CHAPTER XII.
_Containing many surprizing adventures which Joseph Andrews met with onthe road, scarce credible to those who have never travelled in astage-coach._
Nothing remarkable happened on the road till their arrival at the inn towhich the horses were ordered; whither they came about two in themorning. The moon then shone very bright; and Joseph, making his frienda present of a pint of wine, and thanking him for the favour of hishorse, notwithstanding all entreaties to the contrary, proceeded on hisjourney on foot.
He had not gone above two miles, charmed with the hope of shortly seeinghis beloved Fanny, when he was met by two fellows in a narrow lane, andordered to stand and deliver. He readily gave them all the money he had,which was somewhat less than two pounds; and told them he hoped theywould be so generous as to return him a few shillings, to defray hischarges on his way home.
One of the ruffians answered with an oath, "Yes, we'll give yousomething presently: but first strip and be d---n'd to you."--"Strip,"cried the other, "or I'll blow your brains to the devil." Joseph,remembering that he had borrowed his coat and breeches of a friend, andthat he should be ashamed of making any excuse for not returning them,replied, he hoped they would not insist on his clothes, which were notworth much, but consider the coldness of the night. "You are cold, areyou, you rascal?" said one of the robbers: "I'll warm you with avengeance;" and, damning his eyes, snapped a pistol at his head; whichhe had no sooner done than the other levelled a blow at him with hisstick, which Joseph, who was expert at cudgel-playing, caught with his,and returned the favour so successfully on his adversary, that he laidhim sprawling at his feet, and at the same instant received a blow frombehind, with the butt end of a pistol, from the other villain, whichfelled him to the ground, and totally deprived him of his senses.
The thief who had been knocked down had now recovered himself; and bothtogether fell to belabouring poor Joseph with their sticks, till theywere convinced they had put an end to his miserable being: they thenstripped him entirely naked, threw him into a ditch, and departed withtheir booty.
The poor wretch, who lay motionless a long time, just began to recoverhis senses as a stage-coach came by. The postillion, hearing a man'sgroans, stopt his horses, and told the coachman he was certain there wasa dead man lying in the ditch, for he heard him groan. "Go on, sirrah,"says the coachman; "we are confounded late, and have no time to lookafter dead men." A lady, who heard what the postillion said, andlikewise heard the groan, called eagerly to the coachman to stop and seewhat was the matter. Upon which he bid the postillion alight, and lookinto the ditch. He did so, and returned, "that there was a man sittingupright, as naked as ever he was born."--"O J--sus!" cried the lady; "anaked man! Dear coachman, drive on and leave him." Upon this thegentlemen got out of the coach; and Joseph begged them to have mercyupon him: for that he had been robbed and almost beaten to death."Robbed!" cries an old gentleman: "let us make all the haste imaginable,or we shall be robbed too." A young man who belonged to the lawanswered, "He wished they had passed by without taking any notice; butthat now they might be proved to have been last in his company; if heshould die they might be called to some account for his murder. Hetherefore thought it advisable to save the poor creature's life, fortheir own sakes, if possible; at least, if he died, to prevent thejury's finding that they fled for it. He was therefore of opinion totake the man into the coach, and carry him to the next inn." The ladyinsisted, "That he should not come into the coach. That if they liftedhim in, she would herself alight: for she had rather stay in that placeto all eternity than ride with a naked man." The coachman objected,"That he could not suffer him to be taken in unless somebody would pay ashilling for his carriage the four miles." Which the two gentlemenrefused to do. But the lawyer, who was afraid of some mischief happeningto himself, if the wretch was left behind in that condition, saying noman could be too cautious in these matters, and that he remembered veryextraordinary cases in the books, threatened the coachman, and bid himdeny taking him up at his peril; for that, if he died, he should beindicted for his murder; and if he lived, and brought an action againsthim, he would willingly take a brief in it. These words had a sensibleeffect on the coachman, who was well acquainted with the person whospoke them; and the old gentleman above mentioned, thinking the nakedman would afford him frequent opportunities of showing his wit to thelady, offered to join with the company in giving a mug of beer for hisfare; till, partly alarmed by the threats of the one, and partly by thepromises of the other, and being perhaps a little moved with compassionat the poor creature's condition, who stood bleeding and shivering withthe cold, he at length agreed; and Joseph was now advancing to thecoach, where, seeing the lady, who held the sticks of her fan before hereyes, he absolutely refused, miserable as he was, to enter, unless hewas furnished with sufficient covering to prevent giving the leastoffence to decency--so perfectly modest was this young man; such mightyeffects had the spotless example of the amiable Pamela, and theexcellent sermons of Mr Adams, wrought upon him.
