The World's Greatest Books - Volume 4 Part 21

Wild was a living instance that human greatness and happiness are not always inseparable. He was under a continual alarm of frights and fears and jealousies, and was thoroughly convinced there was not a single man amongst his own gang who would not, for the value of five shillings, bring him to the gallows.

A clause in an act of parliament procured by a learned judge entrapped Wild. Hitherto he had always employed less gifted men to carry out his plans. Now, by this law it was made capital in a prig to steal with the hands of other people, and it was impossible for our hero to avoid the destruction so plainly calculated for his greatness.

Wild, having received from some dutiful members of his gang a valuable piece of goods, did, for a consideration, re-convey it to the right owner, for which fact, being ungratefully informed against by the said owner, he was surprised in his own house, and, being overpowered by numbers, was hurried before a magistrate, and by him committed to Newgate.

When the day of his trial arrived, our hero was, notwithstanding his utmost caution and prudence, convicted and sentenced to be hanged by the neck. He now suspected that the malice of his enemies would overpower him, and therefore betook himself to that true support of greatness in affliction--a bottle, by means of which he was enabled to curse, swear, and bully, and brave his fate. Other comfort, indeed, he had not much, for not a single friend ever came near him.

From the time our hero gave over all hopes of life, his conduct was truly great and admirable. Instead of showing any marks of contrition or dejection, he rather infused more confidence and a.s.surance into his looks. He spent most of his hours in drinking with acquaintances, and with the good chaplain; and being asked whether he was afraid to die, he answered, "It's only a dance without music. A man can die but once.

Zounds! Who's afraid?"

At length the morning came which Fortune had resolutely ordained for the consummation of our hero's greatness; he had himself, indeed, modestly declined the public honour she intended him, and had taken a quant.i.ty of laudanum in order to retire quietly off the stage. But it is vain to struggle against the decrees of fortune, and the laudanum proved insufficient to stop his breath.

At the usual hour he was acquainted that the cart was ready, and his fetters having been knocked off in a solemn and ceremonious manner, after drinking a b.u.mper of brandy, he ascended the cart, where he was no sooner seated than he received the acclamations of the mult.i.tude, who were highly ravished with his greatness.

The cart now moved slowly on, preceded by a troop of Horse Guards, bearing javelins in their hands, through the streets lined with crowds all admiring the great behaviour of our hero, who rode on, sometimes sighing, sometimes swearing, sometimes singing or whistling, as his humour varied.

When he came to the tree of glory, he was welcomed with an universal shout of the people; but there were not wanting some who maligned this completion of glory, now about to be fulfilled by our hero, and endeavoured to prevent it by knocking him on the head as he stood under the tree, while the chaplain was performing his last office.

They therefore began to batter the cart with stones, brick-bats, dirt, and all manner of mischievous weapons, so that the ecclesiastic ended almost in an instant, and conveyed himself into a place of safety in a hackney coach.

One circ.u.mstance must not be omitted. Whilst the chaplain was busy in his e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns, Wild, in the midst of the shower of stones, etc., which played upon him, true to his character, applied his hands to the parson's pocket, and emptied it of his bottle-screw, which he carried out of the world in his hand.

The chaplain being now descended from the cart, Wild had just opportunity to cast his eyes around the crowd, and to give them a hearty curse, when immediately the horses moved on, and, with universal applause, our hero swung out of this world.

Joseph Andrews

"Joseph Andrews," Fielding's first novel, was published in 1742, and was intended to be a satire on Richardson's "Pamela"

(see Vol. VII), which appeared in 1740. He described it as "written in the manner of Cervantes," and in Parson Adams there is the same quaint blending of the humorous and the pathetic as in the Knight of La Mancha. Although such characters as Lady b.o.o.by and Mrs. Slipslop are admittedly ridiculous, Parson Adams remains an admirable study of a simple-minded clergyman of the eighteenth century.

_I.--The Virtues of Joseph Andrews_

Mr. Joseph Andrews was esteemed to be the only son of Gaffer and Gammer Andrews, and brother to the ill.u.s.trious Pamela.

At ten years old (by which time his education was advanced to writing and reading) he was bound an apprentice to Sir Thomas b.o.o.by, an uncle of Mr. b.o.o.by's by the father's side. From the stable of Sir Thomas he was preferred to attend as foot-boy on Lady b.o.o.by, to go on her errands, stand behind her chair, wait at her tea-table, and carry her prayer-book to church; at which place he behaved so well in every respect at divine service that it recommended him to the notice of Mr. Abraham Adams, the curate, who took an opportunity one day to ask the young man several questions concerning religion, with his answers to which he was wonderfully pleased.

Mr. Abraham Adams was an excellent scholar, a man of good sense and good nature, but at the same time entirely ignorant of the ways of the world.

At the age of fifty he was provided with a handsome income of twenty- three pounds a year, which, however, he could not make any great figure with, because he was a little enc.u.mbered with a wife and six children.

Adams had no nearer access to Sir Thomas or my lady than through Mrs.

Slipslop, the waiting-gentlewoman, for Sir Thomas was too apt to estimate men merely by their dress or fortune, and my lady was a woman of gaiety, who never spoke of any of her country neighbours by any other appellation than that of the brutes.

Mrs. Slipslop, being herself the daughter of a curate, preserved some respect for Adams; she would frequently dispute with him, and was a mighty affecter of hard words, which she used in such a manner that the parson was frequently at some loss to guess her meaning.

