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

CHAPTER XII.
_More adventures, which we hope will as much please as surprize
the reader._
Neither the facetious dialogue which passed between the poet and the
player, nor the grave and truly solemn discourse of Mr Adams, will, we
conceive, make the reader sufficient amends for the anxiety which he
must have felt on the account of poor Fanny, whom we left in so
deplorable a condition. We shall therefore now proceed to the relation
of what happened to that beautiful and innocent virgin, after she fell
into the wicked hands of the captain.
The man of war, having conveyed his charming prize out of the inn a
little before day, made the utmost expedition in his power towards the
squire's house, where this delicate creature was to be offered up a
sacrifice to the lust of a ravisher. He was not only deaf to all her
bewailings and entreaties on the road, but accosted her ears with
impurities which, having been never before accustomed to them, she
happily for herself very little understood. At last he changed his note,
and attempted to soothe and mollify her, by setting forth the splendor
and luxury which would be her fortune with a man who would have the
inclination, and power too, to give her whatever her utmost wishes could
desire; and told her he doubted not but she would soon look kinder on
him, as the instrument of her happiness, and despise that pitiful fellow
whom her ignorance only could make her fond of. She answered, she knew
not whom he meant; she never was fond of any pitiful fellow. "Are you
affronted, madam," says he, "at my calling him so? But what better can
be said of one in a livery, notwithstanding your fondness for him?" She
returned, that she did not understand him, that the man had been her
fellow-servant, and she believed was as honest a creature as any alive;
but as for fondness for men--"I warrant ye," cries the captain, "we
shall find means to persuade you to be fond; and I advise you to yield
to gentle ones, for you may be assured that it is not in your power, by
any struggles whatever, to preserve your virginity two hours longer. It
will be your interest to consent; for the squire will be much kinder to
you if he enjoys you willingly than by force." At which words she began
to call aloud for assistance (for it was now open day), but, finding
none, she lifted her eyes to heaven, and supplicated the Divine
assistance to preserve her innocence. The captain told her, if she
persisted in her vociferation, he would find a means of stopping her
mouth. And now the poor wretch, perceiving no hopes of succour,
abandoned herself to despair, and, sighing out the name of Joseph!
Joseph! a river of tears ran down her lovely cheeks, and wet the
handkerchief which covered her bosom. A horseman now appeared in the
road, upon which the captain threatened her violently if she complained;
however, the moment they approached each other she begged him with the
utmost earnestness to relieve a distressed creature who was in the hands
of a ravisher. The fellow stopt at those words, but the captain assured
him it was his wife, and that he was carrying her home from her
adulterer, which so satisfied the fellow, who was an old one (and
perhaps a married one too), that he wished him a good journey, and rode
on. He was no sooner past than the captain abused her violently for
breaking his commands, and threatened to gagg her, when two more
horsemen, armed with pistols, came into the road just before them. She
again solicited their assistance, and the captain told the same story as
before. Upon which one said to the other, "That's a charming wench,
Jack; I wish I had been in the fellow's place, whoever he is." But the
other, instead of answering him, cried out, "Zounds, I know her;" and
then, turning to her, said, "Sure you are not Fanny Goodwill?"--"Indeed,
indeed, I am," she cried--"O John, I know you now-Heaven hath sent you
to my assistance, to deliver me from this wicked man, who is carrying me
away for his vile purposes--O for God's sake rescue me from him!" A
fierce dialogue immediately ensued between the captain and these two
men, who, being both armed with pistols, and the chariot which they
attended being now arrived, the captain saw both force and stratagem
were vain, and endeavoured to make his escape, in which however he could
not succeed. The gentleman who rode in the chariot ordered it to stop,
and with an air of authority examined into the merits of the cause; of
which being advertised by Fanny, whose credit was confirmed by the
fellow who knew her, he ordered the captain, who was all bloody from his
encounter at the inn, to be conveyed as a prisoner behind the chariot,
and very gallantly took Fanny into it; for, to say the truth, this
gentleman (who was no other than the celebrated Mr Peter Pounce, and who
preceded the Lady Booby only a few miles, by setting out earlier in the
morning) was a very gallant person, and loved a pretty girl better than
anything besides his own money or the money of other people.
