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77 



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25-L 



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4 



THE. 

V I C A R 

I lOF 

WAKEFI ELD: 

A TALE. 
By OLIVEJl GOLDSMITH. 

Sperate mijeri^ tavtte ftlUti. 

the'nij)T^ edition. 



\ 



LONDON: 

Printed for F. Power and Co. at N° 65. St. Paul's 

ChuKh-Yard, W. GoLDshdi-HH and 3. Bladon, 

in Pater-nofter Row. 

^ UDCCXCl. 



1 L t ,' < L".;, 



i*ii*" 



ADVERT I S E M E N T. 



THERE are an hundred faults in this 
Thing, and an hundred things might 
be faid to prove them beauties. But it 
is needlefs. A book may be amufihg 
with numerous errors, or it may be very 
dull without a fingle abfurdity. The hero 
of this piece unites in himfelf the three 
greateft charafters upon earthy he is a 
prieft, an hufbandman, and the father of 
a family. He is drawn as ready to teach, 
and ready to obey, as fimple in affluence; 
and majeftic in adverfity. In this age of 
opulence and refinement whom can fuch a 
charafter pleafe? Such as are fond of 
high life, will tUm with difdain from the 
fimplicity of his country fire-fide. Such as 

A 2 ]piifi:ake 



ADVERTISEMENT. 

miftake ribaldry for humour, will find no 
wit in his harmlefs converfation ; and fuch 
as have been taught to deride religion, will 
laugh at one whofe chief ftores of com- 
fort are fkawn from futurity. 



OtiVBR GOLDSMITH. 



.1 



C O N ^T E N T S. 



C H A p. L 

The defcriptiM of the family tf WakifeUi in 'Ufhicb 
a kindred hkinefi frtvaih as 'Wiil of minds at of 
ftrfons. I 

CHAP. 11. 

family nusfortunes. Tht tofs of fortunes only fervts to 
increafe the pride of the worthy. 5 

CHAP. III. 

^ migration, The fortunate circumfiances of our lives are 
laterally found at lafl to be i^^r own procuring* 8 

C H A P. IV. 

'd proof that even the bundfleft fortune may grant h^» 
pinefs, luhich depends not on circumfiances but conftit»-» 
tion. 15 

CHAP. V. 

d new and great acquaintance introduced. What our place 
mojl hopes upon generally proves nufi fatal* 1 9 

CHAF. VI. 

W< bappinefs of a country fire-fide. 22 

CHAP. VII. 

^tovm wit de/cribed. The duUeJl fellows may liorn to be 
tormcal/br a night or two* . 26 

! .CHAP. 

i 



'CONTENTS. 
CHAP- VIU. 

An amour y nvhicb promijh link good fortune, jet mwf he 
ffoduciiveof much, 3® 

CHAP. IX. 

fwo ladles of great dift'inaim introduced. Superior 
finery everjeems to confer fuferior breeding. 37 

CHAP. X. 

The family endeavour to cope ix.-itb their betters. The 

mferits of the poor iJiben they attempt to appear abwe 

$heir eirtumftances. 4 * 

CHAP. XI- 

Tbe family fill refolve to hold up theif heads. 45 

CHAP. XII. 

Fortune feems refolded to humble the family of Wakefield. 

' mrtifications are often more paif^ than real cata- 

mities. 5® 

CHAP.' XIII. 

Mr. Burchell is found to be an enemy', for he has the 
confidence to give difagreoabU advice. 5 5 

CHAF. XIV. 

Frejb mortifications J or a demonfiration that feeming coia- 
mities may he real hlejfings. 5 ^ 

CHAP., XV. 

JUMr, Burthen's viUany at once deteBed. ^Ihe folly of 
being over-nuife. 64 

CHAP. XVI. 

The family ufe art, vahich is Bppojed «with ftiU greater. 

69 

CHAP. XVII. 

Scarce any nftrtue found to refifi the power of long and 

fkafing temptation^ 74 

CHAP. 



CONTENTS. 

CHAP. xvm. 

Tk pMrfidt of a father to reclaim a loft ehild to nftrtue^ 

CHAP. XIX. 

The iefcription of a perfin difcontenied luith the frefent 
gtiFvemmenty and apprthenfivt of the lofs of our liberties, 

CHAP. XX. 

The hiftory of a philoptphic lutgabond^ t^Juing novelty ^ 
hut lojing content, .95 

CHAP. XXI. 

7S? Jhort continuance of friendjhip amongft the vicious, 
luhich is coeval only luith mutual fatisfadion. iro 

CHAP. XXIL 

Offmts are eafily pardoned vihere there is love at bottom, 

118 

CHAP. xxm. 

None but the guilty can be long and completely miferahlem 

CHAP. XXIV. 
^re/h calamities, 126 

CHAP. XXV. 

Nojttuation, hovjever wretched it Jeems, but ^has fomk fort 
of comfort attending it. 1 3 1 

CHAP. XXVI. 

J reformation in the gad, STo make Iofws complete y they 
Jhould reward as vaeU as punijh, 1 3 5 

CHAP. XXVII. 
The fame fuhje^ continued ^ 1 40 

CHAP. 



C O N T E N T 'S. 



CHAP, XXVIII. 

Happinefs and mifery rather the re/ult of prudence than if 
'Virtue in this life, temporal euih or felicities being 
regarded hy heaven as , things merely in themf elves 
triJUngi and uwiMorthy its cart in the diftribution* 144 

CHAP. XXIX. 

fhe iqual dealings of Providence demonftrated nvith re* 

gard to the happy and the miferabU here belovj. That 

from the nature of pkafure and pmn^ the vuretched 

muft be repaid the balance of their fufferings in the life 

hereafter. 155 

CHAP. XXX. 

Happier profpeSls begin to appear. Let us be ii^exible, 
and fortune vuill at lafi change in our favour. 159 

CHAP. XX»I. 

Former benevolence now repaid vjith unexpected intereft. 

167 

CHAP, xxxir. 

^h£ Cdnclufion. i«i 



4 m 



VICAR of WAKEFIELD. 



CHAP. I. 



The iifcription of the family of Wakefield \ in *whicb 
a kindred likenefs prtvaiU as <well of minds as of 
ferfcns, 

I WAS ever of opinion, that the honcft man who 
married and brought up a large family, did more 
fervi(^e than he who continued fingle, and only 
laSktd of population. From this motive, I had fcarce 
■taken orders a year, before I began to think feriouHy 
of matrimony, and cliofe my wife as flie did her wed- 
ding-gown, not for a fine glofly fur£iw:e, but fuch qua- 
lities as would wear well. To do her judice, ihe was 
a good-natured notable woman ; and as for breeding, 
there were few country ladies who could ihew more. 
She could read^ anv Englifh book without much fpell- 
ing; but for jiicklmg, preferving, and cookery, none 
could excel Ker. She prided herfelf alfo upon being 
an excellent cDutrirer in houfe-keeping ; though 1 
could never find that we grew richer with all her con- 
triv^ccs. ' 

However^ we loved each other tepderly, and our 
foiidnefs increafed as we grew old. There was in fad 
nothing that could make us angry with the world, or 
each other. We had an elegant houfe, fituated in a 
fine country, and a good neighbourhood. The year 
was fpent in a moral or rural amufement; in viiiting 

R our 



« THE VfCAR bF WAKEFIELD. 

our rich neighbours^ and relieving fuch as were poor. 
We had no revolutions^ to fear, nor fatigues to under- 
^0 ; all our adventures were "by the fire-fide> and all 
our migrations from the blue bed to the brown. 

As we lived near the road, we often had the tra- 
iler or ilranger vifit us to tafte our gooTeberty-wine« 
for which we had great reputation ; and I profefs with 
the veracity of an hiflorian, that I. never knew one of 
them find fault with it. Our coufms too, even to the 
fortieth remove, all remembered their affinity, with- 
out any help from the heralds' office, and came very 
frequently to fee us. . Some of them did jis so great 
honour by thefe claims of kindred; as we had the 
blind, the maimed, and the halt amongii the number, 
iiowcvcr, my wife always infilled that -as tTicy were 
the fame flejh and bloody they fhould fit with us at the 
fame table. So that if we had not very rich, we ge- 
nerally had very happy fnends about us ; for this re- 
mark will hold gooa through life, and the poorer the 
gueil, the better pleafed he ever is with being treated ; 
and as fbme men gaze with admiration at the colours 
of a tulip, or the wing of a butterfly, fo I was by na- 
ture an admirer of happy human faces. However* 
when any one of our relations was found to be a per- 
fon of a very bad charader, a troublefome guefl, or 
one we defired to get rid. of, upon his leaving my 
houfe I ever took care to lend him a riding coat, or a 
pair cf boots, or fometimes an horfe of miall value, 
and I always had the fatisfadtion of finding he never 
came back to return them. By this the houfe was 
cleared of fuch as we did not like ; but never was the 
family of Wakefield known to turn the traveller or 
the poor dependant out of doors. . 

Thus we lived feveral years in a( ftate of much hap- 
^Inefs, not but that we fometimes had thofe Uttie rubs 
which Providence fends to enhance the value of its fa- 
vours; My orchard was often robbed by fchool-boys, 
.and my wife's cuftards plundered by the cats or the 
•children. The 'Squfre would fometimes fall aileep in 
the moil pathetic parts of my fermon> or his lady re- 

turs 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD, 3 

tura my wife's civilities at church with a mutilated 
durtefy. But we foon got over the uneafinefs caofed 
hy fuch accidents, and ufually in three or four days 
began to wonder how they vexed us. 

My children, the offspring of temperance, as they 
were educated without foftnefs, fo they were at once 
well formed and healthy ; my Tons hardy and a£iive» 
my daughters beautiful and blooming. When I flood 
in the midft of the little circle, which promifed to be 
the fuppOrts of my ^eclinine age, I could not avoid 
repeating the famous ftoiy of Count Abeniberg, who, 
in Henry II.'s progrefs through Germany, while other 
tourtiers came with their treafures, brought his thirty- 
ftvo children, and prefented them to his fovereign as 
the mod valuable offering he had to beflow. In this 
sianner, though! had but fix, I confidered them as a 
very valuable prefent made to my country, and con- 
iequently looked upon it as my debtor. Our eldefl 
fon was named George, after his uncle, who left us 
ten thoufand pounds. Our fecond child, a girl, I in- 
tended to call ifter her aunt Griff^l; but my wife, 
^'ho daring her pregnancy had been reading romances, 
iflfitfed upon her being called Olivia. In lefs than 
another year we had another daughter, and now I was 
determined that GrifTel fhould be her name; but a 
rich relation taking a fancy to fhind godmother, the 
girl was, ^y her directions, called Sophia; fo that we 
had two romantic names in the family; but I folemnly 
protell I had no hand in it. Mofes was our next, and 
after an interval of twelve years, we had two fons 
Jnore. , . 

It would be fruitlefs to deny my exultation when I 
faw my little ones about me; but the vanity and the 
fatisfa&ion of my'wife were even greater than mine.. 
When our viiitors would fay, ' Well, upon my word, 

* Mrs. Primrofe, you have the finefi; children in the 

* whole country' — * Ay, neighbour,' fhe would an- 
swer, ' they are as heaven made them, handfome 
' enough, if they be g(k)d enough; for handfome is 
! that widfoffle does.' ' And then fiie would bid the 

B 2 girls 



4 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

rgirls hold up their heads ; who, to conceal nothmgy 
•were certainly very handfome. Mere outfide is fo 
^ery trifling a circumftance with me, that I Ihould 
fcarpe have .remembered to mention it, had it not been, 
a general topic of coivverfation in the country. Oli- 
:via, now about eighteen, had that luxuriancy of beauty 
itvith which painters generally draw Hebe; open, 
fprightly, and commanding. Sophia's features were 
not fo llriking at firflv; bat often did more certain 
execution : for they were folt, modell, and alluring^ 
The .one vanquifhed by a fingle blow, the other by 
jciForts fuccefsfuUy repeated. 

The "temper ^f a woman is -generally formed from 
the turn of her features, at leall it was fo with my 
lidaughters. Olivia wifhed ibr many lover€, Sophia x» 
iecure .one. Olivia was often afFe£tpd from too great 
a deiire to pleafe. Sophia even repreft excellence^ 
from her fears to offend. The one entertained mc 
with her vivacity when I was eay; the other with her 
fenfe when I was ferious. But thefe qualities were 
never carried to excefs in either, and I have often 
feen them exchange characters for a whole day to- 
:gether. A fuit of mourning has transformed my co- 
quet into a prude, and a new fet df ribands has given 
her youngeft filler more than jiatural vivacity. My 
•eldeil fon George was bred at Oxford, as I intended 
him for one of the learned profeflions. My fecond 
boy Mofes, whom I defigned for bufinefs, received a 
fort of mifcelianeous education at home. But it is 
needlefs to attempt defcribing the particular charac- 
ters of young people that had feen but very little of 
xhe world. In. mort, a family likenefs prevailed 
through all, and properly fpeaking, they had but one 
-charader, that of being all equally generous, credu- 
lous, fhnple, and inoiFenfive. 



CHAP- 



THE- VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 5 

CHAP. n. 

Familj misfortuneu fhe lo/s of fortunes only feruei to 
increafi the pride of the fujorthj, 

THE temporal concerns of oar family were 
chiefly committed to my wife's management; 
as to the fpiritual, I took them entirely under my own 
dire6lion. The profits of my living, which amounted 
to but thirty-five pounds a year, I made over to. the 
orphans and widows of the clergy of our diocefe; for 
having a fufficient fortune of my own, I was carelefs 
of temporalities, and felt a fecret pleafare in doing 
ray duty without reward. I alfo let a refolution of 
keeping no curate, and of being acquainted with 
every man in the payifh, exhorting the married men 
to temperance, and the bachelors to matrimony ; fc 
that in a few years it was a common faying, that there 
.w^re three flrange wants at Wakefield, a parfon want- 
ing pride, young men wanting wivts, and alehoufes 
wantmg cuftomers. 

Matrimony was always one of my favourite topics, 
and I wrote feveral fermons to prove its happincfs : 
but there was a pe<:uliar tenet which I made a point of 
fupporting ; for I maintained with Whifton, that it 
was unlawful for a prieft of the church of England, 
after the death of his firll wife, to take a fecond, or to 
exprcfs it in one word, I valued myfelf upon being a 
flridt mbnogamifl. 

I was early initiated into this important difpute, on 
which io many laborious volumes have been written. 
I pub'lilhed fome tradis upon the fuhjeft myfelf, which, 
as they never fold, I have the confolation of thinking 
are read only by the happy Fe^M. Some of my friends 
called this my weak fiide; but, alas I they had not like 
me made it the fubjeft of long contemplation. The 
njore I reflefted upon it, the more important it ap- 
peared- I even went 9 ftep beyond Whifton in dif- 
playing my principles : as he had engraven upon his 

B 5 wife's 



€ THE -VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

wife's tomb that ihe was the only wife of WilliaTti 
Whiflon ; fo I wrote a fimilar epitaph for my wife, 
though llill living, in which I extolled her prudence, 
OBConomy, and obedience till death ; and having got 
it copied fair, with an elegant frame, it was placed 
over the chimney-piece, where it anfwcrcd leveral 
very ufeful purpofes. I admonifhed my wife of her 
duty to me, and my fidelity to her ; it irtfpired her 
with a paflion for fame, and conHantly put her in 
mind of her end. 

It was thus, perhaps, from hearing marriage fo often 
recommended, that my eldelt fon, juft upon leaving 
college, fixed his afl:eAions upon the daughter of a 
neighbouring clergyman, who was a dignitary in the 
chtirch> and in circumftances to give her a large for- 
tune : but fortune was her fmalleft accomplifhment. i 
Mifs Arabella Wilmot was allowed by all (except my 
r.vo daughters) to be completely pretty. Her youth, 
health, and innocence, were ftill heightened by a com- 
plexion fo tranfparent, and fuch an happy fenfibility 
of look, as even age could not gaze on with indkfe- 
rence. As Mr. Wilmot knew that I could make a 
very handfome fettlement on my fon, he was not avcrfe 
to the match; fo both families lived together in all 
that harmony which generally precedes an expefled 
alliance. Being convinced by experience that the 
days of courtfhip are the mott happy of our lives, I 

* was willing enough to lengthen the period ; and the 
various^ amufements which the young couple every 
day ihared in each other's company, feemed to in- 
creafe their paflion. We were generally awaked in the 
morning by mufic, and on. fine days rode a-hunting. 

•The hours between breakfaft and dinner the ladies 
devoted to .drefs and ftady ; they ufually read a page> 
and then gazed at themielves in the glafs, which evea 
philofophers might own often prefented the page of 
ercateft beauty. At dinner my wife' took the lead ; 
for, ^5 (he always infilled upon' carving every thing 
herfcif, it being her mother** way, ihe g^vc us upon 
thefe occafions the hiftory of every diih. When we 

hjid 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. j 

liad dined, to prevent the ladies leaving us, I generally 
ordered the table to be removed; and fometimes, with 
the mufic -maimer's aflillance, the girls would give us a 
very agreeable concert,. Walking out, drinking tea, 
country dances, and forfeits, fhoi*tened the reft of the 
day, wkhout the ailifta4ice of cards, as I hated all 
manner of gaming, except backgammon, at which my 
eld friend and I fometimes took a. twopenny hit. Nor 
can. I here pafs over an ominous circumftance that 
happened the laft time we played together ; I only 
wanted to fting a quatre, and yet I threw, deuce ace 
five times ruhning. 

Some months were elapfed in this manner, till at 
laft it was thought convenient to fix a day for the nup- 
tials of the young couple, who feemed earneftly to de- 
fire it. During the preparations for the wedding, I 
need not defcribe the bufy importance of my wife, nor 
the ily looks of my daughters : in fa6l, my attention 
was fixed on another objedl, the completing a tra£l 
which I intended ftiortly to pubUfh in defence of my 
favourite principle. As I looked upon this as a mailer- 
piece both for argument and ftyle, I could not in tlie 
pride of my heart avoid lliewing it to my old friend 
Mr. Wilmot, as I made no doubt of receiving hisr ap- 
probation ; but not till too , late I difcovered that he 
was mod violently attached to tlie contrary opinion, 
and with good reafon \ for he was at that time :idually 
coiirti^g a fourth wife. This, as may be expe£le<^ 
produced a difpute attended with fome acrimony, 
which threatened to interrupt our intended alliance : 
but on the day before that appointed for the ceremony, 
we agreed to difcufs the fubjed at large. 

It was managed with proper fpirit on both fides; he 
afTerted that I was heterodox, I retorted the charge; he 
replied, and I rejoined. In the mean time, while the 
controverfy was hotteft, I was called out by one of my 
relations, who, with a face of concern, advifed me 
to give. up the difpute, at leaft till my fon's wedding 
was over. « How,* cried I, * relinquilh the caufe of 
< truth, and let him be an hufband, already drivei) to 

B 4 * the 



« The VICAR OF WAKEFIELIX 

* the very verge of abfurdity ? You might a$ well acf- 
? vife me to give up my fortune as my argument.** 
f — Your fortune/ returned m/ frien^j * I am now 

< forry to inform you, h almoft nothing. The mcr- 

< chant in town, in whofe hands your money was 

< lodged, has gone off, to avoid a ilatute of bank- 

* ruptcy, and is thought not to have left a (hilling iw 
' the pound. I was unwilling to ihock you or the 
' family with the account, till after the wedding: but 

* now it may ferve to moderate your warmth in the 
' argument; fof,'I f^ppofc, your own prudence will. 
•* enforce the neceffity of difTembling, at Icaft till your 
' fon has the young lady's fortune lecure.* — * Well,* 
returned I, ' it what you tell me be true, and if I am.. 

* to bs a beggar, it fhall never make me a rafcal, pr 

* induce me to diGivow my principles. I'll go this 

* moment, and inform the company of my circum- 

* fiances; and as for the argument, I even here re- 

* ti a£4 my former conceffions in the old gentleman's 
' favour, nor will I allow him now to be an hu(band 

* in any fenfe o; the exprefSon.* 

It would be endlefs to defcribe the different icn/k- 
tions of both families when I divulged the news of our 
iliisfortune ; but what others felt was flight to what 
the lovers appeared to endure. Mr. Wilmot, who 
feemed before fufHciently inclined to break off the' 
match, was by this blow foort*det^mined ; one virtue 
he had in perfection, which was prudence, too often: 
the only that is left us at feventy-two* 

CHAP. III. 

jf migration. l*he fortunate chrcumftances^ of our tinjes are 
generally found at loft to be of our o^wn procuring. 

THE only hope of our family now was, that the 
report of our misfortunes might be malicious, or 
premature : but a letter from my agent in towft fooa 
came with a ^confirmation of every particular. The 
lofs of fortune to myfclf alone would have been trifling : 

th^ 



THE VICA* PP WAKEFIELD. . 9 

-tie only uneafinefsl felt was for my family* who were 
to be humble without an education to render them 
.callous to contempt. 

Near a fortnight had pa/Ted before I attempted to 
.reili;ain their afti^ion.; for premature confolation is 
but the pemembrancer of. fo^row. During this inter- 
val my thoughts wjere employed on fome future means 
.of fupporting them ; and at lail.a (tnall Cure of fif- 
teen pounds a year was offered me in a diftant neigh- 
boui:hood; where I could Hill enjoy my principles 
.Without, mdeflation.. With this proppTal I joyfully 
clofed, having determined to increafe my falary by 
managing a little farm. 

Hayiiig taken this refolution» my next care was to 

.'get together the wracks of my fortune ; and all debts 

.coUedled i^nd paid, out of fourteen thoafand poiyids 

.w£ had but four hundred remaining. My chief at- 

.tention therefore was now to bring down the pride of 

my family to their circumilances ; for I well knew 

that afpiring beggary is wretchednefs itfelf. ^ You 

.'. cannot be ignorantx my .children,' cried' I, * thtt 

' no prudence of ours could have prevented pur late 

/ misfortune $ l>ut'pj3uden€e. may- cb' much in diifap- 

,* pointing its eSx:£ts. We are now poor, my fond- 

* lings, mid .wifdom bids.vus conform to our humble 
' iituation. J^t us .jdien, without repining, give up 

,i thofe fplendours witK'Whkh natnbers are wretched, 
*,a^d feek in hdmblei* prcumJlanccs that peace with 

. * which all may be happ/. ' The poor live pkafantly 
< without Qor help,^ wby^ then i^ould not we learn \o 

* live \^thoRt theirs ? N.o; my childi-en, let us from 
' ' thk moment give up all prj^tenfiens to gentjlity; we 

*.ihave flill enough left jf^r l^ppihefs if we are wife, 
« ' ;and let us draw,*upoa coj^tej>t for the deficiencies of 
:* fortuiwu'. . .'/..'• 

JU my eldefl fbn wa«:bj5ed-a fcholar, I det^min^ 
to 'feiKi . him tO town, where his abilities might con- 
tribute to our fupport and his" own. The feparatipn 
of friends and faixulies i^ perhaps, on^ of the mpll 
diibQ(aful,.circi«nila9Ciii attjbiv^^ on penary. The 

B 5 ^ da/ 



\ 



lo THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

day foon arrived on which we were to difpekfe for the 
firfl time. My Con, after taking leave of his mother 
and the refl> who mingled their tears with their kiiTesw 
came to afk a bleiling from me. This I gave him 
from my heart, and which, added to five guineas, wa» 
all the patrimony 1 had now to beftow. * You are 

* goings my boy,' cried I, ' to London on foot,^ in 

* the manner Hooker, youk* great anceftor, travelled 
■* there before you. Take from -me the fame horfe 

* that was eiven him by the good biihop Jewel, this 
^ ilafF; and take this book too> it wUl be your com- 
< fort on the way : thefe two lines in it are worth a 
' million ; J hofve hen youngs andnvw am (dd\ yet ne^er 
' feew I the righteous man fwjaken, or hh feed hegging 

* their bread. Let this be your confolation as you tra- 

* velon. Go, my boy, whatever be thy lbrtune«i let 

* me fee thee once a year ; ftiU keep jk good heart, 

* and farewell.' « As he was pc^efl of integrity and 
honour, I was under no apprehenfions from throwinj^ 
him naked into the aniphithf atre of life ; for I knew 
he would a£t a good part whether vaoquilhed or vic- 
torious. 

His departure only prepared the way for onrownj^ 
which arrived a few days afterwards. The leaving a. 
neighbourhood in which we had enjoyed fo many hours 
mf tranquillity, was not without a tear, which fcarce 
fortitude itfelf could fupi^refs. Befides, a journey of 
feventy ftiiles to a family that had hitherto never been 
above ten^ from home, fiied us with aj^ehenfion, and 
the cries of the poor, who Mlowed us for fome n^es, 
contrtbutecl to tncreafo it. The firft day's journey 
brought us in fafety wkhin thirty miles 6f our future 
jretf eat, and we put up for the night at »i obfcure inn 
in a .wfflage by t^ way. Whei» we were ihewn a 
room, I defiredthe landlord, in my uftt4 way, to let 
tts have his Company, with which he con^lied, as 
what he drank would ificreafe the hiSk next morning. 
He knew, however, the whole neighbourhood to which 
I was removing, particulafiy 'Sqjttire Thornhill> who 
was to be my landlord, am wno- li^ed withm a few 

SMdes 



.THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 1 1 

•miles of the place. Thb gentleman he defcribed as 
■one who defired to know little more of the world than 
its pleafures> being particularly remarkable for his. at- 
tachment to the fair fex. He obferved that no virtue 
was able to refxft hiis arts and afliduity, and that fcarce 
a farmer's daughter within ten miles^ round but 
-what had found him fuccefsful and faithlefs. Though 
this account gave me fome pain» it had a very 
different effed* upon my. daughters, whofe fea- 
tures feemed to brighten with the expedation of 
an approaching triumph; nor was my wife lefs 
pleafed and coniident of their allurements and virtue. 
While our thoughts were thus employed, the hoftefs 
•entered the. room to inform her hufliand, that the 
ftrange gentleman* who had been two days in the 
houfe^ wanted money, and could not &tis^ them for 
his reckoning. * Wknc money !' replied the hoft, 
^ that muft be impoffible; for it was no later than 
' yefterday he paid three guineas to our beadle to fpare 
' an old broken ibkiier that was to be whipped through 
' the town for^dog^ftealii^.' The hoftels, however^ 
ftill perfifting in her firitaifertion, he was preparing to 
leave the room, fwearing that he would be fatisfied 
one way or another, when I begged the landlord 
would introduce m^ to a ((ranger ot fo muchr charity 
as he defcribed. With this he complied, fl^ewing in 
•a gentleman who, feemed to be about thirty, drell in 
do.the» that once were laced. His perfon was well 
formed, and his hce marked with the lines of think- 
ing. He had fomething fhort and dry in his addrefs, 
and iieemed not to underfland ceremony, or to defpife 
it.^ Upon the landlord's leaving the room, I could 
not avoid expreffing my concern to the (Iranger at fee- 
ing a gentleman infuch circumftances, and offered 
him mpr purfe to fatbfy the prefent demand. ' I take 
*it with all my heart. Sir,' replied he; < and am 
' glad that a late overiight in giving what money I 
' had about me^ has mewn mc that there are ftiH 
.* fome men like you. I mull, however, preyiouflj 
* entreat being' informed of the name and refidence of 

B 6 • my 



1ft THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELt). 

' my benefa£lor, in order to repay him as foon as pof- 

* fible.'— In this I fatisfisd him fully, not only men- 
tioning my name and late misfortunes, > bat the place 
to which I was going to remove. * This,' cried he, 
' happens ftill morelacky than I hoped for, as I am 

.* going the fame w^y myfelf, having been detained 
' here two days by the floods, which I hope by to- 
' morrow wiU be found paiTable.' I teiliiied die 
pleafure I (hould have in his company, and my wife 
and daughters joining in entreaty, he was prevailed 
;Upon to Stay fupper. The ftranget's conveHktioit, 
which was at once {dealing and inftrudive, induced 
me to with for a conttnoance of it ; but it was now 
high time to retire and take refjneihment againft the* 
fatigues of the following d^y. 

The next morning we all fet forward together : fny 

family on horfebacfc, while Mr, Burcheli, our new 

companion, walked along die feot-pathby t^e road fide, 

, obferving with a fmile, that as we were illnioanted, he 

would be too generous to attempt leaving us behind. 

. As the floods were not yet fubiided, we were obliged tt> 

hire a ^uide, who trotted on before, Mr. Burcheli and 

14>ringmg up the rear. We lightened the fat^aes of 

the road with philofophical difputes, which he feeiued 

to underfljind perfeoly. But what furprifed me moft 

was, that though he was a money-borrower, he de^ 

/ended his (pinions with as much obftinacy as if he 

Jud heen my patron. He now and ^n alia informed 

me to whom the different feats belonged diat lay in 

our view as we travelled the foad. ' That,' cried 

he, pointing to a very magnificent houfe which flood 

at fome diftance, * belongs to Mr. Thomhilt, a young 

' 'gentleman, who enjoys a large fortune, though en- 

* tirely dependent on the will of his uncle. Sir Wil- 

* liam ThomhiU,. a gendeman, who, content with a 
' little himfelf, permits his nephew to enjoy the ref^, 
' and chiefly reiides in town.*— •« What!' cried I, * is 
' my young landlord then the nephew of a man who(b 

* virtues, generoflty, and Angularities are fo oniver- 

* fally known? I have heard Sir WUliam Thomhil! 

• repre- 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. .13 

*^ reprefented as one of the moft generoos/ yet whint- 
'' fie at men in the kingdom ; a roan of coAfummate 

' benevolence.' * Something, perhaps, too much 

< fo/ replied Mr. Burchell; * at leaft he carried be- 

' nevolence to an excefs ivhen young; for his paffions 

< * were then ftrong, and as they all were upon the iide 

* • of virtue, they Ted it up to a romantic extreme. He 
' early began to aim at the qualifications of the ibl- 
' dier and the fcholar ; was (oon diftingoiihed in the 
' argiy, and had fome reputation among- men of learn- 
' ing. Adulation ever follows the ambitious; for 

* fuch alone receive moft pleafore from flattery. He 
• < was furrounded with crowds, who ihewed him only 

* one (ide of their charader ; fo that he began to lofe 

* a regard for private intereft in nniverfal fympathy. 
' He loved all mankind ; for fortune prevented hiin 

* from knowing that, there were rafcals» Phyiicians 
' tell us of a (uforder, in which the whole body is fb 

* exquisitely fenfible* that *he flighteft touch gives 
' pain : what fome have thus fuffered in their peribns, 

•* this gentleman felt in his mind. The (lighteit.dif- 
' trefs, whether real or fi£litioas, touched him to the 
^ quick, and his foul laboured under a iickly ienfi- 

* bility of the miferies of others. Thus difpofed to 

* relieve, it will: be eafily conjeftured he found num- 
' bers difpofed to foUcit : his profufions began to 

* impair his fortune, but not his good-nature ; that, 
' indeed, was feen to increafe as the other feemed to 

* decay : he grew improvident as he grew poor ; and 
' though he talked like a man of fenfe, his a£tions 

* were thofe of a feol.* Still, however, being fur- 

* rounded with importunity, and no longer able to 
« fatisfy every requeft that was made hini, inlkad of 
« money be gave promifes. They were all he had to 
' beftow, and he Had not refolution enough to givts 
' any man pain by a denial. Uy this he £ew round 

'* him crowds of depefldants, whom he was furc to dif- 

* appoint, yet wi(hed to relieve. Thefe hung upon 

* him for a time, and left him ivitlv merited re- 

* proaches and contemipt. 'But in proportion- as he 

* became 



14 THE. Vic AR OF WAKEFIELD. 

became contemptible to others, he became defpi- 
cable tohunfelf. His mind had leaned upon their 
adulation, and that Tupport taken away, he couki 
find no pleafure in the applaufe of his heart, which 
he had never learnt to reverence. The world now 
began to wear a different afped. The battery of his 
friends began to dwindle into fimple approbation. 
Approbation foon took the more friendly form of 
advice ; and advice, when reje£ied, produced their 
reproaches. He now, therefore, found that.fuch 
friends' as benefits had gathered round him, were 
little eftimal^e: he now found thkt a man's own 
heart mull be ever given to gain that of another* 
I now found tha t t ha t I forgot what I was 
going to obferve : in ibort. Sir, he refolved to re- 
ined himfelf, and laid down a plan of reftoring his 
falling fortune. For this purpofe, in his own whin>*' 
fical manner* he travelled through Europe on foot, 
and now, though he has fcarce attained the age of 
thirty, his circumilances are more aiHuenC than ever. 
At prefent, his bounties are more rational and mo- 
derate than before ; but flitl he preferves the cha- 
racter of an hamourift, and finds moil pleafure ia 
ecceiktric virtues.* 
My attention was fo much taken up by Mr. Bur- 
chell's account, that I fcarce looked forward as we 
went along, till we were alarmed by the cries of my 
family, when turning, I perceived my youngeft 
daughter in the midft oiP a rapid ilream, thrown froia. 
her horfe, and ftmggluig witlv the torrent. She, had 
funk twice,, nor was u in m^ power to diicngage my- 
fielf in time ta bjring her relief. My feii&tions were 
even too yiolent to permit my attempting her refcue : 
^e muil have certainly perilled, had not my compa- 
nion, perceiving her danger, inilantly plunged in to 
her relief, and, with fome dificufty, brought her in 
fafety to the oppofite fhore. Bv taking the cujrrent a 
little farther up, the reft of the family got fafely over; 
«4iere we had an opportunity tif joining our acknow-* 
ledgments to hex's. Her gratitude may be more 

readily 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. . »j 

readily imagined than dercribed : (he thanked .her de- 
liverer more with looks than words, and continued to 
lean upon his arm; as if ftill willing to receive affiil- 
ance. My wife alfo hoped one day to have the plea- 
fare of returning his kindnefs at her own hoafe. 
Thus, after we were refrelhed at the next inn, and had 
dined together, as' Mr. Burchell was going to a dif- 
ferent part of the country, he took leave ; and we 
puHued our journey : my wife obferving as we went, 
that (he liked^him extremely, and proteiling, that if 
he had birth and fortune to entitle hun to match into 
fttch a family a^ our's, fhe knew no man ihe would 
fooner. fix upon. I could not but fmile to hear her 
talk in this lofty ftrain: but I. was never much dif- 
pleafed with-.thofe harmlefs delufions that tend X9 
make lis more happy. 

C H A p. iv: 

A fmf that even the humUeft fir tune iwoy grant bafpi^ 
nefii fwhkb defends not on drewnfiance, hut conftitw^ 
tionm 

THE place of our retreat wv in a little neiglw 
bourhood, confining of farmers, who tilled 
their own grounds, and were equal ftrangers to opUi- 
lence and povert^^ As they had atmoft^ all the con-^ 
veniencies of li^ .within themfelves, they feldom vi>- 
fited towns or .cities in fe^ch of Aiperfluities. Re-'* 
mote from the polite,' they ftiU retained the primaeval 
funplicity of, manners; and frugal by habit, they 
fcarce uiew that temperance was a virtue. They 
V(roQght.with cheeWEulneis on davs of labour; but 
obferved feiUvab as interv^ of idlenefs and pleafure. 
They kept up the Chriftmas. carol, fent tnie4ove- 
knots on Valentine ntf>miiig,.ate pancakes on Shrove- 
tijde, (hewed, their wit on the firft of April, and reli- 
gi^Qi|fly cracked nuts osi Michaelmas eve. Being ap- 
prifed of our approach, the whple neighbourhood 
came out to meet their minifter, dre(Ied m their fine 

cloth^sj 



i6 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELl*. \ 

clothes, and preceded by a -p'xpe and tabor: a'feaft 
alfo was provided. for our reception, at which we fat 
cheerfully down ; and what the converfation wanted 
in wit, was made ^p in laughter. 

Oar little habitauon was fituated at the foot of a 
flopine hill, Iheltered with a beautiful underv/ood 
behind, and a prattling river befbre ; on one fide a 
meadow, on the other a green* My farm confided of 
about twenty acres of excellent land, having given, an 
hundred pounds for my predeceifolr's good-wHl. No- 
thing could exceed the neatnefs of my little enclo- 
fures ; the elms and hedge-rows appearing with inejc- 
preflible beauty. My houfe confided of hut one dory, 
and was covered with thatch, which gave it an air of 
gr«at fnugnefs : the walls on the iniide were nicely 
white-wafhed, and my daughters undertook to adorn 
them with piftures of their own defignihg. Though 
the fame room fervedus ^r parlour and kitchen, tliat 
only made it the ^^fmer. Befides, it was kept with 
•the atmoft neatnefe; the difiies, plates,- and rc^petc, 
-being .well fcoared, and all dUpodfed in bright rows on 
the mdves, the eye was agreeably relieved, a;id .did 
not want richet furniture. There were three other 
apartments, One for my wife and xhe, another lEbr our 
two daughters, within our own, atid die third, with 
-two beds, for the reft of the children. 

The little republic to whkh I gave laws, was re- 
gulated in the Allowing manner ; By. fan-ri(e we alt 
aiTembled in our commob apartment ; the fire being 
•previottfly kindled by the fervaAt< After Ave had fa- 
luted each other ^ithproper ceremony, .for I ahj^ys 
thonght'fit to keep ap fome^ methatiical forms of 
'good-breeding, Without which freedom, ever* deftroys 
firiendihip, we all bent in gratitude to that Being who 
gave K5 another day. This duty hepng performed, 
my Ton and I went te purfue- our niual indudry 
abroad, while itiy wife^ and daughters employed them- 
felves in providing breakfad, which was always ready 
at a certain time. I alk)wed half an hour for this 
meal, and an hour for dkiner ; which time was taken 

up 



THE VIGAR or WAKEFIELD. 17 

up m innocent mirth between my wife and daughtersy^ 
and in philofophical arguments between my fon and 
jne. 

As we rofe with the fan, fo we never parfued oat 
labour after it was gone down> but returned home to 
the expelling family s wdiere fmiling looks^ a neat 
iiearthy and pleafant fire, were prepared for our re- 
ception. Nor Were we without gueft^: fometizhey far- 
mer Flamborougb, our ulkative nei^hboar>. and often 
the blind piper, would pay us a viiit, and taflc out 
goofeberry wine;, for the making of which we had 
left neither the receipt nor the reputation. Theib 
harmlefs people had feveral lyays of being good com- 
pany ; while one played^ the other iwouii fing fome 
Ibothing ballad, Johnny Armftrong's Laft Good-night> 
or the Cruelty of Barbara Allen. The ni^ht was 
concluded in the manner we began the mommg, my 
youngeft boys being appointed to read the ieflbns of 
the day, and he that read loudeft, dilbindeft^, and 
be&, was to have an halfpenny on Sunday to put into 
the poor's box. 

When Sunday came, it was indeed aday of finery*, 
which ail my fumptuary edi^s could not reftrain. 
How well ibever I fifmcied my ledures a^ainft pride 
had conquered the vanity of my daughters; yet, I ftill 
found them fecretly attached to all their former finery: 
they flill loved laces, ribands, bugles, and catgut; 
my wife herfelf retained a pafiion for her crimfon: 
paduafoy, becaufe I formerly happened, to fay it be- 
came her. 

The iirft Si^nday in particular their behaviour ferved 
to mortify me : I had defired my girls the preceding 
night to be dreft early the next day j for 1 always 
loved to be at church a good white before, the reft o€ 
the congregation. They pundliially obeyed my di- 
re^ons ; but when we were to aifemble in the morn*- 
ing at breakfaft, down came my wife and daughters, 
dreft out in all their former fplendour; their hair 
plaftered up with pomatum, their faces patched to 
tafte,' their trains bundled up i^pito an heap behind^ 

and 



»8 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELIT. 

and ruftling at every motion. I could not help fmiK 
ing at their vanity, particularly that of my wifei ftom 
whom I expected more difcretion. In this exigence; 
therefore! my only refource Was to order my fbn^ with 
an important air, to call our coach r The girls wers 
amazed at the command; but I repeated it with more 
folemnity than before.—* Surely, my dear, yoa 
' jeft,' cried my wife, * we can walk it perfe^y wellc 

* we want no coach to carry us now.' — * You. mif- 
' take, child,' returned!, * we do want a coach: ; for 

* if we walk to church in^ this trim, the very children 
' in the pariih will hoot after us*' * Indeed !' re- 
plied my wife ; ' I always imaged that my Charles 
' was fond of feeing his childreic neat and handfomc 
' abotit him.'—-' You may be as neat as youpleafe,* 
interrupted I, ' and I ihall love you the better for it ; 

* but all this is not neatnefs, but frippery. Thefe 

* rufflings, and pinkings, and patchings, will only 
' make us hated by all the wives of our neighbours. 

