration, if possible, all her mis- 
 tress 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, cried out, with a deep 
 sigh, "Sure he would make any woman happy !" "Your lady- 
 ship," 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 be- 
 cause people may say I have 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 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 lady- 
 ship 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 minx," cries Slipslop ; 
 "leave her to me. I suppose your ladyship hath heard of Jo- 
 seph's fitting with one of Mr Didapper's 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." Slipslop 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 
 
 302
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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; re- 
 tire with one in whom I propose more happiness than the 
 world without him can give me ! Retire — to feed continu- 
 ally on beauties which my inflamed imagination sickens with 
 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 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 indul- 
 gence of a mean and vile appetite ! 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 assistance ? Reason, which hath now 
 set before me my desires in their proper colours, and imme- 
 diately helped me to expel them. Yes, I thank Heaven and 
 my pride, I have now perfectly conquered this unworthy pas- 
 sion ; 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, cried 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 
 
 3°3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 man who hath discovered that Fanny and Joseph are brother 
 and sister." — "How, Slipslop !" cries the lady, in a surprise. — 
 "I had not time, madam," cries Slipslop, "to inquire about 
 particles, but Tom says it is most certainly true." 
 
 This unexpected account entirely obliterated all those ad- 
 mirable 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, dis- 
 missed 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 up- 
 starts 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 this 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 fel- 
 low 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 induced, not 
 only by curiosity, of which he had no small portion, but by 
 his duty, as he apprehended it, to follow them ; for he con- 
 tinued all the way to exhort them, who were now breaking 
 their hearts, to offer up thanksgivings, and be joyful for so 
 miraculous an escape. 
 
 When they arrived at Booby-Hall they were presently 
 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 
 
 3°4
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 satisfied of the truth, except Pamela, who imagined, as she 
 had never heard either of her parents mention such an acci- 
 dent, 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 cer- 
 tain of perfectly knowing the truth or falsehood of this re- 
 lation ; in which, he said, as there were many strong circum- 
 stances to induce their credit, so he could not perceive any 
 interest the pedlar could have in inventing it, or in endeav- 
 ouring to impose such a falsehood on them. 
 
 The Lady Booby, who was very little used to such com- 
 pany, 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 af- 
 forded much diversion to the company. Pamela chid her 
 brother Joseph for the concern which he exprest at discov- 
 ering a new sister. She said, if he loved Fanny, as he ought, 
 with a pure affection, he had no reason to lament being re- 
 lated to her. — Upon which Adams began to discourse on Pla- 
 tonic 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 
 
 20 305
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 parson ; but her stay was so strongly insisted on, that she at 
 last, by Joseph's advice, consented. 
 
 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. 
 
 ABOUT an hour after they had all separated (it being' now 
 JLjL past three in the morning), beau Didapper, whose pas- 
 sion for Fanny permitted him not to close his eyes, but had 
 employed his imagination 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 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 excel- 
 lent 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 rap- 
 ture. 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 paramour presently discovered their error. Indeed 
 
 306
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 no- 
 tice 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 op- 
 portunity to heal some wounds, which her late 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, there- 
 fore, 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 at- 
 tempted 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 ravish- 
 ing, and immediately falling on the bed, and laying hold on 
 Slipslop's chin, where he found a rough beard, his belief was 
 confirmed ; he therefore rescued the beau, who presently made 
 his escape, and then, turning towards Slipslop, received such 
 a cuff on his chops, that, 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 
 
 3°7
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 
 Adams answered, she was rather the devil, and if she was he 
 would grapple with him ; and, being again irritated by another 
 stroke on the 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 slip- 
 pers, and taking a candle, which always burnt in her chamber, 
 in her hand, she walked undauntedly to Slipslop'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 choosing her house for the scene 
 of his debaucheries, and her own woman for the object of his 
 bestiality. Poor Adams had before discovered the counte- 
 nance 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 nightcap, he protested his innocence, and asked 
 ten thousand 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 some- 
 
 308
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 thing 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 lace 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 be- 
 longs this laced shirt and jewels?" says the lady. "Un- 
 doubtedly," cries the parson, " to the young gentleman whom 
 I 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 an- 
 other Hercules, though, indeed, he seems rather to resemble 
 Hylas." He then gave an account of the reason of his rising 
 from bed, and the 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 be gone, immediately quitted the bed, 
 and made the best of his way towards his own ; but unluckily, 
 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 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 profound 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 charm- 
 
 3°9
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ing maid, and, ignorant of the scene of delight on which they 
 repose, meditates the future capture of a mouse, or surprizal 
 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 appointed Fanny to come to 
 her at the break of day, rapped softly at the chamber-door, 
 which when he had repeated twice, Adams cried, " 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 ? " cried Adams. 
 " How came you into hers ? " cried Joseph, in an astonish- 
 ment. ' I know nothing of the matter," answered Adams, 
 " but that she is a vestal 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 false- 
 hood convinced her of his wicked designs. " How ! " said 
 Joseph in a rage, " hath he offered any rudeness to you ? " 
 She answered — 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 in- 
 tention. 
 
 Joseph's great opinion of Adams was not easily to be stag- 
 gered, and when he heard from Fanny that no harm had 
 happened he grew a little cooler; yet still he was confounded, 
 and, as he knew the house, and that the women's apartments 
 were on this side Mrs Slipslop's room, and the men's on the 
 other, he was convinced that he was in Fanny's chamber. 
 
 310
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 himself till she had 
 put her clothes on. Joseph and Adams 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 not- 
 withstanding, and did not see how a Christian could deny it. 
 
 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. 
 