The chariot now proceeded towards the inn, which, as Fanny was informed,
lay in their way, and where it arrived at that very time while the poet
and player were disputing below-stairs, and Adams and Joseph were
discoursing back to back above; just at that period to which we brought
them both in the two preceding chapters the chariot stopt at the door,
and in an instant Fanny, leaping from it, ran up to her Joseph.--O
reader! conceive if thou canst the joy which fired the breasts of these
lovers on this meeting; and if thy own heart doth not sympathetically
assist thee in this conception, I pity thee sincerely from my own; for
let the hard-hearted villain know this, that there is a pleasure in a
tender sensation beyond any which he is capable of tasting.
Peter, being informed by Fanny of the presence of Adams, stopt to see
him, and receive his homage; for, as Peter was an hypocrite, a sort of
people whom Mr Adams never saw through, the one paid that respect to his
seeming goodness which the other believed to be paid to his riches;
hence Mr Adams was so much his favourite, that he once lent him four
pounds thirteen shillings and sixpence to prevent his going to gaol, on
no greater security than a bond and judgment, which probably he would
have made no use of, though the money had not been (as it was) paid
exactly at the time.
It is not perhaps easy to describe the figure of Adams; he had risen in
such a hurry, that he had on neither breeches, garters, nor stockings;
nor had he taken from his head a red spotted handkerchief, which by
night bound his wig, turned inside out, around his head. He had on his
torn cassock and his greatcoat; but, as the remainder of his cassock
hung down below his greatcoat, so did a small stripe of white, or rather
whitish, linen appear below that; to which we may add the several
colours which appeared on his face, where a long piss-burnt beard served
to retain the liquor of the stone-pot, and that of a blacker hue which
distilled from the mop.--This figure, which Fanny had delivered from his
captivity, was no sooner spied by Peter than it disordered the composed
gravity of his muscles; however, he advised him immediately to make
himself clean, nor would accept his homage in that pickle.
The poet and player no sooner saw the captain in captivity than they
began to consider of their own safety, of which flight presented itself
as the only means; they therefore both of them mounted the poet's horse,
and made the most expeditious retreat in their power.
The host, who well knew Mr Pounce and Lady Booby's livery, was not a
little surprized at this change of the scene; nor was his confusion much
helped by his wife, who was now just risen, and, having heard from him
the account of what had passed, comforted him with a decent number of
fools and blockheads; asked him why he did not consult her, and told him
he would never leave following the nonsensical dictates of his own
numskull till she and her family were ruined.
Joseph, being informed of the captain's arrival, and seeing his Fanny
now in safety, quitted her a moment, and, running downstairs, went
directly to him, and stripping off his coat, challenged him to fight;
but the captain refused, saying he did not understand boxing. He then
grasped a cudgel in one hand, and, catching the captain by the collar
with the other, gave him a most severe drubbing, and ended with telling
him he had now had some revenge for what his dear Fanny had suffered.
When Mr Pounce had a little regaled himself with some provision which he
had in his chariot, and Mr Adams had put on the best appearance his
clothes would allow him, Pounce ordered the captain into his presence,
for he said he was guilty of felony, and the next justice of peace
should commit him; but the servants (whose appetite for revenge is soon
satisfied), being sufficiently contented with the drubbing which Joseph
had inflicted on him, and which was indeed of no very moderate kind, had
suffered him to go off, which he did, threatening a severe revenge
against Joseph, which I have never heard he thought proper to take.