* No, my children^' continued I, more gravely^ 
' thofe gowns may be altered into fomething of a 
' plainer cut ; for finery is very unbecoming in us, 

* who want the means of decency. I do not know 
' whether fuch flouncing and fitredding is becoming 

* even in the rich, if we coniider, uppn a moderate 
' calculation, that the nakednefs of the indigent 
' world may be clothed from the trimmings of the 

* vain.' 

This remoftftrance had the proper effect ; they went 
with great compofure, that very inftaut> to change 
their drefs ; and the next day I had the (atisfadion of 
finding my daughters, at their own requeft, employed 
in cutting up their trains into Sunday waiflcoats for 
Dick a^^d BiU, the two little ones ; and what was 
itill more fatisfa£tory, the gowns feemed improved by 
this curtailing. 



CHAP. 



THEVrCAR OF WAKEFIELD. rp 



CHAP. V. 

A ne^w and great acquaintance introduced* What <W9 
place mojf hopes upon general!^ proves moft fatal^ 

AT a fmall diftancc from the houfe my predecef. 
for had made a feat^ over (haded by an hedge of 
hawthorn and honeyfuckle. Mere, when the wea^ 
ther was fine and our labour foon finiihed,' we ufuaily 
fat together, to enjoy » an extenfive landfcape^ in the 
calm of the evening. Here toawe drank tea, which 
iiow was become an occaifonal banquet; and as we 
had it but feldom, itdilFufed a new joy, the prepa- 
rations for it being madfc with no fmaD mare of buiUe 
and ceremony. On thefe occafions our two littlfe 
ones always read for us, and they were regularly ferv- 
cd after we had done. Sometimes^ to give a variety 
to our amufements, the girls fung to the guitar i and 
:w)^ they thus formed a little concert, my wife and 
I would ftroU down the floping field, that was em*- 
belliftied with blue-bells and centaury,, talk , of our 
children with rapture, and enjoy the breeze that 
wafted both health and harmony. 

In this manner we began to find that every fitua^ 
tion in life may bring its own peculiar pleafttres : 
every morning waked us to a repetition of toil ; but 
the cveninc; repaid, it with vacant hilarity. 

It was about the beginning of autumn, on a holi- 
day, . for I kept fuch as intervals of relaxation from 
labour, that I had drawn out my family to ourufual 
place of amufement, and our young muficians began 
their ufual concert. As we were thus engaged, we 
faw a flag bound nimWy by, within about twenty 
paces of where we. were fitting, and by its panting it 
feemed prefl by the hunters. We had not much tune 
ft) reflet upon the poor animal's diflrefs, when we 
perceived the dogs and horfemen come fweeping along 
at fome diftance behind, and making the very path it 
had taken. I was inflantly for tetuming in with my 
^ family 



«. 



20> THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

family i but either curiofity or furprife, or fome 
more hidden motive, held my wife and daughters to^ 
their feats. The huntfrnan, who rode foremoft, pall 
,Qs with great fwiftnefs, followed by four or five per- 
sons more>. who feemed in equal haile. At laft, a 
young gentleman of a more genteel appearance than 
.the reily came-fbrwardy and for a v^e~ regarding 
us, inHead of purfuing the chafe, flopt ihort> and 
.giving his horfe to a fervant who attended, approach- 
ed us with a carelefs fuperior air. He feemed to want 
no introduction, but was going to fali^e my daugh- 
ters as one certain of a kind reception; but they had 
.early learnt the leiion of looking prefuxhption out of 
.countenaacp. Upon which he let us kpow that his 
name was Thornhiil, and that he was own^r of the 
rcftate that lay for fome extent round us. He again, 
.therefore, offered to falute the female part of the fa- 
mily ; and fuch was the power of fortune and fine 
clothes, that he found no fecond repxilfe. As his ad- 
drefs, though confident, was eafy, we fcon became 
jnore familiar; and peFceiviag muficai inilruments 
lying near, he begged to be favoaxred with a fong. As 
I did not approve of fuch difproportioned acquaint* 
ance, I winked upon my daughters, in, order to prc- 
.vent their compliance ; but my, hint was counteraded 
by one from their mother; io that with a cheerful 
air they gave us a favourite fong of Dryden'sw Mt^ 
Thornhiil feemed highly delighted with their per- 
/ormance and choice, and then took up the guitar 
himfelf. He played but very indiiFerently 5 however, 
my eldell daughter repaid his former applaufe with 
interefl, and aUured him that his tones were louder 
than even thofe of her mafter. At this compliment 
he bowed, which Ihe. returned with a curtcfy. He 
prailed her tafle, and (he commended his underhand- 
xng.: an age could not bave made them better ac- 
qjiainted. While the fond mother too, equally- hap- 
py, infilled upon her landlord's ftepping in, and tall^ 
ing a glafs of her goofeberry. The whole family 
feemed ea,rncft to pl^afe hiuji; my girl| attempted to 

ecterteuSi.' 



»...■<•- 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. at 

'entertain him with toincs they thought moft modern, 
vhiJc Mofcs, on the contrary, gave him a queftion or 
two from the ancients, for which he had the fatisfac- 
tion of being laughed at. My little ones were no lefs 
bufy, and fondly ftuck clofe to the ftrangcr. All my 
endeavours could fcarce keep their dirty fingers from' 
handling and Wniihing the lace on his clothes, and 
lifting up the flaps of his pocket-holes> to fee wha£ 
was there. At the approach of evening he ♦•ook 
leave ; but not till he had requefled penfiiffion to re- 
new his vifit, which, as he was our landlord, we moft 
readily agreed to. 

As foon as he was gone, my wife called a cottncit 
on the conduft of the day. She was o£ opinion, that 
it was a mbfl fortunate hit ; for that fhe had known 
even ftranger thbgs than that brought 'to bear. She 
hoped agam to fee the day in which we might hold 
tip our heads with the beft of them ; and concluded, 
ihe protefted ihe could fee no reafon why the two Mifs 
VTrmklers fhould marry great fortunes, and her chil- 
dren get none. As this lafl argument was directed 
ftrme, I protefted I could fee no reafon for it neither, 
nor why Mr. Simpkins eot the ten thoufand pound 
prize in the lottery, and we fat down with a blank. 

* I proteil, Charles,' cried my wife, * this is the 

* way you always damp my girls and me when we 
' are in fpirits. Tell me. Soph* my dear, what do 

* you think of our new vifitor ? Don't you think 

* he feemed to be good-natured ?*—* Immenfely 
' fo indeed, mamma,' replied fhe ; ' I think he has 

* a great deal to fay upon every thing, and is never 
« at a lofs ; and the more trifling the fubjeft,* the 

* more he has to fay.' * Yes,' cried Olivia, * he 

« is well enough for a man ; but for my part,' I don't 

* much like him, he is fo extremely impudent and 

* familiar ; but on the guitar he is fhockiiig.' Thef*e 
two lafl fpeechcs I interpreted' by contraries. I found 
by this, th^t' Sophia internally defpifed, as much as 
Olivia fecretly admired him.^-r* Whatever may be your 

* opinions of liini; my children/ wed I, * to^confefs 

' * a truth. 



S2 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIBLB, 

« 

^ a truth, he has not prepoflefled me in lus favour. 
DifproportioDed firiendihips ever terminate in dif- 
gttft: and I thought, notwithilanding all hiseafe, 
Uiat he feemcd prefedly fenfible of the diftance be- 
tween us. Let us keep to companions of our own 
rank. There is no charader more contemptible 
than a man that is a fortune-hunter ; and I can fee 
no reafon why fortune-hunting women (bould not 
be contemptible too. Thus, at befl» we ihall be 
contemptible if his views are honourable : hut if 
they be otherwife4 I fhould (hudder but to think of 
that ! It is true, I have no appreheniions from the 
condud of my children, but I think there are fome 
from his character.'— -I would have proceeded, but 
for the interruption of a Servant from the 'Squire, 
who, with his compliments, fent us a fide of venifon, 
and a promife to dine with 4xs fome days after. This 
well-timed prefent pleaded more powerfully in his 
favour than any thing I had to fay could obviate. 
I therefore contmued uleut, fatisiied with juft havine 
pointed out danger, and leaving it to their own di^ 
cretion to avoid it. That virtue which requires to be 
ever guarded, is fcarce worth the centineL 

CHAP. VI. 

fhi hafftnefi of a €Wfitry f re-fide, 

AS we carried oil the former difpute with fome 
degree of warmth, in order to accommodate 
matters, it was univerfally agreed that we fhould 
have a part of the venifon for fupper, and the ^Is 
undertooK the uflc with alacrity. * I am forry,* 
cried I, ' that we have no neighbour or ftranger to 
-^ take part in this good cheer : feafts of this kind 

* acquire a double relifli from hofpitality.' — ' Blefs 

* me,' cried my wife, • here comes our good friend 
« Mr. Burchell, that faved our Sophia, and that ran 
« you down fairly in the argument. * * Confute 
^ 4ne in arguments child I' cried L < You miftako 
^ ,. ' « there* 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 23 

* {there, my dear. I believe there are but few that 

* can do that : I never difpute your abilities at mak- 

* ing a goofe-pye, and I Leg yoa'U leave argument 
^ to me.'— '-As I fpoke^ poor Mr. Burchell entered 
the houfe, and was welcomed by the family^ who 
ihook him heartily by the hand, while little Dick 
officioufly readied hkn a chair. 

I was pleafed with the poor man's iriendihip for two 
Teafons ; becaufe I knew that he wanted mine* and I 
knew hun to be friendly as far as he was able. . He 
was known in our neighbourhood by the charader 
of the poor Gentleman that would do no good when 
he was young, though Jie was not yet thirty. He 
would at intervab tauc with great good fenfe ; but ia 
gen'eral he was fondefb of the company of children, 
whom he ufed to call harmleis litde men.. He was 
famous, r found, for fmeing them ballads and tell* 
ing them ftories ; and feldom went out without fome* 
tbing in his pockets for them, a piece of gingerbread, 
or an hali^nny whifUe. He generally came for a 
few days into our neighbourhood once a year,. and 
lived upon the neighbours hofpitaHty. He fat down 
to fupper among us, and my wife was not (paring of 
Jier goofeberry wine. The tale went round ; he iung 
us old ^ngs, and gave the children the ilory of the 
Bttclc of Beverland, with the hiftory of Patient Grii&l, 
the adventures of Catikin, and then Fair Rofamond's 
Bower. Our cock, which always crew at eleven, now 
told us it was time for repofe ; but an unfbrefeen diffi- 
culty flarted about lodging the Granger : all our beds 
were already taken up, and it was too late to fend 
iiim to the next alehoufe. In this dilemma^ little 
Dick offered him his part of the bed, if his brother 
Mofes would let him lie with him ; * And I,' cried 
Bill, * will give Mr. Burchell my part, if my fifters 

* will take me to .theirs.'— • Well done, ray good chil- 
-* dren/ cried I; * hofpitaiity is one of the firfl chrif- 
^ tian duties. The beail retires to its (helter« and the 
f bird flies to its neft ; but helplefs man can only 
^ find refuge from hb feUow-creature. The greateft 

5 firanger 



«4 THE VICAR Op- WAKEFIELD. 

* ftrangcr in this world was Kfe that came to fave it. 
^ He never had an houfe, as if willing to fee what^ 

* hofpttality was left remaining amongll us. J^cbo- 
"* rah» my dear,' cried I to my wife, * give thofe boy« 

* a lump of fugar each> and let Dick's be the largeft* 
« becaufe he fpolce firft.' 

In the morning early 1 called OQt my whole family 
tp help .at faving 'an after-growth of Kay, and oar 
gueft offering bis affiftance, he was accepted amon? the 
number. 0«r laboucs w^nt on lightly» we turned the 
fwath to the wind, I went foremoft, and th6 Tell ibl* 
lowed in due Ivcceffion. I cbnld not avoid, .however^ 
'obferving the alTidaity of Mr.* Burchell in aflHling my 
daughter Sophia in her part of the ta&. When he 
had fihiihed his own, he wdald join in ]ier'&> and en<> 
ter into a clofe converfalion ; bnt 1 had too g6od an 
'opinion of Sophia's onderftanding, . and was too well 
convinced of her ambition^ to be under any uneaA*- 
mefs from a man of broken fortune. When we were 
finiihed for the day, Mr.. Burchell was invited as on 
the night before; Init he refufed, as he was to lie that 
flight at a neighboar'5, to whofe child he was carrying 
^ whiftle. When gone, our converfation-at fupper 
turned npononr late unfortonate guefb. ' What a 
' ftrong milaiice,' faid I, < is that poor man of the 

* miferies attending a youth of 4evity and extrava-^ 

* gance 1 . He ' by no means wants fisme, which only 

* ferves to aggravate his former folly. '^Foor .foHoni 
-* creature! where are now die revellers, the-flatterers^ 
^ that he could onceinfpire and command?, Gone, 
' perhaps, to attend the bagnio pander, givnvn . rich 
^ by his extravagance* They once praHed him, and 
■* now they applaud the pander: dieir former raptures 
/ at his wit are now converted into farcafms at his 

* folly: he is poor, and perhaps deforves poverty; 
-' for he has neither the ambition to be independent, 
^ nor the ikill to be ufefjoL' Prompted perhaps by 
dfome fecret reafons, I delivered this obCervation with 
too/ittttch acrimony, which my Sophia gently reproved. 
< Whatfoever his fonner cotdu^ may be^ pap» ius 

» < circum- 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 2j 

* «circamftaRce3 (hould exempt him from cenfure now. 

* His prefent indigence is a fuiicient panifhment for 
< former folly ; and I have heard my papa himfelf 
' fay, that we (hould never ftrike one unneceiTary 
' blow at a vidlim over whom Providence holds the 

* fcourge of its rcfentment.' * You are nght, Sp- 

* phy,' > cried my fon Mofes; * and one of the ancients 
' finely reprefents fo malicious a conduct by the at- 

* tempts of a ruftic to flay^ Mar/yas, whofe ikin, the 
' fable tells us, had been wholly ftript off by another. 

* Belides, I don't know if this poor man's fituation be 

* fo bad as my fat'ier would reprefent it. We are not 

* to judge of the feelings of others by what we might 

* feel if in their place. However dark the habitation 

* of the mole to our eyes, yet the animal itfelf fmds 

* the apartment itfelf Sufficient lightfome. And to 
' confers a truth, this man's mind feems fitted to his 

* ftation ; for I never heard any one more iprightly 

* than he was to-day, when he converfed with you.' 
— Tlds was fald without the leaft defign ; however, it 
excited a Wufti, which (he ftrove to cover by an af- 
ieded laugh, afTurin? him that (he fcarce took any 
lotice of what he faid to her; but that (he believed he 
might once have been a very fine gentleman. The 
readinefs with which (he undertook to vindicate her- 
feif, and her blufhing, were Tymptoms I did not inter- 
nally approve ; but I repreft my fufpicions. 

As we expedled our landlord the next day, my wif^ 
went to make the venifon pafly ; Mofes fat readings 
while I taught the little ones : my daughters feemed 
equally bufy with the reft ; and I obferved them for a 
good while cooking fomething over the (irfe. 1 at firft 
fuppofed they were afiifting their mother ; but little 
Dick informed me in a whi(per, that they were mak- 
ing a wa(h for the face. Wa(hes of all kinds I had a 
natural antipathy to; for I knew that inftead of mend- 
ing the complexion they fpoiled it. I therefore ap- 
proached my chair by (ly degrees to the fire, and 
grafping the poker .as if it wanted mending> feem- 

. C ingly 



aS THE VICAS. OF WAKEFIELD. 

ingly by accident, overturned the whole compofitkm* 
dud k was too late to begin another, 

CHAP. VII. 
he corneal fir xt night or ttAjo* 



N. 



WHEN the morning arriyed on which we wero 
to entertain bur young landlord, it may bo 
eaiily fuppofed what provifions were exhaufted to make 
an appearance. It may alfo be conje6lared diat my 
wife and daughters expanded their gayeil plumage 
Mpon this occasion. Mr. Thornhill came with 9 
couple of friends, his chaplain and feeder. The fer-- 
vants, who were numerous, he politely ordered to the 
liext alehoufe : but my, wife, in the triumph of her 
heavt, infilled on entertaining them- all; for which, 
by the bye, our family was pinched for three week» 
aften A& Mr. Burchell had hinted to us the day be^ 
fore, that he was making feme propoials of marriage 
to Mifs Wilmot, my fon George's former millreS* 
this a good deal damped the heartinefs of his recep-i^ 
tion; but accident, in lome meafure, relieved ous em- 
barrai&nent ; for one of the company hapipening tO; 
mention her name, Mr, Thorjihill obfervcd with .«»• 
oath« that he never knew any thing more abfurd thaii> 
calling fuch a fright a beauty : ' For, Hiike me 

* ugly*' continued he, ' if I fhould not findas much' 

* pleafure in chufing my miflre^s by th^ information. 
' of a lamp under the clock at St. Dunftan's«' At 
this he laueked, and fo xlid we ; the jefb of the rich 
are ever fuccefsful. Olivia too could pot avoid whif- 
pering, loud enough to be heard^ that he had an in-^ 
iinite fund of humour. 

After dinner I began with my ufual toaf^, the 
Church ; for this I was thanked by the chaplain, as 
he faid the church was the only miftrefs of his affec- 
tions.— ' Comei tell us honeftly, Frank/ faid the 

- ^qiiire^ 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. if 

^Squire> with his ufual archiief9» ' fuppofe the church, 

* your prefent miftrcfs, drcft in lawn flceves, on one 

* \axAy and Mifs Sophia, with no Uwn about her, on 

* the other, which would you be for?' — * For both, 

* to be ibre,* cried the chaplain.—* Rights Frank,' 
eried the 'Squire^ '^ for may this glafs fu^ffocate me 
^ bat a fine girl b worth all the prieftcrafl in the crea- 
^ tion I For what are tithes and tricks but an impo- 
*■ £tion, all -a confounded impofture?, and I can prove 
^ it.'——* I wilh you would,' cried my fon Mofcs,/ 

* and I think,' continued he, * that I fhould be able 

* to anfwer you.'-- =* Very wdl. Sir,* cried the 

'Squire, ^who immediately (moked Hm, and wink- 
'cd on the reft of the company, to prepare us for 
the fport, * If you are for a co<^ argument upon that' 

* fubjeft, I am ready to accept th)e chsdlenge. And" 

* firft, whether are you for managing it analogically 

* or cfialogically ?*— * I am for managing it ratiendty*' 
cried Molest quite happy at being permitted to dif- 
-putc, — * Good again,' cried th^ *Squin^ ; « and firft- 

* ly, of the firft. I hope you'U not denjr that what- 
' ever is, is. If you don't grant me that, L can got 
-* no farther.'— —^ Why/ returned Mofes, * I thinkr 
*' I may grant that, and make the beft of it.'—* I 

* hope too,* returned the other, *. you'll grant that a^ 
" part is lefs than the whole.'—* I grant that too,' 
cried.Mofes^ • it is but juft and reafonal^.' — * I hope,*" 
died the 'Squire, * you- will not deny that the two 
' angles of a ttiangk are equal to two right ones.'— < 
^Nothing* can be plainer,' retiimed t'other, and' 
looked^ round with his ufual importance.—* Very 
^«well,? cried the 'Squire, fpeakmg very quitk; 'the 

* premifes beings thus fettled, I proceed to obferve, 
' that' the concatenation of felf-exiftences, proceeding. 
^' in- a^recipocal duplicate ratio, naturally produce a 
*' pnobkmatical dkdogifm, which in fome meafure 

* proves^ that the eflence of fpirituality may be re- 

* fbrred:to tiie fecot^d predicable.' * Hold, hold,* 

cried the other, * I deny that: Do you think I can 
^ thvs^taaviefyfi^nm to uich heterodox doftrines ?'— 

Cx ' 'What/ 



x8 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* What,' replied the 'Squire> 33 if in a paffion, ' not 

* fubmit ! Anfwer me one plain queftion : Do you 

* think Ariftotle right when he'fays, that relatives are 

* Tclatcdi' — * Undoubtedly/ replied the other. — * If 

* fo then,* cried the 'Squire, * anfwer me direfUy Xp 

* what I propofe : Whether do you judge the analyti- 
' cal inveftigation of the iiril part, of my enthymem ' 

* deficient fecundum quoad, or quoad minus, and* 

* give me your rea(bns : I fay, dired^ly.'— * I pro-' 

* teft,' cried Mofes, ' I don't rightly comprehend 

* the force of your reafoning ; but if it be reduced 

* to one iimple proportion, I fancy it may then have 

* an anfwer.' ' O, Sir,' cried the 'Squire, *I 

* am your moft humble fervant; I find you want me < 

* to fumiih you with argument and intellefts too. 

* No, Sir, there I proteft you are too hard for me.*' 
This effedually raifed the laugh againft poor Mofes,* 
wfio fat the only difmai figure in a groupe of merry- 
faces : nor did he offer a fingle fyllable more during 
the whole entertainment. ' 

But though all this gave me no pleafure, it had, a 
yery different effeft upon Olivia, who miilook it %•* 
humour, though but a mere a£t of the memory. She* 
thought him therefore a very fine gentleman; and' 
'fuch a,s confider what powerful ingredie&ts a good 
figure, fine clothes, and fortune, are in that character, 
will eafily forgive her. Mr. Thornhill, notwithfland- 
ing his real ignorance, talked with eafe, and could 
expatiate upon the common topics of converfation' 
with fluency. It is not furprifing then that fuch ta- 
lents (hould win the affections of a girl, who by edu- 
cation was taught to value an appearance in herfelf, 
and confequently to fet a ^alue upon it in another. 

Upon his departure, we again entered into a de- 
bate upon the merits of our young landlord. As he 
direded his looks and converfation to Olivia, it was* 
no longer doubted but that fhe was the objedl that' in- 
duced nim to be our vifitor. Nor did Ihe fcem to be- 
much difpleafed at the innocent raillery of her brother 

and fifier upon this occafion. Even Deborah jierf<^' 

fecmed 



THE' VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 29 

Teemed to (hare the glory of the day, and. exulted in 
lier daughter's victory as if it were -her own. ' And 
' now, my dear,' cried (he to me, • 1*11 fairly own 
5 that it was I that inftrufted my girls to encourage 

* our landlord's addreiTes. I had always fome ambi- 
' tion, and you now fee that I was right ; for who 
' knows how this may end?'-^* Ay, who knows that 
/ indeed ?' anfwered I with a groan : * for my part, 
' I don't much like it ; and I could have been better 
' pleafed with one that was poor and honeft, than this 
' fine gentleman with his fortune and infidelity ; for, 

* depend on't, if he be what I fufpe^ him, no free- 

* thmker ihall ever have a child of mine.' 

* Sure, father,' cried Mofes, * you are too fcvere in 

* this ; fbr Heaven will neref arraign him for wha( ht 

* thinks, but for wh^t he does. Every man has a thou* 
' fand vicious thoughts, which arife without his power 

* to fapprefs. Thinking freely of religion may oe in- 
*' voluntary with this gentleman : fo that allowing his 
' Cendments to be wrong, yet as he is purely pd^ffive in 
' his aflent, he is no more to be blamed for his errors, 

* than th^ governor of a city without' walls for the 
' ihelter he is obliged to afford an* invading enemy.' 

* True, my fon,' cried I ; * but if the governor 

* invites the enemy there, he is jullly culpable. And 
' fuch is always the cafe with, thofe who embrace ^r* 
' ror. The vice does not lie in aiTenting to the 
' proofs they fee ; but in being bUnd to many of the 
' proofs that offer. So that though our erroneous 
', opinions be involuntary when formed, yet as we 

* have been wilfully corrupt, or very negligent in. 

* forming them, we deferve puniihment for our vice* 
f or contempt for our folly .»' 

My wife now kept up the converfation, though not 
the argument : fhe obferved, that feveral very prudent 
men of our acquaintance were free-thinkers, and made 
very good hufbands ; and fhe knew fome fenfible girls 
that had fkill enough to make converts of their fpoufes : 

* And who knows, my dear,' continued (he, * what 
; Olivia may be able, to do? Tlfe girl has a great 

C 3 < deal 



30 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD, 

* deal to fay upon every fubjei^^ and to my knoiirled^ 

* is very well IkHled in comtroverfy.* 

' Ayhy, my de^, what controverfy can ihe have 
' read ?' criied I. ' It does not occur to me that I 
', ever put fach books into her hands : you certainly 
^ jover-rate her merit.'—** Indeed, papa/ replied 
.Oliviay * file does not: Iliave read a great deal of 

* contrcwerfy. I have read .the difputes between 
' Thwackum and Square; the controverfy between^ 
f Kobinfon Crufoe and Friday the favage ; and I am* 

* now employed In reading the controveriV in Reli- 

* gious Courtflxip/— * Very well/ cried I, • that's 
' a good girl ; I find you are perfefiiy qualified for 
« miSung con'veitSy and 'fo go help your mother to 
' make Sie goofeberry-pye.' 

CHAP. vm. 

An ^9ur, wbUh fromfes Hule good fortune^ yet tiuef ht 

produ&ive of much. 

THE Aext morning we were again idfited by 
Mr. BurcheH, though I began, for certain rea- 
fiona, to' be difpleafed with the frequency of Ms re- 
turn; but I could not refuiie him my company and 
fire- fide. It is true, his labour more than requited hid 
entertainment ; for he wrought among us with vigour^ 
and either in the meadow, or at the hayrick, put 
himfelf foremoil. Befides, he had always fomediing 
amufmg to fay that leffened our toil, and was at once 
fo out of the way, and yet fo feiifible, that I loired; 
laughed at, and pitied him. My ooily dtilike arofe 
from an attachment he difcovered to my daughter \ 
he would, iu a jefting manner, call her his little mif- 
tre£s, f^id when he brought each of the girls a fet of 
ribands, her^s was the fineft. I knew not how, but 
he .every day feemed to become more amiable, his wit 
to improve, and his fimpUcity to aiTume the fuperior 
airs 6f wifdom. 

Out 



THE VICAR OF WAEEFIELD; 3» 

Our family dined in the fidd, and we fat, or ra- 
ther reclinecL round a temperate repail> cfor cbth 
fpreid upon the hay, while Mr. Burchell gave che*er- 
fulnefs to the feaft. To heighten our fatisfeAion, two 
blackbirds anfwered each other from 4)ppo£te hedges, 
the ^miliar redbreail came and pecked the crumbs 
from our hands, and every {bund Teemed but the echo 
of tranquillity. * I never fit thus,' fays Sophia, ' but 

* I think of the two. lovers, fo fweetly defcribed by 

* Mr. Gay, who were ftruck dead m each other*! 

* arms. There is fomething fo pathetic in the de- 

* fcription,. that I have read at an Imndrcd times with 

* new rapture.'——* In my opinion,' cried my fon, 
' the finefl ibrokei in that defcription are- much bek)w 
< thofe in the Acis and Galatea of Ovid. The Ro- 

* man poet underfbands the izfe of toftfrafi better, and 

* upon that figure artfully managed all i^rength ki the 

* pathetic depends.' — * It is remarkable,' cried Mr. 
Burchell, ' that both the poets you mention have 

* equally contributed to introduce a fajfe tafte into 
' their refpeftive countries, ^(fl^rding all their lines 

* with epidiet. Men of Ihde genius found them moil; 
' eafiiy imitated in their defeats ; and £nglifli poetry, 
' like that in the latter empire of Rome, is nothing 
' at prefent but a combination of luxuriant images, 
' without plot or connexion; a ftring of epithets that 

* improve the found without carrying on the fenfe. But 

* perhaps»,M^dam, while I thus reprehend others, you'll 

* think it juft that I Ihould give them anr opportunity 
' to retaliate ; and indeed I have made this remark 

* only to have an opportunity of introducing to the 

* company a ballad^ which, whatever be its other ie* 

* £e^, is, I think, at leafl free from thofe I have^ 
« mentiontd,* -J 

,. A BALLAD. 

% 

* npuKM, gentle hermit of the dale, 

■*• • And guide my lonely w$j 

• To where yon taper cheers the vale 
; With hospitable, ray. 

C 4 ? For 



3z THE VICAR OF WAXEFIELD. 
* ' For lierc forlorn and loft I treads 
' With fainting fteps and flow ; 

* Where wilds immeafurably fpread, 
' Seem lengthening as I go.* 

• Forbear, my fon/ the hermit cries^ 

* To tempt the dangerous gloom; 

* For yonder faithlefs phantom flies 

* To lure thee to thy doom. 

• Here to the houfelefs child of want 

. • My door i% open ftill ; ' 

* And though my portion is but fcant* 
' I give it with good will. 

• Then turn to-night, and freely {hare 

* Whatever my cell bcftows ; 

• My rulhy couch and frugal fare, 

* My bleffing and repofe. 

' No flocks that range the valley frce^ 
' To flaughter I condemn ; 

* Taught by that Power that pities me, 

* I learn to pity them : 

' But from the mountain's grafly fide^^ 

* A guiltlefs feaft I bring j 

' A fcrip with herbs and fruits fuppty'd, 

* And water from the fpring. 

* Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; 

* All earth-born cares are wrong : 

• Man wants but little here below, . 

* Nor wants that little long.' 

Soft as the dew from heav'n defcends. 

His gentle accents fell : 
The niodeft ffranger lowly bends. 

And follows to the cell. 

Far in a wildemefs obfcure 

The lonely xnanfion lay,. ' 
A refuge to the neighbouring poor 

And Grangers led ailray. 



No 



•• 7- 






% 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 33 

No (lores beneath its humble thatch 

Requlr'd a mafter's care ; 
The wicket opening with a latch» 

Received the harmlefs p^. 

And now when bufy crowds retiret 

To take their ev'ning reft. 
The hermit trimm'd his little fire. 

And cheer'd his peniive gueft i 

And fpread his vegetable ftore^ 

And gaily preft and fmil'd ; 
And ikill'd in legendary lore. 

The lingering hoars beguU'd. ' 

Around in fympathetic mirth 

Its tricks the kitten tries ; 
The cricket chirrups in the hearth ; 

The crackling faggot flies. 

Bat nothing could a charm imparl . » 

To footh the ftranger's woc^ 
Jor grief was heavy at his heaFt> , 

And tears began to fiovf. 

His rifixlg cares the hermit fpy*d. 

With anfwering care cppreft. : . 
' And whence, imhgppy youth,' he cry'd^ 

« The forrows of thy breaft ? 

' From better habitations fporn'd, 

* Reluflant doll thou rove ; \ 

* Or grieve fOr friendftiip unretum'd, 

* Or unregarded love ? * 

* Alas ! the joys that fortune bring$, 

* Are triflmg, and decay J 

* And thgfe who prize the piaitry things, 

* More trifling things tl^ah t)(ey. 

< And, what is friendfhip but a name* ' 

* A charm that lulls to fleep ; 

* A ftiade that follows wealth or fame^ ^ 
< But leaves the wretch to weep ? 

C 5 * And 






34 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* And love is ftifi an emptier fotuid* 

* The modem fair-o&e'« jeft; 
^ On earth unfeen> or only found 

^ To warm the turde's neft. 

' For (hame, fend yoatii» ^y (brrows hafli« 

* And fpam^ the fex/ he faid : 
But while he fpoke, a riiing blufii 

His love-lorn gueft betr a/d. 

Surprised he fees new beauties rife^ 

Swift mantling to die view ; 
Like colours o'er the morning f^esj 

As bright^ as tfaniient too. 

The baihful look^ the rifmg bre^ft. 

Alternate ^read alarms ; 
The lovely ftranger ft^nds confeft 

A maid in all her charms. 

And, « Ah, forgive a ftranger rude, 

* A wretch forlorn/ {he crjj'd; 

' Whofe feet unhaHowM thus intru4e 

* Where heaven and you refide. 

* But let a maid ^y pity (hare, 

« Whom love has taught to ftfay ; 
« Who fecks for reft, but finds deijpair 
' Companion of her way. 

* My father liv*d beSdc the Tynp, 
« A wealthy lord was he; 

* And all his weakfa was marl^'d as raioe ; 
^ He had but only me. 

* To win me frpm his tender arms> 
. * Unnumbered fuitors came ; 

« Whk> prais'd me for imputed channs> 

* And felt, or feign'd, a fiame. 

« Each hour a mercenary ^rowd 

* yivh richeft pioffers ftroye : 

' Aipong the reft young Edwin bow'dj 
'* 3ttt never talk'd of love. 



f la 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

* In humble, fimplcft habit clad, 

* Nor wealth nor power had he ; * 

* Wifdom and worth were aU he had, 

* Bat thefe were all to me. 

* The bloflbm opening to the day, 

* The dews of heav'n refin'd, 

« Could nought of purity difplay, 
« To cmuTatd his mind. 

'« The dew, the bloflbm on the tree, ^ 

* With charms inconflant ihine ; 

« Their charms were his, but, woe to me ! 

* Their conftancy was mine. 

« For Hill I try'd each fickle art, 

* Importunate and vain; 

« And while his paffion touched my hcarf, 

* I triumphed m his pain : 

* Till quite dejeded with my fc(H'm 

* He left roe to my pride ; 

^ And fqught a folitude forlorn^ 

* In fecxet, where he dy'd. 

* But fUfie the forrow, mine the fault, 

* And w«ll my life (hall pay ; 
« rU feek the folitude he fought, 

« And ftrctch me where he lay : ' 

* And there forlorn, defoairing, wdj, 
« ni lay me down and die: 

« T was fo for me that gdwin did# : . 

* And fo for him wUl I.' 

« Forbid it heaven I* the hermit cry*d, 
AsA clafpM her to his breaft : 

The wond'ring fair-ooc tum'd to chide-- 
*T wa« Edv^m's felf that prciL 

* Turn, AngeUna, ever dear, 

* My charmer, turn to fee 

< Tby own, thy long-loft Edwin bcre^ 
« Reftor'd to love and thee. 

C6 



ss 



« Thtt$ 



36 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELDl 

' Thus let me hold thee to my hearty 

* ^nd cv'ry care rcligii.* 

' And Ihall we never, never part, 

* My life— my all that's mine?' 

' No, never from this hoar to par% 

* We'll live and love fo tmc; 

* The fijrh that rends thy con^nt hearty 

* Shafi break thy Edwin's tpo/ 

While this ballad was reading, Sophia feemed to 
mix an air of tendemefs- with her approbation. But 
our tranquillity was Toon diftarbed by the report of a 

fan juft by os, and immediately after a man was feen 
orflmg through the hedge, to take up the game he 
had killed. This fportfman was the 'Squire's chap- 
lain, who had (hot one of the blackbirds diat fo agiee- 
aUy entertained as. So loud a report, and fo near, 
itartled my daughters ; and I could perceive that So- 
phia in the fright had thrown herfelf into Mr. Bnr- 
cheU's arms for proteftion. The' gentleman came ap, 
^andafked pardon for having dillurbed us, affirming 
that he was ignorant of our being fo near. He there- 
fore fat down Dy my youngefl daughter, and fport(inan- 
fike offered her what he had killed that morning. 
She was going to refufe, but a piiyate look from her 
mother foon induced her to corred the miftake, and ac- 
cept his prefent, tho' with feme reluctance. My wife, 
•s ufual, difcovered her pride in a whifper, obfervin^ 
that Sophy had made a conqueft of the chaplain, as lYeu 
as her Mer had of the 'Squire. I fufpeCted, however, 
with more probability, that her affedtions were placed, 
upon a diifer^nt obje^« The chaplain's errand wa^ to 
inform us, that Mr. Thomhill had provided mufic and 
refreihments, and intended that night giving the young 
ladies a ball by moon-light, on the grafs-^plot. before 
Our door. * Nor can I deny,' continued he, * bqt I 
. • have an intereft in being firft to deliver this mcffage, 
< as I expe6l for xx^ reward to be honoured with ^|i(s 
' Sophia'; hand as a partner.' To this my girl replied, 

that 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 37 

thtt flie Ihould have no objedion, if fhe covli do it 
with honour : ' But here«^ condnued Stie, / is a gehtle J 
/ man/ looking at Mr. Burchell, ' who has been my 
' companion in the talk for the day, ^nd it is fit he 
^ ihould ihare in its amufements/ Mr. Burchell re- 
turned her a compliment for her intentions ; but re- 
iigned her up to the chaplain^ adding, that he was to 
ge that night live miles, bein^ invited to ^n harveil 
lupper. His refufal appeared to me a little extraor- 
dinary, nor could I conceive how fo feniible a giri as 
my youngeft, could thus prefer a man of broken for- 
tunes to one whofe expe^ations were much greater, 
^at as men ai'e mod capable of diftinguifhing merit 
in women, fo the ladies often form the trueft judg- 
ments of us. The two fexes feem placed as fpies 
upon eaxrh other, and are fumifhed with different 
abilities, adapted for mutual infpedlion. 

CHAP. IX. 

Tiot ladies of great diftin^ion introduced, Superior 
Jinery everjeetns to confer fuferior breeding. 

MR. Burchell had fcarce taken leave, and So* 
phia confented to dance with the chaplain, 
when my little ones came running out to tells us, that 
the 'Squire was come, with a crowd of company. 
Upon our return we found our landlord with a coupls 
©t under gentlemen and two young ladies richly 
drefTed, whom he introduced as women of very great 
diflindUon and fafhion from town. We happened not 
to have chairs enough for the whole company; but 
Mr. Thomhill immediately propofed that every gen-i- 
tleman Ihould fit in a lady's lap. This. I pofitively 
objected to, notwithftanding a look of difapprobation 
from my wife. Mofes was therefore dilpatched to 
borrow a couple of chairs ; and as we were in v^znt of 
ladies to make up a fet at country-dances', the two 
gentlemen went with him in queft of a couple of 
partners. Chairs and partners were foon provided. 

The 



it THE VICAR OF WAKEFIEU*. 

The gentlemen returned with my Bciefabocr Fbaibo- 
fOttgh'» Tofy dUttghters, flaunting with red top-kaots; 
but an unlucky circumfbmce was not adrerted to : 
though the Mils Flamboroughs were reckoned the very 
bed dancers in the pariihj and underftood the jig and 
the round-about to perfedion, yet they were totaHy 
unacquainted with country-dances. This at €xft 4i£^ 
compofed us: however^ after a little fbofiag aadL 
draggingi they at lad went merrily on. Oar mafic 
con Ailed of two fiddles^ widi a pipe and tabor. .The 
moon (hone bright, Mrl Thomhill and my eldeft 
daughter led up the ball, to the great delight-^ the 
fpedtators; for the neighbours hearing what was go^ 
tnjg forward} came flockmg about us. My girl moved 
With fo much grace and vivacity^ that my wife could 
not avoid difcovering the pride of her hearty by af- 
faring me, that 'though the litde chit did it (b cle- 
verly, all the fteps were ftolen from herfelf. The 
ladies of the town ftrove hard to be equally eafy, but 
without fuccefs. They fwam, fprawled, langaiihed# 
and fri(ked ( but all would not do : the gazers inde^ 
owned it was very fine ; but neighbour Plamborough 
obferved that Miia Livv*s het feemed as pat to the 
mufic as its echo. After the dance had continued 
about an hoar, the two ladies, who were appr(^hen- 
iive oC catching cdd, moved to break up the ball. . 
One of them, I thought, expreiTed her fentiments 
upon this occaiion in a very coarfe manner, when Qxe 
ooferved, that by the iMng jingo^ Jhe ijtt^s aU 0/ a 
mud 0f/wf^% Upon our return to tjie houfe^ we 
found a verv elegant cold fupper, which Mr. Thorn- 
kiU had ordered to be brought with him. The con- 
verfatlon at this time was more referved thaa before* 
The two ladles threw my girls quite into the ihade; 
far they would talk of nothbg but high life, and high^ 
lived company ; with other faihionable topics, fuch as 
aidures, tafte, Shakefpeare, and the mufical glafles* 
'Tts true, they once or twice mortified us fenfibly by 
Sipping out an oath ; but that appeared to me as the 
fttjreft tymptom of their ^hftindion (though I am 

fince 



THl VfCAR Of WAKEf ItLO. f^ 

fince mfbitned that (Wearing i$ fcrt^&Ly Jiii£UhiQii- 
9bk). Their finery* liowever, ihrcv a rai over 
any groiTnefs in ^eir convcpfation. My daughters 
feemed to regard their {nper&or accomjd^uaeott witSi 
envy ; and what appeared amifs wai afqrtbed tp tip* 
top quality breeding. But the condefceniiim of the 
ladies was dill faperior to their other accomptiih- 
meats. One of them obferved* that had MHs ^vifi 
feen a little more of the world* it would greatly m* 
pfove her. To which the odier added> that a £nde 
winter in town woiild matkc her ixttle Sc^ia quite 
another thing. My wife warmly aiTentod to both i 




ing. To this I could not }ielp replying* that tbek 
breeding was already Superior to their fortune ( and 
that greater refinement would only Dertie to make their 
poverty ridiculous* ^and give them a tafte for pleafiires 
tkey had no right to poflSfs.-**-^ And what pleafur es/ 
. cridi Mr. Thornhill* ^ do they not deferve to poiTeA^ 
' who have fo much in their power to beftow f As for 

* ay part*' continued he* * my fortune is.pretty large ; 

* love* liberty* and pleaTure, are my maxims; but 
' curfe me if a fettlement of half my eftate could giv^ 
' my charming Oliria pkafure* it ihouid be her's-; 
' and the only favour I would a(k in return* would 
' be to add myfelf to the benefit.' I was not (uch ft 
ftraneer^to the world a^ to be ignorant .that this was 
the fofliionable cant to difguife the infolence of tbe 
|>afe{l pn^fal ; but I feiade an ellbrt to fupprefs my 
i«fentment. * Sir*' cried I* ' the fomily which yidii 

* now condefcend |o honojir with your company* haa 
' been bred with as nice a fenfe of honour as yott, 
' Any attempts to injure that* may be attended with 
' very dangerous confequences. Honour* Sir* is o«p 

* only pofTeffion at prefent* and of that laft treafure. 

