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

CHAPTER X.

_Giving an account of the strange catastrophe of the preceding

adventure, which drew poor Adams into fresh calamities; and who the

woman was who owed the preservation of her chastity to his

victorious arm._

The silence of Adams, added to the darkness of the night and loneliness

of the place, struck dreadful apprehension into the poor woman's mind;

she began to fear as great an enemy in her deliverer as he had

delivered her from; and as she had not light enough to discover the age

of Adams, and the benevolence visible in his countenance, she suspected

he had used her as some very honest men have used their country; and had

rescued her out of the hands of one rifler in order to rifle her

himself. Such were the suspicions she drew from his silence; but indeed

they were ill-grounded. He stood over his vanquished enemy, wisely

weighing in his mind the objections which might be made to either of the

two methods of proceeding mentioned in the last chapter, his judgment

sometimes inclining to the one, and sometimes to the other; for both

seemed to him so equally advisable and so equally dangerous, that

probably he would have ended his days, at least two or three of them, on

that very spot, before he had taken any resolution; at length he lifted

up his eyes, and spied a light at a distance, to which he instantly

addressed himself with _Heus tu, traveller, heus tu!_ He presently heard

several voices, and perceived the light approaching toward him. The

persons who attended the light began some to laugh, others to sing, and

others to hollow, at which the woman testified some fear (for she had

concealed her suspicions of the parson himself); but Adams said, "Be of

good cheer, damsel, and repose thy trust in the same Providence which

hath hitherto protected thee, and never will forsake the innocent."

These people, who now approached, were no other, reader, than a set of

young fellows, who came to these bushes in pursuit of a diversion which

they call bird-batting. This, if you are ignorant of it (as perhaps if

thou hast never travelled beyond Kensington, Islington, Hackney, or the

Borough, thou mayst be), I will inform thee, is performed by holding a

large clap-net before a lanthorn, and at the same time beating the

bushes; for the birds, when they are disturbed from their places of

rest, or roost, immediately make to the light, and so are inticed

within the net. Adams immediately told them what happened, and desired

them to hold the lanthorn to the face of the man on the ground, for he

feared he had smote him fatally. But indeed his fears were frivolous;

for the fellow, though he had been stunned by the last blow he received,

had long since recovered his senses, and, finding himself quit of Adams,

had listened attentively to the discourse between him and the young

woman; for whose departure he had patiently waited, that he might

likewise withdraw himself, having no longer hopes of succeeding in his

desires, which were moreover almost as well cooled by Mr Adams as they

could have been by the young woman herself had he obtained his utmost

wish. This fellow, who had a readiness at improving any accident,

thought he might now play a better part than that of a dead man; and,

accordingly, the moment the candle was held to his face he leapt up,

and, laying hold on Adams, cried out, "No, villain, I am not dead,

though you and your wicked whore might well think me so, after the

barbarous cruelties you have exercised on me. Gentlemen," said he, "you

are luckily come to the assistance of a poor traveller, who would

otherwise have been robbed and murdered by this vile man and woman, who

led me hither out of my way from the high-road, and both falling on me

have used me as you see." 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. Three or four of them laid hands on him; and one

holding the lanthorn to his face, they all agreed he had the most

villainous countenance they ever beheld; and an attorney's clerk, who

was of the company, declared he was sure he had remembered him at the

bar. As to the woman, her hair was dishevelled in the struggle, and her

nose had bled; so that they could not perceive whether she was handsome

or ugly, but they said her fright plainly discovered her guilt. And

searching her pockets, as they did those of Adams, for money, which the

fellow said he had lost, they found in her pocket a purse with some gold

in it, which abundantly convinced them, especially as the fellow offered

to swear to it. Mr Adams was found to have no more than one halfpenny

about him. This the clerk said "was a great presumption that he was an

old offender, by cunningly giving all the booty to the woman." To which

all the rest readily assented.

