CHAPTER XVII.
_A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and his host, which, by thedisagreement in their opinions, seemed to threaten an unluckycatastrophe, had it not been timely prevented by the return ofthe lovers._
"Sir," said the host, "I assure you you are not the first to whom oursquire hath promised more than he hath performed. He is so famous forthis practice, that his word will not be taken for much by those whoknow him. I remember a young fellow whom he promised his parents to makean exciseman. The poor people, who could ill afford it, bred their sonto writing and accounts, and other learning to qualify him for theplace; and the boy held up his head above his condition with thesehopes; nor would he go to plough, nor to any other kind of work, andwent constantly drest as fine as could be, with two clean Holland shirtsa week, and this for several years; till at last he followed the squireup to London, thinking there to mind him of his promises; but he couldnever get sight of him. So that, being out of money and business, hefell into evil company and wicked courses; and in the end came to asentence of transportation, the news of which broke the mother'sheart.--I will tell you another true story of him. There was a neighbourof mine, a farmer, who had two sons whom he bred up to the business.Pretty lads they were. Nothing would serve the squire but that theyoungest must be made a parson. Upon which he persuaded the father tosend him to school, promising that he would afterwards maintain him atthe university, and, when he was of a proper age, give him a living. Butafter the lad had been seven years at school, and his father brought himto the squire, with a letter from his master that he was fit for theuniversity, the squire, instead of minding his promise, or sending himthither at his expense, only told his father that the young man was afine scholar, and it was pity he could not afford to keep him at Oxfordfor four or five years more, by which time, if he could get him acuracy, he might have him ordained. The farmer said, 'He was not a mansufficient to do any such thing.'--'Why, then,' answered the squire, 'Iam very sorry you have given him so much learning; for, if he cannot gethis living by that, it will rather spoil him for anything else; and yourother son, who can hardly write his name, will do more at ploughing andsowing, and is in a better condition, than he.' And indeed so it proved;for the poor lad, not finding friends to maintain him in his learning,as he had expected, and being unwilling to work, fell to drinking,though he was a very sober lad before; and in a short time, partly withgrief, and partly with good liquor, fell into a consumption, anddied.--Nay, I can tell you more still: there was another, a young woman,and the handsomest in all this neighbourhood, whom he enticed up toLondon, promising to make her a gentlewoman to one of your women ofquality; but, instead of keeping his word, we have since heard, afterhaving a child by her himself, she became a common whore; then kept acoffeehouse in Covent Garden; and a little after died of the Frenchdistemper in a gaol.--I could tell you many more stories; but how do youimagine he served me myself? You must know, sir, I was bred a seafaringman, and have been many voyages; till at last I came to be master of aship myself, and was in a fair way of making a fortune, when I wasattacked by one of those cursed guarda-costas who took our ships beforethe beginning of the war; and after a fight, wherein I lost the greaterpart of my crew, my rigging being all demolished, and two shots receivedbetween wind and water, I was forced to strike. The villains carried offmy ship, a brigantine of 150 tons--a pretty creature she was--and put me,a man, and a boy, into a little bad pink, in which, with much ado, we atlast made Falmouth; though I believe the Spaniards did not imagine shecould possibly live a day at sea. Upon my return hither, where my wife,who was of this country, then lived, the squire told me he was sopleased with the defence I had made against the enemy, that he did notfear getting me promoted to a lieutenancy of a man-of-war, if I wouldaccept of it; which I thankfully assured him I would. Well, sir, two orthree years passed, during which I had many repeated promises, not onlyfrom the squire, but (as he told me) from the lords of the admiralty. Henever returned from London but I was assured I might be satisfied now,for I was certain of the first vacancy; and, what surprizes me still,when I reflect on it, these assurances were given me with no lessconfidence, after so many disappointments, than at first. At last, sir,growing weary, and somewhat suspicious, after so much delay, I wrote toa friend in London, who I knew had some acquaintance at the best housein the admiralty, and desired him to back the squire's interest; forindeed I feared he had solicited the affair with more coldness than hepretended. And what answer do you think my friend sent me? Truly, sir,he acquainted me that the squire had never mentioned my name at theadmiralty in his life; and, unless I had much faithfuller interest,advised me to give over my pretensions; which I immediately did, and,with the concurrence of my wife, resolved to set up an alehouse, whereyou are heartily welcome; and so my service to you; and may the squire,and all such sneaking rascals, go to the devil together."--"O fie!" saysAdams, "O fie! He is indeed a wicked man; but G-- will, I hope, turn hisheart to repentance. Nay, if he could but once see the meanness of thisdetestable vice; would he but once reflect that he is one of the mostscandalous as well as pernicious lyars; sure he must despise himself toso intolerable a degree, that it would be impossible for him to continuea moment in such a course. And to confess the truth, notwithstanding thebaseness of this character, which he hath too well deserved, he hath inhis countenance sufficient symptoms of that _bona indoles_, thatsweetness of disposition, which furnishes out a good Christian."--"Ah,master! master!" says the host, "if you had travelled as far as I have,and conversed with the many nations where I have traded, you would notgive any credit to a man's countenance. Symptoms in his countenance,quotha! I would look there, perhaps, to see whether a man had thesmall-pox, but for nothing else." He spoke this with so little regard tothe parson's observation, that it a good deal nettled him; and, takingthe pipe hastily from his mouth, he thus answered: "Master of mine,perhaps I have travelled a great deal farther than you without theassistance of a ship. Do you imagine sailing by different cities orcountries is travelling? No.
"Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.
"I can go farther in an afternoon than you in a twelvemonth. What, Isuppose you have seen the Pillars of Hercules, and perhaps the walls ofCarthage. Nay, you may have heard Scylla, and seen Charybdis; you mayhave entered the closet where Archimedes was found at the taking ofSyracuse. I suppose you have sailed among the Cyclades, and passed thefamous straits which take their name from the unfortunate Helle, whosefate is sweetly described by Apollonius Rhodius; you have passed thevery spot, I conceive, where Daedalus fell into that sea, his waxenwings being melted by the sun; you have traversed the Euxine sea, I makeno doubt; nay, you may have been on the banks of the Caspian, and calledat Colchis, to see if there is ever another golden fleece." "Not I,truly, master," answered the host: "I never touched at any of theseplaces."--"But I have been at all these," replied Adams. "Then, Isuppose," cries the host, "you have been at the East Indies; for thereare no such, I will be sworn, either in the West or the Levant."--"Praywhere's the Levant?" quoth Adams; "that should be in the East Indies byright." "Oho! you are a pretty traveller," cries the host, "and not knowthe Levant! My service to you, master; you must not talk of these thingswith me! you must not tip us the traveller; it won't go here." "Sincethou art so dull to misunderstand me still," quoth Adams, "I will informthee; the travelling I mean is in books, the only way of travelling bywhich any knowledge is to be acquired. From them I learn what I assertedjust now, that nature generally imprints such a portraiture of the mindin the countenance, that a skilful physiognomist will rarely bedeceived. I presume you have never read the story of Socrates to thispurpose, and therefore I will tell it you. A certain physiognomistasserted of Socrates, that he plainly discovered by his features that hewas a rogue in his nature. A character so contrary to the tenour of allthis great man's actions, and the generally received opinion concerninghim, incensed the boys of Athens so that they threw stones at thephysiognomist, and would have demolished him for his ignorance, had
notSocrates himself prevented them by confessing the truth of hisobservations, and acknowledging that, though he corrected hisdisposition by philosophy, he was indeed naturally as inclined to viceas had been predicated of him. Now, pray resolve me--How should a manknow this story if he had not read it?" "Well, master," said the host,"and what signifies it whether a man knows it or no? He who goes abroad,as I have done, will always have opportunities enough of knowing theworld without troubling his head with Socrates, or any such fellows.""Friend," cries Adams, "if a man should sail round the world, and anchorin every harbour of it, without learning, he would return home asignorant as he went out." "Lord help you!" answered the host; "there wasmy boatswain, poor fellow! he could scarce either write or read, and yethe would navigate a ship with any master of a man-of-war; and a verypretty knowledge of trade he had too." "Trade," answered Adams, "asAristotle proves in his first chapter of Politics, is below aphilosopher, and unnatural as it is managed now." The host lookedstedfastly at Adams, and after a minute's silence asked him, "If he wasone of the writers of the Gazetteers? for I have heard," says he, "theyare writ by parsons." "Gazetteers!" answered Adams, "what is that?" "Itis a dirty newspaper," replied the host, "which hath been given away allover the nation for these many years, to abuse trade and honest men,which I would not suffer to lye on my table, though it hath been offeredme for nothing." "Not I truly," said Adams; "I never write anything butsermons; and I assure you I am no enemy to trade, whilst it isconsistent with honesty; nay, I have always looked on the tradesman as avery valuable member of society, and, perhaps, inferior to none but theman of learning." "No, I believe he is not, nor to him neither,"answered the host. "Of what use would learning be in a country withouttrade? What would all you parsons do to clothe your backs and feed yourbellies? Who fetches you your silks, and your linens, and your wines,and all the other necessaries of life? I speak chiefly with regard tothe sailors." "You should say the extravagancies of life," replied theparson; "but admit they were the necessaries, there is something morenecessary than life itself, which is provided by learning; I mean thelearning of the clergy. Who clothes you with piety, meekness, humility,charity, patience, and all the other Christian virtues? Who feeds yoursouls with the milk of brotherly love, and diets them with all thedainty food of holiness, which at once cleanses them of all impurecarnal affections, and fattens them with the truly rich spirit of grace?Who doth this?" "Ay, who, indeed?" cries the host; "for I do notremember ever to have seen any such clothing or such feeding. And so, inthe mean time, master, my service to you." Adams was going to answerwith some severity, when Joseph and Fanny returned and pressed hisdeparture so eagerly that he would not refuse them; and so, grasping hiscrabstick, he took leave of his host (neither of them being so wellpleased with each other as they had been at their first sitting downtogether), and with Joseph and Fanny, who both expressed muchimpatience, departed, and now all together renewed their journey.
BOOK III.
Joseph Andrews, Vol. 2 Page 5