In Book 1, Chapter 4, Joseph Andrews and Lady Booby walk through London arm-in-arm and inspire a few passers-by to gossip about the nature of their rendez-vous. Addressing the nature of gossip and reputation, Fielding uses metaphorical language to describe the ways in which one’s reputation can be affected by perceptions of impropriety:
But tho’ their Virtue remains unsullied, yet now and then some small Arrows will glance on the Shadow of it, their Reputation; and so it fell out to Lady Booby, who happened to be walking Arm in Arm with Joey one Morning in Hyde-Park…
First, he describes one’s reputation as the “shadow” of their virtue—a reflection of one’s virtue that, despite its appearance, cannot affect virtue itself—and then he describes damage to a reputation in terms of “Arrows” that deflect off this shadow: though these are slights that bounce away, they may nonetheless leave a mark (despite not having lasting effects on one's virtue).
Questions of virtue and virtuous love—and therefore, given the Christian overtones of the novel, questions of lust and chastity—are paramount in Joseph Andrews. This passage is an early example of Fielding exploring the dubious virtue of Lady Booby in her attraction to Andrews.
In Book 1 of Joseph Andrews, Lady Booby finds herself succumbing to her passions for Joseph Andrews. Fielding presents Booby's battle with her emotions using a metaphorical allusion to Cupid and his famous arrows. In Book 1, Chapter 7, Cupid takes aim at Booby:
Slipslop, who knew the Violence of her Lady’s Temper, and would not venture her Place for any Adonis or Hercules in the Universe, left her a third time; which she had no sooner done, than the little God Cupid, fearing he had not yet done the Lady’s Business, took a fresh Arrow with the sharpest Point out of his Quiver, and shot it directly into her Heart: in other and plainer Language, the Lady’s Passion got the better of her Reason.
As Fielding does throughout the novel, this passage sees him explaining a phenomenon in metaphorical, classical language and then offering a parallel explanation in plain speech: when he writes that Cupid has struck Booby with his arrow, he means that she has succumbed to her passion—that it has "got the better of her Reason." The battle between sinful lust and virtuous, chaste love wages throughout Joseph Andrews, and here Fielding literalizes the conflict in terms of Cupid's aggressive agenda. Booby continues to struggle with her lustful passion for Andrews—which is to say, Cupid continues to exert his influence over her—through the rest of novel. A few pages later, in Book 1, Chapter 9, Fielding reminds the reader of her struggle:
But what hurt her most was, that in reality she had not so entirely conquered her Passion; the little God lay lurking in her Heart, tho’ Anger and Disdain so hood-winked her, that she could not see him.
Cupid—the "little God"—has successfully co-opted Booby’s heart and has hidden his own influence in Booby's passion. Fielding's portrayal of lust treats it as something external—something fallen into, something that one is "struck with"—in order to contrast it with a virtuous love that comes from within.
In Book 1 of Joseph Andrews, Lady Booby finds herself succumbing to her passions for Joseph Andrews. Fielding presents Booby's battle with her emotions using a metaphorical allusion to Cupid and his famous arrows. In Book 1, Chapter 7, Cupid takes aim at Booby:
Slipslop, who knew the Violence of her Lady’s Temper, and would not venture her Place for any Adonis or Hercules in the Universe, left her a third time; which she had no sooner done, than the little God Cupid, fearing he had not yet done the Lady’s Business, took a fresh Arrow with the sharpest Point out of his Quiver, and shot it directly into her Heart: in other and plainer Language, the Lady’s Passion got the better of her Reason.
As Fielding does throughout the novel, this passage sees him explaining a phenomenon in metaphorical, classical language and then offering a parallel explanation in plain speech: when he writes that Cupid has struck Booby with his arrow, he means that she has succumbed to her passion—that it has "got the better of her Reason." The battle between sinful lust and virtuous, chaste love wages throughout Joseph Andrews, and here Fielding literalizes the conflict in terms of Cupid's aggressive agenda. Booby continues to struggle with her lustful passion for Andrews—which is to say, Cupid continues to exert his influence over her—through the rest of novel. A few pages later, in Book 1, Chapter 9, Fielding reminds the reader of her struggle:
But what hurt her most was, that in reality she had not so entirely conquered her Passion; the little God lay lurking in her Heart, tho’ Anger and Disdain so hood-winked her, that she could not see him.
Cupid—the "little God"—has successfully co-opted Booby’s heart and has hidden his own influence in Booby's passion. Fielding's portrayal of lust treats it as something external—something fallen into, something that one is "struck with"—in order to contrast it with a virtuous love that comes from within.
In Book 1, Chapter 17, Abraham Adams and a bookseller discuss the merits of mass-printed sermons. The exchange satirizes religion and the influence it holds over the general public, which Adams uses a medical metaphor to characterize:
Sir, I do not care absolutely to deny engaging in what my friend Mr Barnabas recommends; but sermons are mere drugs. The trade is so vastly stocked with them, that really, unless they come out with the name of Whitefield or Wesley, or some other such great man, as a bishop, or those sort of people, I don’t care to touch.