 AS 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 to- 
 gether all their days, and indulge a Platonic friendship for 
 each other. 
 
 The company were all very merry at breakfast, and Joseph 
 and Fanny rather more cheerful than the preceding night. 
 The Lady Booby produced the diamond button, which the 
 beau most readily owned, and alleged 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 
 
 3"
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 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 
 (Edipus himself, whilst his fate was revealing. 
 
 Mr Booby first opened the cause by informing the old gen- 
 tleman that he had a child in the company more than he knew 
 of, and, taking Fanny by the hand, told him, this was that 
 daughter of his who had been stolen away by gipsies in her 
 infancy. Mr Andrews, after expressing some astonishment, 
 assured his honour that he had never lost a daughter by gip- 
 sies, nor ever had any other children than Joseph and Pamela. 
 These words were a cordial to the two lovers ; but had a dif- 
 ferent 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, em- 
 braced 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 Gib- 
 raltar, 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 after- 
 noon, when the child was about a year, or a year and a half 
 old, or thereabouts, two gipsy-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 
 
 312
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 (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 
 something, and looked and looked, but to no purpose, and, 
 Heaven knows, I had very little for them to steal. At last, 
 hearing the child cry in the cradle, I went to take it up — but, 
 
 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 Jo- 
 seph there, as stout as he now stands) lifted up his eyes upon 
 me so piteously, that, to be sure, notwithstanding my passion, 
 
 1 could not find in my heart to do it any mischief. A neigh- 
 bour 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 main- 
 tain them, was obliged to ask relief of the parish ; but, in- 
 stead of giving it me, they removed me, by justices' warrants, 
 fifteen miles, to the place where I now live, where I had not 
 been long settled before you came home. Joseph (for that 
 was the name I gave him myself — the Lord knows whether 
 he was baptised or no, or by what name), Joseph, I say, 
 seemed to me about five years old when you returned ; 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 any- 
 thing of the 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." 
 
 3*3
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The pedlar, who had been summoned by the order of Lady 
 Booby, listened with the utmost attention to Gammar An- 
 drews'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 for- 
 ward, and desired him to repeat the story which he had com- 
 municated 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 anything out a ser- 
 vant called him forth. When he was gone the pedlar assured 
 Joseph that his parents were persons of much greater circum- 
 stances than those he had hitherto mistaken for such ; for that 
 he had been stolen from a gentleman's house by those whom 
 they call gipsies, 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 of his father, his 
 wife had either never known or forgot it ; but that she had ac- 
 quainted 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 recollect that Mr Wil- 
 son 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 
 
 3 X 4
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 shown into the room, 
 where he entered without the least regard to any of the com- 
 pany 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 quceris; 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 suffi- 
 ciently 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, 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 chari- 
 tably accounted for by some of the company. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 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 
 
 3 T 5
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 never love any one better than Joseph. Gaffar Andrews tes- 
 tified 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, im- 
 puted 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 con- 
 gratulated Mr Wilson and Joseph on the discovery, he sa- 
 luted 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 complying, that he at last consented, having 
 first obtained a 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 re- 
 luctance at first, on the eagerness of his son's instances he 
 consented ; saying, if she was so good a creature as she ap- 
 peared, 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 li- 
 cence. 
 
 Mr Adams, greatly exulting on this occasion (for such 
 ceremonies were matters of no small moment with him), ac- 
 cidentally gave spurs to his horse, which the generous beast 
 disdaining, — for he was of high mettle, and had been used 
 
 316
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 to more expert riders than the gentleman who at present be- 
 strode him, for whose horsemanship he had perhaps some 
 contempt, — immediately 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 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 the peace before whom he and Fanny had made 
 their appearance. The parson presently saluted him very 
 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 Salis- 
 bury gaol, where he was charged with many robberies. 
 
 Many compliments having passed between the parson 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 com- 
 pany again proceeded, and happily arrived at their journey's 
 end, Mr Adams, by good luck, rather than by good riding, 
 escaping a good fall. 
 
 The company, arriving at Mr Booby's house, were all re- 
 ceived by him in the most courteous and entertained 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. Jo- 
 seph and Fanny found means to be alone upwards of two 
 hours, which were the shortest but the sweetest imaginable. 
 
 3i7
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 In the morning Mr Wilson proposed to his son to make a 
 visit with him to his mother; which, notwithstanding his 
 dutiful inclinations, and a longing desire he 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 Mr 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 no- 
 thing richer than a white dimity nightgown. Her shift in- 
 deed, 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 church, the whole family attending, where Mr 
 Adams performed the ceremony ; at which nothing was so 
 remarkable as the extraordinary and unaffected modesty of 
 Fanny, unless the true Christian piety of Adams, who publicly 
 rebuked Mr Booby and Pamela for laughing in so sacred a 
 
 3i8
 
 JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 place, and so solemn an occasion. Our parson would have 
 done no less to the highest prince on earth ; for, though he 
 paid all submission 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 com- 
 pany attended them likewise on foot; and now a most mag- 
 nificent 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 imaginations 
 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 merriment, 
 corrected by the strictest decency, in which, however, parson 
 Adams being well filled with ale and 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 comprehend her 
 entirely, conceive youth, health, bloom, neatness, and inno- 
 cence, in her bridal bed; conceive all these in their utmost 
 
 3 X 9
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF JOSEPH ANDREWS 
 
 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 thou- 
 sand 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. 
 
 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 discharges 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 eter- 
 nal 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 retire- 
 ment, nor will be prevailed on by any booksellers, or their 
 authors, to make his appearance in high life. 
 
 320
 
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