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

CHAPTER VI.
_Moral reflections by Joseph Andrews; with the hunting adventure, and
parson Adams's miraculous escape._
"I have often wondered, sir," said Joseph, "to observe so few instances
of charity among mankind; for though the goodness of a man's heart did
not incline him to relieve the distresses of his fellow-creatures,
methinks the desire of honour should move him to it. What inspires a man
to build fine houses, to purchase fine furniture, pictures, clothes, and
other things, at a great expense, but an ambition to be respected more
than other people? Now, would not one great act of charity, one instance
of redeeming a poor family from all the miseries of poverty, restoring
an unfortunate tradesman by a sum of money to the means of procuring a
livelihood by his industry, discharging an undone debtor from his debts
or a gaol, or any suchlike example of goodness, create a man more honour
and respect than he could acquire by the finest house, furniture,
pictures, or clothes, that were ever beheld? For not only the object
himself who was thus relieved, but all who heard the name of such a
person, must, I imagine, reverence him infinitely more than the
possessor of all those other things; which when we so admire, we rather
praise the builder, the workman, the painter, the lace-maker, the
taylor, and the rest, by whose ingenuity they are produced, than the
person who by his money makes them his own. For my own part, when I have
waited behind my lady in a room hung with fine pictures, while I have
been looking at them I have never once thought of their owner, nor hath
any one else, as I ever observed; for when it hath been asked whose
picture that was, it was never once answered the master's of the house;
but Ammyconni, Paul Varnish, Hannibal Scratchi, or Hogarthi, which I
suppose were the names of the painters; but if it was asked--Who
redeemed such a one out of prison? Who lent such a ruined tradesman
money to set up? Who clothed that family of poor small children? it is
very plain what must be the answer. And besides, these great folks are
mistaken if they imagine they get any honour at all by these means; for
I do not remember I ever was with my lady at any house where she
commended the house or furniture but I have heard her at her return home
make sport and jeer at whatever she had before commended; and I have
been told by other gentlemen in livery that it is the same in their
families: but I defy the wisest man in the world to turn a true good
action into ridicule. I defy him to do it. He who should endeavour it
would be laughed at himself, instead of making others laugh. Nobody
scarce doth any good, yet they all agree in praising those who do.
Indeed, it is strange that all men should consent in commending
goodness, and no man endeavour to deserve that commendation; whilst, on
the contrary, all rail at wickedness, and all are as eager to be what
they abuse. This I know not the reason of; but it is as plain as
daylight to those who converse in the world, as I have done these three
years." "Are all the great folks wicked then?" says Fanny. "To be sure
there are some exceptions," answered Joseph. "Some gentlemen of our
cloth report charitable actions done by their lords and masters; and I
have heard Squire Pope, the great poet, at my lady's table, tell stories
of a man that lived at a place called Ross, and another at the Bath, one
Al--Al--I forget his name, but it is in the book of verses. This
gentleman hath built up a stately house too, which the squire likes very
well; but his charity is seen farther than his house, though it stands
on a hill,--ay, and brings him more honour too. It was his charity that
put him in the book, where the squire says he puts all those who deserve
it; and to be sure, as he lives among all the great people, if there
were any such, he would know them." This was all of Mr Joseph Andrews's
speech which I could get him to recollect, which I have delivered as
near as was possible in his own words, with a very small embellishment.
But I believe the reader hath not been a little surprized at the long
silence of parson Adams, especially as so many occasions offered
themselves to exert his curiosity and observation. The truth is, he was
fast asleep, and had so been from the beginning of the preceding
narrative; and, indeed, if the reader considers that so many hours had
passed since he had closed his eyes, he will not wonder at his repose,
though even Henley himself, or as great an orator (if any such be), had
been in his rostrum or tub before him.
Joseph, who whilst he was speaking had continued in one attitude, with
his head reclining on one side, and his eyes cast on the ground, no
sooner perceived, on looking up, the position of Adams, who was
stretched on his back, and snored louder than the usual braying of the
animal with long ears, than he turned towards Fanny, and, taking her
by the hand, began a dalliance, which, though consistent with the
purest innocence and decency, neither he would have attempted nor she
permitted before any witness. Whilst they amused themselves in this
harmless and delightful manner they heard a pack of hounds approaching
in full cry towards them, and presently afterwards saw a hare pop
forth from the wood, and, crossing the water, land within a few yards
of them in the meadows. The hare was no sooner on shore than it seated
itself on its hinder legs, and listened to the sound of the pursuers.