* we muft be particularly careful.' I was foon 
iorry for the warmth with which I had ^pokei^ this* 
when the young gentleman* grafping my nand*'fwore 
Jie cQfijgAeaded my fpirit^ though he duapproted my 

fttfpicions* 



,40 THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

• Wpicibns. * As to your prcfent hint/ continued he, 

* I proteft nothing was farther from my heart than 
.' fuch a thought. No, by all that's tempting, the 
■ * virtue that will ftand a regular fiege was never to 

' 4ny tafte ; for all my amours are carried by a coup 

* dc main.' 

The two ladies, who affe6led to be ignorant of the 
reft, feemed highly difpleafed with this laft ftroke of 
-freedom, and began a v^ry- difcreet and ferious dia- 
logue upon .virtue: ^n thi^ my wife, the chaplain^ 
and I foon joined ; and _the 'Squire himfelf was at 
laft brought to confefs a fenfe of forrow for his former 
excefles. We talked on the pleafures of temperance, 
^nd of the fun-fhine in the mind unpolluted with 
guilt. I was fo well pleafed, that my little ones 
were kept up beyond the ufual time, to be edified by 
fo much good conveifation. - Mr. Thornhill even 
went beyond me, and demanded if I had' any objec- 
tion to giving prayers. I joyfully embraced the 
.propofal, and m this manner the night was pafTed in 
a mod comfortable way> till at laft the company be- 
ogan to think of returning. . The ladies feemed very 
unwilling to part with my daughters, for whom they 
had conceived a particular af^dion, and joined in a 
requelt to have the pleafchre of. their company home* 
The 'Squire (jeconded the propofal, and my wife added 
her entreaties: the girls too looked upon me as if 
they wifhed to go. In this perplexity I made two or 
three excufes, which mv daughters as readily removed; 
fo that at laft I was obhged to give a peremptory re- 
fufal : for which we. had nothing but fullen looks and 
vfiiort anfwers the whole day enfuing. 



CHAP. 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.. 4! 



C H A P. X. 

The family tndeofvmr tp cope ivitb their betters, Tht 
mjjeries of the poor 'when they attempt to appear above 
their circumftances. 

1N0W began to find that all my long and painfiJ 
ledtures upon temperance, fimpUcity, and content'^ 
ment, were entirely difregarded. The diflin^lions 
lately paid us by our betters awaked that pride which 
I had laid afleep^ but not removed. Our windows 
again> as formerly, were filled with walhes for the 
neck 'and face. The fun, was dreaded as an enemy t« 
the fidn without doors, and the fire as a fpoiler of 
the complexion within. My wife obferved, that 
lifing too early would hurt her daughters' eyes» that 
worCng after dinner would redden their nofet, and 
Ihe convinced me that the hands never looked fo white 
sLs when they did nothing. Jnilead, therefore, of 
finifluttg George's ihirts, we now had them new-mo- 
delQn^ their old gauzes, or flouriihing upon catgut. 
The poor Mifs Flamboroughs, their former gay com* 
panlons, were cafl off as mean acquaintance, and the 
whole confervatioh ran upon high life and high-lived 
company^ with piAures, tafte, Shakefpeare, and the 
mafical glailes. 

But we coul4 have borne all this, had not a for- 
tune-telling gypfy came to raife us into perfeft fub- 
limity. The tawny fibyl no fooner appeared, thaa 
my girls came running to me for a (hiUing a-piece 
tocrpfs her hand widi filver. To fay the truth, I 
was tired pf being always wife, and could (lot help 
gratifying their requell, becaufe I loved to fee them 
happy» X gave each ^i them a (hilling ; though, for 
the honour of the family, it muft be obferved, that 
they never went without money themfelves, as my 
wife always generouflv let them have a guinea each* 
to keep in their pockets ; but with flridl injundions 
pever to change it, Af^er they had been dofete4 



4l^ 



41 SHE VKAR or TTAEEPIELD^ 

up with the fortune-teller for fome time, I knew b^ 
their looks, upon th^r returning, that they had beeiir 
promifed fometliing great. * Well, my girls, how 

* have -yon fped ? TeM me, Livy, has he foitune- 
•* -teller given thee a jpeany-worth ?* — • I prcteft, 

* papa/ fays the girl, * I believe »ih^ deals with 

* fomebpdy that's not right; for ihe pofitively de- 

* clared, that I am to be married to a 'Sq^iire in lefs 
•' than a -twelvemonth V — •• Well, now, Sxrohy, my 
•* child,* laid I, * and what fort of a huibana arc yon 

* to hav^ ?* — ' Sir,* replied flie^ ^ I iim t© have a 

* Lord fooo after my fifter has married the 'Squire.* 
How,* cried I, ^ is Aat all you are to have for 

your two Shillings ? Only a Lord and u ^Squire for 

two killings I You fools, I codd have promifed 

you « Prince and a Nabob for half the money/ 

^ This cnriofity of theirs, however, was attended wiA 

^r^rs ferious efcfts : we now began to think ourfelvts 

>lenrned by the ftars to fomething exited, and ^* 

ttziy anticipated our future grandeur. 

It has been a thoofand times obfenred, and I muS 
dbferve it jonce more, ^at the hours we pafe wicli 
happy proTpe^s in view, are more pleafing than thoTe 
crowned with fruition. In the firft cafe we cook the 
difti to X)ur own appetite : in the latter, nature cooks 
k for us. It is impoffible to repeat the train of agree- 
able rffveries we called up for our entertainments Wc 
looked upon our fortunes as once more riling ; and as 
the whole parifti affertcd that the *Squirc was in love 
with my daughter, flie was aftually fo wirfi him ; for 
they perfuaded her into the paflion, . In this agreeable 
interval, my wife had the moft lucky dreams in the 
world, which fhc took xare to tell us every morning, 
with great folemnity and exafitnefs. It was one night 
a coffin and crofs tones, the fign of an approaching 
wedding : at another time fhe imagined her daughters* 
pockets €iled with farthings, a certain fign they would 
ihortly be ftufFed with gold. The girls themfelvei 
had their omens. ^^^7 ^^^ fttange kifles on their 
fips ; they fjiw rbgs in the caodl«f furfcs hounccd 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIBI;». 4$ 

from the fire» and true-love-lcnots Inriced m Che ix>t;- 
torn of every tea-cup. 

Towards the end of the week we received a caitf 
from the town ladie6 ; m which« with their cempli- 
mentSy they hoped to fee tfll oar family at charch the 
Sunday following. AH Saturday morning I could 
perceive, in coniequence of this» my wife and daugh- 
ters in cloTe conference together* and -now and' theik 
glancing at me with looks that betrayed a latent |4ot. 
To be fincere, I had ftrong ^ufpicions that fome ab* 
furd prc^fal was preparing for appearing with fplen- 
doar the next day. In the evVening -they began their 
operations in a very regular manner* and -my wife 
undertook to €ondu6l the iiege. After "tea, whenf 
feemed in fpints, (he began thus : ■* I ~lancy» 

' Charles, my dear, we ihall have a great deal qT 

* good company at our church to-morrow/ — ' Fer* 

* haps we may, my dear,' returned I ; ' though vof- 
' need be under no uneafinefs about that, you msjt 

* have a fermon whether there be or not/ — * That 
' is n^at I expcd,' returned ftie : * but I think, my 
' dear, we ought -to appear there as decently as poi- 

* fible^ for who knows what may happen ?'r—' Your 
' fttecaulions,' replied Ij ' are highly commendable. 
' A decent behaviour and appearance at church js. 
' what charms me. We ihould be devout and humble*. 

* cheerful and ferene.' — ' Yes,' cried Ihe, * I -know 

* that, but I mean we fhould go there in as proper a 
■ manner as poffible ; not altogether like the Icntbs 
f about us,'—* You are quite right, my dear/ rc»^ 
turned f , ^ and I was going to make the very fame 

* propofal. The proper manner of going is, to go 

* there as early as polfibk, to have time for niedit^- 

* tion before the fenrice begins.'— * Phoo, Charles,** 
interrupted fte, * ail that is yery true ; but not what 

* I would be at. I mean, we (hould go there gen- 

* teelly. You know the chtirch is two miles off, and 
' J.proteft I don't like to fee my daughters .trudging 
« up to their pew all blowzed and red with wall^ng^ 
f gad looking for all the worid as if they had been 

5 winners 



44 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* winners at a fmock-race. . Now, taj dear, my pro- 
' pofal is this ; there are our two ploagh-horfes, the 
' colt that has been in oar iamily thefe nine years, 
' and his companion Blackberry, that has fcarce done 
' an earthly thing for this month paft. They are 
' both ?rown fat agd lazy. Why fhoold they not do 
' fomeuilng as well' as we? And let me tell you, 
' when Mofes has trimmed them a litde, they will 

* cut a very tolerable figure.' 

To this propofal I objeded, that walking would be 
twenty times more genteel than fuch a paltry con- 
veyance, as Blackberry was wall-eyed, and the colt 
wanted a tail : that they had never been broke to the 
^ein, but had an hundred vicious tricks; and that 
we had but one faddle and pillion in the whole houfe. 
^AU thefe objedions however were over-ruled; fo that 
I was- obliged to comply. The next morning I per- 
Reived them not a Utde bufy in colledling fuch mate* 
riab as might be necefiary for the expedition ; but as 
I fbtmd it would be a bufine(s of time, I walked on 
to the church before, and they prDmifed fpeedHy to 
follow. I waited near an hour in the resbding-deik 
.for their arrival ; but not finding them come as ex* 
peded, I was obliged to begin, and went through 
the fervice, not without foqle uneafinefs at finding 
them abfent*. This was increafed when all was finiih* 
cd| and no appearance of- the family. I therefore 
wsdked back by the horfe-way,, which was five miles 
round, though the foot-way was but two, and when 
£0t about half wa^ hpme, perceived the procefiion 
marching flowly forward towards the church; my 
fon, my wife, and the two little ones exalted upon 
one horfe, and my two daughters upon the other. I 
demanded the caufe of their delay ; but I foon found 
by their looks they had met with a thousand misfor- 
tunes on the road. The horfes had at firfl refufed to 
imove from the door, till Mr. Burchell was kind 
enough to beat them forward for about two hundred 
yards with his cudgel* Next the ftraps of my wife's 
pillion broke down^ and they were obliged to ftop 

to 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 45 

to repair them before they ^'cfuld proceed. After 
that one of the horfe^ took it 'into his head to fhmd 
ftill, and neither blows nor entreaties could prevail 
with him to proceed. It was juft recovering from 
this difmal iituation that I found them ; but perceiv- 
ing every thing fafe/ I own their prefent mortification 
<iid not much difpleafe me« as it would give me many 
opportunities of fbture triumph, and teach my daugh- 
ters more hamility» 

CHAP. XL 
^ht fdmily ftill refohvt to hold up their heads^ . 

MICHAELMAS eve happening on the next day» 
we were invited to burn nuts and play tricks 
^t neighbour Flamborough's. Our late mortiiica- 
^ons had humbled us a little, or it is probable we 
wight have rejected fuch ap. invitation, with con^ 
tempt : however, we fufFered ourfelVes to be happy. 
yor honeft neighbour's goofe and dumplings were 
^<?». and the lamb's-wool, even in the opinion of 
fflywife, who was a connoifTeur, was excdlent. It 
" ^fue, his manner of telling ilories was not quite fa 
weU. Xhey were very long,, and very dull* and all 
^ooat himfeH', a^d we had kughed at them ten times 
"^^ore : however, we were kind enough to laugh at 
^^em once more. « . • 

Mr. Burchell, who was of the party, was always 
fond of feeing fome innocent amufement going for- • 
J^^rd, and fet the boy^ and girls to blind-man's-buff. 
My wife too was perfuaded to join in the diveriion, 
♦and it gave me pleafure to think ihc was not yet too 
^^ In the.mean time, my neighbour and I looked 
^n, laughed at every feat, and praifed our own dex- 
^nty, when we were young. Hot cockles fucceeded 
next, queftions and commands followed that, and 
laftof all, they fat down to hunt the flipjper. As 
*yery perfon may not be a,cquainted with this primse- 
^^ paftime, it i?iay be ncceflary to obferve, that the 

company 






^ THK VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

-company, at dm-play- j^nt themfdves iaa ring «pMi^ 
the ffroudd) all, except 9ne who fbnds in the middle^ 
whcife bttfinefs is- ta catch a fhoe, , which the company 
ihove about nnder their hams frofl^ one to anc^er» 
fomething like a^ weaver's fhuttle. As it is unpoffible, 
iii this' cafej for the lady who is tfp to face all the 
company at onoe, the. great beauty of the f^ay lies 
in hitting her >» thump with the heel of the fhoe on 
that fide lead capable of making defente; It was 
in this manner that my elded daughter was hemmed 
in and thumped about, all blowzed, in fpirits, and 
-bawling for fair play, with a voice that might deafen 
a ballad-finger,, when, confufion on conff^on, who 
(hould enter the room but our two great acquaint- 
ances from town. Lady Blarney and' Mifs Carolina 
WUelmxna Amelia Skeggs ! Defcription would but 
beggar, therefore it is unneceiTary to defbribe, this new 
mortification. Death ! To be feen by ladies of fuch 
high breeding- in fuch vulgar attitudes ! Nothing 
better could enfue fronv fuch 4 vulgar play of Mr. 
Plamborotigh's prop<^g. We feemed ftrock tb the 
gromrd for fome time, as if actually pettified with* 
amazement. - 

The two ladies had been at our hoa(e td fiSe us, ^nd 
^^ding us from home, came- after its hither, as they 
^ere uneafy to know what accident could have kept 
us from church the day before. Olivia undert<k)k to 
be our prolocutor, and delivered the whok in a^ilim« 
iftary way, only faying, *" We were thrown Aoittour 
^' horfes.' Ax. which account the ladies Were greatly 
concerned^ but being told the family received no 
hurt, they were extremely glad ; but being inlbrmed 
that we were almofi* killed by the fright, difcywere 
vafbly forry; bnt hearing thaVwe had a veiygood 
night, they were exttemely glad again. Nothing 
could exceed their complaifance to my daughters ; 
their profefiions the lail evening were warm, bat now 
they were ardent. They protefted a defire of having 
a* more lafling acquaintance. Lady- Blarney was par- 
ticularly attached to Oliria 1 AGls. CaiioUiia^ Wild- 

xnina 



THl VICAK OP WAOFIELDT. ^ 

fluna Amelia^ Skeggs (I love to give the whole nsme)' 
took a*0reMer fancy to her After. They fuppoited thef 
«onyerlation betweipn themfelves, while my daughters 
fat filent, admiiing their exalted breeding. But as 
«very ceadbr, however beggarly lumfelf, is fond of 
higlb-lived dialogues, with. anecdotes of Loids, Ladies* 
^nd Knights of the Garter> I muilr beg leave to giver 
him the concluding part of die prefent converfation. 

* AUl diat I; know of the matter,^ cried Mifs Skeggs, 
^ is thi», that it may be tnie> or it may not be true :' 
^ but this X can- affure your I«adyihip». that die whaler 

* route was in amaze ;. his Lordihip tamed all manner 
^ of c(^oars> my Lady, fell into a found ; bat Sir Tom- 
^ kyji» drawing, his fword«. fwore he was her*s to ther 
< \A drop of yu blood.' 

' Well,' replied our peerefs, ^ this I can fay, that 

* die Duchefs never told', me afyllabie of the matter* 
'* aad I believe her Grace would keep nothing' a fe* - 
^ cret 6oin« me'. This you may depend on as fadi* 
^ thatthe next jnoming my Lord Dukc cried out three 
^ times to his valet de chambre, Jemigan, Jemigan, 
' Jernigan, bring me my garters*' 

But previpufly h (hould have momoned die very 
impolite behaviour of Mr. Burcheil, who, daring this 
<iifcearfe,< fat widtihis face turned: to the fir^, and at 
die conclufion of every fentence would < cry out fudge ^ 
an expreffion which difpleafed us all* and in fome* 
meaiiire damped die rifing fpiritof the converiiition* 

*' Befides, my dear Skeggs,' continued our peerefs^- 
^ diere it nodung of dxis in the cofw of veilcs diac 

* Dr. Burdock, made- upon diat occafion.' Fudge I 

< I- am fnrpiifed at that,' cried Mifk Skeggs ; ' fpr 
^ he feldom. leaves any thing out, as he wn^ only 
'• for his own amufement. But can your Ladyfhip fa« 

* vour me widi a fight of them V Fudgt ! 

* My dear creature,' replied our peerefs, 'db you- 
*' diink I carry fuch things about me ? though, they 

* are very fine to be fure, and' I think myfelf forne^ 

* • thing of a judge ; at leaffc: I- know what pleafes my- 

* felf. linkedi I was ever aa^ admiier of all: Dr. 

*■ Buxbek's4 



4S THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* Burdock's litCle pieces ; for except what he does, and 

* our dear Coantels atHanover-fquare, there's nothmg ' 

* -xromes oat but the moft loweH ftuiF in nature ; not a 
^ bk of high life among them.' Fudge ! 

* Your Ladyihip fhould exc^t,' fays t'other, * yoiff 

* own things in the Lady's Magazine. I hope you'll - 

* fay there's nothing low-lived there ? But I fuppofe 

* we are to have no more from that quarter V Fudge / 
' Why, my dear,* fays theXady, * you know my 

* reader and companion has left me to be married 

* to Captain Roach, and as my poor eyes won't 

* fuffer me to write myfelf, I have been for ibme 

* iAXfiC looking out for another. A proper perfon is 
<. no eafy matter to find, and to be fure thirty pounds 
" a year is a fmall ilipend for a well-bred girl of cha- 
' rader, that can read» write, and behave in com- 
' pany ; as for the chits about town> there is no bear- 

* ing them about one.' Fudge ! 

* That I know,' cried Mifs Skeggs, * by experience. 

* For of the three companions I had this laft half 
*. year, one of them refuted to do plain-work ^n hour 

* in the day, another thought 'twenty- five guineas, a' 

* year too fmall a falary, and I was obliged to fend 

* away the third, becaufe I fufpefted an intrigue with 

* the chaplain. Virtue, my dear Lady Blatney, vir- 
' tue is worth any price; but where is that to be 
« found?' Fudge! 

' My wife had been for a long time all attention to 
thu( difcoarfe; but was particularly flruck with the 
latter part of it. Thirty pounds and twenty-five* 

tuineas a year made fifty-fix pounds iiye (hillings 
ngliih money, all which was in a manner go- 
ing a begging, and might eafily befecured in the 
family. She for a moment iludied my looks for ap- ^ 
probation ; and, to own a truth, I was of opinion, 
that two fuch places would fit our twa daughters 
exa£kly. Befides, if the 'Squire had any real aiFe£lion 
for my eldeft daughter, this Would be the way to 
make her every )Vay qualified for her fortune. My 
wife therefore was refolved that we fhould not be de- 
prived of fuch advantages for want of alTarancey and 

undertook 



THJK VICAR OP WAKEFIELD; 49 

undertook to harangue for the hmily, * I hope,' 
cried (he, < your Ladyihips will pardon my prelent 
prefumption. It is true we have no right to pre- 
tend to fuch favours ; but yet it is natural for me 
to wi(h putting my children forward in the world. 
And I will be bold to fay, my two girb have had. a 
pretty good education, and capacity, at leaft the 
country can't (hew better. They can read, write, 
and call accompts; they underftand their needle, 
breadititch, crols and change^ and all manner of 
plain-work; they can pink, pointy and frill; and 
Know (bmething of muiic ; they can do up fmall 
clothes> work upon catgut ; my eldeft can cut 
paper, and my youngeft has a very pretty manner 
•f telling fortunes upon the cards.' Fu^ge ! 
When me had delivered this pretty piece of elo- 
quence, the two ladies looked at each other a few 
minutes in filence, with an air of doubt and import- 
ance. At laft Mifs Carolina Wilelmina Amelia 
Skeggs condefcended to obferve, that the young la- 
dies, (rom the opinion (he could form of tnem from 
io /light an acquaintance, feemed very fit for fuch em- 
ployments : ' But a thing of this kind. Madam,* 
cried (he, addreffing my fpoufe, * requires ^ thorough 
' examination into chara^ers, and a more perfedfc 
' knowledge of each other. Not, Madam,' conti- 
nued (he, * that I in the lafl fufpefl the young ladies 
' virtue, prudence, and difcretion ; but there is a form 
^ in thefe things. Madam, there is a form.' 

My wife apprpved her fu(picions very much, ob- 
ferving that (he was very ^ptto be fufpicious herfelf : 
but referred her to all the neighbours for a char^dler : 
but this our Peerefs declined as unneceiTary, alleging 
that her coufm Thomhill's recommendation would be 
fufiicient ; and upon this we reded our petition. 



CHAP* 



\ 

\ 



f« THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 



CHAP/ XII. 

Fortum fiem refiihed to bumble tbffamify of WakefieLt^ 
Mortifications are ofisn more fmnful than real cola-- 
mities. ' 

WHEN we were returaed liome> the night was 
dedicated to fchemes of future conqueft. De- 
liorah exerted much fagacity in conje&urinjg* which of 
the two girls was likely to have the bed place* and 
moft opportunities of feeing good company. The 
0nly obilacle to oar preferment was in obtaining the 
':Squire'8 reeommenoation ; but he had already &ewii 
us too many inilances of his friendihip to doubt of it 
Aow. Even in bed my wife kept up the ufual theme : 
Well* faith, my dear Charles* between ourfelves* I 
think we have made an excellent day's work of it.' 
^*"* Pretty well/ cried I* not knowing what to fay. 
What <mly pretty well I' returned ihe : * I think 
it is vexy well. Soppofe the girls fliould come to 
make acquaintances of tafte in town ! This I am 
aflkred of» that London is the only j^ce in the 
world for all manner of hulbands. seiides, my 
dear* ftranger things happen every day: and as 
ladies of q«ality are fo taken with my d«aghters* 
what will not men of quality be? Entre nous* I 
proteft I like my^ Lady Blarney vaftly* fo very ob- 
liging. However* Mifs Carolina Wileknina Skeggs 
has my warm heart. But yet* when they came to 
talk of places in town> you faw at once how I nailed 
them. TeU me* my dear* don't you think I did for 
my children there ?*— * Ay,' returned I* not know- 
ing weU what to think of the matter* * heaven grant 
they may be both the better for it this day three 
months !' This was one of thofe obfervations I 
ufually made *% imprefs my wife with an opinion of 
my fagacity ; for if the girls fucceeded* then it was a 
pious wifh fulfilled ; but if any thing unfortunate en- 
fuedj then it might be kx)ked upon as a prophecy. 

AD 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 51 

All this converfadon, however^ was only preparatory 
to another fcheme» and indeed I dreaded as mach. . 
Tliis was nothing lefs than» as we were now to hold 
up our heads a little higher in the world, it would 
be proper to fell the colt, which was grown old, 
at a neighbouring fair, and buy us an horie that 
would carry fingle or double upon an^occafion, and 
make a pretty appearance at church or upon a vifit. 
This at firft I c^pofed ftoutly ; but it was as ftoutly 
defended. However, as I weakened, my antagonifls 
gained ftrength, dll a laft . it was refolved to part 
with him. 

As the fair happened on the following day, I had 
intentions of going myfelf ; but my wife perfuaded 
me that I had got a cold, and nothing could prevail 
upon her to permit me from home. * No» my dear,' 
fsud flie>^our fon Mofes is a difcreet boy, and can 
' buy and fell to very good advantage ; you know all 

* our great bargains are of his purchaiing. He al» 

* Ways ftands out and higgles, and adnally tires them 
' dn the gets a bargain.' 

As I had fome opmion of my fon's prudence, I was 
willing enough to entruft him with this commiffion ; 
and the next morning I perceived his fiilers mighty 
bufy in fitting out ^fofes for the fair; trimming his 
hail-, brefhing his buckles, and cocking his hat with 
pins. TheJbuiinefs of the toilet being over, we had 
at laft the fadsfadion of feeing him mounted upon the 
colt, with a deal box before him to bring home gro- 
ceri«s in. He had oh a coat made of that cloth they 
call thunder and lightning, which, though grown too 
ihort, was much too |;ood to be thrown away. His 
waiftcoat was of goilmg green, and his fillers had 
tied his hair with a bro^ black riband. We aU 
foHowed him feveral paces from the door, bawling 
after him* Good luck, good luck, till we could fee 
iiim no lonffer. 

He was Icarce gone, when Mr. Thomhill's buder 
came to congratulate us upon our good fortune^ fay- 

a % ing 



J* THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

ing that he overheard his young mailer mentioii our 
9«me5 with great commendation. 

Good fortune feemed refiolved not to come alone. 
Another footman from the fame family followed* 
with a card for m^ daughters, importing, that the 
two ladies had received mch pleafm|; accounts from 
Mr. Thornhill of us all, that after a raw previous in- 
quiries they hoped to be perfedlly fatbiied. ' Ay,' 
cried my wife, * I now fee it is no eafy matter to get 
' into the families of the great ; but when one once 
' gets in, then, as Mpfes fays, one may go fleep.' 
To this piece of humour, for ihe intended it for wit, 
tny daughters aiTented with a loud lau^h of pleafure. 
In (hort, fuch was her fatisfa^ion at this meffage, that 
ihe adlually put her hand in her pocket, and gave 
the meifengei^ feven-pence halfpenny. 

This wai to be our vifiting-day* The next that 
came was Mn Burchell, who had been at the fair. 
He brought my little ones a pennyworth of ginger- 
bread each, which my wife undertook to keep for 
them, and give them by letters at a time. He brought 
xny .daughters alfo a couple of boxes, in which they 
might keep wafers, fnufF, patches, or even money, 
when they got it. My wife was ufually fond of a 
weefel-ikin purfe, as being the moft lucky ; but thb 
by the bye. We had flill a regard for Mr. Burchell, 
though his Jate rud^ behaviour was in fome meafure 
4iirpleaiing ; nor could we now avoid conununicating 
ouf happmefs to him, and afking his advice: air 
though we feldom followed advice, we were all ready 
enough to afk it. ,.When we read the note from the 
two ladies, he fhopk his head, and obferved that an 
affair of this fort demanded the utmoft circumfpediion. 
This air of diffidence hi|;hly difpleafed my wife. 
' I never doubted. Sir,* cried fhe, ' ytfur readinefs to 
' be againft my daughters and me. You have more 
' circumfpeflion than is wanted. However, I fancy 
* when we come to aik .advice, we fhall apply to per- 
' ions who feem to have made ufeof it themfelves.'-r 

' Whatever 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 53 

* Whatever my own condiift may have been> Madam/ 
replied he, * is not the prefent queftion ; thoaeh as I 
' have made no nfe of advice myfelC I (hould m con- 

* fcience give it to thofe chat will.'— As I was ap- 
prehenfive this anfwer might draw on' a repartee^ 
making up by abufe v/hat it wanted in wit> I changed 
the fabje&> by feemine to wonder what could keep 
our Ton ib long at the fair* as it was now almoft night* 
fall.—; — • Never mind our fon,* cried my wife, * de- 

* pend upon it he knows what he is about. I'll war- 

* rant we'll never fee him fell his hen of a rainy day. 

* I have feen him buy fnch bargains as would amaze 
« one. I'll tell you a good ftory about that> that will 
.♦ make you fplit your fides with laughing.— But as 

* I- live, yonder comes Mofes, without an horfe, and 

* the box at his back.' 

As (he fpoke, Mofes came flowly on foot, and 
fweating under the deal box, whioh he had flrapt 
roond his (houlders like a pedlar.—' Welcome, wel- 

* come, Mofei ; well, my boy, what have you brought 

* BS from the fair ?' * I have brought you myfelf,* 
cried Mofes, with a fly look, and reHing the box on 
the dreffer. * Ay, Mofes,' cried my wife, ' that 

* we know, but where is the horfe ?' — * I have fold 
' him^* cried Mofes, ' for three pounds five fhillings 

* and two-pence.' * Well done, my good boy,* 
returned ihe, • I knew you wbuld touch them off. 
' Between ourfelves, three pounds five ihillings and 
' two-pence is no bad day's work. Come, let us have 

* it then.' ' I have brought back no money,' cried 

Mofes again. * I have laid it all out in a bargain, anil 
' here it is,' pulling out a bundle from his breaft : 

* here they are ; a groce of green fpeflacles, with fil- 
' ver rims and fhagreen cafes.' — * A groce of green 
'•fpe6laclesl' repeated my wife in a' -faint voice. 
' And you have parted with the colt, and brought us 
' back nothing but a groce of green paltry fpedacles !'— « 

* Dear mother,' cried the boy, * Why won't you liilen 
' to reafon ? I had them a dead bargain, or I fhould not 
' have bought them. The iilver rims alone will fell 

D 3 'for 



54 THE VICAR OP WAKEPIELIX 

' for double the money.'—' A fig Tor the filver rims/ 
cried my wife, in a paffion : ' I dare fwear they won't 

* fell for above half the money at the rate of bioken 
' filver, five (hillings an oacce:*'^— ' You need be under 
« no nneafinefsy' cried I, ' about felling the rims ; for 

* they are not worth fix-pence> for I perceive they are 

* only copper vamiihed over.'—* What,* cried my 
wife, 'notfilver, the rims not filver!'— ' No,' cried 
I, * no more filver than your fauce-pan.' — * Aiid 
' fo,' returned (he, * we have parted with the colt, and 

* have only got a groce of green fpeAades, with cop- 
' per rimsand (ha?reen cafes ! A murrain take fach 

* trumpery ! The blockhead has been impofed upon» 

* and (hould have known his company better. ' ■ 

* There, my dear,' cried I, * you are Wrong, he (hoold 
' not have known them at all.' * * Marry, h^ng 

* the idiot,' returned fhe, ' tb bring me fuch ftuiFs ^ 
' I had them, I would throw them in the fire.'-^ 

* There again you are wrong, my dear,' cried I ;' < for 
' though Uiey be copper, we will keep them by us, as 

* copper fpedacles, you know, are better than no- 
« thing.' 

By this time the unfortunate Mofes was undeceived. 
He now faw that he had indeed been impofed upon 
by a prowling (harper, who, obferving his figure, had 
marked him for an eafy prey. I therefore ifked the 
circumflances of his deception. He fold the horfe, it 
feems, and walked the fair In fearch of another. A 
reverend looking man brought him to a tent, under 
pretence of having one to fell. * Here,' continued 
Mpfes, * we met another man, very well dreft, who 
deiired to borrow twenty pounds upon thefe,, faying, 
that he wanted money, and would difpofe of them 
for a third of the value. The firil gentleman, who 
pretended to be my friend, whifpered me to buy 
them, and cautioned me not to let fo good an offer 
pafs. I fent for Mr. Flamborbugh, and thpy talked 
him up as finely as they did me, and fo at laft we 
were perfuaded to buy the two groce between us.' 

CHAP- 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 55 



CHAP. XIII. 

Mr, Burcbell is found to be an etufny; far be has the 
confidence to give difagreeahle adwee. 

OUR family had now made feveral attempts to be 
fine; but ibme unforefeen difafter demoliihed 
each as Toon as proje£ied. I endeavoared to take the 
advantage of every di^ppointment, to improve their 
good fenfe in proportion as they were fraftrated in am« 
oition. ' You fee^ my children/ cried !» ' how little 
' is to be got by attempts to impofe upon the world,^ 

* in coping with our betters. Such as are pQor> and 
' will afTociate with none but the rich, are hated by 

* thofe they av(ud, and defpifed by ^thofe they follow. 
' Une<}ual combinations are always difadvantageoos 

* to the weaker fide; the rich having the pleafure, 

* and the poor the inconveniencies,\that refult from 
' them. But come, Dick, my boy, and repeat the 

* £d}le you were reading to*day, for the good of the 
' company.' 

* Once upon a time,' cried the cMld, 'a Giant 
' and a Dwarf were friends, and kept together. They 
' made a bargain that they would never forfake each 
' other, but go ieek adventures. The firft battle 

* they fought was with two Saracens, and the Dwarf, 
' who was very courageous, dealt one of the cham.-^ 

* pions.a moft angry blow. It did the Saracen but 

* very4ittle injury, who, lifting up his fword, fairly 
' ftruck off the poor DwarPs arm. He was now in a 
' woful plight; but the Giant coming to his afiift- 

' ance, in a Ihort time left the two Saracens dead on 
*" the plaip, and the Dwarf cut off the dead man's 
' head out of fpite. They then travelled on to ano- 
' ther adventure. This was a^ainft three bloody- 

* minded Satyrs, who were carrymg away a damfel in 

* diftrefs. The Dwarf was not quite fo fierce now^ as 

* before ; but for all that, ilruck the firH blow, which 

* was returned by another that knocked om; his eye^: 

D4 fbut 



56 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

bat the Giant was (bon np with them> and had they 
not fled, would certainly have killed thcA every one. 
They were ail very joyful for this vifiory, and the 
damfel who was relieved feD in love with the Giant, 
and married him. They now travelled far« and &r- 
ther than I can tell, tiU they met with a company 
of robbers. The Giant, for the iirft time, was fore- 
moft now ; but the Dwarf was not far behind'. The 
battle was flout and long. Wherever the Giai^t 
came all fell before him ; but the Dwarf had like 
to have been kiUed more than once. At laft the 
viAory declared for the . two adventurers ; but the 
Dwarf lod his leg. The Dwarf had now loft an 
arm, a leg, and an eye, while the Giant was with- 
out a fingle wound. Upon which he cried out to 
his little companion. My little hero, this is glorious 
frort ; let us get one vidory more, and then we 
mall have honour for ever. No, cries the Dwaif^ 
who was by this time grown wifer, no, I declare 
off; I'll fight no more; for I find in every batdis 
' that you get all the honour and rewards, but all the 
t>lows fall upon me.* 
I was going to moralise this fable, when our atten- 
tion was called off to a warm difpute between my wife 
and Mr. Burchell, upon' my daughters intended expe- 
dition to town. My wife very ft renuoufly infilled 
upon the advantages that would refult from it. Mr. 
Burchell, on the contrary, difTuaded her with great 
ardou,r, and I ftpod neuter<^ His prefent diftuafions 
feemed but tha fecond part of thofe which were re- 
ceived with fo ill a grace in the morning. The dif- 
pute grew high, while poor Deborah^ inftead of rea- 
foning ftronger, talked louder, and at laft was obliged 
to take (helter from a defeat in clamour. The con- 
clufion of her harangue, however, was highly difpleaf- 
ing to us all : ihe knew,, ftie faid, of fbmc who had 
their own fecret reafons for what they advifed ; but, 
for her part, (he wifhed fuch to ftay away from her 
houfc for the future. * Madam,'* cried Burchell, 

with looks of great compofure, which tended to in- 
flame 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 57 

flame her the more> « as for fecret reafons, you are 

* right : I have ftcret reafons, which I forbear to 
' mention, becaufe you are not able to anfwer'thofe 
« of which I make no fecret : but I find my vifits here 
« are become troublefome ; I'll take my leave there- 

* fore now, and perhaps come qnce more to take a 

* final farewel when lam quitting the country.* Thus 
iayingj he took up hb hat, nor could the attempts 
of Sophia, whofe looks feemed to upbraid his preci- 
pitancy, prevent his going. 

When gone, we all regarded each other for fome 
minutes with confufionl My wife, who knew herfelf 
to be the caufe, ftrove to hide her concern with a 
forced fonile, and an air of alfurance, which I was will- 
ing ta reprove : * How, woman,* cried I to her, * is it 
' thus we treat ftrangers ? Is it thus we return their 

* kindnefs ? Be aiTured, my 4ear, that thefe were the 

* harihefl words, and ta me the moil unpleafing, that 

* ever efcaped your lips !* — ' Why would he provoke 
' me then r replied (he ; < but I know the motive» 
' of his advice perfe£lly Well. He would prevent my 
' gbls from going to town, that he may. have the 

* jdeafure pf my youngeft daughter's company here at 

< home. But, whatever happens, (he (hall choofe bet- 

< ter company t^uin fuch low-lived fellows as he.'— - 

* Low-lived, my dear, do you call him ?' cried I ; 
' it is very poffible we may miflake this man's cha- 
' raster : for he feems upon fome occa(ions the moil 

* fijiiihed gentleman I ever knew.— —Tell me, So- 

* phia, my girl, has he ever given you any fecret in- 

* dances of his attachment ? ' ■ * His converfation 
' with me. Sir,' replied my datlgliter, * has ever beea 

* fenfible, modeft, and plea(ing. As to aught elfe, 

* no, never. Once, indeed, I remember to have heard 
. ' him fav he never knew a woman who could find 

* merit in a man that feemed poor.' — ' Such, my 

* dear,' cried I, * is the common cant of all the un-* 
' ftrtunace or idle. But I hope you have been taught 

* to judge properly of fuch men, and that it would 
I be even aiadnefs to expert happinefs fiom one who 

D 5 'has 



5$ THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* has been fo very bad an oeconomift of his own', 

* Your mother and I have now better profpeds for 
' you. The next winter, which yon w^ll probably 

* fpend in town* will give you opportunities of mak- 

* ingamore prudent choice/ . 

What Sophia's refledions were upon thb occafion, 
I cannot pretend to determine ; but I was not dif- 
pleafed at the bottom, that we were rid of a gueft from 
whom I had much to fear. Our breach of hoijpita- 
lity went to my confcience a little : but I quickly^ 
filenced that monitor by two or thr^e fpecious reafons, 
which ferved to fatisfy and reconcile me to myfelf. 
The pain which confcience gives the man who has 
already donii wronf » is foon got over. Confcience is 
4 coward, and thoie faults it has not ftrength enough 
to prevem, it feldom has juftice enough to accufe. 

CHAP. XIV.' 

frejb nwrfiJUatiomt or a Amonftration that feiming cald" 

mtties may be real hkffings. 

T^ H E journey of my daughters to town was now 
^ jefolved upon, Mr. liiornhill having kindly 
promifed to infpe£k their conduA himfelf, and inform 
us by letter of their behaviour. But it was thought 
indilpenfably necefTary that their appearance fhould 
equal the greatnefs of their expectations, which could 
not be done without expence. We debated there- 
fore in full council what were the eafieft methods of 
raiiing money, or, more properly fpeaking, what we 
could moil conveniently fell. The deliberation was 
foon finiflied ; it was found that our remaining horfe 
was utterly ufelefs for the plough, without his com- 
panion, and equally unfit for the road, as wanting 
an eye ; it was therefore determined that we fiiould 
difpofe of him for the purpofes above mentioned, at 
the neighbouring fair, and, to prevent impoiition, 
that I fhould go with him myfelf. Though this was 
pae of the &cft mercantile tranfai^ons of my life, yet 

I had 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 59 

I liad no dottbt atbovt acqaitting myfelf with reputa- 
tion. The opinion a man forms of his own pro- 
dence b meafured by that of the company he keeps ; 
and as niine was moftly in the family way; I had con«> 
ceived no unfavourable fentiments of my .worldly wif- 
dom. My wife> however, next moming> at partings 
after I had got fome paces from the ^oor« called mc; 
back, to advife me> m a whifper* to have all my eyes 
about me. 

