Joseph Andrews, Vol. 1 Read online

  CHAPTER XIV.

  _Being very full of adventures which succeeded each other at the inn._

  It was now the dusk of the evening, when a grave person rode into theinn, and, committing his horse to the hostler, went directly into thekitchen, and, having called for a pipe of tobacco, took his place by thefireside, where several other persons were likewise assembled.

  The discourse ran altogether on the robbery which was committed thenight before, and on the poor wretch who lay above in the dreadfulcondition in which we have already seen him. Mrs Tow-wouse said, "Shewondered what the devil Tom Whipwell meant by bringing such guests toher house, when there were so many alehouses on the road proper fortheir reception. But she assured him, if he died, the parish should beat the expense of the funeral." She added, "Nothing would serve thefellow's turn but tea, she would assure him." Betty, who was justreturned from her charitable office, answered, she believed he was agentleman, for she never saw a finer skin in her life. "Pox on hisskin!" replied Mrs Tow-wouse, "I suppose that is all we are like to havefor the reckoning. I desire no such gentlemen should ever call at theDragon" (which it seems was the sign of the inn).

  The gentleman lately arrived discovered a great deal of emotion at thedistress of this poor creature, whom he observed to be fallen not intothe most compassionate hands. And indeed, if Mrs Tow-wouse had given noutterance to the sweetness of her temper, nature had taken such pains inher countenance, that Hogarth himself never gave more expression toa picture.

  Her person was short, thin, and crooked. Her forehead projected in themiddle, and thence descended in a declivity to the top of her nose,which was sharp and red, and would have hung over her lips, had notnature turned up the end of it. Her lips were two bits of skin, which,whenever she spoke, she drew together in a purse. Her chin was peaked;and at the upper end of that skin which composed her cheeks, stood twobones, that almost hid a pair of small red eyes. Add to this a voicemost wonderfully adapted to the sentiments it was to convey, being bothloud and hoarse.

  It is not easy to say whether the gentleman had conceived a greaterdislike for his landlady or compassion for her unhappy guest. Heinquired very earnestly of the surgeon, who was now come into thekitchen, whether he had any hopes of his recovery? He begged him to useall possible means towards it, telling him, "it was the duty of men ofall professions to apply their skill gratis for the relief of the poorand necessitous." The surgeon answered, "He should take proper care; buthe defied all the surgeons in London to do him any good."--"Pray, sir,"said the gentleman, "what are his wounds?"--"Why, do you know anythingof wounds?" says the surgeon (winking upon Mrs Tow-wouse).--"Sir, I havea small smattering in surgery," answered the gentleman.--"Asmattering--ho, ho, ho!" said the surgeon; "I believe it is asmattering indeed."

  The company were all attentive, expecting to hear the doctor, who waswhat they call a dry fellow, expose the gentleman.

  He began therefore with an air of triumph: "I suppose, sir, you havetravelled?"--"No, really, sir," said the gentleman.--"Ho! then you havepractised in the hospitals perhaps?"--"No, sir."--"Hum! not thatneither? Whence, sir, then, if I may be so bold to inquire, have you gotyour knowledge in surgery?"--"Sir," answered the gentleman, "I do notpretend to much; but the little I know I have from books."--"Books!"cries the doctor. "What, I suppose you have read Galen andHippocrates!"--"No, sir," said the gentleman.--"How! you understandsurgery," answers the doctor, "and not read Galen and Hippocrates?"--"Sir," cries the other, "I believe there are many surgeons who havenever read these authors."--"I believe so too," says the doctor, "moreshame for them; but, thanks to my education, I have them by heart, andvery seldom go without them both in my pocket."--"They are pretty largebooks," said the gentleman.--"Aye," said the doctor, "I believe I knowhow large they are better than you." (At which he fell a winking, andthe whole company burst into a laugh.)

  The doctor pursuing his triumph, asked the gentleman, "If he did notunderstand physic as well as surgery." "Rather better," answered thegentleman.--"Aye, like enough," cries the doctor, with a wink. "Why, Iknow a little of physic too."--"I wish I knew half so much," saidTow-wouse, "I'd never wear an apron again."--"Why, I believe, landlord,"cries the doctor, "there are few men, though I say it, within twelvemiles of the place, that handle a fever better. _Veniente accurritemorbo_: that is my method. I suppose, brother, you understand_Latin_?"--"A little," says the gentleman.--"Aye, and Greek now, I'llwarrant you: _Ton dapomibominos poluflosboio Thalasses_. But I havealmost forgot these things: I could have repeated Homer by heartonce."--"Ifags! the gentleman has caught a traytor," says Mrs Tow-wouse;at which they all fell a laughing.

