I. INTRODUCTION. PREFACE. BOOK I. _How Joseph Andrews writ a letter to his sister Pamela_
CHAPTER VII. After his first wife's
death, General Fielding (for he attained that rank) married again. In details, this story has been simply riddled. His mother had died long
before; he was certainly not away from London three years, or anything
like it; and so forth. Soon after the publication of the book, a great
calamity came on Fielding. But his tenure
of the post was short enough, and scarcely extended to five years. He was
neither of those about Addison, nor of those about Johnson. On the other
hand, we have a far from inconsiderable body of documentary evidence, of
a kind often by no means trustworthy. I fear,
too, that he was incapable of appreciating it for reasons other than
political. Lady Mary,
apparently with some envy, tells us that he could "feel rapture with his
cook-maid." Certainly not. He may very possibly have
drunk more than he should, and lost more than he could conveniently pay. I have only
to interject, as the critic so often has to interject, a request to the
court to take what I say in the sense in which I say it. And first of
the first. Of
the other origins of the book we have a pretty full account, partly
documentary. That there are resemblances to Scarron, to Le Sage, and to other
practitioners of the Picaresque novel is certain; and it was inevitable
that there should be. This
defence is enough, but it is easy to amplify and reintrench it. What are those qualities, as shown in _Joseph Andrews_? Whether in Blifil he once failed, we must discuss hereafter;
he has failed nowhere in _Joseph Andrews_. Yes, parson Adams is perfectly well, and so is Mrs Slipslop. But so are
they all. Lady Booby, few as are the strokes given
to her, is not much less alive than Lady Bellaston. duodecimo. The EPIC, as well as the DRAMA, is divided into tragedy and comedy. The Ridiculous only, as I have before said, falls within
my province in the present work. The poet carries this very far:--
None are for being what they are in fault,
But for not being what they would be thought. In all these
delight is mixed with instruction, and the reader is almost as much
improved as entertained. Indeed, it is sufficiently
certain that he had as many ancestors as the best man living, and,
perhaps, if we look five or six hundred years 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. [A] In English, sprung from a dunghill. As he
had never any intention to deceive, so he never suspected such a design
in others. He told him
likewise, that ever since he was in Sir Thomas's family he had employed
all his hours of leisure in reading good books; that he had read the
Bible, the Whole Duty of Man, and Thomas a Kempis; and that as often as
he could, without being perceived, he had studied a great good book
which lay open in the hall window, where he had read, "as how the devil
carried away half a church in sermon-time, without hurting one of the
congregation; and as how a field of corn ran away down a hill with all
the trees upon it, and covered another man's meadow." Mr Adams," said Mrs Slipslop, "do you think my lady will suffer any
preambles about any such matter? "Bless me," says Lady Tittle, "can I believe my eyes? --"Surely," says Tattle. --"Why, is not that her footman?" "As young as
you are," replied the lady, "I am convinced you are no stranger to that
passion. Joseph returned, that all the
women he had ever seen were equally indifferent to him. "Oh then," said
the lady, "you are a general lover. madam," said Joseph, "I am sure I
never had the impudence to think of any that deserve that name." Can you keep a secret, my Joey?" "I don't intend to turn you away, Joey,"
said she, and sighed; "I am afraid it is not in my power." "No," says she, "perhaps you may
not call your designs wicked; and perhaps they are not so." "You misunderstand me," says she; "I mean if they were
against my honour, they may not be wicked; but the world calls them so. "Yes," said she, "I must have
reason to suspect you. and, without vanity, I may
pretend to some charms. Tell me, Joey, don't you think I should forgive
you?" --"How," says she, "do you think it would not
disoblige me then? --"I don't
understand you, madam," says Joseph.--"Don't you?" said she, "then you
are either a fool, or pretend to be so; I find I was mistaken in you. So
get you downstairs, and never let me see your face again; your pretended
innocence cannot impose on me." _How Joseph Andrews writ a letter to his sister Pamela._
"To MRS PAMELA ANDREWS, LIVING WITH SQUIRE BOOBY. So I rest
"Your loving brother,
"JOSEPH ANDREWS." 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 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 result my passion? "How, sirrah!" --"Yes, but,
Joseph," said she, a little softened by the compliment to her learning,
"if you had a value for me, you certainly would have found some method
of showing it me; for I am convicted you must see the value I have for
you. Yes, Joseph, my eyes, whether I would or no, must have declared a
passion I cannot conquer.--Oh! She was obliged to leave him abruptly, and to defer the
execution of her purpose till some other time. 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. "Slipslop," said Lady Booby, "when did you see Joseph?" The poor woman