I hadf in the ufual-formsj, when I came to the hix, 

put my horfe through all hb paces ; but for fone time ^ 

Aad no bidders. At laft a chapman approached, and 

after he had for a good while exammed the horfe 

round, finding him blind of one eye^ he would have 

nothing^ to fay to hiih : a feqond came up ; but ob» 

ferving he had^ fpavin, declared he wouLd not take 

him fox the driving home : a third perceived he had a 

wind^|ri31> and would bid no money : a fourth knew 

by hb eye that he had the botts : a fifth wcmdered 

wlut a plague I could do at the &ir with the blinds 

ipavinea> galled hackj that was only fit to be cut 

lip for a dog-kennel. By this time I began to have 

a inoH hearty contempt for the poor animal myfelf, 

and was almofi afiiam^ed at the approach of every 

cuftomer: for though I did not entirely believe aU 

the fellows told me ; yet I reflected that the number 

of witneiles was a ftrong prefumption they were right, 

and St. Gregory upon good wbrks, profeiTes hiimelf 

%o be of the fame opinion. 

I was in this mortifying fituation, when a brother 
clergyman, an old acquamtance, who hs^d alfo bufi* 
nefs to the fair, came up, and ikaking me by the 
hand, propofed acyouming to a public-houfe and 
taking a glafs of whatever we could get. I readily 
clofed with the ofier, and entering an^ ale-houfe, we 
were fhewn into a little back room, where there was 
pnly a venerable old man, who fat wholly intent over 
Si large book, which he was reading. I never in my 
life faw a figure that prepoiTefled me more favourably* 
Hb locks of filVex grey venerably fliadcd hb temples, 

i> 6 ^ and 



6o THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD: 

and his great old age feemed to be the refult of 
health and benevolence. However^ his prefeiice - did 
Bot interrupt our converfation ; my friend and I dif- 
coi^rfed on the vari6u$ turns of fortune we had met : 
the Whiilonian controverfy, my laft pandf^et, the 
archdeacon's reply^ and ^e hard meafure that ^vas 
dealt me. 3ut our attention was in a (hort time taken off 
by the appearance of a youth, who entering the room, 
refpedfully faid fomething (bftly to the old (Iranger. 

* Make 110 apologies, my child,' faid ^e old 'man; 
' to 'do good' is a duty we ow'e to all our fellbw^' 

* creatures : take this, I wifli it were more; but &Ve 

* pounds will relieve your diftrefs, and you are wel- 
' come.' The modeft youth (hed tears of gratitude, 
and yet his gratitude was fcarce equal to mine. I 
could have hugged the good old man in my aj-ms, 
tls l)enevolence pleafed me fo. He continued to read, 
and we refumcd our converfation, until my compa^ 
nion, after fome time, recollecting that he had bufi- 
ne(s to tranfaCt in the fair, promifed to be foon back ; 
adding, that he always defired to have as much of I>r* 
Pxiihme's company as pofiible. The old gentleman^ 
hearing my name mentioned, feemed to look at me 
with attention for fome time, and when my friend 
was gone, moft refpedtfully demanded if I was any 
way relaited to the great Primrofe, that* courageous 
monoganiift,' who had been^the bulwark of the (Church. 
Never did my heart feel finceret rapture than at that 
moment. ' Sir,' cried I, ' the applaufe of fo ^ood 

* a man, as I am fure you are, adds to that happmefs 
f in my bread which your- benevolence has already 

* excited. You behold before you. Sir, that Dodtor 

* Primrofe, the monogamiil, whom you have been 
' pleafed to call great. You here fee that unfortunate 

* bivine, who has fo long, and it would ill become 

* me to fay fuccefsfuUy, fought againd the deutero- 

* gamy of the age.'—* Sir,' cried the ftrangner, ftruck 
with awe, ' I fear I have been too familiar ; but 

* you'll forgive my curiofity. Sir: I beg pardon.* 
-^' Sir,' cried J, grafping his hand, ' you are fo far 

-*• ' from 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIEtD. 6i 

* from difpleafing me by your familiai'ity> ch^t I moil 
' beg yoa'll accept my friendftixp, as you already have 

* my cfteein.'— • Then with gratitude I accept the 

* offer,* cried he, fqueezing me by the hand, « thou 
' glorious pillar of uniha^en orthodoxy I and. do I 
' behold*— <•! here interrupted what he was going, to 
fay ; for though, as an author, I could digeft no imall 
ihare of flattery, yet now my modefty would permit no 
more. However, no lovers in romance ever cements 
ed a more in((antaneous friendihip. We talked upon 
feveral fubjei^s : at flrft, I thought h)s feemed rather 
devout than learned, and began to think he defpifed 
all human doctrines as drofs. Yet this noway lefTened 
him in my efleem : for I had for Tome time begun 
privately to harbour fuch an opinion myfelf. I there- 
ftre took occafion to obferve, that the world in gene- 
ral began to be blameably indifferent as to dodrinal 
xaatters, and followed human fpeculations too much— 

* Ay, Sir,' replied he, as if he had referved all hif • 
learning to that moment, ' Ay, Sir, the world is in 
' its dotage, and yet the cofmogony or creation of the 

* world has puzzled philofophers of all ages. What 
' a medley of opinions have they not broached upon 
' the creation of the world? Sanconiathon, Mane- 
' tho, Berofus, and Ocellus Lucanus, have all at- 
' tempted it in vain. The latter has thefe words, 

* Anarchon ara kai atelutaion to pan, which imply that 

* all things have neither beginning nor end. Ma- 
' netho alio, who lived about the time of Nebuchadon- 
' Affer, Affer being a Syriac word ufuaUy applied as 

* a furname to the kings of that country, as Teelat 

* Phael- Affer, Nabon- Affer; he, I fay, formed a 

* conjeAute equally abfurd ; for as we ufually fay, ok 

* to liblion kubemetesy which implies that books will 
' never teach the world ; fo he attempted to inveiti- 

* gate But, Sir, I afk pardon, I am ftraying from 

* the queftion.'— -^ — That the adually was ; nor could 
I for my life, fee how the creation of the world had 
any thing to do with the bufmefs I was talking of ; 
bat it was fufficient to fi^w me that he .was a man of 

letters. 



fe^ THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD; 

letters^ and I now reverenced him the more. I Wbr 
refolved therefore to bring him to the touchilones 
but he was too mild and too gentle to contend for 
viftory. Whenever I made any obfervation that 
looked likea challenge to controverfy, he would fmile, 
fiial^e his head^ and fay nothing ; by which I under- 
Hood be could fay much, if he thought proper. The 
fubje^t therefore infeniibly changed from the bufinefs 
of antiquity to that which brought us both to the fair; 
mine I told him was to fell an horfe, and very luckily^ 
indeed, his was to buy one for one of his tenants* 
My horfe was foon produced, and in fine we ftruck a 
bargain. Nothing now remained but to pay me, and 
he accordingly pulled out a thirty pound note, and 
bid me change it. Not being in a capacity of com- 
plying with his demand, he ordered his footman to be 
called up, who made his appearance in a very genteel 
livery. * Here, Abraham,' cried he, ' go and get 
' gold for this ; you'll do it at neighbour Jackfon's, 

* or any where.' While the fellow was gone, he en- 
tertained me with a padietic harangue on the greatf 
^arcitv of filyer, which I undertook to improve, by 
deplormg alfo the great fcarcity of gold ; fo that by 
that time Abraham returned^ we had both agreed that 
money was never fo hard to be come at as now. Abra^ 
ham returned to inform us, that he had been over 
the whole fair and could not get change, though he 
had offered half a crown for doing it. This was a 
very great difappointment to us all ; but the old gen- 
tleman having paufed a little, aiked me if I knew 
one Solomon Flamborough in my part of* the country : 
upon replying that he was my next-door neighbour, 

* If that oe the cafe then,' returned he, ' I believe 
^ we (hall deal. You (hall have a draught upon him,* 
< payable at fight; and let me .tell you, he is as warm 
' a man as any within five miles round him. Honeft 
^ Solomon and I have been acquainted for many 

* years together. I remember I always beat him at 
^' three jumps ; but he could hop upon one leg farther 
'/ th^ I.' A draught upon my neighbour was to me 

the 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 6$ 

tte fame as money ; for I was fufficiently convinced bf 
his abiEty : the araaeht was fi^ed and put into my 
hands, ^nd Mr. Jenkinfon, the old gentleman, his 
man Abraham, and my horfe, old Blackberry, trot- 
ted off, very w^ll plealed with each other. 

After a fhort interval, being left to reflef^ion, I 
began to recoiled that I had^ done wrong in taking 
a draught from a flranger, and fo prudently refolved 
upon following the purchafer, and having back my 
horfe. But this was now too late : I therefore made 
diredty homewards* refolving to g^t the draught 
changed into money at my friend's as faft as poffible* 
I found my honeft ne>ghbour fmoking his pipe at his 
own door, and informing him that I had a fmall bill 
upon him, he read it twice over. * You can read the 

* name, I fuppofe,' crie^S I, ' Ephraim Jenkinfon.' 
— * Yes,' returned he, • the name is written plain 
' enough, and I know the gentleman too, the greateft 
< rafcal under the canopy of heaven. This b the 

* very fame rogue who fold us the f^edlacles. Was he 
' not a veneraole looking man, with grey hair, and 
' no flaps to his pocket-holes ? And did he not talk a 

* long^ftring of learning about Greek, and cofmogo- 
' ny, and the world? To this I repUed with a 
groan-V ' Aye,' continued he, ' he has but one piece 
' of learning in the world, and he always talks it 

* wherever he finds a fcholar in company: but I 
" know the rogue, and will c^tch him yet.' 

Though I was already fufHciently mortified, my 

Sreateft ftruggle was to come, in facing my wife and 
aughters. No truant was ever more afraid of return- 
ing to fchool, there to behold the mailer's- vifage, 
than I was* of going home. I was determined, how- 
ever, to anticipate their fury, by fi'ril falling into a 
paflion myfelf. 

But, alas ! upon entering, I found the family no 
way difpofed for battle. My wife and girls were all 
in tears, Mr. Thomhill having been there that day to 
inform them that their journey to town was entirely 
over. The two ladies having heard reports of us from 

fome 



64" THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD/ 

fome malicious perfon about us, were that day fet' 
oat for London. He could neither difcover the ten-, 
dency nor the author of theie, but whatever they 
might be, or whoever might have broached them^ he 
continued to afTure our family of his friendihip and 
protefUon. I found, therefore; that they bore my 
difappointment with great refignation, as it was eclip- 
fed m the greatnefs of their own. But what per- 
plexed us moft was to think who could be fo bale as 
to afperfe the chara6ler of a family fo harmlefs as ours, 
too humble to excite envy, and too inoffeniive to 
create difjipft. 

C H A P. XV. 

4BMr. BitrebeWt vfllany at once dettaed. The ftMj of 

being ot/er^wife, 

THAT evening and part of the following day 
was employed in fruitlefs attempts to diurover 
our enemies ; fcarce a family in the neighbourhood 
but incurred our fufpicions, and each of us had rea- 
^ns for our opinion beil known to ourfelves. As we 
were in this perplexity, one of our little boys, who 
had been playing abroad, brought in a letter-cafe, 
which he found on the green. It was quickly knowa 
to belong to Mr. Burchell, with whom it had been 
feen, and upon examination, contained fome hints 
upon dilFerent fubje6ts ; but what particularly engaged 
our attention, was a fealed note fubfcribed, the copy 
tf a letter to befent to the ladies at ThomhilUcaftle. It 
Miftantly occurred that he was the bafe informer, and 
we deliberated whether the note ihould not be broke 
open. I was againft it ; but Sophia^ who faid ihe was 
fure that of all men he would be the laft to be guilty 
of fomuch bafenefs, infifted upon its being read; In 
this (he was feconded by the reft of the family, and, 
at their joint folicitation, I read as follows : 

' Ladies, 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 65 

/ 

' Ladies^ 

.' np H E bearer will fufficiently fetisfy you a^ to the 
' ^ perfon from Whence this comes : one at leaft the 
' friend of innocence, and ready ta prevent its being 

* fedttced. I am informed for a truth, that yqu have 

* fbme intention of bringing two young ladies to town, 

* whom I have fome knowledge of, under the charac- 
' ter of companions. As I would, neither have fim- 
' plicity impofed upon, nor virtue contaminated, I 

* muft offer it as my opinion, that the impropriety of 
' fuch a ilep will be attended with dangerous confe* 

* quences. It has never been my way to treat the in- 

* ramous or the lewd with feverity ; nor (hould I now 

* have taken jthis method of explaining myfelf, or re* 
' proving folly, did it not aim at guilt. Take there* 
' fore the admonition of a friend, and ferioufly re* 

* fled on the confequences of introducing infamy and 

* vice into retreats where peace and innocence have 

* hitherto refided.' 

Our doubts were now at an end. There feemed 
indeed foitiethin^ applicable to both fides in this let- 
ter, and its cen(ures might as well be referred to-thofe 
to whom it was written, as to us ; but the malicious 
meaning was obvious, and we went no farther. My 
wife had fcarce patience to hear me to the end, but 
railed at the writer with unrcftrained refentment.' Oli- 
via was equally fevere, and Sophia feemed perfeftly 
amazed at his bafenefs. As for my part, it appeared 
to me one of the vileft inftances of unprovoked ingra- 
titude I had met with. Nor could I account fox it 
in any other manner than by imputing it to his defire 
of detaining my youngeft daughter in the country; to 
have the more frequent opport^nities of an interview. 
In this manner we all fat ruminating upon fchemes 
of vengeance, when our other little boy came- running 
in to tell us that Mr. Burchell was approaching at the 
other end of the field. It is eafier to conceive than 
defcribe ' the complicated fenfations which are felt 
from the pain of a recent injury, and the pleafure of 

approach-^ 



66 THE VICAR OF 

approaching veneeance. Though our i&tendons were 
only to uplrndd him with his ingratitude ; yet it was 
refdlved to do it in Is manner ihzt wonld be perfe^liy 
cuttine. For this parpofe we agreed to meet him with 
fwr uiual fmiks, to chat in the begimiing with more 
diaa ordinary kindnefs> to kmia£e him a littie ; and 
then in the midft of the flattering cahn to burif upon 
him like an earthquake, and orerwh'elm him with the 
fenfe of his own bafenefs* This being refolved upon« 
my wife undertook to manage the bnunefs herfelf, as 
Ihe really had fome talents tor fach an undertaking. 
We faw him approach, he entered, drew a chair, and 
fat down.—' A fine day, Mr: Bnxtrhell.' ■' A 

* very fine day, I>odor ; though I fancy we ihall have 

* fome rain by the (hooting of my corns / ' * The 

* ihoodng of your horns,' cried my w^e in a loud £t 
of laughter, and dien afked pardon for being fond of 
« joke.**' Dear madim,' replied he, ^ I pardon you. 
' with all my heart ; for I proteft I, fhould not have 

* thought it a joke, had you- not told me.**—* Per- 
' hi4>$ not. Sir,' cried 11x7 Wife, winking at us, ' and 
' yet I dare fay yon can tell us how many jokes go uy 

* an ounce.'—* I fimcy, madam,' returned Burchell,. 

* you have been reading a jeil-book this morning, 

* that ounce of jokes is To very good a conceit ; and 
' yet> madam, I had rather fee half an ounce of un- 

* derftan^b^'^* I believe you mieht,' cried my wife, 
ftill fmllin? at tts, though the laugh was againi^ her ; 
' and yet I have feen fome men prete^id to underftand^ 
' ing diat have very little.' ■ ■ * And no doUbt,' re- 
pliea her antagonid, ' you have l^nown ladies fet up 
' for wit that had none.' ■ I ^adckly began to find 
that my. wife was likely to gain but little at this bufi*. 
nefs ; (o I refolved to treat him in a ftyle of more 
feverity myfelf. ' Both wit and underftanding,' cried 
I, ' are trifles without integrity; it is that which 

* ^ives value to every charaSer. The ignorant pea« 
' tant, without fault, is greater than the philpfopher 
' with many; for what is genius or courage without 

* an heart? AnMnefl man is the nobleft^ork of God J , 

* lal- 



-H 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELP. 67 

* I always held that hackney'd maxim of Pope/ 
returned Mr. Barchell, ' as very unworthy a man of 

* genius, and a oafe defertion of his own ibperiontv. 
' As the reputation of books is raifed not by their 
' freedom from defe6l> hut the greatnefs oi their 
< beauties ; (b (hould that of men be prized not for 
' their exemption from fault, but the fize of thofe vir- 
' tues they are pofiefled of. The fqholar may want 
' prudence, the flatefman may have pride^ and the 
' champion ferocity ; bu^ fhall we prefer to thefe the 
' low mechanic, who laborioofly plods on through 
' life, withbut cenfure or applauie ? We might as weE 
' prefer the tame corred painthm of the Flemiih 
' fchool to the enormous but fublime aniimationi of 

* the Roman pencil.' 

' Sir,' replied I, * your prefent obfervation is juft^ 

* when there are ihining virtues and minute defedU $ 

* but when it appears that great vices are oppoied iix 
' the fame mind to as extraordinary virtues, fuch a 

* character deferves contempt.* 

' Perhaps,' cried he, ' there may be fome fuch mon^ 
' ^ers as you defcribe, of gi^at vices joined to great 
' virtues ; yet in the proceis through life, I never yet 
' found one inftance of their exiftence : on the coin 
' trary, I have ever perceived^ that where the mind 
' was capacious the afFeftionswere rood. And in- 

* deed Providence feems kindly our friend in this par- 
' ticular, thus to debilitate the underilanding where 

* the heart is corrupt, and dimini(h the power where 
' there is the will to do mifchief. This rule feems to 

< extend even to other animals : the little vermin race 
' are ever treacheorus, cruel, and cowardly, whilft 

* thofe endowed with ftrength and power are generous, 

* brave, andeentle.' 

* Thefe oblervations found well,' returned I, * and 
^ yet it would be eafy this moment to point out a 

* man,' and I fixed my eye ftedfallly i;tpon him, 

* whofe head and heart form a moil deteflable con*- 

< traft. Ay, Sir,' continued I, raiitng my voice, •* and 
' I Jim glad of having this opportunity of detedling 

♦him 



I 



) 



68 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD; 

' him in the xnidft of Kis friends fecarity. Do yoty 
« know Uiis, Sir, this pocket-book.?' — • Yes, Sir,* 
returned he, with a face of impenetrable aiTarance, 
' that pocket-book is mine> and I am, glad yon have 

* fonnd it.* — * And do you know,' cried I, * this 
' letter? Nay, never falter, man; but look me 
' full in the face : I fay, do you know this letter ?' 
•— * That letter,' returned he; *yes, it was I that 

* wrote that letter,' * And how could you,' faid 

I, * fo bafely, fo ungratefully prefume to write this 

* letter ?*— * And how came you,' replied he, with 
looks of unparalleled eiFrontery, * fo bafely to pre- 

* fume to break open this letter ? Don't you know, 

* now, I could hang you all for this? All that I 

* have to do is to iWear at the next juftice*^ that you 
.' have been guilty of breaking open the lock of my 
.' pocket-book, and fo hang you all. up at this doof.' 
.This piece of unexpedted iniolence raifed me to fuch 
a pitch that I could fcarce govern my paiTton. * Un- 

* grateful wretch, begone, and no longer- pollute my 
' dwelling with thy bafenefs. Begone, and never let 

, * me fee thee again : go from my door, and the only 
' punifliment I wiih thee, is an alarmed confcience-, 

* which will be a fufficient tormentor !' So faying, I 
threw him his pocket-book, which he took up with a 
fmile, and ihutting the clafps with the utmofl cbmpo- 
fure, left us quite ailoniihed at the ferenlty of his 
aiTurance. My wife was particularly enraged that no- 
thing could make him angry, or make him feem 
aihamed of his villanies : * My dear,' cried I, will- 
ing 16 calm thofe pafTions that had been raifed too 
high among us, ' we are not to be furprifed that bad 

* men want (hame ; they only bloih at being de- 

* tefted in doing good, but glory in th^ir vices. 

* Guilt atid ShaflCie, fays tlie allegory," were at firft 

* companions, and the beginning of their journey 

< infeparably kept together. But their union, was 

< foon found to oe dilagreeable and inconvenient to 

* both : Guilt gave Shame frequent uneaiinefs, and 
' Shame often betrayed the fecret confpiracies. of 

' * Guilt* 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 69 

' Gttitt. After lon^ difagreement, therefore, they 
' at length confented to part for ever. Guilt boldly 
' walked forward alone to overtake Fate, that went 
' before in the (hape of an executioner : but Shame 
' being naturally timorous, returned back to keep 
' coQipany with Virtue, which in the beginning of 
' their journey they had left behind. Thus, my 
' children, after men have travelled through a few 
' ftages in vice. Shame forfakes them, and returns 
' back to wait upon the few virtues they have (liil re- 
* maining.' ; 

'CHAP. XVI. 
^TifC family iife art-, ijjhicb is eppofid'whb greater ft iU. 

WHATEVER might have been Sophia's fenfa- 
tions, the reft of thk family was eafily con- 
fokd for Mr. Burchell's abfence by the company of 
oar landlord, whofe vifits now became more frequent 
and longer. Though he had been difappointed in 
p/ocoring my daughters the amufements of the town, 
as he defigned, he took every opportunity of fupply- 
ing them with thofe Uttle recreations which our retire- 
ment would admit of. He ufually came in the morn- 
ing, and while my fon and I followed our occupations 
abroad, he fat with the family at home; and amufed 
them by defcribing the town, with every part of 
which he was particularly acquainted. He could re- 
peat all the observations that were retailed in the at- 
moiphere of the play-houfes, and had all the good 
things of the high wits by rote long before they made 
way into the jeH-books. The intervals between con- 
verfation were employ ed^^in teaching my daughters 
piquet, or fometimes in fetting my two little ones to 
box, to make them fiarp, as he called it -x but the 
hopes of having him for a fon-in-law, in fome mea- 
fure blinded us to all his imperfections. It mufl be 
owned, that my wife laid a thoufand fchemes to en- 
trap him> or, to fpeak it more tenderly, ufed every 

art 



fo THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

4irt to magnify the merit of her daughters. If the 
cakes at tea ate ihort and crifp, they were made by 
Oliria ; if the goofeberry wkie was well knit, the 
goofeberries were of her gathering: it was her fingers 
which gave the pickles their peculiar green ; and in 
the compofition of a pudding, it was her judgment 
that mixed the ingredients. Then the poor woman 
would fometimes tell the 'Squire, that (he thought 
Kim and Olivia extremely of a fize, and would bid 
both (land up to fee which was talleft. Thefe in- 
fiances of cunnings which &e thought impe&etrable» 
yet which every body faw through, were very pleafing 
to our bene&dtor, who gave every day fome new 
proofs of his paflion, which though they had not arifen 
to proposals of marriage, yet we thought fell but 
Httle mort of it; and his flownefs was attributed 
fometimes to native bafiifulnefs, and fometimes to his 
fear of pffending his uncle. An occurrence, how- 
ever, which happened foon after, put it beyond a 
doubt that he deiigned to become one of our fa* 
iniW ; my wife even regarded it as an abfolute pro- 
mile. 

' My wife and daughters happening to return a vi£t 
to neighbour Flamboroush's, found that family had 
lately got their pictures drawn by a limber, who tra- 
velled the country, and took kkeaefleis for fifteen 
ihiliings a head. As this family and ours had long a 
fort of rivalry in point of tafte, our fpirit took the 
alarm at this ftolen march upon us, and notwithftand- 
ing all I could fay, and I (aid much, it was refolved 
that we ihould have our pidures done too. Having, 
therefore, engaged the limner, (for what could I do?) 
our next deliberation was to ihew the fuperiority of 
our taHe in attithdes. As for our neighbour's fa- 
mily, there were feven of them, and they were drawn 
with feven oranges, a thing (jnite out of^ta^, no va- 
riety in life, no compofition w the world. We de- 
fired to have fomething in a brighter ftyle, and after 
many debates, at length came to an unanimous refb- 
ktton of being drawn together^ in one large hiAorical 

family*^ 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 71 

fkmily-piece. This would be cheaper^ fince on^ 
frame would ferve for all, and it would be infinitely 
more genteel ; for 4dl families of any tafte were now 
drawn in the fame manner. As we did not immedi- 
ately recoiled an hiflorical fubje£t to hit us> we were 
contented each with being drawn as independent hif- 
torical figures. My wife defired to be reprefented as 
Venus, and the painter was defired not to be too 
frugal of his diamonds in her ftomacher and hair* 
Her two little ones were to be as Cupids by her fide, 
while I, in my gown and band, was to prefent her 
with my books on the Whiftonian controverfy. Olivia 
would be drawn as an Amazon, fitting uponr a bank 
of flowers, drefied in a green Tofeph, richly laced wit^ 
gold, and a whip in her hand. Sophia was to be a 
Chepherdefs, with as many fheep as the painter could 
put in for nothing ; and Mofes was to be drefled out 
widi a hat and white feather. Our tafte fo much 
|i^eafed the ^Squire, that he infixed on being put in 
as one of the nimily i^ the charader of Alexander the 
Great, at Olivia's feet. This was confidered by us 
aS as an. indication of his defire to be' introduced into 
the family, nor could we refufe his requeil. The 
painter was therefore fet to work, and as he wrought 
with afiiduity and expedition, in lefs than four days 
the whole was completed. The piece was large, and 
it muft be owned' he did not Ipare his colours ; for 
which my wife gave him great encomiums. We were 
all perfodly fadsfied with his performance; but an un- 
fortunate circumftance had not occurred till the pic- 
ture was finifiied, which now ftruck us with difmay/ 
It was fo very large, that we had no place ia- the houfe 
to fix it. How we all came to difregard fo material 
a point is inconceivable; but certain it is, we had 
been all greatly remifs. This pidure,' therefore, in- 
ftead of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped, leaned in 
a moft mortifying manner againft the kitchen wall, 
where the canvas was ftr^tched and painted, much tbo 
large to be got through ^ny of the doors, and the jeil 
of all oar neighbours. One compared it to Robinfon 

Crufoe's 



7* THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD, 

Crufoe's long-boat, too large to be removed; another 
thought it more refembled a reel in a botde ; fome ' 
wondered how it could be got out> but ftill more were 
amaaed how it ever got in. 

But though it excited the ridicule of fome, it effec- 
tually raifed more malicious fuggeftions in many. 
The 'Squire's portrait being found united with ours, 
was an honour too great to efcape envy. Scandalous 
whifpers began to circulate at our expence, >and our 
tranquillity was continually difturbed by perfons who 
came as friends to tell us what was faid of us by ene- 
mies. Thefe reports were always refented with biecom- 
ing fpirit ; but fcandal ever improves by oppofition. 

We once again therefore entered into a confultation 
upon obviating the malice of our enemies, axid at lall 
came to a reiolution which had too much cunning to 
give me entire fatisfa£iion. It was this : as our prin- 
cipal objed was to difcover the honour of Mr. Thorn- 
hill's addreifes, my wife undertook to found him, by 
pretending to afi^ his advice in the choice of a hulband 
for her eldeft daughter. If this was not found fufii- 
cient to induce him to a declaration, it was then re- 
folved to terrify him with a rival. To this laft Hep, 
however^ I would by no means give my confent> till 
Olivia gave me the moft folemn afTurances tha:t fhe 
would marry the perfon provided to rival him upon 
this ociafion, if he did not prevent it, by taking her 
himfelf. Such was the fcheme laid, which though I 
did not ftrenuoufly oppofe, I did not entirely ap- 
prove. 

The next tise, therefore, that Mr. Thomhill came 
to fee us, my girls took care to be out of the way, in 
order to give their mamma an opportunity of patting 
her fcheme in execution ; but they only retirea to the 
next room, from whence they could overhear the 
whole converfation : my wife artfully introduced it, 
by obferving that one of the Mifs Flamboroughs was 
liice to have a very good match of ^it in Mr. Spanker. 
To this the 'Squire aiTenting, (he proceeded to remark, 
that they who had warm fortunes were always fare 

of 



TfiE VICAR' OF ^AKEfflELDl 73- 

tF getting g6od hutBands ; 'but heaven help,* con- 
tinued fhe, * the girls that have none t What figni- , 

* fies beaut7, Mr. Thoriihill? or what fignifies all 
' the virtue, and aH the qaalifications in the world, in 
« this age of felf-intereft f it is not, what is (he ? but 

* what/ has fhe?' is all the cry/ 

*' Madam,* return'ed he, * I highly approve the 

* jufticc, as well as the noVeltJr, t)f your remarks, and 

* if I were a king, it Ihbuld be x)therwife. It fhould 

* then, indeed, /be fine tirne^ with the girls without /-; 

* fortunes : our two young ladies fhould be the firft for . 
' whom J would provide.* 

* Ah, Sir !* returned my wife, * you are pleafed to 
' be facedous : but I wi(h I were a queen, and then I 

* know where my eldeft daughter fhould look for an 
^ hufband. Biit now that you have put it into my 

* head, feriouily, Mr. Thorrihill, can't you recom- 
'mend me a proper huiband for her? fhe is now 
' mneteen years old, well grown and well educated^ 
' aad in my humble opinion^ does not want for 

* parts.* 

' Madam,* replied he, • if I were to chufe, I would 

* find 4>ut a perion' pofTefied of every accomplifhment 
' that can make an^angel happy. One with prudence, 
' fortune, tafle, and fintenty; fuch^ madam> would' 
' be, in my opinion, the proper hufband.'— * Ay, 

* Sir,* faid fhe, * but do you know of any fuchper- 

* fon? * * No, madam,' returned he, * it is im- 

* poflible to know any perfon that deferves to be her 

* hufband: fhe's too great a treafure for one man's 
' pofieffion : fhe's a goddefs. Upon my foul, I fpeak 

* what I think, fhe's an angel.'—* Ah, Mr. Thorn- 
*'hill, you only flatter my poor girl: but we have, 
•been thinking of marrymg her to one of your tc-. 
' nants, whofe mother is lately dead, and who wants . 
< a manager : you know whom I meao, farmer Wil- 

* liams ; a warm man, Mr. Thornhill, aUe to give 

* her gbod bread ; and who \^% fever al times made 
' her propofals :* (which was adu^y the cafe:) 'but, 
! Sir/ concluded ib^^ * I fhould be glad to have your 

£ * jippro- 



74 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* approbation of our choice / ■ ■ * How, macbon/ 
replied he, * my approbation! My approbation of 

* fuch a choice! Never. What I facnfice fo much. 

* beauty, and fenfe, and goodnefs, to a creature in> 

* fenfible of the blefTing ! Excufe me, I can never 
^ approve of fuch a piece of injuftice ! and I have 

* my reafons I' — ' Indeed, Sir,' cried Deborah, * if 
' ^ you have your reafons,, that's another affair; but I . 

* ihould be glad to know thofe reafons.' ^ Excufe 

* me, madam,' returned he, * they lie too deep for 

* difcovery :' (laying his hand uponjiis bofom :) • they 

* remain burled, rivetted here.' 

After he was gone, upon gpneral confultatlon, we 
could not tell what to make of thefe fine fentiments. 
Olivia confidered them as inflances of the mod exalted 
paflion ; but I was not quite fo fanguine : it feemed to 
me pretty plain, that they had more of love than 
matrimony m them : yet, whatever they might por- 
tend, it was refolved to profecute the fcheme of farmer 
Williams, who, from my daughter's firft appearance 
ih the country, had paid her his addrefTes. 

CHAP. XVII. 

Scar a mny virtue found to rejtft the pomfer of long und 

pleafing temptation* 

AS I only (bidied my child's real happinefs, the 
affiduity of Mr. Williakns pleafed me, as he was 
in eafy circumflances, prudent, and fincere. It re- 
x]tiired but very litde encouragement to revive his 
former paflion ; fo that in an evening or two he and 
Mr. Thornhiil met at our houfe, ana furveyed each 
other for fome time with looks of ang6r : but Williams 
#wed his landlord no rent, and little regarded his in- 
dignation. Olivia, on her lide, adted die coquet to 
perfection, if that might be called adting which was 
her real character, pretending to lavifb aH her tender- 
n^fs on her new lover. Mr. Thornhiil appeared 
ijuite dejefted at this preference^ and with a penfive 

air 



THE VICAR OP WAKlfflFIELD. 75 

air took leave, though I own it pu2^1ed me to find 
him To mach in pain as he appeared to he, when he 
had it in his power (o cafily to remove the caufe, by 
declaring an honourable pailion. But whatever un- 
ealinefs he Teemed to endure, it coujd eafily be per- 
ceived that Olivia's anguifh was ftill greater. After 
any of thefe interviews between her lovers, of which 
there were feveral, fhe ufually retired to folitude, and 
there indulged her grief. It was in fuch a iituation I 
found her one evening, after fhe had been for fome 
time fupporting a fiditious gaiety—* You now fee, 

* my child,* laid I, ' that your confidence in Mr. 
' Thornhill's paffion was all a dream ; he permits the 

* rivalry of another, every way his inferior, though 
' he knows it lies in his power to fecure you to him- 

* felf by ^a candid declaration.' * Yes, papa,' 

returned fhe, * but he has his reafons for this delay : 

* I know he has. The fincerity of his. looks and 

* words ^convinces me of his real eflecm. A fhort 

* time, I hope, will difcover the generofity of his 

* fentiments, and convince you that my opinion of. 

* him has been more juft than yours/ * Olivia, my 

' darling,' returned"!, * every fcheme that has been 
' hitherto purfued to itompel him to a declaration, 

* has been propofed and planned by yourfelf, nor can 

* you in the leafl fay thiit I have conilrained you. 

* But you mufl not fuppofe, my dear, that I will ever 

* be inflrumental in fufFefing his honefl rival to be 

* the dupe of your ill-placed paffion. Whatever time 
' you require to bring your fancied admirer to an ex- 

* planation, fhall be granted : but at the expiration of 
' that term, if he is flill regardlefs,,I mufl abfolutely 

* infill that honefl Mr. Williams fhall be rewarded fbr 

* his fidelity. The charadler which I have hitherto 

* fupported in life demands this from me, and my 
' tendernefs as a parent fhall never influence my 
' integrity as a man. Name then your day, let it be 
' as diflant as you think proper, and in the mean time 
' take care to let Mr. ThomhUl know the exad time 

* on which I defign delivering you up to another. If 

E r2 1 'he 



7$ THB: VICAR OF WAKEFIEUX^ 

'< he really loves yoa> his own good fenfe will readily. 
' fuggeft that there is but. one method alone to pre- 

* vent his lofmg you for ever,' ^This propofai, ' 

which (he could not avoid confidering as perfe£Uy }Vk&,, 
was readily agreed, to. She again renewed her mof^ 
po£tive promite of marrying Mr. Williaois, in cafe of 
the other's infeniibility ; and at the next opportunity, 
in Mr, Thornhill's prefence, that day month was fik- 
c4 upon for her njiptials with his rival. 

Such vigorous proceedings feemed to redouble Mr. 
Thornhill's anxietjr : but. what Olivia really felt gave, 
ihe fome uneafinefs. In this flruegle between pru-. 
dence and pafTion^ her vivacity quite forfook her, and 
every opportunity of folitudewas fought, and fpent in. 
tears. One week. paiTed away ; but Mr. Thomhili 
made no efforts to retrain her. nuptials. The foe- 
ceeding week he was flill affiduous; but not more, 
opeju On the third he.difcontinued his.vifits entirely,. 
:uad inilead of my daughter tedifying any impatience,, 
su I expeded, ihe feemed to retain a penAve tran- 
quillity, which I looked upon as re£gnation. For 
my own part, I was now fm^rely pleafed with think-* 
ing that my chUd was going to be fecured in a conti-. 
nuance of competence and peace,, and frequently ap-- 
plauded her idolution* in preferring happinefs to. 
oHentation. 

It was within about four day$ of her intended nup- 
tials, that my little fiunily at night were gathered 
round a charming fire, telling ftories of the paft, and* 
laying fchemes ror the future. Bufied ia forming a . 
tiioufand projedb, and laughine; at whatever folly* 
came uppermoft, ' Well, Mofes,*^ cried I, ' we fhaU . 

* foon, my bov, have a wedding in the fanuly ; what. 

* is your opimon of matters and things in general ?' 

■ - ■ * My opinion, fother, is, that all -things go oni 

* very well ; and I was juft now. thinking, that when . 

* fifler Livy is married to farmer Williams, we (hall . 
< then have. the loan of his cyder-preis andbrewing- 

* tubs for nothing.' — ' Thatweihall^ Mofes,* cried. 
I, ' andiie will fmg us Death itnd the Lady to raife 

* our 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 77 

* our foirits- into the bargain.'—-^* He has taitght 
' that fong, to our Dick/ cried Mofes ; * and I think 

* he goes thrcwgh it very prettily.' 'Does he fo?* 

cried I, « then let us have it : Where's little Dick ? let 

* him up with it boldly.' — ' My brother Dick,' cried 
Billy my youngeft, 'is jull gone out with filler l«ivy ; 
' bat Mr. Williams has taught me two fongs^ and I'll 

* ling them for you, papa. Which fong do you chufe, 
' The dying S^wojif or the Elegy on the death of a mad 
« dog?* — « The elegy, child, by all means,' faidi; ' I nc- 
' ver heard that yet; and Deborah, my life, grief you 
' know is dry, let us have a bottle of the beft goofe- 

* berry wine, to keep up our ^irits. '1 have wept fo 
' much at all forts of eleeies of late, that without an 
' enlivening gl^a I am Sixt this will <>vercome ae $ 

* and Sophy, love, take yoor^uitar^ and thmm ia 
' with tke boy a little.' 



An £l X G T on the Death of a Mad*dqg« 

^000 people aH, of every fort;« 
^ Give ear unto my fong ; 
And if you find it wondrou« ihortj 
It cannot hdd you bng. 

in Ifling town there was a man. 

Of whom the woiid might fay. 
That ftifl a godly race he ran. 

Whene'er he went to pray. 

A Icind and gentle heart he had. 

To comfort friends snd fbe6 ; 
The naked ev'ry day lie clad, » 

When he put on his clothes* 

And in that town a dog was found, 
■ As many dogs there oe, 
^oth mungrel, puppy, whelp, and hound. 
And curs of low degree. 

E 3 * ThU 



78 THE VICAR OF WAKEPIELB. 

This dog and man at firft were friends ; 

But when a pique began. 
The dog, to gain fome private ends. 

Went mad and bit the man. 

; Around from all the neighboring ftreets 

The wond'ring neighbours ran. 
And fwore the dog had loft his wits. 
To bite fo good a man. 

The wound it feem'd both fore and fad« 

To every chriflian eye ; 
And while they fwore tne dog was mad> 

They fwore the man wottld die. 

But foon a wonder came to light. 
That ihew'd the rogues they lied ; * 

The man recover'd of the bite> 
The dog it was that died. 

* A very good boy. Bill, upon my word, and an 
' elegy that may truly be csdled tragical. Come, 
' my children, here's bill's, health, and may he one 
' day be a bifhop !* 

' With all my heart,' cried my wife 5 * and if' hi 
' but preaches as well as he fings,.! make no doubt 
^ oflum. Themoftof hisfamily> by the mother's fide, 

* could fing a good ibng : it was a common faving in 
' 4>ttr country, that the, family of the Blenkinlops 
' could never look ftraight before them, nor the Hug- 

* ingfons blow out a candle ; that there were none of 

* the Gtograms but could fing a fong, or of the 

* Marjorams but could tell a ftory/ — * However that 
< be,* cried I, " the mod vulgar ballad of them all 
' generally pleafes me better than the fine modem 

* odes, and things that petrify in a fingle ilanza ; pro- 

* duflions that we at once deteft and praife. Put the 
« glafs to your brother, Mofes. The great fault of 
« thefe elegiafts is, that they are in deipair of griefs 
^ that give the fenfible part of mankind very little 

« pain. 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELO. . 77 

* pain. A lady lofes her mnff, her fan, or Her lap- 

* dog, and fo the filly poet runs home to verfify the 
' diikfter/ ' ' 

* That may be the mode,* cried Mofes, * infub- 

* limer compofition; but the Ranelagh fongs th^t 

* come down to us are perfedly familiar, and all czji 
' in the fame mould : Colin meets Dolly, and they 

* hold a dialogue together ; he gives her a fairing to 

* pat in her hair, and ihe prefehts him with a nofe-. 

* gay ; and then they go together to church, where 
' they give good advice to yoting nymphs and fwains 
' to get married as fad as they can.' 