  The gentleman, who had not the least affection for joking, verycontentedly suffered the doctor to enjoy his victory, which he did withno small satisfaction; and, having sufficiently sounded his depth, toldhim, "He was thoroughly convinced of his great learning and abilities;and that he would be obliged to him if he would let him know his opinionof his patient's case above-stairs."--"Sir," says the doctor, "his caseis that of a dead man--the contusion on his head has perforated theinternal membrane of the occiput, and divelicated that radical smallminute invisible nerve which coheres to the pericranium; and this wasattended with a fever at first symptomatic, then pneumatic; and he is atlength grown deliriuus, or delirious, as the vulgar express it."

  He was proceeding in this learned manner, when a mighty noiseinterrupted him. Some young fellows in the neighbourhood had taken oneof the thieves, and were bringing him into the inn. Betty ran upstairswith this news to Joseph, who begged they might search for a littlepiece of broken gold, which had a ribband tied to it, and which he couldswear to amongst all the hoards of the richest men in the universe.

  Notwithstanding the fellow's persisting in his innocence, the mob werevery busy in searching him, and presently, among other things, pulledout the piece of gold just mentioned; which Betty no sooner saw than shelaid violent hands on it, and conveyed it up to Joseph, who received itwith raptures of joy, and, hugging it in his bosom, declared he couldnow die contented.

  Within a few minutes afterwards came in some other fellows, with abundle which they had found in a ditch, and which was indeed the cloathswhich had been stripped off from Joseph, and the other things they hadtaken from him.

  The gentleman no sooner saw the coat than he declared he knew thelivery; and, if it had been taken from the poor creature above-stairs,desired he might see him; for that he was very well acquainted with thefamily to whom that livery belonged.

  He was accordingly conducted up by Betty; but what, reader, was thesurprize on both sides, when he saw Joseph was the person in bed, andwhen Joseph discovered the face of his good friend Mr Abraham Adams!

  It would be impertinent to insert a discourse which chiefly turned onthe relation of matters already well known to the reader; for, as soonas the curate had satisfied Joseph concerning the perfect health of hisFanny, he was on his side very inquisitive into all the particularswhich had produced this unfortunate accident.

  To return therefore to the kitchen, where a great variety of companywere now assembled from all the rooms of the house, as well as theneighbourhood: so much delight do men take in contemplating thecountenance of a thief.

  Mr Tow-wouse began to rub his hands with pleasure at seeing so large anassembly; who would, he hoped, shortly adjourn into several apartments,in order to discourse over the robbery, and drink a health to all honestmen. But Mrs Tow-wouse, whose misfortune it was commonly to see things alittle perversely, began to rail at those who brought the fellow intoher house; telling her husband, "They were very likely to thrive whokept a house of entertainment for beggars and thieves."

  The mob had now finished their search, and could find nothing about thecaptive likely to prove any evidence; for as to the cloaths, though themob were very well satisfied with that proof, yet, as the surgeonobserved, they could not convict him, because they were not found in hiscustody; to which Barnabas agreed, and added that these were _bonawaviata_, and belonged to the
lord of the manor.

  "How," says the surgeon, "do you say these goods belong to the lord ofthe manor?"--"I do," cried Barnabas.--"Then I deny it," says thesurgeon: "what can the lord of the manor have to do in the case? Willany one attempt to persuade me that what a man finds is not hisown?"--"I have heard," says an old fellow in the corner, "justiceWise-one say, that, if every man had his right, whatever is foundbelongs to the king of London."--"That may be true," says Barnabas, "insome sense; for the law makes a difference between things stolen andthings found; for a thing may be stolen that never is found, and a thingmay be found that never was stolen: Now, goods that are both stolen andfound are _waviata_; and they belong to the lord of the manor."--"So thelord of the manor is the receiver of stolen goods," says the doctor; atwhich there was an universal laugh, being first begun by himself.

  While the prisoner, by persisting in his innocence, had almost (as therewas no evidence against him) brought over Barnabas, the surgeon,Tow-wouse, and several others to his side, Betty informed them that theyhad overlooked a little piece of gold, which she had carried up to theman in bed, and which he offered to swear to amongst a million, aye,amongst ten thousand. This immediately turned the scale against theprisoner, and every one now concluded him guilty. It was resolved,therefore, to keep him secured that night, and early in the morning tocarry him before a justice.