was so surprized at the unexpected sound of his name at so critical a
time, that she had the greatest difficulty to conceal the confusion she
was under from her mistress; whom she answered, nevertheless, with
pretty good confidence, though not entirely void of fear of suspicion,
that she had not seen him that morning. "I am afraid," said Lady Booby,
"he is a wild young fellow." --"That he is," said Slipslop, "and a
wicked one too. said
the lady, "I never heard that of him." says the lady, "then pray pay her her wages instantly. --
"This morning," answered the lady with some vehemence. --"I will not have my commands disputed," said the lady; "sure
you are not fond of him yourself?" --"I, madam!" --"As
little, I suppose you mean," said the lady; "and so about it instantly." 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. How dost thou deceive them, and make them deceive themselves! Their sighs make thee laugh, and their
pangs are thy merriment! If there be any one who doubts all this, let him read the
next chapter. In vulgar language, it was in the evening when
Joseph attended his lady's orders. Add to this the most perfect neatness in his dress, and
an air which, to those who have not seen many noblemen, would give an
idea of nobility. Joseph," answered the lady, "don't commit another crime
in denying the truth. Kissing, Joseph, is as a prologue to a play. 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. Tell me therefore, Joseph, if I should admit you to such freedom,
what would you think of me?--tell me freely." that, when she had conquered
her own virtue, she should find an obstruction in yours?" And can a boy, a stripling, have the
confidence to talk of his virtue?" 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? No woman could ever safely say, so far only will I go. Upon which she applied herself to the bell, and rung it
with infinite more violence than was necessary--the faithful Slipslop
attending near at hand: to say the truth, she had conceived a suspicion
at her last interview with her mistress, and had waited ever since in
the antechamber, having carefully applied her ears to the keyhole during
the whole time that the preceding conversation passed between Joseph
and the lady. The lady replied, she had taken a resolution, and was
resolved to keep it. "Do as I bid
you," says my lady, "and don't shock my ears with your beastly
language." "Yes, and saucy ones too," answered the lady; "but I
assure you I shall bear no such impertinence." I don't
know that I am impertinent," says Slipslop. "Yes, indeed you are," cries
my lady, "and, unless you mend your manners, this house is no place for
you." "What do you know, mistress?" "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 would provide
yourself," answered the lady. "With all my heart," replied the
waiting-gentlewoman; and so departed in a passion, and slapped the door
after her. This, therefore, blew up her rage against him, and confirmed
her in a resolution of parting with him. I am convinced you are an honest servant,
and should be very unwilling to part with you. Love became his advocate, and whispered
many things in his favour. Honour likewise endeavoured to vindicate his
crime, and Pity to mitigate his punishment. On the other side, Pride and
Revenge spoke as loudly against him. "Mr Adams hath often told me, that chastity is as great a virtue in a
man as in a woman. He says he never knew any more than his wife, and I
shall endeavour to follow his example. Indeed, it is owing entirely to
his excellent sermons and advice, together with your letters, that I
have been able to resist a temptation, which, he says, no man complies
with, but he repents in this world, or is damned for it in the next; and
why should I trust to repentance on my deathbed, since I may die in my
sleep? 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. A thousand sighs heaved the bosom of Joseph, a thousand
tears distilled from the lovely eyes of Fanny (for that was her name). 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." "You are cold, are
you, you rascal?" The poor wretch, who lay motionless a long time, just began to recover
his senses as a stage-coach came by. "Go on, sirrah,"
says the coachman; "we are confounded late, and have no time to look
after dead men." Upon which he bid the postillion alight, and look
into the ditch. He did so, and returned, "that there was a man sitting
upright, as naked as ever he was born." 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. cries an old gentleman: "let us make all the haste imaginable,
or we shall be robbed too." 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." She answered, with some resentment,
"She wondered at his asking her such a question; but assured him she
never tasted any such thing." He said, "If Joseph and the lady were alone, he
would be more capable of making a conveyance to her, as his affairs were
not fettered with any incumbrance; he'd warrant he soon suffered a
recovery by a writ of entry, which was the proper way to create heirs in
tail; that, for his own part, he would engage to make so firm a
settlement in a coach, that there should be no danger of an 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. --"Yes, madam." If you offer to touch anything, I'll throw the chamber-pot at