' And very good advice tod,' cried I ; ' and I am 

* told there is not a place in the world where advice 
' can be given with u> much propriety as there ; for, 
' as it perfuades us to marry, it alfo furnifhes us with 
' a wife ; and fnrely that muft be an excellent mar- 
' ket, my boy, where we are told what we want, and 

* fupplied with it when wanting.' 

* Yes, , Sir,' returned Mofes, ' and I know but of 

* two fuch markets for wives in Europe, Ranelagh in 
' £ngland, and Fontarabia in Spain. The Spanifh 
' market is open once a year, but our Englifh wives 

* are faleable every night.' 

' You are right, my boy,' cried his mother, ' Old 

* England is the only place in the world for huibands 

* to get wives.'—' And for wives to manage their 

* hufbands,' interrupted I. • It is a proverb ^brOad, 

* that if a bridge were built acrofs the fea^, all the la- 
« dies of the Continent would come over to take pat- 

* tern from ours : for there are no fuch wives in Eu- 

* rope as our own. But let us have one bottle more, 

* Deborah, my life, and Mofes, give us a good fong. 

* What thanks do .we not owe to heaven for thus be- 
' flowing tranquillity, health, and competence ! I 

* think myfelf happier now than the greateft monarch 

* upon earth. He has no fuch fire-fide, nor fuch 

* plekfant faces about it. Yes, Deborah, we are now 

* growing old; but the evening of our life* is likely 

E 4 < 10 



So THE mCAR QF WAKBFIELD. 

to, be happy. We ve. defceiided fix>in aQceftors that 
Ibiew no ftaiii> and we. (hall kave a good and vir- 
tuotts race of children behind as. While we live 
they win be our fapport .and;oiir pleafui^ here> ^nd 
' when we die they will tranfmit pur honour untainted 
to pofterhy. Come^ my km, .we wait for a fong : 
let us have a chorus. But where is. my darling 
Olivia ? That little cherub's voice is always fweet- 
eft in the concert.' — JufI as I fpoke> Dick came 
running in^ ' O papa, papa» Jhe is gone from us, 
fhe is gone from us, my After Livy is gone from us 
for ever.'—* Qone, chUd !' — * Yes, ihe is gone off 
with two gentlemen in a poft-ch^fe, and one of 
them kifTed her, and faid he would die {or her ; and 
{he cried very much, and was for .coming back; 
but he perfuaded her again, and ibe went in^ the 
chaife, and faid, O, what will my poor papa do 
when he knows I am undone !'— ' Now, then,' cried 
, * my children, go and be miferable ; for we {ball 
pever enjoy one hour more. AAd.O, may. heaven's 
everkfting fury light upon him and his I Thus to 
rob me of my chud I And fare it will for taking 
back my fweet innocent that I was leading up to 
heaven. Such iincerity as my child. was poiTeft of! 
-But' all our.earthly happiuefs is now Qver! Go, .my 
children, go, and be miferable and infamous : for 
my heart is broken within me.*——* Pather,* cried 
my fon, * is this your fortitude?' — * Fortitu3c, child.! 
« Yes, be ihall fee J[ h^iye fortitude ! 3ring me fn^ 
piftols. .I'U purfue the traitor. While he is on 
earth I'll purfue hini. Old ^s I am, be ihall find X 
can fting him yet. The villain ! the perfidious vil- 
^ lain i' .1 had by this time reached apwn my pif- 
tols, when my poor wife, whofe pafiions were not b 
flrong as mine, caught me in her arms. « My dear- 

• eft, deareft hulband,' cried flic, * the Bible is the 

• only weapon that is fit for your old hands now, 

• Open that, my love, and read our anguifli into pa« 
« tience. for flic has vilely deceived us.'—* Indeed, 

^Sir/ 



THE VICAR Ot WAXEPIELO, tt 

' Sir/ refained my^ (on, after a paufe^ ' yoar rage is to# 
< violent and unbecoming.^ You ihould be my mo» 

* ther's comforter^ and you increafe her pain. It ill 
' (kited you and your reverend character thus to curfe 
' your greaieft enemy : yon (hotdd not have,curft him, 

* villain as he is. * * I did not ci^e him> child* 
« did I?'— • I,ndeed> Sir, you did; you cnrft him 

* twice.* ■ ■ * Then may Heaven forgive me and him, 
' if I did 1 And now> my km, I fee it was more than 
' human benevolence that firft taught us to blefs our 

* enemies ! Bleft be his holy name for all the good 

■ he hath given^. and for all that he hath taken away. 
' But it is not, it is not a fmall diflrefs that can wring 

* tears from diefe old eyes> that have not wept fat & 

* many years. My chUd 1 ■- To vindo my darling ! 

* May confufton feize ! ■■ H eaven foretve me, what 

* am I about to fay I You may remember, my lore, 

* how good file was, and how charming ; till this vile 

* moment all hef care was to make us happy. Had 

* fhe but ^ed ! But Akt is gone, the honour of Our 
' Aflttly contaminated, and 1 muft look out for hap- 
' fixic& in other worlds than here. ^ But, my child, 
' yoo faw them go off: perhaps he forced her away ? 

* If he forced her, fhe may yet b* innocent.- * * Ah 

* no. Sir,' -cried the child ; ' he only kiiTed her, and 
' called her his angel, and (he wept very much, and 
« leaned upon his arm, and they drove off very fsA,* 

■ * She's an ungrateful creature,* cried my wife^ 
who could fcarce fpeak for weeping, * to ufe us' thus. 

* She never had the leaft confbaint put upon her af- 

* fedions. The vile flrumpet has bafely deferted het 

* parents without any provocation, thus to bring your 

* grey heirs to the grave, and I muft (hortly follow.' 
In this manner that right, the firft of our real mif** 

fortunes, was fpent in the bittemefs of complaint, and 
lU-fupported fallies of cnthufiafm. I determined, how«- 
cver, to find out our betrayer, wherever he was, and 
feproach his bafenefs. The next morning we mifled 
our wretched child at breakfaft, where (he u(ed to -give 
life and cheerfulnefs to us all. My wife, as before, 

£ 5 attempted 



tt THE VICAR of WAKEFIELD. 

attempted to eafe her heart by reproaches. * Never/ 
cried fhe^ < (hall that vilefl ftain of our family again 
' darken thofe harmlefs doors. I will never call her 

* daughter more. No, let the flrumpet live with her 

* vile feducer : ihe may bring us to ihaine« but (he 

* (hall never more deceive us.* 

' Wife,' faid I, * do not talk thus hardly : my de- 
' teftation of her guilt is as great as yours ; but ever 
' (hall this houfe and this heart be open to a poor re- 
< turning repentant (inner. ^ The looner (he returns 

* from her tranfgreffion, the. more welcome (hall flie 

* be to me. For the (irft time the verv bed may err ; 

* art may perfuade, and novelty fpread out its charm. 
' The (ird fault is the child of (implicity; but everf 

* other the offspring of guilt. Yes, the wretcJied 

* creature (hall be welcome to this heart and this 
' houfe, though (tained with ten thoufand vices. I 
' will again hearken to the mu(ic of her voice, again 
' will I hang fondly on her bofom, if I iind but re- 

* pentance there. My fon, bring hither/my Bible and 

* my (tafF; I wiU purfue her, wherever ftie is, and 
' though I cannot (ave her from (hame, I may prevent 
' the continuance of iniquity.' 

m 
I 

CHAP. XVIII. 
Tie purfuit of afathtr to reclaim a loft child to 'virtue* ' 

THOUGH the child could not defcribe the gen* 
tleman's perfon who handed his (i(ler into the 
poft-chaife, yet my fufpicions fell entirely upon our 
young landlord, whofe. character for fuch intrigues 
was but too well known.' I therefore direded my fteps 
towards Thornhill ca(Ue, refplving to upbraid him, 
and, if pofiible, to bring back my daughter; but 
l>efore I had reached his feat, J. was met by* one of my 
parilhioners, who faid he faw a young hdy refembling 
my daughter in a poft-chaife with a gentleman, 
whom, by the defcription, I could only guefs to be 
Mr. Burchell, and diat they drove very faft. This 

in&rma- 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIfiLD. S3 

iiifbrmatipn> however, did by no means fatisfy me. I 
therefore went to the young 'Squire's, and though it 
was yet early, infifted upon feeing him immediately : 
he foon appeared with the moft/open familiar air, and 
deemed perfectly amazed at my daughter's elopement, 
proteiling upon his honour that he was quite a ilranger 
to it. I now therefore condemned my former fulpi- 
cions, and could turn them only on Mr. Burchell, who 
I recollected had of late feveral private conferences 
with her : but the appearance of another witnefs left 
me no room to doubt of his villany, who averred, 
chat he and my daughter were actually gone towards 
the Wells, about thirty miles off, where there was a 
great deal of company. Being driven to that flate 
of mind in which we are more ready to a6l precipi- 
tately than to reafon right, I nevc^r debated with my- 
felf, whether thefe accounts might not have been given ' 
by perfdns purpofely placed in my way, to miflead 
mc, but refolved to purfue my daughter and her fan- 
cied deluder thither. I walked along with eameft- 
nefs, and inquired of feveral by the way ; but re- 
ceived no accounts, till entering the town, I was met 
by a p€irfon on horfeback, whom I remembered tb 
have feen at the 'Squire's, and he afTured me, that if I 
followed them tO' the races, which were but thirty 
miles farther, I might depend upon overtaking them ; 
for he had feen t)lem dance there the night before, 
and the whole affembly feemed charmed with my 
daughter's performance. Early the next day I walked 
forward to the races, and about four in the afternoon 
I came upon the courfe. The company made a very 
brilliant appearance, all eameflly empk)yed in one 
purfuit, that of pleafure ; how different from mine, 
that of reclaiming a loft cluld to virtue ! I thought I 
perceived Mr. Burchell at fome diilance from me : 
out, as if he dreaded an interview, upon my approach- 
ing him, he mixed amone a crowd, and I faw him no 
more. I now refle^ed that it would be to no purpofe 
to continue my purfuit farther, and refolved to return 
home to an bnocent family, who wanted my aflift^ 

£ 6 anceji 



$4. -JTHE VICAR Of W.<\^f lELD. 

>n9e. JBut the agitations of my mad, aad the fa« 
tigues I had jindergone, threw me ijito a fever, the 
ifymptdms of which I perceived before f. came otf the 
coarfe. T)us was another une^cpedij^d ftroke, as I was 
more than feventy miles diilant from |)ome : however^ 
i retired to a little ale-jioufe hy the road-fide> and i^ 
ihis place, the afual retreat of indigence and fru- 
galiiy, l \^d me down patiently to wait the ifTue odf 
my diforder. I languifhed here for near three weejcsf 
^ut atiaft my conilitution prevailed, thoagh I was (in- 
provided with money to defray the expences .0^ iny 
entertainment. It is poflible the anxiety from this 
lad circamftance alone might have hrottghjt on a re« 
lapfcy bs^d I not been foppUed by a traveller, - whp 
jftopt to take a carfory refreihmjcnt. This perfoA was 
m> oth^ th^ the philanthropic bookfeller in Su 
Faul's Chnrch-yard, who has written fo many IJtt^e 
books for children: he called himfelf th^ friend; 
pm he tvas the friend of all mankind. He was np 
Iboner ^ghted, but he was in hafte to be gone ; §t^ 
^ \va^ <rver on bnfinefs of the utmoft importance, an4 
\was ^t that time a£tually compiling materi^s for the 
^(lory of one Mf . Thomas T^ ip* jL^mediately i^e* 
jpDeded this good-natored man^r red pimpled hep ; 
^ he h^d pumifhed for me ag&inft the Deateroganti^ 
of the age, and from hhifjt borrowed a few piece$ to 
•be paid at my ret«n^. Leaving the inn^ jtherefdre, a$ 
'''I was yet bat^eal^, I refolved to return home by esUy 
|ournies of ten owes a day. My health and ofual 
tranquillity were almoft reftored, and I now con- 
.jiemncd that pride which had made me.refradory to 
|he hand of coiTe£tion. Man little knows wh^ cala-- 
vjnities are beyond hi^ patience to bear till he tries 
jlien : as in aicending the heights of ambition, which 
look |i>right from jbelpw, every ftep we rife ihews as 
|ome new and gloomy profpeft of hidden difqvpoint- 
jnenti 4p in our ddceni from the fummitsof j^eafnre, 

J hough the vale of mifery below ni^y appear at firft 
[ark and gloomy, yet the bufy mind, iill attentive 

4^ i^ 9WP $pg£meBia 4^4$ ^ ve defceqi f<miethsng 

to 



THE ^ICAR OF WAKEFIELD- tf 

to flatter and .to pkafe. StiH as we appr»ac&» the 
d»rkeft .obje^ appear to ibrighteAy and atiic jnental 
eye becomes adapted to its gioomy iituatioa. 

I now proceeded iarw^i, aud had walked about 
two hovrs» wlven I perceived v^ikSMt appeacd at a 4irf 
tance Uke a waggon, wbich i was reiolyed to over* 
take ; but when I came up wi%h it, found it to be a 
ftrolUog company's cart, that was carrying their iceaei 
iod .o£er theatrical fiimkar^ to the ne^ct villagCj 
where they were td exhibit. The cart was attended 
only by ibc perfon who drpve it, and one of the 
Coo^>suiy, as the rfiSt of the players were to &Mow 
Ihe enfuxng day. Good company upon the road, faya 
^ pvOvei^, is the Ihorteft cut. I therefore entered 
into converfation with the poor player ; and as I once 
h^d fome theatrical powers xnyfelf, I dif£erted on fuck 
topics with my ufua^ freedom ; but as i \yas pretty 
miijch .unacquainted with the prefent ftate of the itage> 
I demanded who were the prefent theatrical writers in 
vme^ who the Drydens and iQtways of the day.-<*« 
f I £wcy. Sir,' cried tlie player, ' few of oor modem 
* dramatifls wotdd think themfelves much honoured 
^ by being compared to the writers yoa mention. 
^ Drydeji^ and Rowe's manner. Sir, are quite out df 
f iaihion ; our talle has gone baclt a whole century | 
^ Fletcher, Ben Jonfon, and all die plays of Shake- 
f fpeare, are the «nly things that gb down.'«^< How,* 
cried I» ' is it poifible the preient age can be pleare4 
'' with diat antiquated dialed, tiiat ol^olete l^umour^* 
tho£: over>charged charq^rs which abound in the 
works you mention ?'^-^—* Sir,' ' returned my com- 
panion, * the public think notlung about dialed, of 
hnmour, or charader ; for that is none of their bu- 
finefs ; they only go to be amufed, and find them- 
felves Kappy wnen they can enjoy a pantomime, 
under the fandion of Jonfon's or Shakefpeare's 
name.'— ^ So then, I fuppofe,' cried I, ^ that 
our modem dramatics are ramer imitators of Shake- 
ipeare than Nature.*—* To fay the truth, * returned 
my companion, ' I don't know that they imitate any 

* thing 



«$ THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

thing at all ;- nor indeed docs the public require it 
of them : it is not the compofition of the piece« but 
the number of ftarts and attitudes that may be in- 
trodttced» that elicits applaufe. I have known a 
piece with not one jeft m the whole, (hrugged into 
popularity, and another fared by the poet's throw- 
mg in a fit of the gripes. No, Sir, the works of 
Congreve and Farquhar have too much wit in them 
for uie prefent tafte; our modem dialect is much 
more natural.' 
By this time the eqmpage of the ftrolling company 
was arrived at the village, which, it feems, had been 
apprifed of our approach, and was come out to gaze 
at us ; for my companion obferved, that ftrollers al- 
ways have more fpedators without doors than within. 
I did not confider . the impropriety of my being in 
fuch compan)^ till I faw a mob gather about me. I 
therefore took (helter, as faft as poffible, in the firft 
ale-houfe that offered, and being fnewn into the com- 
mon room, was accolled by a very well dreft gentle- 
man, who demanded whether I was the real chaplain 
of the company, or whether it was only to be my 
mafquerade ehara&er in the play. Upon informing 
him of the truth, and that I did not belong in any 
fort to the company, he was condefcending enough to 
defire me and the player. to partake' in a bowl of 
punch, over which he difcufied modern politics with 
great earneftnefs and intereft. I fet him down in my 
own mind for nothing lefs than a parliament-man at 
leafl; but was almoS confirmed in my conjedlores, 
when, upon afking what there was in the houfe for 
fupper, ne infilled that the player and I fhould fup 
with him at his houfe ; with which requefl, after fome 
entreaties, we were prevailed on to comply.^ 



CHAF. 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. tf 
CHAP. XIX. 

The defcriptltm of a per/on difcontented .ivitb the prefent 
goFverrmunty and apprebenfive of the lofs of our li" 
herties, 

♦ 

THE houfc where we were to be entertained, ly- 
ing at a fmall diftance from the village, our 
inviter obferved, that as the coach was not ready, he 
would condud us on foot, and we foon arrived at one 
of the moft magnificent manfions I had feen in that 
part of thp country. The apartment into which we 
were fhewn was perfectly elegant and modern; he 
went to give orders forfupper,. while the player, with • 
a wink, obferved that we were perfedUy in luck. Our 
entertainer foon returned, an elegant fupper* was 
brought in, two or three ladies in an eafy difhabille 
were introduced, and the eon^erfation began with 
fome fprightlinefs. Politics, however, were the fub- 
jedi on w^ich our entertainer chiefly expatiated ; for 
he afTerted that liberty ^as at once his boaft and his 
terror. After the cloth was removed, he afked me if 
I had feen the laft Monitor,, to which replying in the 
negative, * What, nor the Auditor, I fuppofe ?' cried 
he. — * Neither,. Sir,' returne4 I. — * That's flrange, 
' very ftrange,' replied my entertainer.. * Now, I 
' read all the politics that come out. The Daily, the 

* Public, the Ledger, the Chronicle, the London 
' Evening, thcf Whitehall Evening, the feventcen 

* magazines, and the t\vo Reviews ; and though they 

* hate each. other, I love them all. Liberty, Sir^ 
' liberty is the Briton's boaft, and by all my coal 

* mines in Cornwall, I reverence its guardians.'— 

* Then it is to be hoped,' cried I, * you reverence 

* the king.'-s-* Yes,' returned my entertainer, ' when 
< he does what we would have him; but if he goes on 

* as he has done of late, I'll -never trouble myfelf 
' more with his matters. I fay nothing. I think 
' only. I could have direded fome things beUer. I 
~ . ' « don't 



tf 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 



don't think there has been a foScient number of 
advifers : he (hould advife with every perfbn willing 
to give him advice, and then we ihould have things 
done in anotherguefs manner.' 
* I wifh/ cried I, « that fach intradtiig advifers 
were fixed in the pillory. It ihouM be the duty of 
honed men to afliil the weaker fide of our con^tu- 
tion, that facred po>ver that h^ for fome years Been 
every day declining, and lofine its due fhare of influ- 
ence in the ftate. But thefe ignorants* (till continue 
thecryof lR>erty^ aadif they have any weighty balely 
throw it into the fabfiding fcale.' 
' How,* cried one of the ladies, ^ do I live to iee 
one fo bafe, fo fonEd, as to be an enemy to liberty, 
and a defender of tyrants? Liberty, that facred gj/t 
of heaven, that glorious privilege of Britons t' 
' Can it be pomble,' cried our entertainer, ' that 
there fiibuld be any found at preient advocates for 
ilavery? any who are iFbr meanly giving up ^e 
privileges of Britons? Caa any. Sir, be to ab* 
jea?* 

' No, Sir,* replied I, « I am Jbr liberty, that at- 
tribute of God's ! Glorious liberty ! that theme of 
modem declamation. I would have aU me^ Icings. 
I would be a king myielf. We have ailiiaturally an 
equd right to Xwt throne : we are all originally equal, 
lliis is my opinion, and was once the opinion of 
a iet of heneft men who were called Levellers. 
They tried to eredl themfelvet into a community, 
where all ihould be equally free. But, alas! it 
would never anfwer; for there were fome among 
them ftronger, and fome more cunning than others, 
and thefe became mafters of the reft ; for as fure as 
your groom rides your horfes, becaufe he is a cun- 
ninger animal than they, fo' furely will the animal 
that is cunninger or ftronger than he, iit upon his 
(houlders in turn. Sinc^ then it is entaile^ upon 
humanity to fubmit, and fome are born to com- 
mand, and others to obey, the queftion is, as there 
muft be tyrants, whether it is better lo have . them 

< in 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. % 

in ,Xlit {ame hoofe with us, or in the: fame .viSage, 
or ftill farther off, in the metr(^olis ? Now» Sir» 
for my own p^t, as I nattttjilly hate the .£ice of a 
tyrant> the &rther off he is removed from jQite> the 
tnetter pkafed am I. The generally of mankind 
alfb Are of mv way. of thinking* and have unani- 
moufly createaone king, ivhofe election .at .once di- 
minifhes the number of tyrants, ami puts tyranny 
at the greateftdiftance from the greateft number of 
people^ Now the great, who were tyrants them- 
felves before the elediion of one tyrant, ^e .natu- 
rally averfeto a power raifed over diem, and whofe 
weight muil ever lean heavidl on the fubordinate 
orders. It is the intereil of the great, therefore, to 
diminLih»kingly power.as much as po^bk ; Jbecaufe 
whatever they take from that is naturally refiorect 
to themfelves ; and all they have. to do in die ftate^ 
is to undennine the iingle tyrant, by which they 
refome their primaeval aiithority. ,Now the ftate 
may be fo circumftanced, ofr its laws may /he b dil^ 
pofed, or its men of opulence fo minded, .as all to 
confpire in carrying on this bufinefsof undermining 
monarchy. For, in the firft place, if the circum- 
ftances of our il:ate be fuch, as to favour die .accu- 
mulatiqnof wealth, and make the opulent ftillmore 
rich, this aviU increafe their ambition* .An accu^ 
mulatipn of wealth, however, mull neceiOixily be 
the confequence, when, as at prefent, more aches 
flow in from external commerce than arifcifrom in-, 
temal induibry ; for external commerce can only be 
managed to advantage .by. the rich, and they have 
alfo at the fame time' all the emoluments arifing from 
internal induftry : fo that the rich, with us, have 
two fources of wealth, whereas the poor have but 
one. For this reafon, wealth, in all commercial 
ftates, is found to accumulate, and all fuch have 
^ hitherto in time become ariftocratical. Again, the 
■^ very laws alfo of this country may contribute to the 
* accumulation of wealth ; as when by their means 
f the xutural ties that bind lhe ridh and poor together 

* ar© 



90 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

' are broken, and it is ordained that the rich fhall 

* only marry with the rich ; or when the learned ai;e 

* held unqualified to ferve their country as counfeMors 
' merely from a defeat of opulence> and wealth is 

* thuj made the object of a wife man's ambition ; by 
' thefe means, I fay, and fuch means as thefe, riches 

* will atcnmulate. Now the pofTeifor of accomulated 
' wealth, when fumiihed with the neceflaries and plea- 
' fares of life, has no other method to employ the fu- 

< perflttity of his fortune but in purchasing power : 
' that is, differently fpeaking, in making dependants^ 
' by purchafing the liberty of the needy or the venal, 
' of men who are willing to. bear the mortification 
' of contiguous tyranny for bread. Thus each very 
^ (^ulent man generally gathers round him a circle of 

.' the pooreft of the peo{Je; and the polity abound- 
' ingm accumulated wealth, may be compared to a 
' Cartefian fyftem, each orb with a vortex of its. own. 

* Thofe however, who are willing to move m a great 
' man's vortex, are only fuch as muft be flaves, the 
^> rabble of mankind, whofe fouls and whofe educa- 

* tion are adapted to fervitude, and who know no- 

* thing of liberty except the name. But there muft 

* ftill be a large number of the people without the 
' fphere of the opulent man's influence, namely, that 
' order of men which fubfifb between the very rich 

* and the very rabble; thofe men who are pouefl of 

* too large fortunes to fubmit to the neighbouring 
' man in power, and yet are too poor to fet up for 
' tyranny themfelves* In this middle order of man- 
' kind are generally to be found all the arts, wifdom, 

* and virtues of fociety. This order alone is known 

* to be the true preferver of freedom, and may be 
' called the people. Now it may happen that this 

* middle order of mankind may lofe all its influence 
' in a date, and its voice be in a manner drow^ved 
' in that of the rabble : for if the fortune fufHcient 

* for qualifying a perfon at prefent to give his voice 

* in flate affairs, be ten times lefs than was judged 

< fuiScient upon forming the coniUtution» it is. evr- 

* dent 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. fi 

* dent that great numbers of the rabble wHl thus 

* be introduced into the political fyftem, and they^ 
« ever moving in the vortex of the great, will follow 

* where greatnefs fhall direct. In fuch a ftate» there- 

* fore, all that the middle order has left, is to pre- 

* ferve the prerogative and privileges of the one prin- 

* cipal governor with the moH: facred circumfpemon. 

* For he divides the power of the rich, and calls off the 
' great from falling with tenfold weight on the middle 

* order pkced beneath them. The middle order may" 

< be compared to a town, of which the opulent are 

< forming the fiege, and of which the governor from 
' without is hal^ening the relief. While the befiegers 

* are in dread of an enemy over them, it is but natural 

< to offer the townfmen the moft fpecious terms ; to 
' flatter them with founds, and amufe them with prw 

< vileges ; bat if they once defeat the governor from 
■* behmd, the walls of the town will be but- a fmall 

' defence to its inhabitants. What they may then 

* expe£):, may be feen by turning our eyes to Hol- 

* land, Genoa, or Venice^ wiiere the laws govern 
' the poor, and the rich govern the law. I am theh 
' for, and would die for, monarchy, facred monar- 
' chy ; for if there be any thing facred amongft men« 
^ itmuft be the anointed SovB RBI ON of his people^ 
' and every diminution of his power in' war, or in 

* peace, is an infringement upon the real liberties of 

* the fubjeft. The founds of libeity^ patriotifm, and 
' Britons, have already done much; it is to be hoped 

* that the true fons of freedom will prevent their ever 

* doing* more. I have known many of thofe pretended 

* champions for liberty in my time, yet do I not re- 

* member one that was not in his heart and in his 
' family a tyrant.' 

My warmth I found had lenethened this harangue 
beyond the rules of good breedmg ; but the impatience 
of my entertainer, who often llrove to interrupt it, 
could be reftrained no longer. * What,* cried he, 

* then I have been all this while entertaining a Jefuit 
' in parfon'^ clothes : but by .all the coal .mines of 

• Cornwall* 



92 THE VICAR OF WfXETlELD. 

* Cornwall, out he ihall pack> if my name be WIT- 
' kinhn,* I now fomsd I had gone too far> and 
9Jktd paxdon for the warmth with which I had 
fpokon. * Pardon,' returned he in a far/; * I 
' think fiiph- principles demand ten thonfand pardons. 

* What, give up liberty, property, and, as the Ga- 

* zetteer fays, Ue down to be iaddled with wooden 

* ihoes I Sir, I infift upon your marching aat of this 
' hoiife immediately, to prevent worfe confequences. 
■* Sir, LinfiH upon it.' J was going to repeat my 
'^emonftrances; nut juft then we heard a footman's 
jap at the door, and die^two ladies crisd out, * Jls fare 

* asdeatHvtherei&oucmafter and nuftrefs come Home/ 
jIt kem$ my entertainer was all tlus while only the 
tetler« who* in his mafter'a abfence, had a mmd to 
S»t a £gU9e, and be for a .while the .gentleman himfelf ^ 
toad, to by the tn^h, he talked pditics aa weU as 
Aoft Qountry gentkmea do. Bat nodiii^ could now 
^ceed my confufion upon leeing ^e gemleman and 
lus lady ^enter ; nor iwas thcav fnzprife, at ;fin(&ig :fiich 
•omptny and good cheef « left than ours. ' Gende- 
' men,' cried uie real mailer of the houfej^ -to me and 
my companion, * my wife and! are your moft hmnble 
' fervants; but I proteft this .isib.unexpefteda.fa- 
' VQUO that we aumoft fink under the obligatianJ* 
JHowever nncxpefted our compaay ^ght be to thenit 
theirA, I am fure, w$8 ftill more Kb ^to us, and J was 
ftru^k dumb with the apprehenfions of .my own ab* 
furdity, when, whom ihould I next fee enter the 
•room but my dear Mifs Arabella Wilmot, who was 
jformerly defigned to be married to mv fon George, 
but whofc match was broken off/ as already rdated^ 
^8 foon as ihe (aw me, ihe flew to my araifi with the 
tttmoft joy. • Mjr dear Sir,' cried ftie^ * to what 
' happy accident is it that we owe fo unexjpeAed a 
^ vtut? I am fure my u^cle and aunt will be in 
*' ra]3itttres when they find they have got the good Br« 
< frimrofe for their gueft.' Upon hearing my name*, 
the old gentleman and lady very politely ilept up,, and 
welcomod mo with .mpft cordik hospitality. . Nor 

could 



THE VICAR OP WAKEPIELB. * 95 

ix>a!d dxey forbear fmilin^y. upon being infonned of the 
natttreof my prefeot viiit; but the anfortunate but* 
ler, ytfbooL they at firft feemed difpofed to turn awayp 
WIS, at my inteiceffion» forgiven. 

Mr. Arnold and his lady, to whom the houfe be^ 
longed* no«r infifled upon having the pleafure of my 
ftay for fome days ; and as their nlece^ my charming' 
pupil, whofemindy in fome meafure, had been formed' 
under my own inftru^tions^ joined in their entreaties^ I 
comptiecL That night I was (hewn to a magnificent 
dumber, and the next morning early, Mifs Wilmot' 
ddtred to walk with me in the garden, which was 
decorated 'in the modem manner. After fome time 
.fpcnt in pointing. t>ut the beauties of the place, ihe 
inquiredi with feeming unconcern, when lafl:' I had- 
heard from my fon George." * Alas ! Madam,' cried I, 

* he has now been near three years abfent, without ever 

* writing to.his friends or me. Where he is I know 
' not ; perhaps I ihall never fee him or happineft 

* more. No, my dear madam, we ihall never more 

* fee fuch pleaiing hours.. as were once fpent by our 
*, BrC'Me at Wakefield. My little family^ are new 
^ difperfing very fa(l, and poverty has brought not' 
* only- want^ but infiimy, upon us.* The good-na-^ 
tured gurl let fall a tear at this account; but as I fa^ 
her pcmelledof too much fenfibHity, I forbore a more 
minute ^detail of our fufierings. It was, however, fdme 
confblation to me to find that time had made no alter* 
ation in her affedions, and that ihe had rejected fe- 
veral matches that had been made her fince our leav- 
ing her part of ihe country. She ted me round all the 
cxtenfive improvements of the place, pointing to the 
feveral* wall^ and arbours, and at the fame time 
catching* from every* object a hint for fome new quef- 
tion* relative to my fon. In this manner ive fpent the 
forenoon, till the bell fummoned us to dinner, where 
we found, the manager of the flrcdling company that 
I mentioned before, who was come to £fpofe of tickets' 
for the Fair Penitent, which was to be a£ted that 
evening, the. part* of Horatio by a youjig gentleman-^ 

who 



94 TH£ VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. ' 

who had never appeared on any ftage. He Teemed to 
be very warm in the praife of the* new performer, 
and averred that he never faw any who bid fo fair for 
excellence. ' A£ling, he obferved, was not learned in 
a day ; * But this gentleman^' continued he, / feems 
' bom to tread the ftage. His voice, hb figiire, and 
^ attitudes, are all admirable. We caught him up 
* accidentally in our journey down.' This account 
in fome meafvire excited our curioiity, and, at the 
entreaty of the ladies, I was prevailed upon to ac- 
company them to the playhoufe, which was no other 
thau'.a bam. As the company with which I went was- 
inoonteilably the chief of the place, we were received 
with the greateft refped, and placed in the front feat 
of the theatre ; where we fat for fome time with no 
fmall in^atience to fee Horatio make his uppearance. 
The new performer advanced at laft ; and let parents 
think of my fenfadons by their own, when I found 
it was my unfortunate fon. He was going to begin, 
when, turning his eyes upon the aumence, he per* 
ceived Mifs Wilmot and me, and flood at once (peech- 
lefs and immovable. The adors behind the fcene* 
who afcribed this paufe to his .natural timidity, at- 
tenlpted to encourage him ; . but inftead of going on, 
he burft into a flood of tears, and retired off the ftage. 
I don't know what were my feelings on this occaiion ; 
for they fucceeded with too much rapidity for defcrip- 
tion : but I was foon awakened from this difagreeafole 
reverie by Mifs WUmot, who, pale and with a trem- 
bling voice, deiired me to condud her back to her 
uncle's. When got home, Mr. Arnold, who was as 
yet a ftranger to oar ^extraordinary behaviour, being 
informed that the new performer was my ton, fent his 
coach, and an invitation, for him ; and as he perill- 
ed in his refufal to appear again upon the ilage, the 
players put another in his place, and we foon had him 
with us. Mr. Arnold gave him the kindeft reception, 
and I received him with my ufual tranfport; for I could 
aever counterfeit falfe rcfentment. Mifs Wilmot's 
reception was mixed with feeming neglect and yet I 

could 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD/ 9$ 

tx>uld perceive ihe adled a ftudied part. The tumult 
in her mind feemed not yet abated ; ihe faid twenty 
giddy things that looked like joy^ and then laughed 
loud at her own want of meaning. At intervals (he 
would take a fly peep at the gUfsr as if happy in the* 
^onfcioufnefs of unrefifted beauty, and often would 
aflc queftions^ without giving any manner of attention 
to the anfwers. 

CHAP. XX. ^ 

^Tfe hiftory of a fbilofophU 'uagahtmd^ P^uing novilty^ 

hut lofing cwttnt, 

AFTER we had fupped,N Mrs. Arnold politely 
offered to fend a couple of her footmen for my 

fon's baggage, which he at firil feemed to decline ; 

but upon her preiling the requeft, he was obliged to 
inform her, that a Tlick and a wallet were all the 
moveable things upon this earth which he could boafl 
of. * Why aye, my fon,* cried I, * you left me but poor* 
' and poor X find you are come back ; and yet'I make 
' no doubt you have feen a great deal of the world.* 

* Yes, Sir,' replied my fcn, * but travelling after 

' fortune is not the way to fecure her ; and^ indeed, 

* of late, I have defifted from the purfuit.'— * I 

* fancy. Sir,' cried Mrs. Arnold, < that the account 
' of your adventures would be amuiing ; the firfl part 
' of them I have often heard from my niece; but 

* could the company prevail for the reS, it would be 

* an additional obligation.'——* Madam,' replied my 
fon, ' I promife you the pleafure you have in hearing, 
' will not be hajf fo great as my vanity in repeating 

* them» and yet in the whole narrative I can fcarce 
' promife you one adventure, as my account is rather 
' of what I faw than what I did. The firft misfor-. 

* tune of my life, which you all know, was great ; 
< but though it diHreil, it could not fink me. No 
^ perfon ever had a better knack at hoping than !• 
^ The lefs kind I found Fortune at one time, the. 

* more 



^ mETE^ICAR OP WAKEPIELD. 

moreliexpefted from her atiother'; and bein'g nW" 
at' the bottom of her wheel, every new revotutioti 
might iift> bat could not'deprefs me. I proceeded, 
therefore, towards London in a fine morning, no 
way uneafy aboat to-morrow, bat cheerful as the 
' birds that/caroled by the road, and comfbrted my- 
. (df with refieding, that London was the mart where 
abilities of every kind were fare of meeting diftinc- 
tion and reward. 

* Upon my arrival in town. Sir, . my firfl care was 
to deliver your letter of recommendation to our cou- 
fin, who was himfelf in little better' circumftances 
than I. My firft fch^e, you know. Sir, was to 
be tt(her at ah academy, and I aflced his advice on 
^ the affair. Our coufm received the propofal >Mti a 
true Sardonic grin. Aye, cried he, this is iildeed 
a very pretty career, that has been chalked but' for 
you. I have been an uflier at a boardihe-fchool my- 
lelf ; and may I die by an anodyne necklace, but I 
had rather be an under-tumkey in Newgate. I was 
up early and late : I was brow4>eat by the mailer, 
hated for my ugly face by the miftrefs, worried by 
the boys within, and never permitted to ilir out to 
meet civility abroad. But are you fure you are fit 
fbrafchool? Let me examine youalitne. Have 
you been bred apprentice to ^e bufinefs? No. 
Then you won't do for a iichool; Can you drefs the 
boys hair ? No. Then yon won't do for a fchool. 
Have you had the fmaU-pox? No. Then you 
won't do for a fchool. Can you lie three in a bed ? 
No. llien you will never do for a fchool. Have 
you got a good ftomach ? Yes. Then you will by 
no means do for a fchool. -No, Sir, if you are for 
a genteel eafy profeflion, bind yourfelf ^ven years 
as an apprentice to turn a cutlers wheels but avoid 
a fchocd by any means. Yet come,' continued he, 
I fee you are a ladof fpirit and fome learning, what 
do you think of commencing authbr, like me? 
You have read in bopks, no cbubt, of men of ge- 
nius ftarving at the trade ; at prcfcnt 111 ihe^r you 

* forty 



THE VICAR OF WAKEnELD. , 97 

' &rty very dall follows about town that live by it 
' in opulence : all boneft jog-trot inen» wdho go on 
' ijBOothly and dully^ and write hiftory and p&tics^ 
^ and are pndfed: inen> Sir, who> had they been 
^ bred coblers, would all their lives have only mended 
^ ihoesy but never made them. 

' Finding that there was no gr^^t degree of genti- 
' lity affixed to the charafter of an oiher, I retolved 
^ to accejpt his propoial; and having the hig^efl re- 
' £jpe6t for literature, hailed the antiqua mater of 
' Grub-ftreet whith reverence. I thought it my glory 
^ to purfue a track which Dryden and Otway trod be- 
' fore me. I confidered die goddefs of this region as 
' the parent of excellence ; and however an inter- 
' courfe with the world might give us good fenfe, the 
' poverty fhe granted I fuppoled to be the nurfe of 

* genius ! Big with thefe refledions> I fat down, and 

* Inding that the beft things remained to be faid on 

* the wrong fide, I refolved to write a book that 
' (hould be wholly new. I therefore dreft up three 
' jtaradoxes with fome ingenuity* They were falfe 
' indeed, but they were new. The jewels of truth 
' have been fo often imported b^ others, that nothing 
' was left for me to import but fome fplendid things 

* that at diftance looked ever^ bit as well. Witnefs 

* you powers what fancied importance fat perched 

* upon my quill while I was writing* The whole 

* learned vyorld, I made no doubt, would rife to op- 
' pofe my fyftems ; but then I was prepared to oppoie 
' the whole learned world. Like the porcupine I fat 
' felf-colleded, with a qmll pointed againft ev^ 
« oppofer.* 

■ Well faid, my boy,* cried I, * and. what fubjeft 

* did you treat upon i I hope you did not pafs over 
« the importance of Monogamy. But I interrupt, go 

* on ; you publiihed your, paradoxes ; well, and what 

* did the learned world fay to your paradoxes ?* 

' Sir,' replied my fon, * the learned world faid no- 
^ thing to my paradoxes; nothing at. all. Sir. Every 

* faian of them was employed in praifing hb fi'iends 

" F •and 



9« THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

^ and himfelf, or condemning his enemies ; and cm- 
f . fortunately^ as I had neither^ I fufFered the CFueled. 

* mortification, negleft. 

' As I was meditating one day in a cofFee-houfe on 

* the fate of my paradoxes, a little man happening to 
' enter the room, placed himfelf in the box before 

* me, and after fome preliminary difcourfe, finding 

* me to be a fcholar, drew out a bundle of propofals, 

* begging me to fubfcribe to a new edition he was go- 
-* ing to give the world of Propertius, with notes. 

* This demand neceffarily produced a reply, that I had 
* . no money ; and that conceflion led him to inquire 
^ into the nature of my expeftations. Findiri]g that 

* my expeftations were juft as great as my purfe, I fee, 

* cried he, you are unacquainted with the town, I'il 
, * teach you a part of it. Look at thefe propofals ; 

:* upon thefe very propofals I have fubfifted very com- 
' fortably for twelve years. The moment a noble- 
^ man returns from his travels, a Creolian arrives 
f from Jamaica, or a dowager from her country-feat; 
^ I ftrike for a fubfcription. liirft befiege their hearts 

* with flattery, and then pour in my propofals at the 
^ breach, li they finbfcribe readily the firft time, I 

* renew my requeft to beg a dedication fee. If they 
' let me have that, I unite them once more for 
-* engraving their coat of arms at the top. Thus, 
^ continued he, I live by vanity, and laugh at it. 
.' But between ourfelves, I am now too well known, 
•« I Ihould be glad to borrow your face a bit : a no- 
^ bleman of diftindion has juft returned from Italy; 
^ Tccf face is familiar to his porter ; but if you bring 

* this copy of verfes, my life for it you fucceed, and 
^ we divide the fpoil.' 