Adams was so much impressed by the industry and application he saw in young Andrews that one day he mentioned the case to Mrs. Slipslop, desiring her to recommend him to my lady as a youth very susceptible of learning, and one whose instruction in Latin he would himself undertake, by which means he might be qualified for a higher station than that of footman. He therefore desired that the boy might be left behind under his care when Sir Thomas and my lady went to London.

"La, Mr. Adams," said Mrs. Slipslop, "do you think my lady will suffer any preambles about any such matter? She is going to London very concisely, and I am confidous would not leave Joey behind on any account, for he is one of the genteelest young fellows you may see in a summer's day; and I am confidous she would as soon think of parting with a pair of her grey mares, for she values herself on one as much as the other. And why is Latin more necessitous for a footman than a gentleman?

I am confidous my lady would be angry with me for mentioning it, and I shall draw myself into no such delemy."

So young Andrews went to London in attendance on Lady b.o.o.by, and became acquainted with the brethren of his profession. They could not, however, teach him to game, swear, drink, nor any other genteel vice the town abounded with. He applied most of his leisure hours to music, in which he greatly improved himself, so that he led the opinion of all the other footmen at an opera. Though his morals remain entirely uncorrupted, he was at the same time smarter and genteeler than any of the beaus in town either in or out of livery.

At this time an accident happened, and this was no other than the death of Sir Thomas b.o.o.by, who left his disconsolate lady closely confined to her house. During the first six days the poor lady admitted none but Mrs. Slipslop and three female friends, who made a party at cards; but on the seventh she ordered Joey, whom we shall hereafter call Joseph, to bring up her teakettle.

Lady b.o.o.by's affection for her footman had for some time been a matter of gossip in the town, but it is certain that her innocent freedoms had made no impression on young Andrews.

Now, however, he thought my lady had become distracted with grief at her husband's death, so strange was her conduct, and wrote to his sister Pamela on the subject.

If madam be mad, I shall not care for staying long in the family, so I heartily wish you could get me a place at some neighbouring gentleman's. I fancy I shall be discharged very soon, and the moment I am I shall return to my old master's country seat, if it be only to see Parson Adams, who is the best man in the world. London is a bad place, and there is so little good fellowship that the next-door neighbours don't know one another. Your loving brother, JOSEPH ANDREWS.

The sending of this letter was quickly followed by the discharge of the writer. To Lady b.o.o.by's open declarations of love, Joseph replied that a lady having no virtue was not a reason against his having any.

"I am out of patience!" cries the lady, "did ever mortal hear of a man's virtue? Will magistrates who punish lewdness, or parsons who preach against it, make any scruple of committing it? And can a boy have the confidence to talk of his virtue?"

"Madam," says Joseph, "that boy is the brother of Pamela, and would be ashamed that the chast.i.ty of his family, which is preserved in her, should be stained in him. If there are such men as your ladyship mentions, I am sorry for it, and I wish they had an opportunity of reading my sister Pamela's letters; nor do I doubt but such an example would amend them."

"You impudent villain!" cries the lady in a rage. "Get out of my sight, and leave the house this night!"

Joseph having received what wages were due, and having been stripped of his livery, took a melancholy leave of his fellow-servants and set out at seven in the evening.

_II.--Adventures on the Road_

It may be wondered why Joseph made such extraordinary haste to get out of London, and why, instead of proceeding to the habitation of his father and mother, or to his beloved sister Pamela, he chose rather to set out full speed to Lady b.o.o.by's country seat, which he had left on his journey to town.

Be it known then, that in the same parish where this seat stood there lived a young girl whom Joseph longed more impatiently to see than his parents or his sister. She was a poor girl, formerly bred up in Sir Thomas's house, and, discarded by Mrs. Slipslop on account of her extraordinary beauty, was now a servant to a farmer in the parish.

f.a.n.n.y was two years younger than our hero, and had been always beloved by him, and returned his affection. They had been acquainted from their infancy, and Mr. Adams had, with much ado, prevented them from marrying, and persuaded them to wait till a few years' service and thrift had a little improved their experience, and enabled them to live comfortably together.

They followed this good man's advice, as, indeed, his word was little less than a law in his parish, for during twenty-five years he had shown that he had the good of his parishioners entirely at heart, so that they consulted him on every occasion, and very seldom acted contrary to his opinion.

Honest Joseph therefore set out on his travels without delay, in order that he might once more look upon his f.a.n.n.y, from whom he had been absent for twelve months.

But on the road he was attacked by robbers, and, having been left wounded in a ditch, was mercifully taken to an inn by some later travellers.

It was at this same inn that, to the great surprise on both sides, Mr.

Abraham Adams found Joseph.

The parson informed his young friend, who was still sick in bed, that the occasion of the journey he was making to London was to publish three volumes of sermons, being encouraged, as he said, by an advertis.e.m.e.nt lately set forth by the Society of Booksellers; but, though he imagined he should get a considerable sum of money on this occasion, which his family were in urgent need of, he protested he would not leave Joseph in his present penniless condition. Finally, he told him he had nine shillings and threepence-halfpenny in his pocket, which he was welcome to use as he pleased.

This goodness of Parson Adams brought tears into Joseph's eyes; he had now a second reason to desire life, that he might show his grat.i.tude to such a friend.