your head. Go, send your master to me." --"Yes, madam," answered Betty. --"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? --"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? I shall send
him packing as soon as I am up, I assure you." --"My dear," said he,
"common charity won't suffer you to do that." --"Common charity, a f--t!" --"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." 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. Joseph, fetching
a deep sigh, cried, "Poor Fanny, I would I could have lived to see thee! 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. I have thy dear
image in my heart, and no villain can ever tear it thence." Mr Barnabas (for that was the clergyman's name) came as soon as sent
for; and, having first drank a dish of tea with the landlady, and
afterwards a bowl of punch with the landlord, he walked up to the room
where Joseph lay; but, finding him asleep, returned to take the other
sneaker; which when he had finished, he again crept softly up to the
chamber-door, and, having opened it, heard the sick man talking to
himself in the following manner:--
"O most adorable Pamela! 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. Barnabas replied, "That must be done by grace." --"That," cries Barnabas, "is for the sake of justice." --"Yes,"
said Joseph, "but if I was to meet them again, I am afraid I should
attack them, and kill them too, if I could." "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." But she assured him, if he died, the parish should be
at the expense of the funeral." replied Mrs Tow-wouse, "I suppose that is all we are like to have
for the reckoning. 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 expression to
a picture. Her person was short, thin, and crooked. Her lips were two bits of skin, which,
whenever she spoke, she drew together in a purse. Add to this a voice
most wonderfully adapted to the sentiments 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 unhappy guest. The surgeon answered, "He should take proper care; but
he defied all the surgeons in London to do him any good." --"Pray, sir,"
said the gentleman, "what are his wounds?" --"Why, do you know anything
of wounds?" --"No, really, sir," said the gentleman.--"Ho! --"No, sir."--"Hum! --"Sir," answered the gentleman, "I do not
pretend to much; but the little I know I have from books."--"Books!" cries the doctor. "What, I suppose you have read Galen and
Hippocrates!" --"No, sir," said the gentleman.--"How! you understand
surgery," answers the doctor, "and not read Galen and Hippocrates?" --
"Sir," cries the other, "I believe there are many surgeons who have
never read these authors." (At which he fell a winking, and
the whole company burst into a laugh.) "Why, I
know a little of physic too." I suppose, brother, you understand
_Latin_?" the gentleman has caught a traytor," says Mrs Tow-wouse;
at which they all fell a laughing. He was proceeding in this learned manner, when a mighty noise
interrupted him. Some young fellows in the neighbourhood had taken one
of the thieves, and were bringing him into the inn. "How," says the surgeon, "do you say these goods 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. 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. Betty, go see what he wants. Being then asked if he had any inclination to eat, he answered
in the affirmative. He
answered, "He could eat both very well; but that he seemed to have the
greatest appetite for a piece of boiled beef and cabbage." Adams was pleased with so perfect a confirmation that he had not the
least fever, but advised him to a lighter diet for that evening. In the morning early, Barnabas and the surgeon came to the inn, in order
to see the thief conveyed before the justice. Thou odious, deformed
monster! nay, thou art the pursuit of most men through their lives. 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. "Why Betty, John, Chamberlain, where the
devil are you all? Have you no ears, or no conscience, not to tend the
sick better? Why don't you go yourself, Mr
Tow-wouse? "Yes, my dear," cried Tow-wouse. 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 sermons, as well worth a hundred pounds as a shilling was
worth twelve pence, and that he would deposit one of the volumes in his
hands by way of pledge; not doubting but that he would have the honesty
to return it on his repayment of the money; for otherwise he must be a
very great loser, seeing that every volume would at least bring him ten
pounds, as he had been informed by a neighbouring clergyman in the
country; for," said he, "as to my own part, having never yet dealt in
printing, I do not pretend to ascertain the exact value of such things." 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!" Poor Adams was extremely dejected at this disappointment, nor knew he
what further stratagem to try. Whilst he was smoaking his pipe in this posture, a coach and six, with a
numerous attendance, drove into the inn. 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 peppered by Jenny Bouncer." --"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] a bird in her
life." --"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." I will match Hannibal with Slouch for a
thousand, if you dare; and I say done first." "Tom," cries one of the footmen, "there's parson Adams smoaking his