' Blefs us, George,' cried I, * and is this the em- 
^ ployment of poets now ? Do men of their exalted 
' talents thus ftoop to beggary ? can they fo »far dif- 

* grace their calling, as to make a vile traffic of 
^ praife for bread ?' 

* O no. Sir,' returned he, * a true poet can never 

* be fo bafe ; for wherever there is genius there is 

• pride- 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 99 

* pride. The creatures I now defcribe are only beg- 

* gars in rhyme. The real poet, as he braves every 
' hardihip for fame^ fo he is equally a coward to con- 
' tempt, and none but thofe who are unworthy pro- 
^ te&ion, condefcend to folicit it. 

* Having a mind too proud to iloop to fuch indig- 

* nities^ and yet a fortune too humble to hazard a 
' fecond attempt for fame, I was now obliged to take 
' a middle courfe, and write for bread. But I was 
' unqualified for a profeilion where mere induflry alone 
' was to enfure fuccefs. I could not fupprefs my 
' lurking paifion for applaufe ; but ufually confumed 
' that time in efforts after excellence which takes up 
^ but little room, when it fhould have been more ad- 

* vantagcoufly employed in the difFufive produdions 
' of fruitful mediocrity. My little piece would there- 

* fore come forth in the midfl of periodical publica- 
' tion unnoticed and unknown. The public were 

* more importantly employed than to obferve the eafy 

* fimplicity of my ftyle or the harmony of my periods. 
' Sheet after Iheet was thrown off to oblivion. My 
' eflkys were buried among the effays upon liberty, 
' eaftem tales, and cures for the bite of a mad dog ; 

* while Philautos, Philalethes, Philelutheros, and Phi- 

* lanthropos, all wrote better, becaufe they wrote 
' fafter than I. 

' Now therefore I began t;o affociate Xvith none 
' but difappointed authors, like myfelf, who praifed, 
' deplored, and defpifed each other. The fatisfa£lion 
' we found in every celebrated writer's attempts, 

* was inverfely as their merits. I found that no ge- 

* nius in another could pleafe me. My unfortunate 

* paradoxes had entirely dried up that fource of coi^- 

* fort. I could neither read nor write with fatisfac- 
' tion ; for excellence in another was my averiion, 

* and writing was my trade. 

* In the midft of thefe gloomy refledlions, as I 

* was one day fitting on a bench in St. James's Park, 

* a young gentleman of diflin£lion, who had been my 

* intimate acquaintance at the aniverfity, approached' 

F 2 • me. 



N 



toe THB VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

* 

me. Wt falttted each other with ibme hefiution, 
he almoft afhaned of being known to one wko 
made (b (habby an appearance, and I afraud of a 
repoUe. But my fofipicionft foon vanished ; for Ned 
TAomhill was at the bottom a very good-natnird 
fellow/ 

* What did yoff fay, George ?' intemipted L 
Thornhill, was not that his name ? It can certainly 
be no other than my landlord.'^— ' Blefs me/ cried 

Mr* Amddt ' is Mr. Thomhill fe near a neif kbour 
of vonrs ? He has long been a friend in oar »a%, 
and we expe£t a vifit from him ihortiy.' 

* My friend's'' firft care^ ' continued my km, * was 
to alter my appearance by a very fine fait of iiij 
own clothes, and then I was admitted to his uhk 
upon the fboting of half friend, half nnderiing;. 
My bufinefs was to attend him at aafUons, to pot 
him in (pirits when he fat for hb pidure, to take 
the left nand in fab chariot when not filled by sn^ 
other, and to aiBft at tattering a kip, as the phrafe 
was when we ^ had a mind for a frolic, tfefides 
this, I had twenty other little emnloymencs in the 
fiunily. I was to do many finaU things withsof 
bidding; to carry the corkfcrew ; to ftana;godfiithef 
to all me butlerS children; to iing when I waslnd; 
to be never out of hamoar; always to be humUe, 
and if I cooldt Co be ever happy* 
' In this honourable paft, however, I was not widi- 
ottt a rival. A captam of marines, who was formed 
for this place by natare, oppofed me in my patron's 
aifeAions. Hb mother hid been kumdxeis to a man 
of quality, and thus he early acquired a tafte for 
pimping and pedigree. As thb gendeman made it 
the ftuQV of hb life to be aconainted with lords, 
though ne was difmifled from leverai for his ftimi- 
dity ; yet he found many of them ffho were as oall 
ashimfelf, that pehnittedhb affiduities. As flat- 
tery was his traae, he pra&iied it with die eafieft 
addreft imaginable; bnt it came awkward and ftifF 
from mCf and as vftry day mf f$lom*s dcfirn of 

. - * flattery 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFBELP. roi 

-* flattery increaled, fo every hour being bet^r ac*> 
' quainted with his defeds^, I became more unwilling 
'* to give it. Thus I was once more fairly going to 

* give up the field to the captaiii> when my friend 

* found occafion for my affiftance. This was nochjiug 
' lefs than to fight a dud lor him^ with a gentleman 
' whoie filter it was pretended he had med iU* X 
' readily complied with his requeft, and though I fee 
' yoo are difpleafed at my condu£t, jtt as it was a 
' debt indifpenfably due to frieildihip^ I tould not 

* refufe. I undertook the affair^ difarmed my anta» 
« gpnift, and foon after had the pleafure of finding 

* that the Udf was only a woman of the town> and 

* die fellow her bully and a (harper. This piece of 

* fervice was repaid with the warmeft profeffions of 

< gratitude ; but as my friend was to teave town in 

< a few days, he knew no other method of ierving 

* me, but by reconunending me to hi» uncle Sir Wi£ 

* Uam Thomhill, and anotnier nol^eman of* great dif- 
^ tinAion who enjoyed a poft under the government. 
•^ "When he was gone, my firfk care was to' carry his 
' rfcommendatofy letter to his uncle, a man whofe 
' charader for every virtue was univerfal, yet jnfk. 

* I was received by hb iervants with the moft hoTpi- 

* uble fmiles; for the looks of the domeftics ever 
^ tranfinit dieir mafter's benevolence. Being (hetrn 

* into a grand apartment, were Sir William foon 

< came to me, I delivered my mefTage and letter, 
*■ wluch he read, and after paufing iome minutes* 
' Pray, Sir,' cried he, ^ inform me what you have 

* dcme for my kinfman, to deferve thb warm recimi- 

< mendation? but I fuppofe. Sir, I guefs your me* 
^ rits, you have fought for him ; and fo you would 
' expe& 1 reward from me for being the inilrument of 
«• his vices. I wiih, fincerely wilh, that ipy prefent 
*■ refufal may be fome punifhment for your guilt ; but 

* flill more, that it may be (bme inducement to your 

* repentance.'— Thefeverity of thb rebuke I bore 
^ patiently, becaufe I knew it was juft. My whole 
^ expeftations now, therefore, ify in my letter to the 

F 3 • great 



102 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

grest^ man. As the doors of the nobility are almofl 
ever l^fet with beggars^ all ready to thruil in fome 
fly petition, I found it no eafy matter to gain ad- 
mittance. However, after bribing the fcrvants 
with half my worldly fortune, I was atlafl ihewn 
into a ipacious apartment, my letter being pre- 
vioufly (ent up for his lordfhip's' infpeftion. Du- 
ring this anxious interval I had full time to look 
round me. Every thing was grand, and of happy 
contrivance ; the paintings, the furniture, the gild- 
ings petrified me with awe, and raifed my idea 
of the owner. Ah, thought I to myfelf, how very 
great muft the pofTefTor of all thefe things be, who 
carries in his. head the bufinefs of the flate, and • 
whofe houfe difplays half the wealth of the king- 
dom : fure his genius muil be unfathomable 1 Du- 
ring thefe awful reflexions I heard a flep come hea- 
vily forward. Ah, this is the great man himfelf ! 
No, it was only a chambermaid. Another foot was 
heard foon after. This mufl be he 1 No, It was 
only the great man's valet de chambre. At lafl^ his 
lordfbip actually made his appearance. Are you, 
cried he, the bearer of thb here letter ? I anfwered 
with a bow. I learn by this, continued he, as how 

that But juft at that inftant a fervant delivered 

him a *card, and without taking further notice he 
went out of the room, and left me to digeft my own 
happinefs at leifure. I faw no more of him, till 
told by a footman that his lordlhip was going to his 
coach at the door. Down I immediately followed, 
and joined my voice to that of three or four more, 
who came, like me, to petition for favours. His 
lordfliip, however, went too fall for us, and was 
gaining his chariot door with large ftrides, when I 
halloed out to know if I was to have any reply. 
He was by this time got in, and muttered an an- 
fwer, half of which I only heard, the other half 
was loll in the rattling of his chariot wheels. I flood 
for fome time with my neck (Iretched out, in the 
poftureof one that v/as liftening to catch the glo*- 

' rious 



. THE VICAR OF WAKETIELD. 103 

nous foands>. tilU looking round m6> I found my* 
felf alone at his lordihip's gate. , ' 

' My patience,* continued my fon, * was now 

?uite exhauiled : Hung with the thoufand indignities 
had met with, I was willing to cait myfejf away, 
and only wanted the gulph to receive me. I re- 
garded myfelf as one of thofe vile things that na- 
ture deiigned fhould be thrown by into her lumber* 
room, there to perifh in obfcurity. I had ftill, 
however, half a guinea left, and of that I thought 
nature herfelf fhould not deprive me ; but in order 
to be fure of this, I was refolved to go inflantly and 
fpend it while I had it, and then trufl to occurren^- 
ces for the reft. As I was going alone with this 
refolution, it happened that Mr. Crilpe's office 
feemed invitingly open to give me a welcome retep- 
tionr In this office Mr. Crifpe kindly oft'ers all 
his majefly's fubjeds a generous promife of 30I. a 
year, for which promife all they give in return is 
their liberty for life, ^nd permiffion to let him tranf- 
port them to America as flaves. I was happy at 
&idin^ a place- where I could lofe. my fears in de- 
fperation, and entered this cell, for it had the ap- 
pearance of one, with the devotion of a monaflic. 
Here I found a number of poor creatures, all in 
circumftances like myfelf, expelling the arrival of 
Mr. Crifpe, prefenting a true epitome of Englifh 
impatience. Each untradlable foul at variance with 
Fortune, wreaked her injuries on their own hearts ; 
but Mr. Crifpe at lafl came down, and all our mur- 
murs were huftied. He deigned to regard me with 
an aip of peculiar approbation, and indeed he was 
the fird man who for a month pall had talked to me 
with fmiles. After a (tw queftions, he found I 
was fit for every thing in the world. He paufed a 
while upon the propereft means of providing for me> 
and (lapping his forehead, as if he had found it, af- 
fured me, that there was at that time an embaffy 
talked of from the fynod of Penfylvania to the Chic- 
kafaw Indians, and that he would ufe his iutereil 

F 4 * to 



I04 THE VIGAR OP WAKEFIELD, 

to get me mode iecreCary. I knew in my ewn heait 
that the feUow lied, and yet his promife gave mp 
pleafare, there was fometmng fo magnirficent in the 
wand. I fairly, therefore, divided my half guinea, 
one half of which went ' to be added to - his diirty 
thdufand pound, and with the other half I reibived 
to go to tke next tavern, to be there more happy 
than he. 

« As I was going out with* that reiblution, I was 
met at the door by the captain of a (hip, with whom 
I had formerly ibme little acquaintance, and h^^ 
j^reed to be my companion over a bowl of punch. 
As I never chof^ to make a (ecret of my circdm- 
fiances, he afTured m^ that I was upon the very pcnnt 
of ruin, in liilening to the office-keeper's proiiufes ; 
for that he only defigned to fell me to the planta- 
tions. But, continu^ he, I fancy you might, by 
a. nmch (hortcr voyage, be very eaiily put into a gen- 
teel way of bread. Take my advice. My (hip fails 
to-morrow for Amfterdam ; what if you go in her 
as a paiTenger? the moment you land, all you 
have to do is to teach the Dutchmen Engliih, and 
I'll warrant you'll get pupils and money enough. 
I fuppofe you unoerftand Engliih, added he, by 
this ume, or the duce is in it. I confidently afTorea 
him of that; but expref&d a doubt whether the 
Dutch would be willing to learn £ngli(h. He aT- 
firmed with an oath that they were fond of it to dif- 
tra£tion ; and upon that affirmation I agreed with 
his propofal, and embarked the next day to teach the 
Dutch Engliih in Holland. The wind was fair, our 
voyage ihort, and after having paid my pafTage with 
half my moveables, I found myfetf, fauen as froih 
the ikies, a flranger in one of the principal fbeets 
of Amfterdam. In this fituatibn I was unwUling 
to let any time pafs unemployed in teaching. 1 
addre/Ted myfelf therefore to two or three of thofe 
I met, whofe appearance feemed mof^promifing; but 
it was impof&ble to make ourfelves mutually under-* 
ftopd. It was ngt till this very moment I recolle^ed* 

« that 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. ^05 

that in order to teach Dutchmen Engli(h» it was ne- 
ceflary that they fhoold firft teach me Dutch. How 
I came to overlook fo obvious an obje^lion^ is to 
me amazing; but certain it is I overlooked it. 
* This fcheme thus blown up, I had fome thoughts 
of fairly ihipping back to England again ; but hap- 
pening into company with an Iri(h ftadexity who was 
returning from Louvain^ our converfation turned 
upon topics of literature (for by the way it may be 
obferved, that I always forgot the meannefs of my 
circumftances when I could converfe upon fuch fub-* 
je^); from him I learned that there were BOt two 
men .in his whole univerfity who underflood Greek. 
This amazed me; I inltantly refolved to travel 
to Louvain> and there Kve b/ teaching Greek ; 
and in this defign I was heartened by my brother 
ftudent^ who threw out fim&e lunts mat a fortune 
might be got by it. 

< I fet boldly forwazd the next morning. Every 
day lefTened the burden of my move^les« like 
iEfop and his baiket of bread; for I paid them foi^ 
my lodgings to the Dutch as I travelloi on. When 
I came to Louvain» I was refolved not to go fneak- 
ing to the lower profefibrs^ but openly tendered my 
talents to the princraaL himfelf. I went> had ad- 
mittance, and offered him my fervice as a mafter of 
the Greek language, which I had been told was a 
deftderatum in this univeriity. The principal feemed 
at firft to doubt of my abilities; but of thefe I 
offered to convince him, by turning a part of any 
Greek author he ihould fix upon into Latin. ' Find- 
ing me perfectly earneft in my propofal, he addreifed 
me thus : You fee me, young man, continued he ; 
I never learned -Greek, and I don't find that I have 
ever miffed it. I have had a doctor's cap and gown 
without Greek : I have ten thoufand florins a year 
without Gr^k ; I eat heartily without Greek ; and 
in fhort, continued he, as I don't know Greek, I ■, 
do not believe there is any good in it« 

F 5 'I was 



y 



io6 ,TJSE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

' I was now too far from home to think of returning ; 
fo I refolvcd to go forward. I had fome knowledge- 
of mufic, with a tolerable voice. I now turned what 
was once my amufement into a prefen^ means of 
fubfiilence. I pafled among the harmlefs peafants 
of Flanders, and among fuch of the French as were 
poor enough to be very merry ; for I ever found 
them fprightly in proportion to their wants. When- 
ever I approached a peafant's houfe, towards night- 
fall I played one of my moft merry tunes, and that 
procured me not only a lodging, but fubliflence 
for the next day, . I once or twice atteaipted to play 
for people pf fa(hion ; but they always thought my 
performance odious, and never rewarded me even 
with a trifle. This was to me the more extraordi- 
nary, as whenever I ufed in l?etter days to play for 
company, when playing was my amufement,, my 
mufic never failed to throw them into raptures, and 
the ladies efpecially ; but as it was now my only 
means, it was received with contempt : a proof how 
ready the world is to under-rate thofe talents by 
which a man is fupported. 

* In this manner I proceeded to Paris, with no 
deijgn but juft to look about me, and then to go fer- 
ward. The people of Paris are much fonder of 
Grangers that have money, than of thofe that have 
wit. As I could not boaft much of either^ I wa^no 
great favourite. After walking about the town 
four or five days, and feeing the outfides of the beft 
houfes, I was preparing to leave this retreat of venal 
hofpitality, wnen pafling through one of the princi^ 
pal flreets, whom (hould I meet but our coufm, to 
whomi you firft recommended me I This meeting 
was very agreeable to me, and 1 believe not dif- 
pleafing to him. He inquired into thi nature of 
my journey to Paris, and informed me of his own 
bufinefs there, which was to colledl pidlures, medals, 
intaglios, and antiques of all kinds, for a gentle- 
man in London, who had juft ftept into tafte and a 
large fbrtiine. I was the more furpilfed at feeing 

• our 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 107 

our coufin pitched upon for this office, as he him- 
h\f had often affured me he knew nothing of the 
matter. Upon afking how he had been taught he 
art of connofcento fo very fuddenly, he affured me' 
that nothing was more eafy. The whole fecret con- 
(ifted in a it rid adherence to two rules ; the one, al- 
ways to obferve that the pidure might have been 
better if the painter had talcen more pains ; and the 
other, to praife the works of Pietro Perugino. But, 
fays he, as I once taught you how to be an author 
in London, I'll now undertake to indrudl you in the 
art of pidure-buying at Paris. ^ 

' With this propofal I very readily clofed, as it was 
living, and now all my ambition was to live. I 
went therefore to his lodgings, improved my drefs * 
by his afliftance, and after fome time accompanied' 
him to audions of pictures, where the Engliih gen- 
try were expe£led to' be purchafers. I was not a 
little furprii'ed at his intimacy with people of the 
beft fafhion, who referred themfelves to his judg-' 
raent, upon every pifture or medal, as an unerring 
ftandard of tafte. He made very good ufe of my 
affiance upon thefe occaiions ; for when afked his' 
opinion, he would gravely take me afide, and afk 
mine, fhrug, look wife, return, and affure the com- 
pany tliat he could give no opinion upon an alFair 
of fo much importance. Yet there was fometimes 
an occaiion for a more fupported affurance. I re-' 
member to have feen him, after giving his opinion- 
that the colouring of a pidlure was not mellow 
enough, very deliberately take a bruih with brown 
varniih, that was accidentally lying by, and rub it 
over the pisce with great compofure before all the 
company, and then ^fk if he had not improved the 
tints. 

* When he had finiihed his commiffion in Paris, he 
left me itrongly recommended to feveral men of 
diftindlion, as a perfon very proper for a travelling 
tutor ; and after fome time I was employed in that 
capacity by a gentleman who brought ^is ward to 

F 6 * Paris, 



io8 THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD*. 

Parisi in order to fet Um forward on his toar 
through Europe* I was to be the young gentleman's 
governor^ but with a provifo that he fhouU always, 
be permitted to govern himfdf. My pupil in fad 
unoftzftood the art of guiding in money concerns, 
much better than I. Ke was heir to a fortune of 
about two hundred thoufand pounds, left him by an 
uaele in the Weft Indies ; and his guardians, to 
qualify him for the management of it^ had bound 
ami apprentice to an attorney. Thus avarice was 
iu& preniling paffion : all his queftions on the road 
were, how money might b^e (aved ; which was the 
ImSt expenfive courfe of travel; whether any thing 
could be bought that would turn to account when 
tdi^pofed of again in London. Such curiofities on 
thew^y as coud he feen for nothing, he, was ready 
enough to look at; but if the figh( of fhem was to 
be paid for, he ufually aflerted that he had been 
lb|d they were not worth feeing, tit never paid a 
bill that he would not obferve how amazingly ex- 
penfive travelling was ; and all thb, though he was 
not yet twenty-one. When arrived at Leghorn, as 
we took a walk to look at the port and ihipping, he 
inquired die expence of the paflaee by fea home to 
England. This he was informed was but a trifle, 
compared to his returning by land; he was therefore 
unable to withftand the temptation ; fo paying me 
the fmall part of my iafauy that was due, he took 
leave, and embarked with otdy one attendant for 
London. ' 

' I now therefore was left once more upon the 
world at large ; but then it was a thing I was ufed 
to. However, my ikill in mufic could s^vail me no- 
thing in a country where evexy peaiant was a bet- 
ter mulician that I; but by this tmie I had acquired 
ax^other talent^ which anfwered my purpofe as well, 
and this was a £|pll in difputation. In all the fo- 
reign univerfities and convents, there are upon cer- 
tain days philofophical thefes maintained aeainft 
every aaventitious difputant : for which, if the 

* champion 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIftLD, 109 

' champion oppofes with any dexterity* he can daim 

* a gratuity in money, a dinner, and a bea fox one 
' night. In thb manner, therefore, I feu^ht my way 
'towards Eng^d, walked along from city to.cUy, 
'. examined mankind more nearly, and if I may (b 

* exprefs it, faw both fides of the piflure. My re- 
' marks, however, ^re but few; 1 found that mo- 

* narchy was the beft government for the poor to live 
' in, and commonwealths for the rich. I found that 

* riches in general were in every country another name 
' for freedom ; and that no man is fo fond of liberty 

' iiimfelf^ as not to be defirous of fubjefling the will ^ 
' of fome. individuals in fociety to his own. 

* Upon my arrival in England I refolved to pay 
' my refpeds firft to you, and then to enliU as a vo- 
' lunteer in the fifft expedition that was going for- 
' ward ; but on. my journey down my refdutions 
' were chanc^ed by meeting an old acquaintance, 
' who I found belonged to a company of c<nnedians, 
' that were going to make a fummer campaign in the 
' country. The company feemed not much to dif- 

* approve of me for an aflStiate. They all, however, 
' apprifed me of the i|nportance of the ta(k at which 
' I aimed ; that the public was a many-headed mon- 
' fter, and that only fuch as had very good heads 
' could pleafe it : that ading was not to be learnt in 
' a day ; and that without fome tradidonal fhrugs, 
' which had been on the flage, and only on the ftage,, 

* thefe hundred years, I could never pretend to pleafe.. 
' The next difficulty was in fitting me with parts, as 
' almoft every character was in keeping. I was driven 

* for fome time from one charadler to another, till at 
^'lafl- Horatio was fixed upon, which the prefence of 
' the prefent company has happily hindered me from 

* adting.* 



CHAP* 



no THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD, 



CHAP. XXI. 

The Jhort continuance of friendjhip amongfi the 'Vichus, 
ivhich is coeual only njuith mutual fatisf action* 

MY fon^s. account was too long to be delivered 
at once ; the firft part of it was begun that night, 
and he was concluding the reft after dinner the next 
day, wher? the appearance of Mr. Thprnhiirs equi- 
page at the door feemed to make a paufe in the ge- 
neral fatisfa£lion. The butler', who was nOw become 
my friend in the family, informed me with a whifper, 
that the 'Squire had already made fome overtures to 
Mifs Wilmot, and that her aunt and uncle feemed 
highly to approve the match. Upon Mr. Thonihiirs 
euteruig, he feemed, at feeing my fon and me, to ' 
flart back ; but I readily imputed that to furprife, and 
not difpleafure. However, upon our advancing to- 
{alute him, he returned our greeting with the moll ap- 
parent candgur ; and after a fhort time his prefencc 
Icryed ojfly to increafe the general good humour. 

After tea he called me afide, to inquire after my- 
daughter j but u;>on my informing him that my in- 
quiry was unfuccefsful, he feemed greatly furprifed ; 
adding, that he had been fince frequently atmy lioufe, 
in order to comfort the reft of my family,, whom he 
left perfeftly well. He then aficed if I had communi- 
cated her misfortune to Mifs Wilmot or my (bn ; and- 
upon my replying that I had not told them as yet> he 
greatly approved my prudence and precaution,, defir- 
ing me by all means to keep it a fee ret : ' For, at 

* beft,' cried he, * it is . but divulging one's own in- 

* famy ; and perhaps Mifs Livy may not be fo guilty 

* as we all imagine.' We were here interrupted by a 
fervant, who came to afk the 'Squire in, to ftanj up 
at country-dances : fo that he left me quite pleafed 
with the intereft he feemed to take in my concerns. 
His addrcffes, however, to Mifs Wilmot, were too 
obvious to be miftaken : and yet fhe feemed not per- 

feaiy 



THE VTCAR OF WAKEFIELD. in 

fedly pleafed, but'bore them rather in compliance to 
the will of her aunt, than from real inclination. I 
had even the fatisfaftion to fee her lavilh fome kind 
looks upon my unfortunate fon, which the. other could 
neither extort by his fortune nor afliduity. Mr. 
ThonihiU's feeming compofure, however, not a little 
furprifed me ; we had now continued here a week» at 
the . prefling inllance of Mr. Arnold ; but each day 
the more tendernefs ^ifs Wilmot ihewed my fon, Mr.^ 
Thornhill's friendlhip feemed proportionably to in- 
creafe for him. 

He had formerly m^de us the mofl kind afTu ranees 
of ufing his intereft to ferve the family ; but now his 
generofity was not confined to promifes alone : the 
morning I defigned for my departure, Mr. Thorn- 
hill came to me with looks of real pleafure, to inform 
me of a piece of fervice he had done for his friend 
George. This was nothing lefs thaij. his having pro- 
cured him an enfign's commiiTion in one of the regi- 
ments that was goinjj to the Weft-Indies, for which 
he had promifed but one hundred pounds, his intereft 
having been fufficient to get an abatement of the 
other -two. ' As for this trifling piece of fervice,* 
continued the young gentleman, * I defire no other 
' reward but the pleafure of having fcrved my friend ; 
' and as for the hundred pound to be paid, if you are 
' unable to raife it yourfelves, I will advance it, and 
' you ihall repay me at ^your leifure.' This was a fa- 
vour we wanted words to exprefs our fenfe of: I 
readily therefore gave my bond for the money, and 
teftified as much gratitude as if I never intended to 

pay- 
George was to depart for town the next day to fe- 

cure his commijfiion, in purfuance of his generous pa- 
tron's directions, who judged it highly expedient to 
ufe difpatcb, left in the mean time another ihould ftep 
an with more advantageous propofals. The next 
morning, therefore, our young foldier was early pre - 
pared for his departure, and feemed the only perfon 
among us that was not affeded by it. Neither the- 

fatigues 



tri THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: 

fatigues and dangers he was goin'g to encounter, nor 
the , friends and miftrefs, for Mifs Wilmot adiually 
loved him« he was leaving behind, any way damped 
his fpirits. After he had taken leave of the reft of 
the company, I gave him all I had, my blefiing. 

* And now, my boy,* cried I, * thou art going to 
' fight for thy country, remember how thy brave 
' grandfather fought for his facrei king» when loyalty 
' among Britons wa^ a virtue. Go, my boy, and imr- 

* tate him in all but his misfortunes, if it was a mif- 

* fortune to die with Lord Falkland. Go, my boy, 

* and if you fall, though diHant, expofed and unwept. 

* by thoie that love you, the moll precious tears are 
' thofe with which heaven bedews the unburied head 

* of a foldier.' 

The next momine I took leave of the good family 
that. had been kind enough to entertain me fo long, 
not without (everal expreffions of gratitude to Mr.. 
Thomhill for his l^te bounty. I left them in the en- 
joyment of all that happinefs which afHuente and' 
good-breeding procure, and returned towards hohie,., 
defpairing of ever finding my daughter more, but 
fending a figh to heaven to fpare and forgive her. I 
was now come within ^out twenty miles <^ home, 
having hired an horfe to carry me, as I was yet but- 
weak, and comforted myfelf with the hopes of foon 
fieekig all I held deareil upon earth. But the night 
c6mine on, I put 14) at a little public-houf^ by the 
load ude, and afked for the landlord's company over 
a pint of wine. We iat beiide his kitchen-fire, which 
was the beft room in the hoafe, and chattered on poli- 
tics and the news of the country. We happened, 
among odier topics, to talk of young 'Squire Thorn- 
hill,. wh<» the hoft affured me was hated as much as 
Kis uncle Sir WiUiam, who fometimes came down to > 
the country, was loved. He went on to obferve, that 
he made it his wh<^ fkody to betray the daughters of • 
fuch as received him to their houfes, and after a fort- 
night or three weeks po0effion, turned them ont un- 
rewarded and abandoned to the world. As we con- 
tinued 



tHE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 113 

tinaed oar difconrfe in this manner, his wife, who had 
been Out to get change, retarnedy and perceiving that 
her httfband was enjoying a pkaftire in which (he was 
not a iharer, fhe alked him, in an angry tone, what 
he did there, to which he only replied in an ironicsd 
way, by ~ drinking her health. • Mr. Symonds,* 
cried (he, ' you ulc me very ill, and 1*11 bear it no 
' longer. Here three parts of the buiinefs is left for 

* ffle to do, and the fourth left unfiniflied ; while you 
' do nothing but foak with the guefts all day long ; 
' whereas, if a fpoonfiil of liqoor were to cure me ot a 
' fever, I never touch a drop.' J now found what 
(he would be at, and immediately poured her out a 
glafs, which (he received with ac'urtefy, and drinkinc^ 
towards my good health, ' Sir,' refumfed fhe, * it 19 

* not (o much for the value of the liquor I ,am angry, 
^ but one cannot help it, when the houfe is going out 

* of the windows. If the cuftomers or guells are to 

* be dunned, all the burthen lies upon my back, he'd 

* as lief eat that grafs as budge after them himfelf. 
' There now, above flairs we have a young woman 
^ n^ho has come to take up her lodgings here, and I 

* don't believe fhe has got any money, by her ovcr- 
' civility. I am certain fhe is very flow of paymentj 

* and I wilh (he were put in mind of it.'— — * What 
' itgnifies minding her ?* cried the hoft, ^ if fhe be 
-* flow, fhe is fure.'— * I don't know that,' replied 
the wife ; ' but I know that. I am fare fhe has been 

* here a fortnight, and we have not yet feen the crofs 
' of her money.' * I fuppofe, my dear,* cried he, 

* we fhall have it all in a lump.* ' ■ • * In a lump i* 
^ried the other, * I hope we may get it any way ; and 
' that I am refolved we wUl this very night, or out 

* ftie tramps, bag and baggage.'—* Confider, my 
' dear,' cried the hafl^and, < fhe is a gihtlewoman, 
' and deferves more refped.'—— « As for the matter 
^ of that,' returned the hoflefs, * gentle or fimple» 
' out fhe fhall pack with a fufTarara. Genlry may be 

* good things where they take ; but for my part, I 

* never faw much good of them at the fi^n of tho 

» Harrw«^ 



114 THE. VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

* Harrow.' — Thus faying^ ihe ran up a narrow flight 
of flairs that went from the kitchen to a room over 
heady and I foon perceived by the loudnefs of her 
voice and the bitternefs of her reproaches^ that no 
money was to be had from her lodger.. I could hear 
her remonftrances very; diftindly : * Out, I fay, pack 
' out this moment; tramp» thou infamous ftrumpet, or 

* I'll give thee a mark thou won'*t be the better for 

* thefe three months^ What ! you trumpery, to come 

* and take up an honefl houfe, without crofs pr coin 

* to blefs yourfelf with ; come along, I fay.'-^ ' O 

* dear maidam,' cried the Granger, * pity me, pity a. 

* poor abandoned creature for one nieht, and death 

* will foon do the reft/ > I inttantly fenew the voicc- 
ef my poor ruined child Olivia. I flew to her refcue, 
while the woman was dragging her along by her hair, 
and I caught the dear forlorn wretch in my arms.— — 
' Welcome, any way welcome, my deareft lofl one^ 

* my treafure, to your poor old father's bofom! 

* Though the vicious forfake thee, there is yet one in 
^ the world that will never forfake thee ; though tha« 
' hadil ten thoufand crimes to anfwer fory he will £ot^ 

* get them all.'——* O my own dear'— for minutes 
ihe could no more—* my own deareft good papa 4 

* Could angels be kinder I How do I deferve fo 

* much I The villain, I hate him and myfelf to be a 

* reproach to fuch goodnefs. You, can't forgive me. 

* I know you cannot.'—^; — * Yes, my child, from my 
.* heart I do forgive thee ! Only repent, and we both 

* fhall yet be happy. We fhall fee many pleafant 

* days yet, my Olivia.'- * Ah ! never. Sir, never. 

* The refl of my wretched life mufl be infamy abroad, 

* and fhame at hone. But, alas! papa, you look 
' much palsr than you ufed to do. Could fuch a 

* tiling as ^ am give you fo much uneafmefs ? Sure 

* you have too much wirdom to take the miferies of 
' my guilt upon yourfelf.'- * Our wifdora, young 

* woman,' replied I. -* Ah, why fo cold a nam^ 

* papa?' cried ihe. * This is the firfl time you ever 

* iralled me by fo cold a name*' ■■ ■■ ■ ■■■ ' I afk pardon* 

' my 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. iff 

' my darling,' returned I ; * but I was going to oh- 

* ferve, that wifdom makes but a ilow derence againit 

* trouble, though at lafl a fure one*.' 

The landlady nOw returned to know if we did not 
chufc a more genteel apartment ; to which aifenting, 
we were ihewn a room where we could converfc more 
freely. After we had talked "ourfelves into fome de- 
gree of tranquillity, I could not avoid defiring fome 
account of 'the gradations that led to her prefent 
wretched fituation. ' That villain. Sir/ faid (he, 
' from the firft day of our meeting, made me honour- 

* able, though private, propofals.* 

* Villain mdeed/ cned I, • and yet it in ibmc 
' meafure furprifes me, how a perfon of Mr. Bur- 
' chell's good fenfe and Teeming honour, could be 
< guilty of fuch deliberate bafenefs, and thus fiep into 

* a family to undo it.* 

* My dear papa,' • returned my daughter, ' you 

* labour under a ftrange miftake. Mr. Burchell never 

* attempted to deceive me. Inftcad of that, he took 

* every opportunity of privately admoniihing me 
' againft the artifices of Mr. Thomhill, who 1 notV 
' find was even worfe than he reprefented him** ■■ ■ * 
' Mr. Thornhill !' interrupted I, ' can it be ?'— ' Yet, 
' Sir,' return^ flie, * it was Mr. Thornhill who fe- 
' duced me, who employed the two ladies, as he 
/ called them, but who • in fa^ were abandoned 
' women of the town, without breeding or pity, to 

* decoy us up to London. Their artifices, you may 
' remember, would have certainly fucceeded but for 

* Mr. Burchell's letter, who diredted-thofe reproaches 

* at them, which we all applied to ourfelves. How 

* he came to have fo much influence as to defeat their 

* intentions, ftill remains a fee ret to me^ but I am 

* convinced he was ever our warmeft, linc^eft friend.^ 

* You amaze me, my dear,' cried I ; ^b,ut now I 

* find my firfl fufpicions of Mr. ThornhilVs bafencfe 

* were too well grounded ; but he can triumph in fe- 

* curi^y \ f6r he is rich, and we are poor. But teH 
.' me, my child, fure it was no fmaU temptation that 

' could 



i6 THE VICAR OF WAKIFIELU. 

could thus obliterate all di« imreffions of fach an 
education, and ib vimioiM a difpc^tion'as thine r 

* Indeed, Sir,' replied fiiCi * he owes all his tri- 
tunph to the defire I had of malting him, and not 
xnyfelf, h^^p^r- I knew that the ceremony c^ our 
marriage, wMch was privately performed by apopiih 
prieft, was no way bm^ng, and that I had notlung 
to truft to but his honour.* — * What,' interrupted I, 
and were you indeed married by a prieft, and in- 
ordep ?*■**— * Indeed, Sir, we were,' replied ihe, 
though we were both fwom to conceal hb name.' — 
Why then, my child, cOme to my arms again, and 
liow you are a thouiaiid times more welcome dian 
before ; for you are now hia wife to all intuits and 
pnrpoTes ; ^or caa all the laws of man, though: 
written upon tables of adamant, leflen the ibrcte rf 
that facred connexion.' 

* Alas, papa,' replied flie, ' yon are but fittle ac- 
quainted wtth his villanies: he has been marriett 
abead^, by die fame prieft, to fix or eight wivi^s 
more, whom, like me, he has deceived anft aban- 
doned.' ' 
« Has he fo ?' cried I, * then we muft hang th6 
prieft, and you (hall inform againft him to-morrewJ!' 

•*-' But, Sir,' returned (he, ' wiU that be right, whefr> 
I am (Worn to fecrecy ?'-<-' My dear,' I implied, ' if 
you have made fuch a promife, I cannot, nor will I 
tempt you to break it. Even though it may bene-, 
fit the public, you muft not inform aj^inft him. In 
all human in^itutions, a fmaller evU is allowed to 
procure a greater good $ as in politics, a pro^ce 
may be given away to fecure a kingdom ; in medi** 
cine, a Umb may be lopt off, to preferve the body. 
Bat in religion the law is written, and inflexible, . 
jKMwr to do evil. And this law, my child, is right : 
for otherwife, if we commit a fmaller evil, to pro- 
cure a greater good, certain guilt Would be thus in-* . 
curred* in expefiation of contingent advantage. 
And though the advanUge ftiould certainly follow,. 
yet the ioterval between commiffion and advanta^e^. 

* which* 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 117 

which it allowed to be gailty» may be that in which 
we are called away to aniwer for the things we have 
done, and the volonie o^ htiman anions is dofed for 
ever. But I interrupt yon, my dear ; go on.' 
< The very next morning,^ continocd the, ' I found 
what little expedadon I was to have from his fin* 
cerity. That very morning he introduced me to 
two unhappy women more, whom, like me> he had 
deceived, out who lived in contented proftitntion, 
I loved him too tenderly to bear fuch rivals in his 
affediotts, and ftrove to forget my infarav in a 
tumult of pleafures. With &is view, I (fenced, 
dreflfed, and talked; but ftill was unhappy. The 
gentlemen who vifited there told me every moment 
of the power of my charms, and this only contributed, 
to lAcreaie my melancholy, as I had thrown alt 
their power quite away. Thus each day I ^rew 
more penfive, and he more infolent, till at laft the 
menfter had the aflurance to offer me to a young 
Baronet of his acquaintance. Need I defcribe. Sir, 
how hia ingratitude ftung me ? Mv anfwer to this 
propofal was almoft madneis* I deured to part. As 
1 was |;oing.he offered me a puHe ; but I Ihmg it at 
him with indienauon, andl>urft from him in a rage, 
that for a whSe kept me infenfible of the miferies of 
my fitnatioA. But I foon looked round me, and faw 
m^elf a vile, abjed, guiky thing, without on# 
fhend IB the world to appl^ to. Juft in that inter- 
val, a fta^e-coftch happening to pafs by, I took a 
place, it being my onlv akn to be driven at a dif^ 
tance from a wretch I defpifed and detefted. I was 
fet down here, where, fince my arrival, my own 
aaxiety, and this woman^s unkindnefs, have been 
my only companions. The hours of pleafure that 
I have paired with my inamma and filter, now grow 
pfiunfid tome. Their fonows are much ; but mine 
are greater dian theirs ; for mine are mixed with 
gmlt and infamy.* 

« Have pati^ce, my chiM,* cried I, ' and I hopb 
tilings wUI yet be better. Take fome repofe to- 

* night. 



H8 THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

* night> and to-nrorrow I'll carry you home to your 
« mother and the reft of the family, from whom you 

* will receive a kind reception. Poor woman^ this 

* has' gone to her heart : but ftie loves you ftill, Oli- 

* via^, and will forget it.* . 

CHAP. XXII. 
Offences are'ea/ily pardoned ivhere there is love at bottom. 

