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

CHAPTER XIV.

_Being very full of adventures which succeeded each other at the inn._

It was now the dusk of the evening, when a grave person rode into the

inn, and, committing his horse to the hostler, went directly into the

kitchen, and, having called for a pipe of tobacco, took his place by the

fireside, where several other persons were likewise assembled.

The discourse ran altogether on the robbery which was committed the

night before, and on the poor wretch who lay above in the dreadful

condition in which we have already seen him. Mrs Tow-wouse said, "She

wondered what the devil Tom Whipwell meant by 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, "Nothing would serve the

fellow's turn but tea, she would assure him." Betty, who was just

returned from her charitable office, answered, she believed he was a

gentleman, for she never saw a finer skin in her life. "Pox on his

skin!" replied Mrs Tow-wouse, "I suppose that is all we are like to have

for the reckoning. I desire no such 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 observed to be fallen not into

the most compassionate hands. And indeed, if Mrs Tow-wouse had given no

utterance to the sweetness of her temper, nature had taken such pains in

her countenance, that Hogarth himself never gave more expression 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 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. 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 I the duty of men of

all professions to apply their skill gratis for the relief of the poor

and necessitous." The surgeon answered, "He should take proper care; but

he defied all the surgeons in London to do him any good."--"Pray, sir,"

said the gentleman, "what are his wounds?"--"Why, do you know anything

of wounds?" says the surgeon (winking upon Mrs Tow-wouse).--"Sir, I have

a small smattering in surgery," answered the gentleman.--"A

smattering--ho, ho, ho!" said the surgeon; "I believe it is a

smattering indeed."

The company were all attentive, expecting to hear the doctor, who was

what they call a dry fellow, expose the gentleman.

He began therefore with an air of triumph: "I I suppose, sir, you have

travelled?"--"No, really, sir," said the gentleman.--"Ho! then you have

practised in the hospitals perhaps?"--"No, sir."--"Hum! not that

neither? Whence, sir, then, if I may be so bold to inquire, have you got

your knowledge in surgery?"--"Sir," answered the gentleman, "I do not

pretend to much; but the little I know I have from books."--"Books!"

cries the doctor. "What, I suppose you have read Galen and

Hippocrates!"--"No, sir," said the gentleman.--"How! you understand

surgery," answers the doctor, "and not read Galen and 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. _Veniente accurrite

morbo_: that is my method. I suppose, brother, you understand

_Latin_?"--"A little," says the gentleman.--"Aye, and Greek now, I'll

warrant you: _Ton dapomibominos poluflosboio Thalasses_. But I have

almost forgot these things: I could have repeated Homer by heart

once."--"Ifags! the gentleman has caught a traytor," says Mrs Tow-wouse;

at which they all fell a laughing.

The gentleman, who had not the least affection for joking, very

contentedly suffered the doctor to enjoy his victory, which he did with

no small satisfaction; and, having sufficiently sounded his depth, told

him, "He was thoroughly convinced of his great learning and abilities;

and that he would be obliged to him if he would let him know his opinion

of his patient's case above-stairs."--"Sir," says the doctor, "his case

is that of a dead man--the contusion on his head has perforated the

internal membrane of the occiput, and divelicated that radical small

minute invisible nerve which coheres to the pericranium; and this was

attended with a fever at first symptomatic, then pneumatic; and he is at

length grown deliriuus, or delirious, as the vulgar express it."

He was proceeding in this learned manner, when a mighty noise

interrupted him. Some young fellows in the neighbourhood had taken one

of the thieves, and were bringing him into the inn. Betty ran upstairs

with this news to Joseph, who begged they might search for a little

piece of broken gold, which had a ribband tied to it, and which he could

swear to amongst all the hoards of the richest men in the universe.

Notwithstanding the fellow's persisting in his innocence, the mob were

very busy in searching him, and presently, among other things, pulled

out the piece of gold just mentioned; which Betty no sooner saw than she

laid violent hands on it, and conveyed it up to Joseph, who received it

with raptures of joy, and, hugging it in his bosom, declared he could

now die contented.

Within a few minutes afterwards came in some other fellows, with a

bundle which they had found in a ditch, and which was indeed the cloaths

which had been stripped off from Joseph, and the other things they had

taken from him.

The gentleman no sooner saw the coat than he 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, reader, was the

surprize on both sides, when he saw Joseph was the person in bed, and

when Joseph discovered the face of his good friend Mr Abraham Adams!

It would be impertinent to insert a discourse which chiefly turned on

the relation of matters already well known to the reader; for, as soon

as the curate had satisfied Joseph concerning the perfect health of his

Fanny, he was on his side very inquisitive into all the particulars

which had produced this unfortunate 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 cloaths, though the

mob were very well satisfied with that proof, yet, as the surgeon

observed, they could not convict him, because they were not found in his

custody; to which Barnabas agreed, and added that these were _bona

waviata_, and belonged to the lord of the manor.

"How," says the surgeon, "do you say these goods belong to the lord of

the manor?"--"I do," cried Barnabas.--"Then I deny it," says the

surgeon: "what can the lord of the manor have to do in the case? Will

any one attempt to persuade me that what a man finds is not his

own?"--"I have heard," says an old fellow in the corner, "justice

Wise-one say, that, if every man had his right, whatever is found

belongs to the king of London."--"That may be true," says Barnabas, "in

some sense; for the law makes a difference between things stolen and

things found; for a thing may be stolen that never is found, and a thing

may be found that never was stolen: Now, goods that are both stolen and

found are _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 almost (as there

was no evidence against him) brought over Barnabas, the surgeon,

Tow-wouse, and several others to his side, Betty informed them that they

had overlooked a little piece of gold, which she had carried up to the

man in bed, and which he offered to swear to amongst a million, aye,

amongst ten 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.