pipe in the gallery." --"Yes," says Tom; "I pulled off my hat to him, and
the parson spoke to me." "Is the gentleman a clergyman, then?" "Yes, sir," answered the footman; "and
one there be but few like." --"Aye," said Barnabas; "if I had known it
sooner, I should have desired his company; I would always shew a proper
respect for the cloth: but what say you, doctor, shall we adjourn into a
room, and invite him to take part of a bowl of punch?" --"Pray,
sir," said Adams, "to what do you think the numbers may amount?" --"Doctor," cried
Barnabas, "you have a prophane way of talking, for which I must reprove
you. --"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." He then snapt his fingers (as
was usual with him), and took two or three turns about the room in an
extasy. --"More shame for those who gave it,"
cried Barnabas.--"Why so?" said the bookseller, "for they got hundreds
by it." He would reduce
us to the example of the primitive ages, forsooth! "Sir," answered Adams, "if Mr Whitefield had carried his doctrine no
farther than you mention, I should have remained, as I once was, his
well-wisher. I am, myself, as great an enemy to the luxury and splendour
of the clergy as he can be. Surely
those things, which savour so strongly of this world, become not the
servants of one who professed His kingdom was not of it. --"I suppose, sir," said the bookseller, "your
sermons are of a different kind." Now,
this excellent book was attacked by a party, but unsuccessfully." --Adams was going
to answer, when a most hideous uproar began in the inn. To abuse my bed, my
own bed, with my own servant! but I'll maul the slut, I'll tear her
nasty eyes out! Was ever such a pitiful dog, to take up with such a mean
trollop? Get you out of my
house, you whore." To which she added another name, which we do not care
to stain our paper with. It was a monosyllable beginning with a b--, and
indeed was the same as if she had pronounced the words, she-dog. --"Huzzy, huzzy," says Mrs Tow-wouse,
"have you the impudence to answer me? While she burnt for him, several others burnt for her. BOOK II. Now it happened 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
testifying some surprize, cried, "Hey! fie, fie upon it! Ay, they are certainly left behind." "No, thank you, child," answered Adams; "it shall
not be so. 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. --"No, no, I can't part with the horse, indeed, till I have the
money," cried Tow-wouse. Adams, lifting up his eyes, cried,
"I protest, and so there is;" and, thanking his informer, proceeded
directly to it. 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." The English language scarce affords a single
reproachful word, which he did not vent on this occasion. He said, "He no more regarded a
field of wheat when he was hunting, than he did the highway; that he had
injured several poor farmers by trampling their corn under his horse's
heels; and if any of them begged him with the utmost submission to
refrain, his horsewhip was always ready to do them justice." Upon which
they presently mounted their horses and departed. 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. says Adams;
"and how doth he behave as a justice, pray?" 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." 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 another world?" He
answered, "God forbid he should not." 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." --"Most part of it, master," returned the host. The mug
is out, shall I draw another?" Whilst he was going for that purpose, a stage-coach drove up to the
door. Adams asked him, "If he had not seen a
young man on horseback on the road" (describing Joseph). Hers indeed was not so great, because she
had been informed by Joseph that he was on the road. "A strange alteration
indeed," says Adams, "as I gather from some hints which have dropped
from Joseph." --"Aye," says she, "I could never have believed it; but the
longer one lives in the world, the more one sees. "Truly, I am heartily
concerned," says Adams, "for she was a good sort of a lady. I am confident he is there, and enjoys a
quiet life, which some folks would not allow him here." "Pray, madam," says Adams, "who was this squire Horatio?" His
temper was of the saturnine complexion, and without the least taint of
moroseness. He had wit and humour, with an inclination to satire, which
he indulged rather too much. said she, smiling. They had retired far out of the sight of the company, both maintaining a
strict silence. 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. "More fool he," cried Slipslop; "it is a sign he knew very little of our
sect." 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. "Oh, Horatio! It is not very material, said the lady. Leonora will not dance, I
assure you: her partner is not here." Leonora retired (continued the lady) about six in the morning, but not
to rest. In the afternoon, Bellarmine, in the dear coach and six, came to wait on
her. The lady smiled at the question, and
proceeded. He was so pleased, I say, that he resolved to make his
addresses to her directly. Here Adams groaned a second time; but the ladies, who began to smoke
him, took no notice. "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? Yes, yes, he is that certainly. Aye,
but yesterday I had not seen Bellarmine. Well,
