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

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 ravisher. He was not only deaf to all her

bewailings and entreaties on the road, but accosted her ears with

impurities which, having been never before accustomed to them, she

happily for herself very little understood. At last he changed his note,

and attempted to soothe and mollify her, by setting forth the splendor

and luxury which would be her fortune with a man who would have the

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 gentle ones, for you may be assured that it is not in your power, by

any struggles whatever, to preserve your virginity two hours longer. It

will be your interest to consent; for the squire will be much kinder to

you if he enjoys you willingly than by force." At which words she began

to call aloud for assistance (for it was now open day), but, finding

none, she lifted her eyes to heaven, and supplicated the Divine

assistance to preserve her innocence. The captain told her, if she

persisted in her vociferation, he would find a means of stopping her

mouth. And now the poor wretch, perceiving no hopes of succour,

abandoned herself to despair, and, sighing out the name of Joseph!

Joseph! a river of tears ran down her lovely cheeks, and wet the

handkerchief which covered her bosom. A horseman now appeared in the

road, upon which the captain threatened her violently if she complained;

however, the moment they approached each other she begged him with the

utmost earnestness to relieve a distressed creature who was in the hands

of a ravisher. The fellow stopt at those words, but the captain assured

him it was his wife, and that he was carrying her home from her

adulterer, which so satisfied the fellow, who was an old one (and

perhaps a married one too), that he wished him a good journey, and rode

on. He was no sooner past than the captain abused her violently for

breaking his commands, and threatened to gagg her, when two more

horsemen, armed with pistols, came into the road just before them. She

again solicited their assistance, and the captain told the same story as

before. Upon which 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 purposes--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 gentleman who rode in the chariot ordered it to stop,

and with an air of authority examined into the merits of the cause; of

which being advertised by Fanny, whose credit was confirmed by the

fellow who knew her, he ordered the captain, who was all bloody from his

encounter at the inn, to be conveyed as a prisoner behind the chariot,

and very gallantly took Fanny into it; for, to say the truth, this

gentleman (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 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 conception, I pity thee sincerely from my own; for

let the hard-hearted villain know this, that there is a pleasure in a

tender sensation beyond any which he is capable of tasting.

Peter, being informed by Fanny of the presence of Adams, stopt to see

him, and receive his homage; for, as Peter was an hypocrite, a sort of

people whom Mr Adams never saw through, the one paid that respect to his

seeming goodness which the other believed to be paid to his riches;

hence Mr Adams was so much 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, turned inside out, around his head. He had on his

torn cassock and his greatcoat; but, as the remainder of his cassock

hung down below his greatcoat, so did a small stripe of white, or rather

whitish, linen appear below that; to which we may add the several

colours which 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 expeditious retreat in their power.

The host, who well knew Mr Pounce and Lady Booby's livery, was not a

little surprized at this change of the scene; nor was his confusion much

helped by his wife, who was now just risen, and, having heard from him

the account of what had passed, comforted him with a decent number of

fools and blockheads; asked him why he did not consult her, and told him

he would never leave following the nonsensical dictates of his own

numskull till she and her family were ruined.

Joseph, being informed of the captain's arrival, and seeing his Fanny

now in safety, quitted her a moment, and, running downstairs, went

directly to him, and stripping off his coat, challenged him to fight;

but the captain refused, saying he did not understand boxing. He then

grasped a cudgel in one hand, and, catching the captain by the collar

with the other, gave him a most severe drubbing, and ended with telling

him he had now had some revenge for what his dear Fanny had suffered.

When Mr Pounce had a little regaled himself with some provision which he

had in his chariot, and Mr Adams had put on the best appearance his

clothes would allow him, Pounce ordered the captain into his presence,

for he said he was guilty of felony, and the next justice of peace

should commit him; but the servants (whose appetite for revenge is soon

satisfied), being sufficiently contented with the drubbing which Joseph

had inflicted on him, and which was indeed of no very moderate kind, had

suffered him to go off, which he did, 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 poor weak woman, continually

a-breeding, and had no time to work for them. She therefore hoped his

honour would take it into his worship's consideration, and forgive her

husband this time; for she was sure he never intended any harm to man,

woman, or child; and if it was not for that block-head of his own, the

man in some things was well enough; for she had had three children by

him in less than three years, and was almost ready to cry out the fourth

time." She would have proceeded in this manner much longer, had not

Peter stopt her tongue, by telling her he had nothing to say to her

husband nor her neither. So, as Adams and the rest had assured her of

forgiveness, she cried and curtsied out of the room.

Mr Pounce was desirous that Fanny should continue her journey with him

in the chariot; but she absolutely refused, saying she would ride behind

Joseph on a horse which one of Lady Booby's servants had equipped him

with. But, alas! when the horse appeared, it was found to be no other

than that identical beast which Mr Adams had left behind him at the inn,

and which these honest fellows, who knew him, had redeemed. Indeed,

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 reminded of the affair, and

told that they had brought the horse with them which he left behind, he

answered--Bless me! and so I did.

Adams was very desirous that Joseph and Fanny should mount this horse,

and declared he could very easily walk home. "If I walked alone," says

he, "I would wage a shilling that the pedestrian outstripped the

equestrian travellers; but, as I intend to take the company of a pipe,

peradventure I may be an hour later." One of the servants whispered

Joseph to take him at his word, and suffer the old put to walk if he

would: this proposal was answered with an angry look and a peremptory

refusal by Joseph, who, catching Fanny up in his arms, averred he would

rather carry her home in that manner, than take away Mr Adams's horse

and permit him to walk on foot.

Perhaps, reader, thou hast seen a contest between two gentlemen, or two

ladies, quickly decided, though they have both asserted they would not

eat such a nice morsel, and each insisted on the other's accepting it;

but in reality both were very desirous to swallow it themselves. Do not

therefore conclude hence that this dispute would have come to a speedy

decision: for here both parties were heartily in earnest, and it is very

probable they would have remained in the inn-yard to this day, had not

the good Peter Pounce put a stop to it; for, finding he had no longer

hopes of satisfying his old appetite with Fanny, and being desirous of

having some one to whom he might communicate his grandeur, he told the

parson he would convey him home in his chariot. This favour 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 riding in it, for that in his heart he

preferred the pedestrian even to the vehicular expedition." All matters

being now settled, the chariot, in which rode Adams and Pounce, moved

forwards; and Joseph having borrowed a pillion from the host, Fanny had

just seated herself thereon, and had laid hold of the girdle which her

lover wore for that purpose, when the wise beast, who concluded that one

at a time was sufficient, that two to one were odds, &c., discovered

much uneasiness at his double load, and began to consider his hinder as

his fore legs, moving the direct contrary way to that which is called

forwards. Nor could Joseph, with all his horsemanship, persuade him to

advance; but, without having any regard to the lovely part of the lovely

girl which was on his back, he used such agitations, that, had not one

of the men come immediately to her assistance, she had, in plain

English, tumbled 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 arrived in a few hours without anything

remarkable happening on the road, unless it was a curious dialogue

between the parson and the steward: which, to use the language of a late

Apologist, a pattern to all biographers, "waits for the reader in the

next chapter."