Though there were several greatcoats about the coach, it was not easy toget over this difficulty which Joseph had started. The two gentlemencomplained they were cold, and could not spare a rag; the man of witsaying, with a laugh, that charity began at home; and the coachman, whohad two greatcoats spread under him, refused to lend either, lest theyshould be made bloody: the lady's footman desired to be excused for thesame reason, which the lady herself, notwithstanding her abhorrence of anaked man, approved: and it is more than probable poor Joseph, whoobstinately adhered to his modest resolution, must have perished, unlessthe postillion (a lad who hath been since transported for robbing ahen-roost) had voluntarily stript off a greatcoat, his only garment, atthe same time swearing a great oath (for which he was rebuked by thepassengers), "that he would rather ride in his shirt all his life thansuffer a fellow-creature to lie in so miserable a condition."
Joseph, having put on the greatcoat, was lifted into the coach, whichnow proceeded on its journey. He declared himself almost dead with thecold, which gave the man of wit an occasion to ask the lady if she couldnot accommodate him with a dram. She answered, with some resentment,"She wondered at his asking her such a question; but assured him shenever tasted any such thing."
The lawyer was inquiring into the circumstances of the robbery, when thecoach stopt, and one of the ruffians, putting a pistol in, demandedtheir money of the passengers, who readily gave it them; and the lady,in her fright, delivered up a little silver bottle, of about ahalf-pint size, which the rogue, clapping it to his mouth, and drinkingher health, declared, held some of the best Nantes he had ever tasted:this the lady afterwards assured the company was the mistake of hermaid, for that she had ordered her to fill the bottle withHungary-water.
As soon as the fellows were departed, the lawyer, who had, it seems, acase of pistols in the seat of the coach, informed the company, that ifit had been daylight, and he could have come at his pistols, he wouldnot have submitted to the robbery: he likewise set forth that he hadoften met highwaymen when he travelled on horseback, but none ever durstattack him; concluding that, if he had not been more afraid for the ladythan for himself, he should not have now parted with his moneyso easily.
As wit is generally observed to love to reside in empty pockets, so thegentleman whose ingenuity we have above remarked, as soon as he hadparted with his money, began to grow wonderfully facetious. He madefrequent allusions to Adam and Eve, and said many excellent things onfigs and fig-leaves; which perhaps gave more offence to Joseph than toany other in the company.
The lawyer likewise made several very pretty jests without departingfrom his profession. He said, "If Joseph and the lady were alone, hewould be more capable of making a conveyance to her, as his affairs werenot fettered with any incumbrance; he'd warrant he soon suffered arecovery by a writ of entry, which was the proper way to create heirs intail; that, for his own part, he would engage to make so firm asettlement in a coach, that there should be no danger of an ejectment,"with a
n inundation of the like gibberish, which he continued to venttill the coach arrived at an inn, where one servant-maid only was up, inreadiness to attend the coachman, and furnish him with cold meat and adram. Joseph desired to alight, and that he might have a bed preparedfor him, which the maid readily promised to perform; and, being agood-natured wench, and not so squeamish as the lady had been, she clapta large fagot on the fire, and, furnishing Joseph with a greatcoatbelonging to one of the hostlers, desired him to sit down and warmhimself whilst she made his bed. The coachman, in the meantime, took anopportunity to call up a surgeon, who lived within a few doors; afterwhich, he reminded his passengers how late they were, and, after theyhad taken leave of Joseph, hurried them off as fast as he could.