and hath not Bellarmine a heart to break too? If I marry Horatio, I shall triumph over no
more than one rival; but by marrying Bellarmine, I shall be the envy of
all my acquaintance. besides,
Bellarmine may be as miserable for me too." "You see, 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. But Bellarmine drives
six, and Horatio not even a pair." --"Yes, but, madam, what will the
world say?" I know the world very well; and you shew your ignorance, my dear, by
your objection. --"Perhaps, madam, I
should not doubt, if I knew how to be handsomely off with the
other."--"Oh! leave that to me," says the aunt. There is not one of them can cut, madam; they can't cut. If you observe how this skirt is turned, and this sleeve: a clumsy
English rascal can do nothing like it. Pray, how do you like my
liveries?" Leonora answered, "She thought them very pretty." --"Not at all," says Mrs Grave-airs; "such sluts can never be
confounded." --"She must have then more than Corinthian assurance," said
Adams; "aye, more than Lais herself." A long silence, continued the lady, prevailed in the whole company. Horatio told her
softly, "It did not arise from jealousy."--"Jealousy! I assure you, it
would be very strange in a common acquaintance to give himself any of
those airs." --"I
can have no business," said she, "with the gentleman, nor any other,
which need be any secret to you." "You'll pardon me," said Horatio, "if I desire to know who this
gentleman is who is to be entrusted with all our secrets." --"No, madam!" "Sure you are in a dream," says she, "or
would persuade me that I am in one. "Sir,"
said Bellarmine, "I have the honour to be her protector; and, d--n me,
if I understand your meaning." "Sir," answered Horatio, "she is rather
your protectress; but give yourself no more airs, for you see I am
prepared for you" (shaking his whip at him). But, alas! "Never think of things past," cries the aunt: "think of regaining
the affections of Horatio." "What reason," said the niece, "have I to
hope he would forgive me? Indeed, it is
possible she might be a little alarmed at the hints which her niece had
given her concerning the presents. Upon which he again
assailed his antagonist, and with another stroke laid him sprawling on
the floor. a pan full of hog's blood,
which unluckily stood on the dresser, presented itself first to her
hands. All which
was perceived by Mrs Slipslop, who entered the kitchen at that instant. The poor woman had indeed fared
much the worst; having, besides the unmerciful cuffs received, lost a
quantity of hair, which Mrs Slipslop in triumph held in her left hand. Adams very innocently answered, "Sir, I am far from
accusing you." _Dammato di me_, if
I have seen such a _spectaculo_ in my way from Viterbo." One of the gentlemen having learnt from the host the occasion of this
bustle, and being assured by him that Adams had struck the first blow,
whispered in his ear, "He'd warrant he would recover."--"Recover! I saw you sprawling on the floor, and blood gushing from your
nostrils. That's
all." --"Master," cried the host, scratching his head, "I have no stomach
to law, I thank you. 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. If you knew me,
and my order, I should think you affronted both." Mr Adams prayed, and Mrs Slipslop
scolded; but all to no purpose. --"I don't know,
madam," says the lady; "I am not much used to stage-coaches; I seldom
travel in them." --"My betters," says Slipslop,
"who is my betters, pray?" --"I am your betters," answered Miss
Grave-airs, "and I'll acquaint your mistress." Adams instantly asked the coachman, in a whisper, "If he knew who the
gentleman was?" says Adams. Adams
then snapped his fingers, and cried, "He thought she was some
such trollop." Well, deliver me from
the censoriousness of such a prude." The fourth added, "O madam! "Not so unjustly neither, perhaps," says Slipslop; "for the clergy are
men, as well as other folks." To this gentleman came Bellarmine, on the errand I have mentioned. 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 necessary; for it would be a most distracting sight for
him to see her, when he had the honour to be her husband, in less than a
coach and six." _Adieu, ma princesse! Ah, l'amour!_
"BELLARMINE." It is a picture of horror, which I should have as
little pleasure in drawing as you in beholding. 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. --"It is very probable," cries Adams,
"for shooting is their profession." --"Ay, shooting the game," answered
the other; "but I don't see they are so forward to shoot our enemies. a man who won't sacrifice his life for his
country deserves to be hanged, d--n me." He was a good lad, and was under my care when a boy; and I
believe would do what I bade him to his dying day. Indeed, it looks like
extreme vanity in me to affect being a man of such consequence as to
have so great an interest in an alderman; but others have thought so
too, as manifestly appeared by the rector, whose curate I formerly was,
sending for me on the approach of an election, and telling me, if I
expected to continue in his cure, that I must bring my nephew to vote
for one Colonel Courtly, a gentleman whom I had never heard tidings of
till that instant. He had our interest
while he lived, which was not many years. I engaged my nephew in his interest, and he