Fanny was wonderfully pleased with the little wretch, and eagerly
longed to have it in her arms that she might preserve it from the
dangers which seemed to threaten it; but the rational part of the
creation do not always aptly distinguish their friends from their foes;
what wonder then if this silly creature, the moment it beheld her,
fled from the friend who would have protected it, and, traversing the
meadows again, passed the little rivulet on the opposite side? It was,
however, so spent and weak, that it fell down twice or thrice in its
way. This affected the tender heart of Fanny, who exclaimed, with tears
in her eyes, against the barbarity of worrying a poor innocent
defenceless animal out of its life, and putting it to the extremest
torture for diversion. She had not much time to make reflections of
this kind, for on a sudden the hounds rushed through the wood, which
resounded with their throats and the throats of their retinue, who
attended on them on horseback. The dogs now past the rivulet, and
pursued the footsteps of the hare; five horsemen attempted to leap
over, three of whom succeeded, and two were in the attempt thrown from
their saddles into the water; their companions, and their own horses
too, proceeded after their sport, and left their friends and riders to
invoke the assistance of Fortune, or employ the more active means of
strength and agility for their deliverance. Joseph, however, was not
so unconcerned on this occasion; he left Fanny for a moment to herself,
and ran to the gentlemen, who were immediately on their legs, shaking
their ears, and easily, with the help of his hand, obtained the bank
(for the rivulet was not at all deep); and, without staying to thank
their kind assister, ran dripping across the meadow, calling to their
brother sportsmen to stop their horses; but they heard them not.
The hounds were now very little behind their poor reeling, staggering
prey, which, fainting almost at every step, crawled through the wood,
and had almost got round to the place where Fanny stood, when it was
overtaken by its enemies, and being driven out of the covert, was
caught, and instantly tore to pieces before Fanny's face, who was unable
to assist it with any aid more powerful than pity; nor could she prevail
on Joseph, who had been himself a sportsman in his youth, to attempt
anything contrary to the laws of hunting in favour of the hare, which he
said was killed fairly.
The hare was caught within a yard or two of Adams, who lay asleep at
some distance from the lovers; and the hounds, in devouring it, and
pulling it backwards and forwards, had drawn it so close to him, that
some of them (by mistake perhaps for the hare's skin) laid hold of the
skirts of his cassock; others at the same time applying their teeth to
his wig, which he had with a handkerchief fastened to his head, began to
pull him about; and had not the motion of his body had more effect on
him than seemed to be wrought by the noise, they must certainly have
tasted his flesh, which delicious flavour might have been fatal to him;
but being roused by these tuggings, he instantly awaked, and with a jerk
delivering his head from his wig, he with most admirable dexterity
recovered his legs, which now seemed the only members he could entrust
his safety to. Having, therefore, escaped likewise from at least a third
part of his cassock, which he willingly left as his _exuviae_ or spoils
to the enemy, he fled with the utmost speed he could summon to his
assistance. Nor let this be any detraction from the bravery of his
character: let the number of the enemies, and the surprize in which he
was taken, be considered; and if there be any modern so outrageously
brave that he cannot admit of flight in any circumstance whatever, I say
(but I whisper that softly, and I solemnly declare without any intention
of giving offence to any brave man in the nation), I say, or rather I
whisper, that he is an ignorant fellow, and hath never read Homer nor
Virgil, nor knows he anything of Hector or Turnus; nay, he is
unacquainted with the history of some great men living, who, though as
brave as lions, ay, as tigers, have run away, the Lord knows how far,
and the Lord knows why, to the surprize of their friends and the
entertainment of their enemies. But if persons of such heroic
disposition are a little offended at the behaviour of Adams, we assure
them they shall be as much pleased with what we shall immediately relate
of Joseph Andrews. The master of the pack was just arrived, or, as the
sportsmen call it, come in, when Adams set out, as we have before
mentioned. This gentleman was generally said to be a great lover of
humour; but, not to mince the matter, especially as we are upon this
subject, he was a great hunter of men; indeed, he had hitherto followed
the sport only with dogs of his own species; for he kept two or three
couple of barking curs for that use only. However, as he thought he had
now found a man nimble enough, he was willing to indulge himself with
other sport, and accordingly, crying out, "Stole away," encouraged the
hounds to pursue Mr Adams, swearing it was the largest jack-hare he ever
saw; at the same time hallooing and hooping as if a conquered foe was
flying before him; in which he was imitated by these two or three couple
of human or rather two-legged curs on horseback which we have mentioned
before.