In this passage, Adams metaphorically paints the bookseller as a sort of pharmacist and his collection of books a pharmacy: sermons are "mere drugs," like medicine for the masses, Adams argues.
Fielding explores the nature of faith and religion throughout Joseph Andrews, and in this section, he seems to imply that—though a sermon may provide some temporary relief—piety cannot be bought and sold like mere medicine. The bookseller's cynical treatment of religious speech as a good to be bought and sold, and Adams skepticism of this practice, highlight the dubious morality of peddling religious speech for profit, no matter how virtuous the messaging may be; the market, as Adams suggests, is clearly over-saturated.
In Book 2, Chapter 1, Fielding once again addresses the reader about the structure of his novel and, in particular, its subdivision into books and short chapters. He uses metaphor to characterize the effect of each chapter break:
[...] for first, those little Spaces between our Chapters may be looked upon as an Inn or Resting-Place, where he may stop and take a Glass, or any other Refreshment, as it pleases him. Nay, our fine Readers will, perhaps, be scarce able to travel farther than through one of them in a Day. As to those vacant Pages which are placed between our Books, they are to be regarded as those Stages, where, in long Journeys, the Traveller stays some time to repose himself [...]
Fielding makes the metaphorical comparison between the many divisions of his sections and an inn where a weary traveler may rest. This metaphor mirrors the content of the narrative, in which his characters constantly take breaks at various inns as they travel through England. Fielding sprinkles this type of meta-commentary (in which the narrator shares an external perspective on the novel) throughout Joseph Andrews, and he builds upon this particular metaphor over the next few pages.
At the opening of Book 2, Chapter 13, through Mrs. Slipslop, Fielding explains England's class system and its various convoluted hierarchies. At one point, he turns to the metaphor of a ladder to describe the structure:
Nor is there perhaps, in this whole Ladder of Dependance, any one Step at a greater distance from the other, than the first from the second: so that to a Philosopher the Question might only seem whether you would chuse to be a great Man at six in the Morning, or at two in the Afternoon. And yet there are scarce two of these, who do not think the least familiarity with the Persons below them a Condescension, and if they were to go one Step farther, a Degradation.
By this interpretation, hierarchy is like a ladder with each class accorded its own rung: as Fielding articulates just before the above passage, the Postillion attends to the Footman, who attends to the Squire's Gentleman, who attends to the Squire, who attends to the the Lord, who attends to the (reigning monarch's) "Favourite Lord," who attends to the Sovereign. Like a ladder, these positions are rigidly fixed in relation to each other. Joseph Andrews is, in part, an interrogation of this class structure and its utility—or lack thereof—when one's social status has very little to do with one's virtue. Fielding's delineation of the class system in this metaphor highlights its arbitrariness and harshness.
In Book 3, Chapter 10, the narrator interjects with an interlude—the servants of the squire, who have attempted to kidnap Fanny, are apparently a poet and an actor, respectively, and they have a lot to say. The narrator announces this interlude with a metaphor comparing it to a dance interlude in a work of theater:
Before we proceed any farther in this tragedy we shall leave Mr Joseph and Mr Adams to themselves, and imitate the wise conductors of the stage, who in the midst of a grave action entertain you with some excellent piece of satire or humour called a dance.
In terms of the novel's momentum, this is the worst possible place to put such an interruption—the tension and suspense are near their climax, and the fates of Fanny, Adams, and Andrews are all uncertain. As with many of Fielding's digressions through the novel, however, this section serves a self-conscious purpose: Fielding is satirizing the convention, in the literature as well as the drama of the period (hence the metaphorical comparison between his written interlude and a play's interlude), to interrupt a narrative at inopportune times for the purposes of entertainment and spectacle. Joseph Andrews is full of these types of asides that break with the narrative in order to deliver a sharp satirical critique of Fielding's contemporary authors and playwrights.
In Book 4, Chapter 16, Joseph Andrews comes to a touching conclusion with the wedding of Joseph Andrews and Frances (Fanny) Goodwill. Fielding uses a metaphor to describe the joy of the occasion, and the satisfaction of Andrews:
The happiness of this couple is a perpetual fountain of pleasure to their fond parents; and, what is particularly remarkable, he declares he will imitate them in their retirement nor will be prevailed on by any booksellers, or their authors, to make his appearance in high life.
The main metaphor of this passage is a small and lovely comparison between the love Andrews and Fanny feel for each other and the gush of a fountain—their happiness is a “fountain of pleasure” for their family, tying up the love story of the novel in the happiest possible ending.
The passage ends with a curious contradiction: Andrews as arrived at a place of such satisfaction and contentment that he will not seek out a biographer or seek to have his life told in narrative fashion in a biography—despite the fact that the reader has just arrived at the closing lines of Fielding's "biography" for Andrews. The reader is thus left to ponder over the purpose of biography—which Fielding has generally treated with ambivalence—and the motivations for which someone would seek to have their own biography written.