THE next morning I took my daughter behind 
me, and fet out on my return home. As we 
travelled along, I ftrove, by every perfuafion, to calm 
her forrows and fears, and to arm her with refolution 
to. bear the prefence of her oiFended mother. I took 
every opportunity, from the profpetl of a fine country, 
through which we pafTed, to obferve how much kinder 
heaven was to us, than we to each other, and that the 
misfortunes of nature's making were very few. I af- 
fured her, that fhe Ihould never perceive any change 
in my afFeftions, and that during my Jiffe, which yet 
might be long, Ihe might depend upon a guardian 
and an inftrudor. I armed her againfl the cenfures of 
the world, Ihewed her that books were fweet unre- 
proaching companions to the miferable, and that if 
they could not bring us to enjoy life, they would at 
lean teach us to endure it. . * 

. The hired horfe that we rode was to be put up that 
night at an inn by the way, within about five miles 
from my houfe, and as I was willing to prepare my 
family for my daughter's reception, I determined to 
leave her that night at the inn, and to return for her, 
accompanied by my daughter Sophia, early the next 
morning. It was night before we reached our ap- 
pointed ftage : however, after feeing her provided with 
a decent apartment, and having ordered the hoftefs to 
prepare' proper refreihments, I kifled her, and pro- 
ceeded towards home. And now my heart caught 
new fenfations of pleafure, the nearer I approached 
that peaceful manfion. . As a bird that had been 

frighted 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 119 

frighted from its »eft, my affedioti^ out-wcnt my 
hafte, and hovered round my little fire- fide, with all 
the rapture of expectation. I called up the many fond 
things I had to fay, and anticipated the welcome I 
was to receive. I already felt my wife's tender em- 
brace, and fmiled at the joy of my little ones. As I 
walked but (lowly, the night wained apace. The la- 
bourers of the day were all retired to reft ; the lights 
were out in every cottage ; no founds were heard but 
of the fhrilling cock, and the deep-mouthed watch- 
dog, at" hollow diftance. I approached my abode of 
pleafure, and Before I was within a furlong of the 
place, our honeft mafUfF came running to welcome me. 
It was now near midnight that I came to knock at my 
door: all was ft ill and filent; my heart dilated with un- 
utterable happinefs, when, to my amazement, I faw the 
houfe bjirfting out in a blaze of fire, and every aperture 
ted with conflagration ! I gave a loud convulfive out- 
cry, and fell upon the pavement infenfible. This alarm- 
ed my fon, who had till this been afleep, and he per- 
ceiving the flames, inftantly waked my wife and daugh- 
ter, and all running out, naked, and wild with appre- 
henfion, recalled me to life with their anguifti. But it 
was only to objefts of new terror; for the flam<is had, 
by this time, caught the roof of our dwelling, part 
after part continuing to fall in, while the family flood 
with fllent agony, looking on, as if they enjoyed the 
blaze. I gazed upon them, and upon it by turns, 
and then looked round me for my two IMe ones ; but 
they were not to be feen. O mifery ! ' Where,* cried 
I, ' where are my little ones ?' — • They are burnt to 

• death in the flames,' fays my wife calmly, * and I 

* will die with then.' That moment I heard the 
cry of the babes within, who were juft awaked by the 
iire, and nothing could have ftopped me. ' Where, 
' where are my children ?' cried I, rufhing through 
the flames, and burfting the door of the chamber in 
which they were confined, * Where are my little ones ?^ 
' ' Here, dear papa, here we are,' cried they to- 
gether, while the flames were juft~ catching the bed 

where 



120 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

wheie they lay. I caught jthem both in my 4irm$. 
and fiiatched them throagh the fire as fad as pofliblev 
i«hile jaft as I was got oat, the roof funk in. ' Now/ 
cried I» holding op my ddldren, ' now let the flames 
' bom on, and au my pofleffimis peiiih. Here they 
* zn, 1 have iaved my treafare. Here> my deareiC 
^ here are oar treafnres, and we (hall yet be happy.* 
We kiffed oor little darlings a thonfand times, they 
dafped as roond. the neck, and feemed to ihare our 
tranijports» while their modier laughed and wept by 
turns. 

I now ftood a calm ijpedtator of the flames, and after 
fome time began to perceive that my arm to the 
ihoolder was tcorched in a terrible manner. It was 
dierefore out of my power to give my ion any^affid- 
«nce» either in attenuj^g to fave oor goods, or pre- 
venting the flames iprt^ng to oor com. By this 
time, ue neighboors were alarmed, and came monuig 
to our affiftance; bat all they cpold do was to ftand, 
J|ike us, ipedators of the calamity. My goods, amo^g 
which were the notes I had referved for my daughters 
fortunes, were entirely confumed, except a box, with 
fovke papers, that ftood in the kitchen, and two or 
three things mcnre of little confequence, which my fon 
brought away in the beg^ning. The neighbours 
contributed, however, what they could to lighten our 
diftrefs. They brought us clothes, and fumiihed one 
of our ottthoufes with kitchen utei^s ; (6 that by day>> 
li^t we had another, tiiough a wretched, dwelHiig to 
retire to'. My honeft next neighbour, and his uil* 
dren, were not the leafl afiiduoas in providing us with 
every thing neceflfary, and ofFering whatever confola- 
tion untutored benevolence could luggeft. 

When the fears of my family had fubiided, curio- 
fity to know the caufe of my long ftay began to take 
place ; having therefore informed them ^e very 'particu- 
lar, I fM'Oceeaed to prepare them for the reception of our 
loft one, and though we hadliothing but wretchednefs. 
now to impart, I was willing to procure her a wdcome 
tp what we )iad« This talk wohUL have been more dif- 
ficult 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. i zi 

ficult but for our recent calamltVjr which had humbled 
my wife^s prlde^ and blunted it by more poignant 
afflidions. Being unable to go for my poor child znj^'' 
felf, as my -arm grew very painful, I fent my fon and 
daughter, who fpon returned, fupporting the wretched 
delinquent, who had not the courage to look up at her 
mother, whom no inftrudlions of mine could perfuade 
to a perfect reconciliation ;' for women have a much 
ftronger fenfe of female error than men. ' Ah, ma- 

* dam,' cried her mother, * this is but a poor place 
' you are come to after fo much finery. My daugh- 
' ter Sophy and I can afford but little entertainment 

* to perions who have kept company only with people 

* of diftin£tion. Yes, Mifs Livy, your poor father 
< and I have fuffered very much of late ; but I hope 

* heaven will forgive you.*— During this reception,^ 
the unhappy vidtim ftood pale and trembling, unable 
to w^p or to reply ; but I could not continue a 
filent ipeCtator of her didrefs ; wherefore, aflirming 
a degree of feverity in my voice and manner* which 
was ever followed with inftant fubmiflion, * I en- 
' treat, woman, that my words may be now marked 

* once for all : I have here brought you back a poor 

* deluded wanderer ; her return to duty demands the 

* revival of our tendernefs. The real hardfhips of 
' life are now coming fail upon us, let us not there- 
' fore increafe them by diflenfion among each other. 

* If we live harmonioufly together, we may yet be 
' contented, as there are enough of us to (hut out the 

* cenfuring world, and keep each other in counte- 

* nance. The kindnefs of heaven is promiled to the 

* penitent, and let ours be diredled by the example. 

* Heaven, we are affured, is much more pleafed to 

* view a repentant fmner, than ninety-nine perfons 

* who have lupported a conrfe of undeviating reditude, 

* And this is right; for that fingle effort by which 
' we flop fhort in the down-hill path to perdition, is 
« itfelf a greater exertion of virtue, than an hundred 

* aft's of juHice.* 

G C HA P^ 



iM THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

CHAP. XXIII. 
Vane hut the fftUtj eon it hng and tmtpktely m/imiUi, 

SOME aifiduity was now required to make our pre- 
Tent abode as convenient as poifible» and we were 
foon again qualified to enjoy our former ierenity. 
Being mfabled myfelf from ai&fting my fon in our 
ufual occupations, I read to my family from the few 
books that were favedy and particularly from fuch as, 
tty amufing the imagination j contributed to eafe the 
heart. Our good neighbours came every day with 
the kindeft condolence, and fixed, a time in which 
they were all to aflift in repairing my former dwelling. 
Honeft farmer Williams was not laft among thefe vi- 
ctors ; but heartily offered his friendfhip. He would 
even haVe renewed his addreffes to my daught^; but 
ihe rejected them in fuch a manner as totally repreft 
his future folicitations. Her grief feenied formed for 
continuing, and fhe was the only perfon of our little 
fociety that a week did not refto^c to cheerfulnefs. 
She now loft that unblufhing innocence which once 
taUght her to refpe6l herfelf, and to feel^ pleafure by 
pleafing. Anxiety had now taken ftrong pofTeflion of 
her mind, her beauty began to be impaired with her 
conftitution, and negled flill more contributed to di- 
minifh it. Every tender epithet beflowed on her iifter 
brought a pang to her heart and a tear to her eye; 
and as one vice, though cured* ever plants others 
where it has been, fo her former guilt, though driven 
out by repentance, left jealoufy >and envy behind. I 
Urove a tfaoufand wavs to leflen her care, and even 
forgot my own pain m a concern for her's, collefUng 
fuch amufing pailages of hiftory, as a ftrong memory 
and fbme reaiung could fugeeft. ^ Our hanpinefs, my 

* dear,* I would fay, ' is in |he jpower or one who 
' can bring it about a thoufand umorefeen ways^ that 

* mock our foreflght. If example be neceflary to 
^ prove this, I'll give you a fiory, my child, told us 



THE VICAR 6F WAKEFIELD. tzj 

by a graye^ though fomedmes a romancing hifto* 
lian. 

' Matilda was married very yoang to a Neapolitan 
noUeman of the firft (juality, and found herfelf a 
widow and a mother at the age of fifteen* As (he 
Hood one day carefling her infant fon in the open 
window of an apartment, which hung over Che nver 
Voltuma, the child, with a fudden fpring, leaped 
from her aitns into the flood below, and dilappeared 
in a moment. [The mother, ftruck With thftant 
furprife, and making an effort to fave him, pluneed 
in after ; but, far from beijig able to afTift the xx^- 
fant, fhe herfelf with great difficulty efcaped to the 
ojppofite (hore, juft when fome French foldiers were 
plundering the country on that fide, who imme- 
diately made her their prifoner. 
* As the war was then carried on between the 
fkvnch and Italians with the utmoft inhumanity^ 
they we;re going at once to perpetrate thofe two ex- 
tremes, fu^gefted by appetite and cruelty. This 
ibafe. reiblution, how'ever, was oppofed by a young 
officer, who, though their retreat required the utmoft 
expedition, placed her behind him, and brought her 
in Safety to his native city. Her beauty at firft 
caught his eyt, her merit {ooa siter his heart. They 
were married; he rofe to the higheit polls; they 
lived long together, and were happy. ' fiut the fe- 
licity of a foldier can never be called permanent ; 
after an interval of feveral years, the troops which 
he coqimanded having met with a repulfe, he was 
obliged to take fhelter in the city where he had 
liv>ed with his wife. Here they fuffered a fieee, and 
the city at length was taken. Few hiHories can 
produce more various inflances of cruelty, than .thofe 
nrhich the French and Italians at that time exercifed 
upon ^ch other. It was reiplved by the vi£k»rs, 
upon this occafion, to put all. the French pnfoners 
to death ; but particularly the hufband of the unfor* 
tunate Matilda, as he was principally inftrumental in 
protra&iDg (he Sege. Their^deternuAatiOAs were, 

G z < in 



24. THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

in general, executed dlmoft as foon as refolved upon« 
The captive foldier was leds forth, and the execif- 
tioner, with his fword, ftood ready, while the 
fpedlators, in gloomy filence, waited the fatal blo>^, 
which was only fofpended till the general, who pre- 
fided as judge, fhould give the fignal. It was in 
this interval of angulih and expedauon, that Ma- 
tilda came to take her laft farewel of her hufband 
and deliverer, deploring her wretched fit«ation, and' 
the cruelty of fate, that had faved her from perilh- 
ing by a premature death in ,the river Voltuma, to 
be the ipedator of ftill greater calamities. Thfe 
general, who was a young man, was ftruck with 
lurprife at her beauty, and pity at her diftrefs ; btft 
with ftill llronger emotions when he heard her men- 
tion her former dangers. He was her fon, the in- 
fant for whom Ihe had eitcountered fb mtich danger, 
acknowledged her at once as his mother, and feU 
at her feet. The r«ft may be eaiily fuppofed : the 
'captive was fet free, and all the happinefs that love, 
friendfhip, and duty could confer on eaeh, wci^ 
united.' 

In this manner I would attempt to amufe my daugh- 
ter ; but (he liftened with divided attentioh ; for hdr 
own misfortunes engrofTcd all the pity fhe once had 
for thofe of another, and nothing gave her eafe. Ih 
company ihe dreaded contempt ; and in folitude fhc 
only found anxiety. Such was the colour of htfr 
v/retchednefs, when we received certain informatioti 
that Mr. Thornhill was going to be married to Mifs 
Wihnot, for whom I always fufpefted he had s real 
paffion, though- he took every opportunity before me 
to exprefs his contempt both of her perfon and for- 
tune. This neNvs only ferved to increafe poor Olivia's 
aiRi£tion ; fuch a flagrant breach of fidelity was more 
than her courage could fupport. J was refolnted, hdw"- 
ever, to get more certain information, and to defeat, 
if poflible,. the completion of his defigns, "by fending 
iny fon to old Mr. Wilmot's, with inftradions tb 
know iJie tratk of the report, and to deliver Mi^ 

Wihnot 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. .iz5 

^Wllmot a letter, intimating Mr. Thornhiirs oondufl 
in my ^mily. My fon went, in purfuance of my. di- 
jre^ons, and in three days returned, aiTuring; us of th^ 
truth of the account ; but that he had found it impof- 
iible to deliver the letter, which he was therefore ob- 
liged to leave* as Mr. Thornhill and Mifs Wilmot 
Were vifiting round the country. They were to, be 
married, he faid, in a few days, having appeared to* 
gether at church the Sunday before he was there, ia 
great fplendour» the bride attended by iix young ladies, 
and he by as many gentlemen. Their approaching 
nuptials filled the whole country with rejoicing* 
and they ufually rode out together in the grande^ 
equipage that had been feen in the country for many 
years. AU the friends of both femilies, he faid, were 
therie, particularly the 'Squire's uncle. Sir Williaoi 
Thornhill, who bore fo good a character. He added* 
that nothing but mirth and feafting were going for- 
ward ; that all the country praifed the young bride's 
beauty and the bridegroom^s fine perfon, and that 
they were immenfe^y fond of each other; concluding, 
that he could not help thinking Mr. Thornhill one of 
the moft happy men in the wona«. 

* Why let him, if he can,* returned I ;, * but, my 
'. fon, observe this bed of ftraw, and unfheltering 
' roof; thofe mouldering walls, and humid floor ; my 

* wretched body thus difabled by fire, and my chil- 
^ dren weeping round me for bread ; you have>CQmQ 
' home, my chUd, to all this, yet here, even here', you iee 
' a man that would not for a thoufand worlds exchange 
' Etuations. O, my children, if you could- hut learn 
' to commune with your own hearts, and know what 

* noble company you can make them, you would 
' little regard the elegance and fplendours of. the 
*■ worthlefs. Almofl all men have been taught to call 
' life a pafTage, and themfelves the travellers. The 

* finailitude ftUi may be improved when we obferve 

* that the good are joyful and ferene, like travellers 
' that are going towards home ; the wicked but by in-^ 

* • tervals happy, Hke travellers that are going into exile.* 

G 3 My 



X2« THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

My compaifion for my poor daughter, overpowered 
by this new difafter, interrupted what I had farther to 
obferve. I bade her mother fupport her> and after a 
fhort time Ihe recovered. She appeared from that 
time more calm, and I imagined bad gained a new 
degree of refolution : but appearances deceived me ; 
for her tranquillity was the languor of overwrought 
^ refentment, A fupply of provifions charitably fent 
us by my kind pariihioners, feemed to difFufe new 
cheerfulnefs amongft the reft of my family, nor was I 
diibleafed at feeing them once more fprightly and at 
eaie. It would have been unjuft to damp their fatif- 
fadtions^ merely to condole with refolute melancholy, 
or to burthen them with a fadnefs they did not feel. 
Thusi* once more, the tale went round, and the ibn^ 
was demanded, and cheerfulnefs condefcended to ho* 
ver round our Uttle habitation. 

CHAP. XXiV. 
Trejh caUmuties, 

THE next morning the fun arofe with peculiar 
warmth for the &afon; fo that we agreed to 
lu'eakfaft together on the honey-fuckle bank; where, 
while we fat> my youngeft daughter^ at my requeft, 
joindd her voice to the concert on the trees about us* 
It was in this place my poor Olivia firft met her fe- 
dttcer, and every objeft ferv«d to recal her .fadmefs. 
Sut that melancholy, which is excited by objedls of 

fleafure, or infpired by founds of harmony^ fooths the 
eart inftead of corroding it. Her mother too, upon 
lUs occaiion, felt a pleafing diftrefs, and wept, and 
loved her daughter as before. * Do my pretty Oli- 

* via,* cried (he, ' let us have that Uttle melancholy 
« air your papa was fo fond of; your filler Sophy has 

* already obliged us. " Do, child; it will pleafe your 

* old father.' She complied in a manner fo exqdi^ 
fitely pathetic* as moved me. 

Whbn 



ii 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD^ 127 

VTT REN lovely wonian ftoops to foll/^ 
^^ And finds too late that men betray^ 
What chann can Tooth her melancholy^ 
What art can walh her guilt away I 

The only art her guilt to cover^ 

To hide her fhame from every eye. 
To give repentance to her lover. 

And wring his bofem — is to die^ 

As (be was concluding the kd ilanza, to which an 

interruption in her voice from forrow gave peculiar 

Moic^Ss the appearance of Mr. Thornhill's equipage 

at a diftan«e alarmed us all, but particularly increai^d 

the nneafinefs of my eldeifc daughter^ who, defirous 

of fhunning her betrayer, returned to the hoofe with 

her fifter. In a few minutes lie was alighted from his 

chariot, and making up to the place where I was fHll 

£tune, inquired after my healdi with his ufual air of 

ftmiliarity. ' Sir>.* replied I, < your prefent aflurance 

' only ferves to aggravate the bafenefs of your cha- 

' radler ; and there T^as a time when I would have 

' chaftifed your infolence, for prefuming thus to apn 

* pear before me. But now yon are fafe; for age has 

< cooled my paOions, and my calling retrains them/ 
^ I vow, my dear Sir,' returned he,- « I am amazed 

< at all this ; nor can I underftand what it means ! I 
' hope you ^on't think your dau^hter*^ late excurfioxi 

* with me had any thing crimix^al m it/ 

' Go* cried I, * thou art a wretch, a poor pitiful' 
^ wretch^ and every way a liar ; but your meannefs 

* fecures you from my anger I Yet, Sir, I am de- 

* fcended from a family that would not have borne 
' d^s ! And fo, thou vile thing, to gratify a mo- 

* mentary paffion, thou haft made one poor creature 

* wretched for life, and. polluted a family that had 

* nothing but honour for their portion/ 

' If ihe Or you,' returned he, < are refolved to be 
*■ imferable« I cainnot help it. But you may (till be 

G 4 * happy j 



128 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* happy ; and whatever opinion you may have formed 
' of me, you (hall ever find me ready to contribute to 

* it. We can marry her to another in a fhort time, 

* and what is more, (he may keep h?r lover befide ; 

* for I proteft I (hall ever continue to have a true re- 

* gard for her.' 

I found all my paflions' alarmed at this new de- 
grading propofal ; for though the mind may often be 
calm under great injuries, little villany c^n at any 
time get within the foul, and fting it into rage.'<' » 

* Avoid my fight, thou reptile,* cried I, * nor.conti- 
' nue to infult me with thy prefence. Were my brave 
' fon at home, he would not fuifer this i but I am 

* old, and difabled, and every way undone.' 

* I find,' cried he, * you are bent upon obliging 
' me to talk in a harfher manner than I intended. 
' 3ut as I have (hewn you wh^^t may be hoped from 
' my friendihip, it may not be improper to reprtfent 
' what may be the confequences of my refentment, 
^ My attorney, to whom vour late bond has been 

* transferred, threatens hard, nor do I know how to 

* prevent the courfe of juftice, except by paying the 

* money myfelf, which, as I have been at fome cx^r 

* pences lately, previous to my intended marriage, is 

* not fo eafy to be done. And then my fteward talks 

* of driving for the rent : it is certain he knows his 

* duty ; for I never troubled myfelf with affairs of that 
.* nature. Yet , ftiU I could wifh to ferve you, and 

* even to have you and your daughter prefent at my 
"* marriage, which is. fhortly to be lolemnised with Mik 

* Wilmot ; it is even the requell of my charming 

* Arabella herfelfV whom I hope you will not refufc.' 

< Mr. ThornhiU,' replied I, * hear me once for all : 

* as to your marriage with any but my daughter, that 

* I never will confent to ; and though your frieiid<« 
« fhip could raife me to a throne, or your refentment 

* iink me to the grave, yet would -I defpife both. 

* Thou haft once wofuUy, irreparably, deceived me. 
« I repofed my heart upon thine honpur, and have 

* found its. bafenefe* Never more, therefore, expedfc 

« friend- 



THE VICAR OF WAI^FIELD. 129 

* friendihip from mc. Go, and poffefs what fortune 
' has given thee, beauty, riches, health, and plea-* 

* fore. Go, and leave me to want, infamy, difeafe^ 

* and forrow. Yet humbled as I am, ihall my heart 
' ftill vindicate its dignity, and though thou haft iny 

* forglvenefs, thou fhalt ever have my contempt.* 

' If fo,* returned he,' * depend, upon it you (haH 

* feel the efFeds of this infolence, ana we ihall fhortly 

* fee which is the fitteft objedl of fcorn, you or me.'— 
Upon which he departed abruptly. 

~ My wife and fon, who were prefent at this inter- 
view, feemed terrified with the apprehenfion. My 
daughters alfo, finding that he was gone, came out to 
be informed of the refult of our conference, which* 
when known, alarmed them not lefs than the reft. But 
as to myfelf, I difregarded the utmoft ftretch of his 
malevolence : he had already ftruck the blow, and 
now I ftood prepared to repel every new eiFort. Like 
one of thofe inftrumcnts ufed in the art of war, which, 
however thrown, ftill prefents a point to receive the ^ 
enemy. 

We foon, however, found that he had not threatened 
in vain ; for the very next morning his fteward came 
to demand my annual rent, which, by the train of 
accidents already related, I was unable to pay. The 
confequence of my incapacity was, his driving my 
cattle that evening, and their being appraifed and 
fold the next day for lefs than half Sieir value. My 
wife and children now therefore entreated me to com- 
ply u^on any terms, rather than incur certain de- 
ftrudu)n. They even begged of me to admit his 
vifits once, more, and ufed all their little eloquence to 
paint the calamities I was going to endure : The ter- 
rob-s <^ a prifon in fo rigorous a feafon as the prefent> 
with the jdanger that threatened my health from the 
late accident that happened by the fae^. But I contd-^ 
aued inflexible* 

* Why, my. treafures,' cried I, * why will you thus 
^attempt to perfuade me to the thing that is not 

* nghif My duty has taught me to forgive him; 

G s « but 



130 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

"* but my confcience wiU not peimit me to approve. 

* Would you have me apptaud to the world what my 

* heart muft kitemally condemn ? Would you have 
-f me tamely fit down and flatter our infamous be* 

' trayer ; and to avoid a priron> continually fuffer the 
' more galling bonds of mental confinement? No;. 

* never. If we are to be taken from this abode> only 
' let us hold to the right, and wherever we are thrown; 
' we can ftiU retire to a charming apartment, wheil 

* we can look round our own hearts with intrepidity 

* and with pleafure I' 

In this manner we fpent that evening. Early the 
next morning, as the mow had fallen in great abun- 
dance in the night, my fon was employed m clearing 
it away, and opening a pafTage before the door. He 
had not been thus engaged long^when he came rumung 
in, with looks all pale, to tell us that two firanzers, 
whom he knew to be officers of juilice, were making 
towards the houfe. 

Juft as he fpoke they came in, and approaching the 
bed where I lay, after previoufly informing me of their 
employment and buiinefs, made me their pri(bner> 
bidding' me prepare to go with them to the county 
gaoU which was eleven miles off. 

* My friends/ faid I, * this is fevere weather in 

< which you have come to take mc to a pri^ ; and 

* it is particularly unfortunate at this time, as one of 

* hiy arms has lately been burnt in a terrible manner, 
\ and it has thrown me into a flight fever, and I want 
' clothes to cover me; and I am now too weak and 

< old to walk far in fuch deep fnow: but if it mufl be 

* fo • 

I then turned to my wife and children, and dire£led 
them to get together what few things were left us, a»d 
to prepare immediately for leaving this place. . I en- 
treated them to be expeditious, and defired my fbn to 
aflift* his elder filler, who, from a confcionfnefs that 
fhe was the caufe df all oiir calamities, was fallen, and 
had loft anguilh in infenfibility. I encouraged my 
wife, who, pale and trembling, clafped ottr affrighted 

little 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 131 

Httle on^s in her arms, that plung to her bo(bm in ii<» 
lence, dreading to look round at the Grangers. In 
the mean time my youngefl daughter prepared for our 
departure, and as fhe received ieveral hints to ufe-dif- 
patch, in about an hour we were ready to depart* 

CHAP. XXV. 

Nojftuatimt honue'ver ^wretched it feems, but hasjbmejhrt 

of comfort attending it. 

WE fet forward from this peaceful neighbour- 
hood, and Walked on flowly^ My eldell 
daughter, being enfeebled by a (low fever, which 
had begun for fome days to undermine her conftitu- 
tion, one of the officers, who had an horfe, kindly ^ 
took her behind him : for even thefe men cannot en- 
tirely divert themfelves of humanity. My fon led 
one of the little ones by the hand,'and my wife the 
other; while I leaned upon my youngefl girU whof^ 
tears fell not for her own^ but my diflrelTes. 

We were now got from my late dwelling about two 
miles^. when> we faw a crowd running and fhouting 
behind us, confilHng of about fifty of my poorell 
pariihioners. Thefe, with dreadful imprecations, 
loon feized upon the two officers of juflice, and fwear- 
ing they wou'd never fee their minifler go to a gaol 
while they had a drop of blood to ihed in his 3efence> 
were going to ufe them with great feverity • The con- 
sequences might have been fatal, had I not immedi- 
ately interpofed, and with fome difficulty refcued the. 
officers from the hands of the enraged multitude. 
My children, who looked upon my delivery now as 
certain, appeared tran%orted with joy^ and were in- 
capable of containing their raptures. £ut. they were 
foon undeceived, upon hearing me addrefs the poor 
deluded people, who came- as they imagined to do me 
fcrvice. 

* What ! my friends,* cried I, ' and is this the way 
' you love me I Is this the manner you. obey the in- 

G 6. < ftntftions 



»3» THE VieAR OF WAKEFIELD- 

* ftrct^ions I have given you from the patpit t Thus 
' to fly in the face of jaftice^ and bring down ruin on 

* yourfelves and me! Which is your ringleader? 
' Shew me the man that has thus feduce4 yoif. As 
' fure us he lives he (hiU feel my refentment. Alas ! 
' my dear deluded flock> return bade to the duty you 

* owe to God, to your countrv, and to me. I fhall 

* yet 'perhaps onQ day fee you m greater felicity here, 

* and contribute to make your lives more happy. 

* But let it at lead be my comfort when I pen^ my 

* fold for immortality, that not one here fhould l^ 

* wanting.* 

They now feemed all repentance, and melting into 
tears, came one after the other to bid me farewell. 
I ihook each tenderly by the hand, and leaving them 
my bleffing proceeded forward without meeting any 
farther interruption. Some, hours before night we 
reached the town, or rather village; for it conMed 
but of a few mean houfes, having loft all its former* 
opulence, and retaining no marks of its ancient fupe- 
riority but the gaol. 

Upon entering we put up at ^n inn, where he had 
fuch refrefhments as could moft^reaidily be procured* 
and I fupped with my family with my ufual cheer- 
fulnefs. After feeing them properly accommodated for 
that night, I next attended the iherifPs officers to the 
prifon, which had formerly been, built for the pur- 
pofes of war, and confifted of one large apartment, 
ftrongly grated, and paved with ftone, common to 
both felons and debtors at certain hours in the four 
and twenty. Beiides this, every prifoner had a fepa- 
yate cell, where he was locked in for the night. 

I expe£led upon my entrance to find nothing but 
lamentations, and various founds of mifery ; but it 
was . very different. The prifoner s feemed all cm- 
ployed in one common defign, that of forgetting 
thought in merriment or clamour, I was apprized of 
the ufual perquifite required upon thefe occafions, and 
immediately complied with the demand, though diQ 
little money I had wasv very near being all txhaujled. 

■' • This 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. i^f^ 

This was immediately fent away for liquor, and the 
whole 'prifon was foon filled with riot» laughter, and 
prophanen^s* 

* How,* cried I to myfelf, * fhall men fo very 
' wicked be cheerful, and (hall I be melancholy \ 1 
' feel only the fame confinement with them, and J 

* think- 1 have more reafon to be happy.* 

With fuch reflexions I laboured to become cheer- 
ful ; but cheerfttlnefs was never yet produced by effort, 
which is itfelf painful. As I was fitting therefore in 
a comer of the gaol, in a penfive pofture, one of my 
fellow-prifoners came up, and fitting by me, entered 
into converfation. It was my conflant rule in life never 
to avoid the converfation of any man who feemed to 
defire it : for if good, I might profit by his inHroc- 
tion ; if had, he might be afiiiled by mine. I found 
this to be a knowing man, of flrong unlettered fenfe, 
but a thorough knowledge of the world, as it b call-* 
ed, or, more properly fpeaking, of human nature on 
the wrong fide. He afked me if I had taken care ta 

frovide myfelf with a bed, which was a circumiUnce 
had never on<;e attended to. 

* That's unfbrtunate,' cried he, * as you arc al- 
' lowed here nothing but itraw, and your apartment is 
' very large ^nd cold. , However, you teem to be 

* ibmethiag of a gentleman, and as I have been one 
' myfelf in my time, part of "my bed-clothes are 
/ heartily at your fervice.* 

I thanked him, profeffing my furprife at finding 
fuch humanity in a gaol in misfortunes ; adding, to 
let him fee that I was a fcholar, < That the fage an« 

* cient feemed to nnderftand the value of company in 
' afilidion, when he faid. Ton kofmon airb, ei dos 

* ton etairon ; and in fa£t,* continued I, ' what is 
' the world if it affords only folitude ?' 

' You talk of the world. Sir,* returned my felIow« 
prifbner ; 'the world is in its dotagty and yet the cofi 

* mcgony w creation of the nuorid has puxxled the philo^ 

* fiphers $f en)ery age. What a medly of opinions hofve 

* they not broached, upw the creation of the fworid?. San-* 

* (oniatbonp 



- I 



%4i THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD; 

eMiathoHf Manetho, Siro/uSf and OceUus Lucanus bofvt 
all atUmpud it in *iuun. ^e latter has tbe/e nvords, 
Auareh&n ara kai atelutaion to patif <which ifnplies*^-^ 
I afk jpardon* Sir/ cried I, ' for interrupting fo 
much learning ; bat I think I have heard all thi? 
before. Have I not h|ui the pleafore of once feeing- 
you at Welbridge fair, and is not your name Ephraim' 
Jtnkinfon V At this demand he only (ighea. * I 
fuppofe 'you muft. recoiled/ refumed I, ' oneDodor 
P/imrofe^ from whom you bought a horfe.' 
He -now at once recoUedled me ; for the gloomine& 
ttf the place and the approaching night had prevented 
his difhaguifhing my features before. * Yes, Sir,** 
returned Mr« Jenkinfon,. * I remember you perfedly 
well ; I bought a^ hoHe, but forgot to pay for hm,. 
Your neighbour Flamborough is the only profecotor 
I am any way afraid of the next affizes :. for he in- 
tends to fwear pofitively againft me as a coiner. I am. 
heartily forry, Sir# I ever deceiii^ you, or indeed, 
any man ; for you fee,' continued he* ihewing his- 
fliackles, ' what my tricks have brought me to.' 

* Well^ Sir,' replied I, * your kindndTs in <^eHng. 
' me affiftance, wiien you could exped no return, 
*' (hall be repaid with my endeavours to Mu&tl or to- 
*' tally fuppreis Mr. Flamborough's evidence, and I- 
*■ will fend my fon to him for Siat purpofe the firft 

* opportunitv ; nor do I in the leafl doubt but he will 

* comply with my requeft ; and as to my own evi- 
*^ dence, you need be under no uneafinefs about that.' 

' Well, Sir,' cried he, < all the return I can make- 

< ihall be your's. You ihall have more than half my. 

* Bed-clothes to-night, and I'll take care to ftand 
^ your friend in the prifon, where I think I have fome^ 

* influence.' 

I thanked him, and could slot avoid being furprifed 
at the prefent youthful change in his afped ; for at the 
time I had feen him before he appeared at leaft iixty» 
-^f Sir,' anfwered he, ' you are little acquainted with- 

< the world ; I had at that time falfe hair, and have» 
; kamt'the artpf couaterfoiting every ag^ fipom fevea-> 

* tectt 



THE VrCAR OF WAKEFIELD. 135 

* teen to feventy. Ah, Sir, had I but bellowed half 

* the pains in learning a trade, that I haye in leam<^ 
< ing to be a fcoan^el, I might have been a riclL 
' man at this day. But rogue sls I am, ftill I may 

* be your friend, .and that perhaps when yon. leail 
' exped it.' 

We were now prevented from further converfation,, 
by the arrival of the gaoler's fecvants^ who came to 
call, over the prilbneiis names, and lock up for the 
night. A fellow alfo with a bundle of ftraw for my bed 
attended, who led me along a dark narrow paifage 
into a room paved like the common prlfon, and in ontf 
comer of this £ fpread my bed, and the clothes given, 
me by my feliow-prifoner ; which done, my condudor^ 
who was civil enough, bade me a good night. Aftef> 
my ufuai meditations, and having praifed my hesiven- 
ly Corredor, I laid myfelf down and ilept with the; 
uunoH tranquility till morning.. 

GHAP. xxvr. 

J reforjfuUion. in the gaoh To nmke lasim complete, they 
Jhould rt^ard ai luell as punijh: 

THE. next morning early I was awakened by my 
family, whom I found in tears at my bed-fide. 
The gloomy ftrength of every thing about us, it 
feems, hsid dauntea diem. I gently rebuked their 
forrow, afTuring them I had never ilept with greater 
tranquillity, and next inquired after my eldeft dauglk. 
ter, who was not among them. They informed me 
that yefterday's uneafinefs and fatigue had increafed 
her fever, and it was judged proper to leave her be^ 
hind. My next care was to (end my fon to procure a* 
isoom or two to lodge the family. > in, as near the pr»f . 
fon as conveniently could be • found. He obeyed ; 
but could only find one apartment; which was hired 
at a fmall expence, for his. mother and' fitters, the 
gaoler with humanity confentine to let him and his. 
two little brothers lie in the priton with me. A bed 

was 



I3f THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELP. 

was thesefore prepared for tkem in the corner df the 
ro&oif which I thought anfwered very conveniently. 
I was willing however previoufly to know whether my 
little chilchren chdfe to lie in a place which feemed to 
fright them upon entrance. 

* Well,* cried I, ' my good boys, how do yon like 

* yonr bed ? I hope yon are not afraid to lie in this 
f room, dark as it appears.' 

* No, papa,' fays Dick^ ' I am not affaid to lie 

* any where, where you are.' 

* And I,' fays Bill, who was yet buft four years old, 
« love every place beft that my papa is in.' 

After this, I allotted to each of the fanuly what 
they were to do. My daughter was particularly di- 
teded to watch her declining fiber's health ; my unk 
was to attend me ; my little boys were to read to me : 

* And as for you, my fon,* continued I, * it is by 

* the labour of your hands we muH: all hope to be fop- 

* ported. Your wages, as a day-labourer, will be full 

* fufficient, with proper frugality, to maintain us all, 

* and comfortably too. Thou art now iixteen years 

* old, and haft ftrength, and it was given thee, my 

* fon, for very ufeful purpofes : for it muft fave from 

* famine your helplefs parei\ts and family. Prepare 
« then this evening to -look out for work agaihft to- 

* morrow, and bring home every night what money 

* you earn for our fupport.' 

Having thus' inftrudted him, and fettled th^ reft, I 
walked down to the common prifon, where I could en- 
joy more air and room. But I was not long there 
when the execrations, lewdnefs, and brutality that in- 
vaded me on every fide, drove me back to my apart- 
ment again. Here I fat for ,fome time, pondering 
upon the firange infatuation of wretches, who, find- 
ing all mankind in open su-ms againft them, were la- 
bouring to make themfelves a future and a tremendous 
enemy. 

Their infeniibility ex6ited my higheft compafSon, 
and blotted my own uneafmefs from my mind. It 
even appeared a duty ii^cnmbent upon me to attempt 

to 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIEtD* f 37 

to reclaim 'them. I reiblv«d thereibre once more ta 
j«eturn, and in fpite of their contempt to give them 
my advice^ Und conquer them by perfevefaince. Go-» 
ing therefore among them again, I informed Mr. Jen- 
kinfon of my defign, at which he laughed haartily» 
but communicated it to the reft. The propofal was 
received with the greateft good-humour, as it promifed 
to, aiFord a i^ew fund of entertainment to peribns who 
had now no other refource for mirth> but what could 
be derived from ridicule or debauchery. 

I therefore read them a. portion of the fervicc with 
a loud unaffe£led voice, and found toy audi^nc^ per-* 
fe€tiy merry upon the occafion* Lewd whifper9» gro4ii4 
of contrition burlefqued, winking and coughing* ftl-* 
temately excited laughter. However, I continued 
with my natural folemnity to read on, fenfiUe that 
what I did migjht amend fome^ but could itfel^ recnvd 
no contamination from any. 

After reading, I entered upon my €xhorta|ian> 
which was rather calculated at firft to amufe them 
than to reprovti. I ))revioufly obferVed, that no othev 
motive but th^ welfare could induce me to this ; that 
I was their fellow-prifoner, and now got nothing bji 
preaching. I was focry, I faid, to hear them fo very 
prophane ; becaufe they got nothing by k, and might 
lofe a great deal : * For be affured, my fiiends,'* cried 
I, * for yon are my friends, however the world may 

* difclaim your friendfhip, though you fwore twelvd 

* thoufand oaths in a day, it would not put one penny 

* in jrour purfe. Then what iignihes calling every 

* moment upon the devil, and counting his friendOiip^ 

* fince you find how fcurvily he ufes you ? He has 
^ giren you nothing here, you find, but a mouthful 

* of oaths and au empty belly ; and by the beft ac- 

* counts I have of him, he will give you nothing that's 

* good hereafter. 

* If ufed ill" in our dealings with one man, we lia- 

* turally go elfewhere. Were it not worth your while 

* then, juft to try how you may like the ufage of an- 
^ Other Mafter, who gives you fair promifes at leaft to 

« como 



ijS THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* come to him ? Surely* my friends* of all (lupidity 
' in the worid* his muft be greateft^ wlio» a^ter 
' robbing an. hoafe* runs to the thief-takers for pro* 
^ te^tion. And yet how are you more wife ? You are 
' all foeking comfort bottt one that has already be«- 
' tfayed you, applying to a more malicious being 

* than any thief-taker of them all ; for they only de- 
' coy and then hang you ; but he decoys and hangs, 
' and what is worftot all* will not let you lo^eafeer 

* the hangman has done.' 

When I had concluded* I received the compSment 
ef my audience* feme of whom came and ihook me 
by the hand* fwearine that I was a very honeft fel- 
low* and that they <kfired my further acquaintance. 
I therefore |>romifed to repeat my le^ure next day*, 
and adually conceived foine hopes of making a re- 
lbrmatk)n here ; for it had eVer been my pjunion* that 
no man. was paft the hour of amendment* every hearl 
lying open to the (haftS'Of reproof* if the archer could 
but take a proper aim. When I had thus fadsfied my 
mind* I went back to my apartment* #here mry wi^* 
prepared a fi'u^al meal* while Mr. Jenkinfon Dc^ged. 
leave to add his dinner to ours* and partake of the 
pleafure* as he was kind enough to exprefs it* of my 
converfation. He had not yet Teen my family ; fcM' as 
they came to my apartment by a door in the narrow 
pafiage* already defcribed*by this means they avoided 
the common pnfon. Jenkinfon at the firft interview 
therefore feemed not a little ftruck with the beauty of 
my youngeft daughter* which her pe^five air contri- 
buted to heighten; and my little ones, did not pa& 
unnoticed. 

* Alas* Dodor*' cried he* * thefe children are to(» 
< handfome and too eood for fiich a place as this I' 

' Why* Mr. Jenkinfon*' replied I* * thank heavent 
^ my children are pretty tolerable in morals* and if: 
« they be good* i|; matters little for the reft.' 

^ I fancy* Sir*' returned my fellow-prifoneri * that 

i it muft give you great comfort to havei this little fk- 

« mil}; about ^Uk* 

• Acom»- 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. i^ 

* A comfort, Mr. Jeirkinfon,' replied I, * yes, it 
' is indeed a comfort, and I woald not be without 
' them for all the world ; for they can make a dun- 
' geon feem a palace. Therfe is but one way in this 
' life of wounding my happlnefs, and that is by in- 
' juring them.' 