was elected; and a very fine parliament-man he was. 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. Since my nephew's death, the
corporation is in other hands; and I am not a man of that consequence I
was formerly. I would have all such fellows hanged, sir; I would have them
hanged." He said, "A man might be a coward at one time,
and brave at another. He told him, "He waited there for the stage-coach." --"The
stage-coach, sir!" --"I protest
and so they are," cries Adams; "then I must make haste and follow them." said he. 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 poor wretch, who had been some time
in recovering strength enough to rise, and had afterwards, during the
engagement, stood trembling, being disabled by fear even from running
away, hearing her champion was victorious, came up to him, but not
without apprehensions even of her deliverer; which, however, she was
soon relieved from by his courteous behaviour and gentle words. Adams was going to answer, when one of the
young fellows cried, "D--n them, let's carry them both before the
justice." The poor woman began to tremble, and Adams lifted up his
voice, but in vain. This the clerk said "was a great presumption that he was an
old offender, by cunningly giving all the booty to the woman." Indeed, it required not the art of a Sheppard
to escape, especially as the darkness of the night would have so much
befriended him; but Adams trusted rather to his innocence than his
heels, and, without thinking of flight, which was easy, or resistance
(which was impossible, as there were six lusty young fellows, besides
the villain himself, present), he walked with perfect resignation the
way they thought proper to conduct him. 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?" La, sir," answered Fanny, "sure you jeer me; what should he be going
to see me for?" "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 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." 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 neighbourhood, 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. Which he bid him do, and he would light his pipe in the
meantime. One asked, "Whether she was to be indicted for a
highwayman?" 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." "How, sirrah," says the
justice, "do you go robbing in the dress of a clergyman? "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. '_
"What, canst not with an M neither? "I have forgot those things now," cried the wit. evil betide you, and so you can now,"
said the other: "nobody in this country will undertake you." "And I'll go your halves," cries the other. "Is it no punishment,
sir, for an innocent man to lie several months in gaol?" says the justice: "is it not here in black
and white against you? Upon which the poor manuscript of Aeschylus, 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. answered Adams, "it is a manuscript of Aeschylus." said the justice. Adams repeated, "Aeschylus." "That is an
outlandish name," cried the clerk. "A fictitious name rather, I
believe," said the justice. One of the company declared it looked very
much like Greek. 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." says the justice. Ay, ay, question and answer. Ay, ay, _Pollaki toi_: What's your
name?" --"Ay, what's your name?" says the justice to Adams; who answered,
"It is Aeschylus, and I will maintain it."--"Oh! it is," says the
justice: "make Mr Aeschylus his mittimus. 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! --"Sir," cries Adams, "I assure you she is as innocent as
myself." --"Perhaps," said the squire, "there may be some mistake! --"With all my heart," answered the
justice; "and give the gentleman a glass to wet his whistle before he
begins. They all promised to use their best endeavours to that
purpose, and were dismissed. These were all fallen
together by the ears, and were cuffing each other without any mercy. The
justice himself sallied out, and with the dignity of his presence soon
put an end to the fray. 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. This
dispute frequently disturbed the congregation, and introduced a discord
into the psalmody, till I was forced to silence them both. But, alas! Upon this news, she immediately sent for the parson out of
the parlour. Her
forehead was high, her eyebrows arched, and rather full than otherwise. Her teeth were white, but not exactly even. A thousand Loves dance in her train,
The Graces around her all throng. Ah, Chloe, expiring, I cried,
How long I thy cruelty bore! Ah, Strephon, she blushing replied,
You ne'er was so pressing before. Mr Adams," says she;
"O Jesus!" Adams jumped up, flung his
Aeschylus into the fire, and fell a-roaring to the people of the house
for help. And indeed the truth is, that she
remembered her very well. Be it known then, that the human species are divided into two sorts of
people, to wit, high people and low people. High people signify no other than people of
fashion, and low people those of no fashion. 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." 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." "-"Very honest means," returned she,
with a sneer, "to bring people together." Indeed, it is probable Mr Adams had rescued more than Fanny from
the danger of a rape that evening. She answered, "There was." 1, by Henry Fielding