Now, thou, whoever thou art, whether a muse, or by what other name soever
thou choosest to be called, who presidest over biography, and hast
inspired all the writers of lives in these our times: thou who didst
infuse such wonderful humour into the pen of immortal Gulliver; who hast
carefully guided the judgment whilst thou hast exalted the nervous manly
style of thy Mallet: thou who hadst no hand in that dedication and
preface, or the translations, which thou wouldst willingly have struck
out of the life of Cicero: lastly, thou who, without the assistance of
the least spice of literature, and even against his inclination, hast,
in some pages of his book, forced Colley Cibber to write English; do
thou assist me in what I find myself unequal to. Do thou introduce on
the plain the young, the gay, the brave Joseph Andrews, whilst men shall
view him with admiration and envy, tender virgins with love and anxious
concern for his safety.
No sooner did Joseph Andrews perceive the distress of his friend, when
first the quick-scenting dogs attacked him, than he grasped his cudgel
in his right hand--a cudgel which his father had of his grandfather, to
whom a mighty strong man of Kent had given it for a present in that day
when he broke three heads on the stage. It was a cudgel of mighty
strength and wonderful art, made by one of Mr Deard's best workmen, whom
no other artificer can equal, and who hath made all those sticks which
the beaus have lately walked with about the Park in a morning; but this
was far his masterpiece. On its head was engraved a nose and chin, which
might have been mistaken for a pair of nutcrackers. The learned have
imagined it designed to represent the Gorgon; but it was in fact copied
from the face of a certain long English baronet, of infinite wit, humour,
and gravity. He did intend to have engraved here many histories: as the
first night of Captain B----'s play, where you would have seen critics
in embroidery transplanted from the boxes to the pit, whose ancient
inhabitants were exalted to the galleries, where they played on
catcalls. He did intend to have painted an auction room, where Mr Cock
would have appeared aloft in his pulpit, trumpeting forth the praises of
a china basin, and with astonishment wondering that "Nobody bids more
for that fine, that superb--" He did intend to have engraved many other
things, but was forced to leave all out for want of room.
No sooner had Joseph grasped his cudgel in his hands than lightning
darted from his eyes; and the heroick youth, swift of foot, ran with the
utmost speed to his friend's assistance. He overtook him just as
Rockwood had laid hold of the skirt of his cassock, which, being torn,
hung to the ground. Reader, we would make a simile on this occasion, but
for two reasons: the first is, it would interrupt the description, which
should be rapid in this part; but that doth not weigh much, many
precedents occurring for such an interruption: the second and much the
greater reason is, that we could find no simile adequate to our purpose:
for indeed, what instance could we bring to set before our reader's eyes
at once the idea of friendship, courage, youth, beauty, strength, and
swiftness? all which blazed in the person of Joseph Andrews. Let those,
therefore, that describe lions and tigers, and heroes fiercer than both,
raise their poems or plays with the simile of Joseph Andrews, who is
himself above the reach of any simile.
Now Rockwood had laid fast hold on the parson's skirts, and stopt his
flight; which Joseph no sooner perceived than he levelled his cudgel at
his head and laid him sprawling. Jowler and Ringwood then fell on his
greatcoat, and had undoubtedly brought him to the ground, had not
Joseph, collecting all his force, given Jowler such a rap on the back,
that, quitting his hold, he ran howling over the plain. A harder fate
remained for thee, O Ringwood! Ringwood the best hound that ever pursued
a hare, who never threw his tongue but where the scent was undoubtedly
true; good at trailing, and sure in a highway; no babler, no overrunner;
respected by the whole pack, who, whenever he opened, knew the game was
at hand. He fell by the stroke of Joseph. Thunder and Plunder, and
Wonder and Blunder, were the next victims of his wrath, and measured
their lengths on the ground. Then Fairmaid, a bitch which Mr John Temple
had bred up in his house, and fed at his own table, and lately sent the
squire fifty miles for a present, ran fiercely at Joseph and bit him by
the leg: no dog was ever fiercer than she, being descended from an
Amazonian breed, and had worried bulls in her own country, but now waged
an unequal fight, and had shared the fate of those we have mentioned
before, had not Diana (the reader may believe it or not if he pleases)
in that instant interposed, and, in the shape of the huntsman, snatched
her favourite up in her arms.
