# 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.