This accident promising them better sport than what they had proposed,

they quitted their intention of catching birds, and unanimously resolved

to proceed to the justice with the offenders. Being informed what a

desperate fellow Adams was, they tied his hands behind him; and, having

hid their nets among the bushes, and the lanthorn being carried before

them, they placed the two prisoners in their front, and then began their

march; Adams not only submitting patiently to his own fate, but

comforting and encouraging his companion under her sufferings.

Whilst they were on their way the clerk informed the rest that this

adventure would prove a very beneficial one; for that they would all be

entitled to their proportions of £80 for apprehending the robbers. This

occasioned a contention concerning the parts which they had severally

borne in taking them; one insisting he ought to have the greatest share,

for he had first laid his hands on Adams; another claiming a superior

part for having first held the lanthorn to the man's face on the ground,

by which, he said, "the whole was discovered." The clerk claimed

four-fifths of the reward for having proposed to search the prisoners,

and likewise the carrying them before the justice: he said, "Indeed, in

strict justice, he ought to have the whole." These claims, however,

they at last consented to refer to a future decision, but seemed all to

agree that the clerk was entitled to a moiety. They then debated what

money should be allotted to the young fellow who had been employed only

in holding the nets. He very modestly said, "That he did not apprehend

any large proportion would fall to his share, but hoped they would allow

him something; he desired them to consider that they had assigned their

nets to his care, which prevented him from being as forward as any in

laying hold of the robbers" (for so those innocent people were called);

"that if he had not occupied the nets, some other must;" concluding,

however, "that he should be contented with the smallest share

imaginable, and should think that rather their bounty than his merit."

But they were all unanimous in excluding him from any part whatever, the

clerk particularly swearing, "If they gave him a shilling they might do

what they pleased with the rest; for he would not concern himself with

the affair." This contention was so hot, and so totally engaged the

attention of all the parties, that a dexterous nimble thief, had he been

in Mr Adams's situation, would have taken care to have given the justice

no trouble that evening. 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.

Adams frequently vented himself in ejaculations during their journey; at

last, poor Joseph Andrews occurring to his mind, he could not refrain

sighing forth his name, which being heard by his companion in

affliction, she cried with some vehemence, "Sure I should know that

voice; you cannot certainly, sir, be Mr Abraham Adams?"--"Indeed,

damsel," says he, "that is my name; there is something also in your

voice which persuades me I have heard it before."--"La! 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?"--"I have

told you, sir," replied she, "I was travelling towards London; but I

thought you mentioned Joseph Andrews; pray what is become of him?"--"I

left him, child, this afternoon," said Adams, "in the stage-coach, in

his way towards our parish, whither he is going to see you."--"To see

me! La, sir," answered Fanny, "sure you jeer me; what should he be going

to see me for?"--"Can you ask that?" replied Adams. "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 sure I never had

anything to say to him, but as one fellow-servant might to another."--"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." Adams then told her what had

happened at the inn, to which she listened very attentively; and a sigh

often escaped from her, notwithstanding her utmost endeavours to the

contrary; nor could she prevent herself from asking a thousand

questions, which would have assured any one but Adams, who never saw

farther into people than they desired to let him, of the truth of a

passion she endeavoured to conceal. Indeed, the fact was, that this poor

girl, having heard of Joseph's misfortune, by some of the servants

belonging to the coach which we have formerly mentioned to have stopt at

the inn while the poor youth was confined to his bed, that instant

abandoned the cow she was milking, and, taking with her a little bundle

of clothes under her arm, and all the money she was worth in her own

purse, without consulting any one, immediately set forward in pursuit of

one whom, notwithstanding her shyness to the parson, she loved with

inexpressible violence, though with the purest and most delicate

passion. This shyness, therefore, as we trust it will recommend her

character to all our female readers, and not greatly surprize such of

our males as are well acquainted with the younger part of the other sex,

we shall not give ourselves any trouble to vindicate.