The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book II, Chapter XIII

The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book II, Chapter XIII
623769The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book II, Chapter XIII

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 forget her. And indeed the truth is, that she

remembered her very well. As we would not willingly, therefore, that

anything 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 by high people I would

not be understood to mean persons literally born higher in their

dimensions than the rest of the species, nor metaphorically those of

exalted characters or abilities; so by low people I cannot be construed

to intend the reverse. High people signify no other than people of

fashion, and low people those of no fashion. Now, this word fashion hath

by long use lost its original meaning, from which at present it gives us

a very different idea; for I am deceived if by persons of fashion we do

not generally include a conception of birth and accomplishments superior

to the herd of mankind; whereas, in reality, nothing more was originally

meant by a person of fashion than a person who drest himself in the

fashion of the times; and the word really and truly signifies no more at

this day. Now, the world 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 correspondence in

private. In this contention it is difficult to say which party

succeeded; for, whilst the people of fashion seized several places to

their own use, such as courts, assemblies, operas, balls, &c., the

people of no fashion, besides one royal place, called his Majesty's

Bear-garden, have been in constant possession of all hops, fairs,

revels, &c. Two places have been agreed to be divided between them,

namely, the church and the playhouse, where they segregate themselves

from each other in a remarkable manner; for, as the people of fashion

exalt themselves at church over the heads of the people of no fashion,

so in the 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 language, they seem scarce to regard each

other as of the same species. This, the terms "strange persons, people

one does not know, the creature, wretches, beasts, brutes," and many

other appellations evidently demonstrate; which Mrs Slipslop, having

often heard her mistress use, thought she had also a right to use in her

turn; and perhaps she was not mistaken; for these two parties,

especially those bordering nearly on each other, to wit, the lowest of

the high, and the highest of the low, often change their parties

according to place and time; for those who are people of fashion in one

place are often people of no fashion in another. And with regard to

time, it may not be unpleasant to survey the picture of dependance like

a kind of ladder; as, for instance; early in the morning arises the

postillion, or some other boy, which great families, no more than great

ships, are without, and falls to brushing the clothes and cleaning the

shoes of John the footman; who, being drest himself, applies his hands

to the same labours for Mr Second-hand, the squire's gentleman; the

gentleman in the like manner, a little later in the day, attends the

squire; the squire is no sooner equipped than he attends the levee of my

lord; which is no sooner over than my lord himself is seen at the levee

of the favourite, who, after the hour of homage is at an end, appears

himself to pay homage to the levee of his sovereign. Nor is there,

perhaps, in this whole ladder of dependance, any one step at a greater

distance from the other than the first from the second; so that to a

philosopher the question might only seem, whether you would chuse to be

a great man at six in the morning, or at two in the afternoon. And yet

there are scarce two of these who do not think the least familiarity

with the persons below them a condescension, and, if they were to go one

step farther, a degradation.


And now, reader, I hope thou wilt pardon this long digression, which

seemed to me necessary to vindicate the great character of Mrs Slipslop

from what low people, who have never seen high people, might think an

absurdity; but we who know them must have daily found very high persons

know us in one place and not in another, to-day and not to-morrow; all

which it is difficult to account for otherwise than I have here

endeavoured; and perhaps, if the gods, according to the opinion of some,

made men only to laugh at them, there is no part of our behaviour which

answers the end of our creation better than this.


But to return to our history: Adams, who knew no more of this than the

cat which sat on the table, imagining Mrs Slipslop's memory had been

much worse than it really was, followed her into the next room, crying

out, "Madam Slipslop, here is one of your old acquaintance; do but see

what a fine woman she is grown since she left Lady Booby's service."--"I

think I reflect something of her," answered she, with great dignity,

"but I can't remember all the inferior servants in our family." She then

proceeded to satisfy Adams's curiosity, by telling him, "When she

arrived at the inn, she found a chaise ready for her; that, her lady

being expected very shortly in the country, she was obliged to make the

utmost haste; and, in commensuration of Joseph's lameness, she had taken

him with her;" and lastly, "that the excessive virulence of the storm

had driven them into the house where he found them." After which, she

acquainted Adams with his having left his horse, and exprest some wonder

at his having strayed so far out of his way, and at meeting him, as she

said, "in the company of that 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

respected 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 people together." At these words Adams took two

or three strides across the room, when the coachman came to inform Mrs

Slipslop, "That the storm was over, and the moon shone very bright." She

then sent for Joseph, who was sitting without with his Fanny, and would

have had him gone with her; 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, with some reflections on

the clergy not decent to repeat; at last, finding Joseph unmoveable, she

flung herself into the chaise, casting a look at Fanny as she went, not

unlike that which Cleopatra gives Octavia in the play. To say the truth,

she was most disagreeably disappointed by the presence of Fanny: she

had, from her first seeing Joseph at the inn, conceived hopes of

something which might have been accomplished at an alehouse as well as a

palace. Indeed, it is probable Mr Adams had rescued more than Fanny from

the danger of a rape that evening.


When the chaise had carried off the enraged Slipslop, Adams, Joseph, and

Fanny assembled over the fire, where they had a great deal of innocent

chat, pretty enough; but, as possibly it would not be very 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 smoaked three pipes,

took a comfortable nap in a great chair, and left the lovers, whose eyes

were too well employed to permit any desire of shutting them, to enjoy

by themselves, during some hours, an happiness which none of my readers

who have never been in love are capable of the least conception of,

though we had as many tongues as Homer desired, to describe it with, and

which all true lovers will represent to their own minds without the

least assistance from us.


Let it suffice then to say, that Fanny, after a thousand entreaties, at

last gave up her whole soul to Joseph; and, almost fainting in his arms,

with a sigh infinitely softer and sweeter too than any Arabian breeze,

she whispered to his lips, which were then close to hers, "O Joseph,

you have won me: I will be yours for ever." Joseph, having thanked

her on his knees, and embraced her with an eagerness which she now

almost returned, leapt up in a rapture, and awakened the parson,

earnestly begging him "that he would that instant join their hands

together." Adams rebuked him for his request, and told him "He would by

no means consent to anything contrary to the forms of the Church; that

he had no licence, nor indeed would he advise him to obtain one; that

the Church had prescribed a form--namely, the publication of banns--with

which all good Christians ought to comply, and to the omission of which

he attributed the many miseries which befell great folks in marriage;"

concluding, "As many as are joined together otherwise than G--'s word

doth allow are not joined together by G--, neither is their matrimony

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 been now risen some hours, when Joseph, finding his leg

surprizingly recovered, proposed to walk forwards; but when they were

all ready to set out, an accident a little retarded them. This was no

other than the reckoning, which amounted to seven shillings; no great

sum if we consider the immense quantity of ale which Mr Adams poured in.

Indeed, they had no objection to the reasonableness of the bill, but

many to the probability of paying it; for the fellow who had taken poor

Fanny's purse had unluckily forgot to return it. So that the account

stood thus:--


                                  £ S D
       Mr Adams and company, Dr.  0 7 0


       In Mr Adams's pocket       0 0 6 1/2
       In Mr Joseph's             0 0 0
       In Mrs Fanny's             0 0 0


         Balance                  0 6 5 1/2


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."