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

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The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book III, Chapter XIII
623852The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book III, Chapter XIII

CHAPTER XIII.


_A curious dialogue which passed between Mr Abraham Adams and Mr Peter

Pounce, better worth reading than all the works of Colley Cibber and

many others._



The chariot had not proceeded far before Mr Adams observed it was a very

fine day. "Ay, and a very fine country too," answered Pounce.--"I should

think so more," returned Adams, "if I had not lately travelled over the

Downs, which I take to exceed this and all other prospects in the

universe."--"A fig for prospects!" answered Pounce; "one acre here is

worth ten there; and for my own part, I have no delight in the prospect

of any land but my own."--"Sir," said Adams, "you can indulge yourself

with many fine prospects of that kind."--"I thank God I have a little,"

replied the other, "with which I am content, and envy no man: I have a

little, Mr Adams, with which I do as much good as I can." Adams

answered, "That riches without charity were nothing worth; for that they

were a blessing only to him who made them a blessing to others."--"You

and I," said Peter, "have different notions of charity. I own, as it is

generally used, I do not like the word, nor do I think it becomes one of

us gentlemen; it is a mean parson-like quality; though I would not infer

many parsons have it neither."--"Sir," said Adams, "my definition of

charity is, a generous disposition to relieve the distressed."--"There

is something in that definition," answered Peter, "which I like well

enough; it is, as you say, a disposition, and does not so much consist

in the act as in the disposition to do it. But, alas! Mr Adams, who are

meant by the distressed? Believe me, the distresses of mankind are

mostly imaginary, and it would be rather folly than goodness to relieve

them."--"Sure, sir," replied Adams, "hunger and thirst, cold and

nakedness, and other distresses which attend the poor, can never be said

to be imaginary evils."--"How can any man complain of hunger," said

Peter, "in a country where such excellent salads are to be gathered in

almost every field? or of thirst, where every river and stream produces

such delicious potations? And as for cold and nakedness, they are evils

introduced by luxury and custom. A man naturally wants clothes no more

than a horse or any other animal; and there are whole nations who go

without them; but these are things perhaps which you, who do not know

the world"--"You will pardon me, sir," returned Adams; "I have read of

the Gymnosophists."--"A plague of your Jehosaphats!" cried Peter; "the

greatest fault in our constitution is the provision made for the poor,

except that perhaps made for some others. Sir, I have not an estate

which doth not contribute almost as much again to the poor as to the

land-tax; and I do assure you I expect to come myself to the parish in

the end." To which Adams giving a dissenting smile, Peter thus

proceeded: "I fancy, Mr Adams, you are one of those who imagine I am a

lump of money; for there are many who, I fancy, believe that not only my

pockets, but my whole clothes, are lined with bank-bills; but I assure

you, you are all mistaken; I am not the man the world esteems me. If I

can hold my head above water it is all I can. I have injured myself by

purchasing. I have been too liberal of my money. Indeed, I fear my heir

will find my affairs in a worse situation than they are reputed to be.

Ah! he will have reason to wish I had loved money more and land less.

Pray, my good neighbour, where should I have that quantity of riches the

world is so liberal to bestow on me? Where could I possibly, without I

had stole it, acquire such a treasure?" "Why, truly," says Adams, "I

have been always of your opinion; I have wondered as well as yourself

with what confidence they could report such things of you, which have to

me appeared as mere impossibilities; for you know, sir, and I have often

heard you say it, that your wealth is of your own acquisition; and can

it be credible that in your short time you should have amassed such a

heap of treasure as these people will have you worth? Indeed, had you

inherited an estate like Sir Thomas Booby, which had descended in your

family for many generations, they might have had a colour for their

assertions." "Why, what do they say I am worth?" cries Peter, with a

malicious sneer. "Sir," answered Adams, "I have heard some aver you are

not worth less than twenty thousand pounds." At which Peter frowned.

"Nay, sir," said Adams, "you ask me only the opinion of others; for my

own part, I have always denied it, nor did I ever believe you could

possibly be worth half that sum." "However, Mr Adams," said he,

squeezing him by the hand, "I would not sell them all I am worth for

double that sum; and as to what you believe, or they believe, I care not

a fig, no not a fart. I am not poor because you think me so, nor because

you attempt to undervalue me in the country. I know the envy of mankind

very well; but I thank Heaven I am above them. It is true, my wealth is

of my own acquisition. I have not an estate, like Sir Thomas Booby, that

has descended in my family through many generations; but I know heirs of

such estates who are forced to travel about the country like some people

in torn cassocks, and might be glad to accept of a pitiful curacy for

what I know. Yes, sir, as shabby fellows as yourself, whom no man of my

figure, without that vice of good-nature about him, would suffer to ride

in a chariot with him." "Sir," said Adams, "I value not your chariot of

a rush; and if I had known you had intended to affront me, I would have

walked to the world's end on foot ere I would have accepted a place in

it. However, sir, I will soon rid you of that inconvenience;" and, so

saying, he opened the chariot door, without calling to the coachman, and

leapt out into the highway, forgetting to take his hat along with him;

which, however, Mr Pounce threw after him with great violence. Joseph

and Fanny stopt to bear him company the rest of the way, which was not

above a mile.