The wench soon got Joseph to bed, and promised to use her interest toborrow him a shirt; but imagining, as she afterwards said, by his beingso bloody, that he must be a dead man, she ran with all speed to hastenthe surgeon, who was more than half drest, apprehending that the coachhad been overturned, and some gentleman or lady hurt. As soon as thewench had informed him at his window that it was a poor foot-passengerwho had been stripped of all he had, and almost murdered, he chid herfor disturbing him so early, slipped off his clothes again, and veryquietly returned to bed and to sleep.
Aurora now began to shew her blooming cheeks over the hills, whilst tenmillions of feathered songsters, in jocund chorus, repeated odes athousand times sweeter than those of our laureat, and sung both the dayand the song; when the master of the inn, Mr Tow-wouse, arose, andlearning from his maid an account of the robbery, and the situation ofhis poor naked guest, he shook his head, and cried, "good-lack-a-day!"and then ordered the girl to carry him one of his own shirts.
Mrs Tow-wouse was just awake, and had stretched out her arms in vain tofold her departed husband, when the maid entered the room. "Who's there?Betty?"--"Yes, madam."--"Where's your master?"--"He's without, madam;he hath sent me for a shirt to lend a poor naked man, who hath beenrobbed and murdered."--"Touch one if you dare, you slut," said MrsTow-wouse: "your master is a pretty sort of a man, to take in nakedvagabonds, and clothe them with his own clothes. I shall have no suchdoings. If you offer to touch anything, I'll throw the chamber-pot atyour head. Go, send your master to me."--"Yes, madam," answered Betty.As soon as he came in, she thus began: "What the devil do you mean bythis, Mr Tow-wouse? Am I to buy shirts to lend to a set of scabbyrascals?"--"My dear," said Mr Tow-wouse, "this is a poorwretch."--"Yes," says she, "I know it is a poor wretch; but what thedevil have we to do with poor wretches? The law makes us provide for toomany already. We shall have thirty or forty poor wretches in red coatsshortly."--"My dear," cries Tow-wouse, "this man hath been robbed of allhe hath."--"Well then," said she, "where's his money to pay hisreckoning? Why doth not such a fellow go to an alehouse? I shall sendhim packing as soon as I am up, I assure you."--"My dear," said he,"common charity won't suffer you to do that."--"Common charity, a f--t!"says she, "common charity teaches us to provide for ourselves and ourfamilies; and I and mine won't be ruined by your charity, I assureyou."--"Well," says he, "my dear, do as you will, when you are up; youknow I never contradict you."--"No," says she; "if the devil was tocontradict me, I would make the house too hot to hold him."
With such like discourses they consumed near half-an-hour, whilst Bettyprovided a shirt from the hostler, who was one of her sweethearts, andput it on poor Joseph. The surgeon had likewise at last visited him, andwashed and drest his wounds, and was now come to acquaint Mr Tow-wousethat his guest was in such extreme danger of his life, that he scarcesaw any hopes of his recovery. "Here's a pretty kettle of fish," criesMrs Tow-wouse, "you have brought upon us! We are like to have a funeralat our own expense." Tow-wouse (who, notwithstanding his charity, wouldhave given his vote as freely as ever he did at an election, that anyother house in the kingdom should have quiet possession of his guest)answered, "My dear, I am not to blame; he was brought hither by thestage-coach, and Betty had put him to bed before I was stirring."--"I'llBetty her," says she.--At which, with half her garments on, the otherhalf under her arm, she sallied out in quest of the unfortunate Betty,whilst Tow-wouse and the surgeon went to pay a visit to poor Joseph, andinquire into the circumstances of this melancholy affair.
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