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

CHAPTER IX.

_In which the gentleman discants on bravery and heroic 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 no more of shooting a man that would not die for his

country, than--

"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 honoured with so many

triumphs, and of whose valour several authors, especially Cicero and

Paterculus, have formed such elogiums; this very Pompey left the battle

of Pharsalia before 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 instances." He concluded, therefore, that, had

he taken any such hasty resolutions against his nephew, he hoped he

would consider 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 intended 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 yourself almost three miles before us."--"I protest

and so they are," cries Adams; "then I must make haste and follow them."

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 presently 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 him to his house, which was very little out of

his way," assuring 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 infamy 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 companion'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 robbers 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 crabstick, 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

ancients, the brains of some persons are deposited, and which he had

undoubtedly 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 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 sometimes to make that part perfectly solid.

As a 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. However,

he clenched his fist, and presently darted it at that part of Adams's

breast where the heart is lodged. Adams staggered 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 ancients, 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, laying 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."

But 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, 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 concerned 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, 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. 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 came up and

prevented him." Adams encouraged her for saying she had put her whole

trust in Providence, and told her, "He doubted not but Providence had

sent him to her deliverance, as a reward for that trust. He wished

indeed he had not deprived the wicked wretch of life, but G--'s will be

done;" 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 meditation ended as the reader will see in the

next chapter.