The parson now faced about, and with his crabstick felled many to the
earth, and scattered others, till he was attacked by Caesar and pulled
to the ground. Then Joseph flew to his rescue, and with such might
fell on the victor, that, O eternal blot to his name! Caesar ran
yelping away.
The battle now raged with the most dreadful violence, when, lo! the
huntsman, a man of years and dignity, lifted his voice, and called his
hounds from the fight, telling them, in a language they understood, that
it was in vain to contend longer, for that fate had decreed the victory
to their enemies.
Thus far the muse hath with her usual dignity related this prodigious
battle, a battle we apprehend never equalled by any poet, romance or
life writer whatever, and, having brought it to a conclusion, she
ceased; we shall therefore proceed in our ordinary style with the
continuation of this history. The squire and his companions, whom the
figure of Adams and the gallantry of Joseph had at first thrown into a
violent fit of laughter, and who had hitherto beheld the engagement with
more delight than any chase, shooting-match, race, cock-fighting, bull
or bear baiting, had ever given them, began now to apprehend the danger
of their hounds, many of which lay sprawling in the fields. The squire,
therefore, having first called his friends about him, as guards for
safety of his person, rode manfully up to the combatants, and, summoning
all the terror he was master of into his countenance, demanded with an
authoritative voice of Joseph what he meant by assaulting his dogs in
that manner? Joseph answered, with great intrepidity, that they had
first fallen on his friend; and if they had belonged to the greatest man
in the kingdom, he would have treated them in the same way; for, whilst
his veins contained a single drop of blood, he would not stand idle by
and see that gentleman (pointing to Adams) abused either by man or
beast; and, having so said, both he and Adams brandished their wooden
weapons, and put themselves into such a posture, that the squire and his
company thought proper to preponderate before they offered to revenge
the cause of their four-footed allies.
At this instant Fanny, whom the apprehension of Joseph's danger had
alarmed so much that, forgetting her own, she had made the utmost
expedition, came up. The squire and all the horsemen were so
surprized with her beauty, that they immediately fixed both their
eyes and thoughts solely on her, every one declaring he had never
seen so charming a creature. Neither mirth nor anger engaged them a
moment longer, but all sat in silent amaze. The huntsman only was
free from her attraction, who was busy in cutting the ears of the
dogs, and endeavouring to recover them to life; in which he succeeded
so well, that only two of no great note remained slaughtered on the
field of action. Upon this the huntsman declared, "'Twas well it was
no worse; for his part he could not blame the gentleman, and wondered
his master would encourage the dogs to hunt Christians; that it was
the surest way to spoil them, to make them follow vermin instead of
sticking to a hare."
The squire, being informed of the little mischief that had been done,
and perhaps having more mischief of another kind in his head, accosted
Mr Adams with a more favourable aspect than before: he told him he was
sorry for what had happened; that he had endeavoured all he could to
prevent it the moment he was acquainted with his cloth, and greatly
commended the courage of his servant, for so he imagined Joseph to be.
He then invited Mr Adams to dinner, and desired the young woman might
come with him. Adams refused a long while; but the invitation was
repeated with so much earnestness and courtesy, that at length he was
forced to accept it. His wig and hat, and other spoils of the field,
being gathered together by Joseph (for otherwise probably they would
have been forgotten), he put himself into the best order he could; and
then the horse and foot moved forward in the same pace towards the
squire's house, which stood at a very little distance.
Whilst they were on the road the lovely Fanny attracted the eyes of all:
they endeavoured to outvie one another in encomiums on her beauty; which
the reader will pardon my not relating, as they had not anything new or
uncommon in them: so must he likewise my not setting down the many
curious jests which were made on Adams; some of them declaring that
parson-hunting was the best sport in the world; others commending his
standing at bay, which they said he had done as well as any badger; with
such like merriment, which, though it would ill become the dignity of
this history, afforded much laughter and diversion to the squire and his
facetious companions.