The mistress of the house made her voluntary appearance before Mr
Pounce, and with a thousand curtsies told him, "She hoped his honour
would pardon her husband, who was a very nonsense man, for the sake of
his poor family; that indeed if he could be ruined alone, she should be
very willing of it; for because as why, his worship very well knew he
deserved it; but she had three poor small children, who were not capable
to get their own living; and if her husband was sent to gaol, they must
all come to the parish; for she was a poor weak woman, continually
a-breeding, and had no time to work for them. She therefore hoped his
honour would take it into his worship's consideration, and forgive her
husband this time; for she was sure he never intended any harm to man,
woman, or child; and if it was not for that block-head of his own, the
man in some things was well enough; for she had had three children by
him in less than three years, and was almost ready to cry out the fourth
time." She would have proceeded in this manner much longer, had not
Peter stopt her tongue, by telling her he had nothing to say to her
husband nor her neither. So, as Adams and the rest had assured her of
forgiveness, she cried and curtsied out of the room.
Mr Pounce was desirous that Fanny should continue her journey with him
in the chariot; but she absolutely refused, saying she would ride behind
Joseph on a horse which one of Lady Booby's servants had equipped him
with. But, alas! when the horse appeared, it was found to be no other
than that identical beast which Mr Adams had left behind him at the inn,
and which these honest fellows, who knew him, had redeemed. Indeed,
whatever horse they had provided for Joseph, they would have prevailed
with him to mount none, no, not even to ride before his beloved Fanny,
till the parson was supplied; much less would he deprive his friend of
the beast which belonged to him, and which he knew the moment he saw,
though Adams did not; however, when he was reminded of the affair, and
told that they had brought the horse with them which he left behind, he
answered--Bless me! and so I did.
Adams was very desirous that Joseph and Fanny should mount this horse,
and declared he could very easily walk home. "If I walked alone," says
he, "I would wage a shilling that the pedestrian outstripped the
equestrian travellers; but, as I intend to take the company of a pipe,
peradventure I may be an hour later." One of the servants whispered
Joseph to take him at his word, and suffer the old put to walk if he
would: this proposal was answered with an angry look and a peremptory
refusal by Joseph, who, catching Fanny up in his arms, averred he would
rather carry her home in that manner, than take away Mr Adams's horse
and permit him to walk on foot.
Perhaps, reader, thou hast seen a contest between two gentlemen, or two
ladies, quickly decided, though they have both asserted they would not
eat such a nice morsel, and each insisted on the other's accepting it;
but in reality both were very desirous to swallow it themselves. Do not
therefore conclude hence that this dispute would have come to a speedy
decision: for here both parties were heartily in earnest, and it is very
probable they would have remained in the inn-yard to this day, had not
the good Peter Pounce put a stop to it; for, finding he had no longer
hopes of satisfying his old appetite with Fanny, and being desirous of
having some one to whom he might communicate his grandeur, he told the
parson he would convey him home in his chariot. This favour was by
Adams, with many bows and acknowledgments, accepted, though he
afterwards said, "he ascended the chariot rather that he might not
offend than from any desire of riding in it, for that in his heart he
preferred the pedestrian even to the vehicular expedition." All matters
being now settled, the chariot, in which rode Adams and Pounce, moved
forwards; and Joseph having borrowed a pillion from the host, Fanny had
just seated herself thereon, and had laid hold of the girdle which her
lover wore for that purpose, when the wise beast, who concluded that one
at a time was sufficient, that two to one were odds, &c., discovered
much uneasiness at his double load, and began to consider his hinder as
his fore legs, moving the direct contrary way to that which is called
forwards. Nor could Joseph, with all his horsemanship, persuade him to
advance; but, without having any regard to the lovely part of the lovely
girl which was on his back, he used such agitations, that, had not one
of the men come immediately to her assistance, she had, in plain
English, tumbled backwards on the ground. This inconvenience was
presently remedied by an exchange of horses; and then Fanny being again
placed on her pillion, on a better-natured and somewhat a better-fed
beast, the parson's horse, finding he had no longer odds to contend
with, agreed to march; and the whole procession set forwards for
Booby-hall, where they arrived in a few hours without anything
remarkable happening on the road, unless it was a curious dialogue
between the parson and the steward: which, to use the language of a late
Apologist, a pattern to all biographers, "waits for the reader in the
next chapter."