M am afraid then. Sir,' cried he, < that I am in 

* fome meafiire culpable; for I think I fee here* 
(looking at my fon Mofes) * one' that I have injured, 
' and by whom I wifh to be forgiven.* 

My fon immediately recoUeded his voice and fea- 
tures, though he had before feen him in difguife, and 
taking him by the hand, with a fmile forgave him. 
' Yet,* continued he, * I can't help wondering at 
' what y6u could fee in my face, to thuik me a proper 

* mark for deception.* 

* My dear Sir,' returned the other, ' it was ndt' 
' your face, but your white dockings knd the bUck 
' riband in your hair> that allured me. But no dif- 
' paragement to your parts, I have deceived wifer 

* men than you in my time ; and yet, with all my 

* tricks, the blockheads hove been loo many for nxe 
' at laft.* . ^ 

* I fuppofe,* cried my fon, • that the narrative of 
' fuch a life as yours muft be extremely inHrudive and 

* amuiing.* 

* Not much of either,* returned Mr. Jenkinfoxl. 

* Thofe relations which defcribe the tricks and vices 
' only of mankind, by increaiing our fufpicion in 

< life, retard our fuccefs. The traveller that diftrufts 

< every perfon he meets, and turns back upon the 

* appearance of every man that looks like a robber, 
' ieldom arrives in time at his journey's end. 

* Indeed I think^ from my own experience, that 
' the knowing one is the filli^ft fellow under the fun^ 
' I was thov^ht cunning from my very childhood ; 
*■ when but feven years old the ladies would fay that 

< I was a perfect tittle man ; at fourteen I knew the 
^ worlds cocked my hat, and leve4 the ladies ;. at 

< twenty, though I w^s perfeftJy honelt, yet every' 

* OAfi: 



. if^Oi THE VICAR 6r WAKEFrELD., 

• oiie thought me ib cunning, that not one would 
*• Irull me. Thus I was at laft obliged to turn iharper 

• in my own 4efence, and have lived ever iince> 
*. my head throbbing with fchemes to deceive, 'and 
•my heart palpitating with fears of detcftion. I 

• ufed often to laugh at your honeft fimple neigh- 

• hour Flsrmborough, and one way oranother generally 

• cheated him once a year. Yet ftill the hone ft man 
*. went forward without fufpicion, and grew rich, 

• while I flill coisitinued trickfy and cunning, and 

• was poor, without the confolation of being honeft. 
'. However,* continued he, * let me know yo«r cafe, 
V aad what has brought you here ; perhaps, though I 

• have no fltill to avoid a gaol myfel^ I may extricate 

• my friends.' 

In compliance ^th his curiofity, I informed him of 
t)ie whole train of accidents and follies that had plnng- 
eH me into my prefent troubles, and my utter inability 
to get free. 

A^r hearing my ftory, and paufing fome minutes, 
be ilapt his forehead, as if he had hit upom fome- 
thing material, and took Us kave, faying he would 
try what could be done« 

CHAP. XXVII. 

fhsjamfjuije^ continusJ^ 

THE next morning I communicated ta my wife 
and children the fcheme I had planned of re> 
forming the prifoners, which they received with uni- 
v^r&l difapprob^<»i, alleging the impoiHbilky and 
impropriety of it ; adding, that my endeavours would 
not way contribute to their amendment, but might 
probably difgracc my calling. 

* Excufe me,* returned I ; * thefe people, - however 

< fallen, all JiiU men, and that is a very good title to 

" * my afFe£Uons. Good counfel reje6ked returns to 

*• enrich the giver's bofom ; and though the inHruc- 

• tion I communicate may not mead them, yet it will 

* affuredly 



THE VICAR OF- WAKEFIELD, ' 141 

* jrflaredly mend myfclf. If thefe wretches, mf chii"- 
^ dreA> were prmces> there would be thoufands raad^ 
' to oiFer their miniflry ; but in my opinion, the heii^ 

* that is buried in a dungeon is as precious, as thdt 
^ feated upon a throne. Yes, my treafures, if I can 
' mend them I will; perhaps they will not all defpifb 

* me. Perhaps I may catch up even one from thfe 
' gulph^ and that will be great gain ; for is there upon 

* earth a gem fo precious as the human foul ?' 
Thus faying, I Idt them, and defcended to the 

common prifbn, where I found the prifoners "wery 
merry, expefting my arrival^ and each prepared with 
fome gaol trick to play upon the dodor. Thus, as I 
was going to begin, one turned my wig awry, as if 
by accident, and then aiked my pardon. A fecond, 
who Hood at fome diftance, had a knack of fpitting 
through his teeth, which fell in fhowers upoif my 
book* A third would cry Amen in fuch an afFeded 
tone as gai/'e the reft great delight, A fourth had flyly 
picked my pocket of my fpeSacles. But there was 
Oflc whofe trick gave more univerfal pleafure than all 
the reft ; for obTerving the manner in which I had dif- 
pofed my books on tjie table before me, he very dex- 
teroudy difplaced one of them, and put an obfcene jeib- 
book «f his own in the place. However, I took no 
notice of all that this mifchievous groupe of little be- 
ings could do; but went on, perfectly fenfible that 
what was ridiculou»in my attempt, would excite. mirth 
only the firft or feebnd time, while what was ferious 
would be permanent. My defign fucceeded, and, in 
lefs than fix days, fome were penitent, and all at- 
tentive, , 

{t was now that I applauded my perfeverance and 
add^efs, at thtts giving fenfibility to wretches divefted 
of cilery moral feeling, and now began to think of 
doihgthem /emporal fervices alfo, by rendering their 
fituation f<imewhat more comfortable. Their time 
had hitherto been divided between famine and excefs, 
tumultuous riot and bitter repining. Their only 
emp]oys)#nt was (laarieUing aiapng each other;, play- 
ing 



H« TH£ VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

In^ at cribbage* and catting tobacco-ftoppersv From 
thi$ laft mode of idle induftiy I took the hint of fet< 
ting fttch as chofe to work at catting pegs for tobac- 
conifts and fhoemakers, the proper Voodoeing boaght 
by a general fabfcription« and when niaau&£iared> 
fol4 bf . my- appointment ; fo that each earned fome- 
thing eveiv oay: a trifle indeed^ but fufficient to 
siaiatain hun. 

i did not ftop here» but inftituted fines for the pu- 
fiifhment of immorality^ and rewards for peculiar in- 
duftry. Thus, in le(s tiban a fortnight, I had formed 
them into fomething fodal and humane, and had the 
pleafure of regarding myfelf as a legiflator, who had 
brought men from t&ir native ferocity into friend&ip 
and obedience. ' 

And it were highly to be wiflied, that legifladFe 
power would thus dire^ the law ratlwr to refonsatioa 
than feverity. . That it would feem convinced that 
the work of eradicating crimes is not bv aiakine 
puniihments familiar, but formidable. Thn infleaa 
of our prefent prifons, which find or make men 
guilty, which enck>fe wretches for the coauniffion 
of one crime, and return them, if returned alive, 
fitted for the perpetration of thoufands; we Ihoald 
fee, as in other parts of Europe, places of penitence 
and folitude, where the accufed might be attended by 
fttch as could give them repentance if guiky, or new 
motives to virtue if innocent. And this, but not the 
increafmg puniihments, if the way to mend a fbite : 
nor ,can I avoid even queftioning the validity of that 
right which focial combinations have aiTumed of car 
pitally puniihing offences of a flight nature. In cafes 
of murder their right is obvious, as it is the duty of 
us all, from the law of felf-defence, to cut off that 
nan who has (hewn a difregard for the life of another. 
Againft fuch, all nature riles in arms ; but it is not So 
^^ainft him who fleals my property. Natural law 
^ives me no right to take awa^ his life, as ky that the 
horfe he fleals is as much his property as mine. If 
4ben I have any right, it maft be fixMU % compaA 

made 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 14$ 

naje between as, that he who deprives, the other of 
ills horfe fhall die. But this is afalfe compadl; be** 
caufe no man has a right to barter hit life, no more 
than take it awa^, as it is not his own. And befide, 
the compa^ is madeqaate, and would be fet afide 
evea in1a court of modem equity, as there is a ereat 
penalty for a very trifling convenience, iince it is far 
better that two men (hould live, than one man fliould 
ride. But a compa^ that is falfe between two men, 
is equally fo between an hundred and an hundred 
thouiand; for as ten millions of circles can ne*^ 
ver make a fquare, fo the united voice of myriads 
cannot lend the fmalleft foundation to falfehood. 
It is thus that reafon (peaks, and untutored nature 
iays the iame thing. Savages that are direded by na- 
tural law alone are very tender of the lives of each 
other; they feldom fhed blood but to retaliate former 
cruelty. 

Oar Saxon anceftors, fierce as they were in war, 
^ad but . lew executions in times of peace ; and in all 
commencing governments that iiave the print of na- 
ture (till ^ong upon them, fcarce any crime is held 
capitd. 

It^s among the citizens of a refined comm^unity 
that penal laws, which are in the hands of the rich, 
are laid upon the poor. Government, while it grows 
older, feems to acquire the morofenefs of age ; and as 
if our property were become dearer in proportion as 1$ 
increausd, as' if the more enormous our wealth, the 
more extenfive our fears, all our pofieflions are paled 
up with new edi£ts tvery day, and hung round with 
{ibbets to fcare every invader. 

I cannot tell whether it is from the number of our 
p^nal laws, or the licenuoufnefs of our people, that this 
country (hould (hew more convifb in a year, than half 
the dominions of Europe united. Periiaps it is owing 
to both; for they mutually produce each other. When 
by uidifcriminate penal laws a nation beholds the fame 
puniihment afExecl to difiimilar degrees of guilt, from 
perceiving no diftinfiion in the penalty, the people 

are 



11^ vat VICAR OP WAKEFIELD, 

«re ted to l^e all fetife of diftindion in the crime^ and 
this ^ftittdtion b die bulwark of ill morality : thus the 
9Aulviftide of laws prodaco new vices* and new vices 
ctJA for fre(h reftraints. 

U were to be wi(hed then that 'power, inftead of 
contriving new laws to pnnifli vice> inftead of drawing 
iiard the cords of ibciety till a convulfion come to 
burft them, inftead of cutt^nfg away wretches as ufe- 
lefs, before we have tried their utility, inftead of*con- 
verting correction into vengeance, it were* to be 
iviftied that we tried the reftriftive arts of government, 
and made law the protestor, but not the tyrant of the 
•{>eople. We ihonld then find that creatures, whofe 
£ki1s are held as dro{«, onlv wanted the hand of a re- 
-finer; we fhould then iina that wretches, now ttuck 
lip for long tortures, left luxury ftiould feel a moment- 
efy pang, might, if properly treated, fferve to finew 
the ftate in times of danger j that, as their fkces arc 
'like ours, their hearts are fo too ; that few minds are 
* :fo bafe as that perfeVerance cannot amend ; that a 
than may fee his laft crime without dying for it ; and 
^hat very little bk)od will fcrvQ to cement our fe- 
curity. 

CHAP. XXVIII. 

Happinefi <md mifery rtuhtr the refult of prudence than ef 
*ulrtue in this , life, temporal e<vils or .felicities being 
regarded hy heetmtn us things merely in themfehues 
trifing, and unworti^ its eere in the diftrihmtwu. 

I HAD now been confined more dian a fortnight, 
but had not lince my arrival been vifited by my 
'dear Olivia, and I greatly longed to fee her. -Hav- 
ing communicated my wifhes to my wife, the next 
momii^ the poor girl entered my apartment, leanings 
on her fifter's arm. The change which I faw in her 
countenance ftruck me. The numberleis graces that 
once refided there were now fled, and the band of 
•death ieemed to hare moulded every fcatiut to alarm 

me. 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. . 145 ' 

me. Her temples were funk, her forehead was tenfe, 
and a fatal palenefs fat upon her cheek. 

* I am glad to fee thee, my dear,' cried I ; * but 
' why this dejeftion, Livy ? I hope, my love, you 

* have too great a regard for me, to permit difap- 
^ pointment thus to undermine a life, which I prize 
' as my own. Be cheerful, child, and we yet may 

* fee happier days.' 

' You have ever. Sir,' replied (he, * been kind to 

* me, and it adds to my pain, that I ihall never hav« 

* an opportunity of fharing that happinefs you pro- 

* mife. Happinefs, I fear, is po longer referved for 
' me here; and I long to be rid of a pl^ce where t 

* .have only found diftrefs. Indeed, Sir, I wiih you 

* would make a proper fubmiffion to Mr. Thornhill ; 

* it may, in fome meafure, induce him to pity you, 

* and it will give me relief in dying.? 

* Never, child,' replied I, * never will I be brought 

* to acknowledge my daughter a proftitute ; for though 

* the world may look upon your offence with fcorn, 

* let it be mine to regard it as a mark of credulity, 
' riot of guik. My dear, I am no way miferable in 

* this place, however difmal it may feem, and be af- 

* fured, that while you continue to blefs me by living, 

* he (hall never have my confent to make you more 

* wretched by marrying another.' 

After the departure of my daughter, my fellow-pri- 
foner, who was by at this interview, fenfibly enough ex- 
poftulated upon my obftinacy, in refufing a fubmiffion, 
which promifed to" give me -freedom. He obferved, 
that the reft of my family was not to be facrificed to 
the peace of one child alone, and Ihe the only one 
who had offended me. * Befide,' added he, ' I don't 
' know if it be juft thus to obftrudi the union of man 
' and wife, which you do at prefent, by refufing to 
' confent to a match which you cannot hinder, but 
' may render unhappy.' 

* Sir/ replied I, * you are unacquainted with the 

* man that oppreffes us. I am very feniible that no 
;; fabmiffion I can make could procure me liberty even 

H . * for 



145 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

< for an hoar. I am told that even in this very room 
' a debtor of his, no later than laft year, died for 

* want. But though my fubmiflion and approbation 

* could transfer me from hence to the moft beautiful 

* apartment he is poiTefTed of; yet I v^ould grant nei- 
*■ ther, as fomething whifpers' me, that it would be 

* giving a fanflionto adultery. While my daughter 

* lives, no other n^arriage of his ihall «ver be legal in 

* my eye. Were fhe removed, indeed, I fhoiud be 

* the baieft of men, from any refentment of my own, 

* to attempt putting afunder thofe who wiih for an 

* union. No, villam as he is, I fhcmld then wiih 
^ him married, to prevent the confequences of his fii- 
^ ture debaucheries. But now ftiould I not be the 

* moil cruel of all fathers, to fign an inftrument which 

* muft fend my child to the grave, merely to avoid a 
^ prifon myfelf ; and thus, to efcape one pang, break 

* my child's heart with a thoufand I' 

He acquiefced in the jultice of this anfwer, but could 
not avoid obferving, that he feared my daughter's life 
was already too much wafted to keep me long a pri- 
foner. * Howe«r,* continued he, ' though you rc- 

* fufe to fubmit Kf the nephew, "I hope you have no 
' objedions to laying your cafe before the uncle, who 

* has the iirft character in the kingdom for every thing 

* that is juft and good. I would advife you to (end 

* him a letter by the poft, intimating all his nephew's 
^ ill ufage, and my life for itj that in three days 
^ you ihall have an anfwer.' I thanked him for the 
hint, and inftantly fet about complying ; but I wanted 
paper, and unluckily all our money had been laid out 
that morning in prpviiions; however, he fuj^lied 
me. 

For the three enAiing days I was in a date of anxie- 
ty, to know what reception my letter might meet 
ivith ; but in the mean time was frequently (blicited 
by my wife to fubmit to any coaditions rather than 
remain here, and every hour received repeated ac- 
counts of the decline of my daughter's health. The 
third, day and the fourth arrived^ bat I received no 

anfwer 



THE VICAR Of WAK6FIELD. 147 

anfwer to my letter : the complaints of a ftranger 
againil a favourite nephew were no way likely to fac-^ 
ceed ; fo that thefe hopes foon vaniihed like all my 
former. My mind» however, ftill fupported itfe]f, 
though confinement and bad air began to make a vi-* 
fible alteration in my health, and my arm that had 
fuffcrcd in the fire, grew worfe. My children, how- 
ever, £at by me, and while I was flretched on my 
ilraw, read to me by turns, or liflened and wept at 
my inftruflions. But my daughter's health declined 
fafter than mine ; every meffage from her contributed 
to increafe my apprehenfions and pain. The fifth 
morning after I had written the letter which was fent 
to Sir William Thornhill, I was alarmed with an ac* 
count that (he was fpeechlefs. Now it was that con- > 
finement was truly painful to me ; my foul was burn- 
ing from its prifon to be near the pillow of my child, 
to comfort, to ftrengthen her, to receive her laft 
wiihes, and to teach her foul the way to heaven I An^* 
other account came : Ihe was expiring ; and yet I 
was debarred the fmall comfort of weeping by her. 
My fellow-prifoner, fome time after, came with the 
laft account. He bade' me be patient: fhe was dead ! 

The next morning he returned, and found me 

with my two little ones, now my only companions^ 
who were uiing all their innocent eiForts to cqmfort 
me. They entreated to read to me, and bade me not to 
cry, for I was now too old to weep. * And is not my 
' fifter an angel now, papa,' cried the eldell, • and 

* why then are you forry for her ? I wifh I were an 

* angel out of this frightful place, if my papa were 

* with me.' — * Yes,* added my youngeft darling, *Hea- 

* ven, where my fifter is, is a finer place than this, 
' and there are none but good people there, and the 

* people here are very bad.' 

Mr. Jenkinfon interrupted their harmlefs prattle, 
by obferving that now my daughter was no more, I 
ihould ferioufly think of the reft of my family, and 
attempt to favc my own life, which was every day 
dfcUnmg for want of neceflaries and wholcfoine air. 

Hz He 



'i4« 'THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

He added, that it was now intumbent on me to facri- 
fice any pride of refentment of my own, to the welfare 
of thofe who depended on me for fupport ; and that I 
was now, both by reafon and juflice, obliged to try to 
reconcile my landlord. 

* Heaven be praifed,* replied I, * there is no pride 
' left me now, I Ihould dcteft my own heart, if I 

* faw either pride or refentment lurking there. On 

* the contrary, as' my oppreflbr has been once my pa- 

* riftiioner, I hope one day to prefent him up an un- 
^ polluted foul at the eternal tribunal. No, Sir, I 
' have no refentment now, and though he has taken 
' from me what I held dearer than all his tre^ures, 

* though he has wrung my heart, for I am £ck al- 

* moft to fainting, very fick, my fellow-prifoner, yet 

* that (hall never infpire me with vengeance. I am 

* now willing to approve his marriage, and if this 

* fubmiffion can do him any pleafure, let him know, 
' that if I have done him any injury, I am forry for 

* it.* Mr. Jenkinfon took pen and ink, and wrote 
down my fubmiffion nearly as I have exprefled it, to 
which I figned my name. My fon was employed to 
carry the letter to Mr. Thornhill, who was then at his 
feat in the country. He went, and in about fix hours 
returned with a verbal anfwer. He had fome difficul- 
ty, he faid, to get a fight of his landlord, as the fer- 
vants were infolent and fufpicious ; but he accidentally 
faw him as he was going out upon bufinefs, preparing- 
for his marriage, which was to be in three days. He 
continued to inform us, that he ftept up in the hum- 
bleft manner, and delivered the letter, which, when 
Mr. Thornhill had read, he faid that all fubmiffion 
was now too late aitd unnecefTary ; that he had heard 
of our application - to his uncle, which met with the 
contempt it deferved ; and as for the reft, that all fu- 
ture application would be direded to his attorney, 
not to him. He obferved, however, that as he had a 
very good opinion of the difcretion of ihe two young 
ladies, they might have been the moft agreeable in- 
terceilbrs* 

€ Well, 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 149 

' Well, Sir,' faid I to my fellow-prifoner, * you 

* now difcover the temper of the man who oppreffes 

* me. He can at once be facetious and cruel ; but 

* let him ufe me as he will, I Ihall foon be free, in 

* fpite of all his bolts to reftrain me. ' I am now 

* drawing towards an abode that looks brighter as I 

* approach it : this expedation cheers ray afflidlions, 
' and though I leave an helplefs family of orphans 

* behind me, yet they will not be utterly forfaken ; 

* fome frieni, perhaps, will be found to ailift them 

* for the fake of their poor father, and fome may cha- 

* ritably relieve them for the fake of their heavenly 

* Father.' 

Juft as I fpoke, my wife, whom I had not feen that 
day before, , appeared with looks of terror, and mak- 
ing efforts, but unable to fpeak. * Why, my love,' 
cried. I, * why will you thus increafe my afHidlions by 
. * your own I what, though no fubmiffions can turn 
' our fevere raafter, though he has doomed me to die 
' m this place of wretchednefs, and though we have 
' loft a darling child, yet ftill you will find comfort 
' in your other children when I fhall be no more.* 
— * We have indeed loft,' returned Ihe, ' a darling 

* child. My Sophia, my deareft, is gone, fnatchea 

* from us, carried off by ruffians I' 

• How, madam,' cried my fellow-prifoner, * Mifs 

* Sophia carried off by villains, fure it cannot be I' 
She could only anfwer with a fixed look and a flood 

of te^s. But one of the prifoner's wives who was 
prefent, and came in with her, gave us a more diftinft 
account ; fhe informed, us that as niy wife, .my daugh- 
ter, and herfelf, were taking a walk together on the 
great road a little: way out of the village, a poft-chaife 
and pair drove up to them and ihftantly ftopt. Upon 
which a well-drefTed man, but not Mr. Thornhill-, ftep- 
ping out, clafped my daughter round the waift, and 
forcing her in, bid the poftillion drive on, fo that they 
were out of fight in a moment. 

* Now,' cried I, < the fum of my miferies is made 

* up, nor is it in the power of any thing on earth to 

H 3 « give 



ICO THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: 

' give me another pang. What! not one left! not 

* to leatre me one! the monfter! the child that was 

* next my heart ! fhe had the beauty of an angel, and 

* almoft the wifdom of an angel. But fupport that 

* woman, nor let her fall. Not to leave me one!' 
— — * Alas, my hufband,'. faid my wife, ' you feem 

* to want comfort even more than I. Our diftrefTes 
' are great ; but I could bear this and more, if I faw 

* you but eafy. They may take away my children, 

* and all the woild, if they leave me but you.' 

My fon, who was prefent, endeavoured to 'mode- 
rate our grief; he bade us take comfort, for he hoped 
that we might ffiU have reafon to , be thankful. 

* My child,' cried I, * look round the world, and fee 
' if there be any happinefs left me now. Is not every 

* ray of comfort fliut out ; while all our bright pro- 
« fpe£ts only lie beyond the grave ?' — * My dear fa- 
' ther,' returned he, * I hope there is ftill fomething 
< that win give you an interval of fatisfa^ion \ for I 
« have a letter from my brother George.' ' What 

* of him, child 1' interrupted I, * docs he know our 
' mifery ; I hope my boy is exempt from any part of 

* what his wretched family fufFers ?* * Yes, Sir,* 

returned he, * he is perfeftly gay, cheerful, and hap- 
' py. His letter brings nothing but good news ; he 

* IS the favourite of his colonel, who promifes to pro- 
« cure him the very next lieutenancy that becomes va- 
« cant !* - 

• And are you fure of all this,' cried my wife, * are 

* you fure that nothing ill has befallen my boy ?'— — 

* Nothing indeed, madam,' returned my fon : * yon 

* (hall fee the letter, which will giv^ you the higheft 

* pleafure ; and if any thing can procure you comfort^ 

* I am fure that will.'—* But are you fure,' ftill re- 
peated fhe, * that the letter is trom himfelf, dnd 

* that he is really fo happy?' * Yes, madam,* 

replied he, ^ it is certainly his, and he will one day be 

* the credit and the fupport of our family !'— * Then 

* I thank Providence,* cried (he, * that my laft letter 

* to him has mifcarried/— * Yes, my dear,' continued 

Ihe, 



THE VICAR OF WAKEHELD. js^ 

(he, taming to me, ' I will now confefs^ that though 
' the hand of heaven is fore upon us in other inftances^ 

* it has been favourable here. By the laft letter I 
' wrote my fon, which was in the bitter nefs o£ anger^ 

* I deiired him> upon his mother's blelfing, and if he 
' had the heart of a man, to fee juftice done his fa-> 

* ther and filler, and avenge our caufe. But thanks 

* be to Him that iirefts all things, it has mifcarried, 

* and I am at reft.* — • Woman,' cried I, * thou haft 
' done very ill, and at another time my reproaches 

* might have been more fevere. Oh l what a tre- 

* mendous gulph haft thou efcaped, that would have 

* buried both thee and hinY in endlefs ruin. Provi- 

* dence, indeed, has here been kinder to us than* we 

* to ourfelves. It has referved that fon to be the fa- 

* ther and protedlor of my children when I fhallbe 

* away. How unjuftly did I complain of being ftript 

* of every comfort, when ftill I hear that he is happy, 

* and infenfible of our aBlidions ; ftiH kept in referve 

* to fupport his widowed mother, and to proteft his bro- 

* fters and fitters 1 But what fifters has he ' left, he 
' has no 'fifters now, they are all gone, robbed from 

* me, and I am undone !'— * Father,' interrupted 
my fon, * I beg you will give me leave to read his 
' letter ; I know it will pleafe you.*^ Upon whicht 
with my permiftion, he read as follows : 

Honoured Sir, 

I Have called oiF my imagination a few moment* 
* from the pleafures that mrround me, to fix it up- 
on objeds that are ftill more pleafing, the dear little 
fire- fide at home. My fancy draws that harmleff 
groupe as.liftening to every line of this with great 
compofure. I view thofe faces with delight which 
never felt the deforming hand of ambition or diftrefs I 
But whatever your happinefs may be at home, I am 
fure it will be fome addition to it, to hear that I am 
Derfeftly pleafed with my fituation, and every way 
happy here* 

H 4 Cor 



152 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

Our regiment is countermanded, and is not tm 
leave the kingdom; the colonel, who profeffes him- 
felf my friend, takes me with him to all companies 
where he is acquainted, and after my firft vifit, I ge- 
nerally find myfelf received with increafed refpcft 
upon repeating it.' I danced .laft night with lady G — , 
and could I forget you know whom, I might be per- 
haps fuccefsful. But it is my fate ftill to remember 
others, while I am myfelf forgotten by moft of my 
abfent friends, and in this number, I fear. Sir, that 
j( muft coniider you; for I have long expefted the 
pleafure of a letter from home to no purpofe. Olivia, 
and Sophia too, promifed to write, but fcem to have 
forgotten me. Tell them they are two arrant little 
baggages, and that I am this moment in a moft violent 
paffion with them; yet ftill, I know not how, though 
1 want tovblufter a little, my heart is refpondent only 
to fofter emotions. Then tell them. Sir, that after 
all, I love them aftediionately, and be afiured of my 
ever remaining 

Your dutiful Son. 

* In all our miferies,' cried I, ' what thanks 

* have we not to return, that one at leaft of our fa- 
< mily is exempted from what we fuiFer. Heaven be 

* his guard, and keep my boy thus happy to be the 
' fupport of his widowed mother, and the father of 

* thefe two babes, which is all the patrimony I can 

* now bequeath him. May he keep their innocence 
' from the temptations of want, and be their con- 

* duclor in the paths of honour.' I had fcarce faid 
thefe words, when a noife, like that of a tumult, 
feemed to proceed from the prifoi) below; it died 
away foon after, and a clanking of fetters was heard 
along the paffage that led to my apartment. Tlie 
keeper of the prifon entered, holding a man all bloody, 
wounded, and fettered with the heavieft irons. I look- 
ed with compaflion on the wretch as he approached 
me, but with horror when I found it was my own, fon. 

■ ■II * My George ! ipy George ! and do I behold 

* thee 



. THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 153 

* thee thus ! Wounded ! fettered ! Is this thy hap- 

* pinefs ? Is this the manner you return to me ? O 

* that this fight could break my heart at once and let 
' me die !' 

* Where, Sir, is your fortitude?' returned my fon 
with an intrepid voice. • I muft fufFer, my fife is 

* forfeited, and let them take it.* 

I tried to reftrain my paffion for a few minutes in 
lilence, but I thought I fhould have died with the ef- 
fort. * O my boy, my heart weeps to behold 

* thee thus, and I cannot, cannot help it. In the 
' moment that I thought thee bleft, and prayed for 

* thy fafety, to behold thee thus again ! Chained, 

* wounded ! And yet the death of the youthful is 

* happy. But I am old, a very old man, and have 

* lived to' fee this day.' To fee my children all un- 

* timely falling about me, while I continue a wretch- 

* ed furvivbr in the midft of ruin ! May all the curfes 

* that ever funk a foul fall heavy upon the murderer 
' of my children ! May he live, like me, to fee — ' 

* Hold, Sir,' replied my fon, ' or I fhall blulh for 

* thee. How, Sir, forgetful of your age, your holy 

* calling, thus to arrogate the juftice of heaven, and 

* fling thofe curfes upward that mull foon defcend to 
' . cruih thy own grey head with deftruAion ! No, 

* Sir, let it be your care now to fit me for that vile 

* death I muft fhortly fufFer, to arm me with hope and 
' refolution, to give me courage to drink of that bit- 

* ternefs which mull Ihortdy be my portion.' 

' My child, you muft not die : I am fure no of- 
' fence of thine can deferve fo vile a punifhment. 

* My George could never be guilty of any crime to 
' make his anceftors alhan^ed of him.' 

* Mine, Sir,' returned my fon, ' is, I fear, an un- 

* pardonable one. When I received my mother's 

* letter from home, I immediately came down, de- 

* termined to punilh the betrayer of our honour, and 

* fent him an order to meet me, which he anfwered, 

* not in perfon, but by difpatching four of his do- 

* meftic5 to feize me. I wounded one wlio firft af- 

H 5 * faulted 



1J4. THE VICAR OF WAKEPIELD. 

* faulted me, and I fear defpcrately ; bjat the reft 
•' made me their prifoner. The coward is determined 
' to put thex law in execution againft me ; the .proofs 
' are undeniable ; I have Tent a challenge, and as I 
f am the fixft tranfgreflbr upon the ftatute, I fee no 

* hopes of pardon. But you have often charmed me 

* with your lefTons of fortitude ; let me now. Sir, find 

* them in your example.' 

* And, my fon, you ftiall find them. I am now 

* raifed above this worlds and all the pleafures it can 

* produce. From this moment I break from my heart 
' all the ties that held it down to earth, and will pre- 

* pare to fit us both for eternity. Yes, my fon, I 

* will point out the way, and my foul {hall guide 

* yours in the afcent, for we will take bur flight to- 

* gether. I now fee and am convinced you can ex- 

* pe6l no pardon here, and I can only exhort yea to 
' feek it at that great tribunal where we both ihall 

* fhortly anfwer. But let us not be niggardly in our 

* exhortation, but let all our fellow-prifoners have a 
" (hare : good gaoler, let them be permitted to (land 

* here. While I attempt to improve them.* Thus 
faying, I made an effort to rife from my ftraw, but 
wanted Ilrength, and was able only to recline againil 
the wall. The prifoners aflcmbled according to my 
diredlions, for they loved to hear my counfel; my fon 
and his mother fupported me on either fide : I looked 
and faw that' none were wanting, and then addreifed 
them with 'the following exhortation. 



CHAP. 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD* 155 



CHAP. XXIX. 

^he tqual dealings of Providence demonftrated nmth re- 
gard to the happy and the miferable here below. That 
from the nature of pleafure and pain, the ^wretched 
muft he repaid the balance of their fufferings in the life 
hereafter, 

Ti^Y friends, my children, and fellow- fufFerers, 
JLVlL when I refledl on the diftribution of good and 
evil here below, I find that much has been given man 
ta enjoy, yet ftUl more to fuffer. Though we fhould 
examine the whole world, we fhall not find one man 
fo happy as to have nothing left to with for ; but we 
daily fee thoufands who by micide ftiew us they have 
nothing left to hope. In this life then it appears that 
we cannot be entirely blefl ; but yet we may be com- 
pletely' miferable. 

Why man fhould thus feel pain, why our wretched- 
nefs fhould be requifitc in the formation of univerfal 
felicity, why, when ^11 other fyftems are made perfcdl 
by the perfedion of their fubordinate parts, the great - 
fyftem fhould require for its perfection, parts that are 
not only fubordinate to others, . but imperfedl in them- 
felves? Thefe are queflions that never can be ex- 
plained, and might be ufelefs if known. On this 
lubjed Providence has thought fit to elude Our curio- 
iity, fatisfied with granting us motives to confolation. 

In this fituation, man has called in the friendly af- 
fidance of philofophy, and heaven, feeing the incapa- 
city of that to confole him, has given him the . aid of 
religion. The confSlations of philofophy are very 
amufing^ but often fallacious. It tells us that life is 
£lled with comforts, if we will but enjoy them ; and 
on the other hand, that though we unavoidably have 
miferies here, life is fhort, and they will foon be ovef. 
Thus do thefe confdations deHroy each other; for if 
life is a place of comfort> its fhortxiefs muft be mifery, 

H6 and 



156 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

and if it be long, our griefs are protradled. Thus 
philofophy is weak; but .religion comforts in an higher 
flrain. Man is here, it tells us, fitting up his mind, 
and preparing it for another abode. When the good 
man leaves the body, and is all a glorious mind, he 
will find he has been making himfelf a heaven^of hap- 
pinefs here, while the wretch that has been maimed 
and contaminated by his vices, fhrinks from his body 
with terror, and finds that he has anticipated the ven- 
geance of heaven. To religion then we mull hold in 
every circumftance of life for our trueft comfort ; for 
if already we are happy, it is a pleafure to think that 
we can make that happinefs unending ; and if we are 
iniferable, it is very confoling to think that there is a 
place of reft. Thus to the fortunate religion holds 
out a continuance of blifs, to the wretched a change 
from pain. 

But though religion is very kind to all men, it has 
promifed peculiar rewards to the unhappy ; the fick, 
the naked, the houfelefs, the heavy-laden, and- the 
prifoner, have ever raoft frequent promifes in our fa- 
cred law. The Author of our religion every-where 
profefles himfelf the wretch's friend, and unlike the 
falfe ones of this world, beftows all his carefles upon 
the forlorn. The unthinking have cenfured this as 
partiality, as a preference , without merit to deferve it. 
But they never reflect that it is not in the power even 
4)f heaven itfelf to make the oiFer of unceafing felicity 
as great a gift to the happy as to the miferable. To 
the firfl, eternity is but a fingle blefling, fince at moft 
it but increafes what they already poftefs. To the 
latter it is a double advantage, for it diminifties their 
pain here, and rewards them with heavenly blifs here- 
after. 

But Providence is in another relpeft kinder to the 
poor than the rich ; for as it thus makes the life after 
death more defirable, fo it fmooths the paiTage there.* 
The wretched have had a long familiarity with every 
face of terror. The man of forrows lays himfelf 
quietly down, without pofleffions to regret, and bat 

few 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 157 

few, ties to flop his departure ; he feels ojily nature's 
pang in the final reparation, and this is no way 
greater than he has often fainted under before; for 
after a certain degree of pain, every new breach that^ 
death opens ,in the conflitution, nature kindly covers 
with infenfibility. 

Thus Providence has given the wretched two ad- 
vantages over the happy in this life, greater felicity in 
dying, and in heaven all that fuperiority of pleafure 
which arifes from contrafled enjoyment. And this fu- 
periority, my friends, is no fmall advantage^ and 
' feeifis to be one of the pleafures of the poor man in 
the parable; for though he was already in heaven, 
and felt all the raptures it could give, yet it was men- 
tioned as an addition to his happinefs, that he had 
once been wretched and now was comforted ; that he 
had known what it was to be miferable, and now felt 
what it was to be happy. 

Thus, my friends, you fee religion does what pKi- 
iofophy could never do; it fhews the equal dealings of 
heaven to the happy and the unhappy, and levels all 
human enjoyments to nearly the fame flandard. It 
gives to both rich and jJoor the fame happinefs here- 
after, and equal hopes to afpire after it : but if the 
rich have the advantage of enjoying pleafure here, the 
poor have the endlefs fatisfaftion of knowing what it- 
was once to be miferable, when crowned with endlefs 
felicity hereafter; and even though this fhould be call- 
ed a fmall advantage, yet being an eternal one, it 
mufl make up by duration what the temporal happi- 
nefs of the great may have exceeded by intenfenels. 

Thefe are therefore the confolations which the 
wretched have peculiar to themfelves, and in which 
they are above the refl of mankind ; in other refpefts^ 
they are below them. They who would know the- 
miferies of the poor, mufl fee life and endure it. To- 
declaim on the temporal advantages they enjoy, is 
only repeating what none either believe or praftife. 
The men who' have the neceffaries of living are not 
poor> and they .who want them mufl be miferable. 
^ • ' • Yesj 



IS8 THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

Yes, my friends, we jnuH be miferable. No valo 
efforts of a refiived imagination can footh the wants of 
nature, can give elailic fweetnefs to the dank vapour 
of a dungeon, or eafe to the throbbings of a broken 
heart. Let the pKilofopher from his couch of (bftnefs 
tell us we can reiift all thefe^ Alas ! the effort by 
which we refift them is dill the greateH pain ! Death, 
is flight, and any man may fuftain it ; but torments are 
dreadful, 'and thefe no man can endure. 

To us then, my friends, the promifes of happinefs 
in heaven fhould be peculiarly dear ; for if our re- 
ward be in this life alone, we are then indeed of alt 
men the moft miferable* When I look round thefe 
gloomy walls, made to terrify, as well as to confine 
us ; this light that only ferves to (hew the horrors of 
the place, thofe (hackles that tyranny Has impofed, or 
crime made necefTary ; when I furvey thefe emaciated 
looks, and hear thofe eroans, O my friends, what a 
glorious exchange would heaven be for thefe ! To fly 
through regions unconfined as air, to bafk in the fun* 
(hine of eternal blifs, to carrol ovei endlefs hymns of 
praife, to have no mafter to threaten or infult us, but 
the form of Goodnefs himfelf for ever in our eyes ; 
when I think of thefe things, death becomes the 
melTenger of very glad tidings ; when I think of thefe 
^ings, his (harpeft arrow becomes the flafF of my 
fupport ; when I think of thefe things, what is there 
' in ufe worth having ? when I think of thefe things, 
what ia there that mould not be (pumed away ? kings 
in their palaces (hould groan for (uch advantages ; bat 
we, humbled as we are, (hould yearn for them. 

And (hall thefe things be .ours ? Ours they will cer- 
tainly be if we but try for them ; and what is a com- 
fort, we are (hut out from many temptations that 
would retard our purfuit. Only let us try for them, 
and they will certainly be ours; and what is Hill a 
comfort, (hortly too ; for if we look back on pafl life, 
it appears but a very (hort fpan, and whatever we may 
think of the reft of life, it will yet be found of lefs 
duration s as ^c grow ciiex, the days feem to grow 

ihorterj 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 159 

ihorter, and our intimacy with time ever lefTens the 
preception of his Hay. Then let us take comfort now, 
for we ihall foon be at our journey's end; we fhall 
foon lay down the heavy burthen laid by heaven upon 
us; and though death, the only friend of the wretched, 
for a little while mocks the weary traveller with the 
view, and like his horizon, iUU flies before him ; yet 
the dme will certainly and ftiortly come, when we 
ihall ceafe from our toil ; when the luxurious great 
ones of the world fhall no more tread us to the earth ; 
when we fhall think with pleafure on our fufFerings 
below ; when we Ihall be furrounded with all our 
friends, or fuch as deferve our friendihip ; when our 
blifs (hall be unutterable, and flill, to crown all, un- 
ending. 

, CHAP. XXX. 

Happier profpeSis begin to appear. Let us he inJUxiblt, 
and fortune fwill at lafi change in our favour. 

WHEN I had thus finifhed, and my audience was 
retired, the gaoler, who was one of the moii 
humane of his profeflion, hoped T would not be dif- 
pleafed, as what he did was but his duty, obferving 
that he mufl be obliged to remove my. ion into a 
ftronger cell, but that he (hould be permitted to viiit 
me every morning. I thanked him for his clemency^ 
and grafping my boy's hand, bade him farewel, and 
be mindful of the great duty that was before him. 

I again, therefore, laid me down, and one of my 
little ones fat by my bediide reading, when Mr. Jen- 
kinfon entering, informed me that there was news of 
my daughter ; for that fhe was feen by a perfon about 
two hours before, in a ftrange gentleman's company^ 
and ^hat they had ilopt at a neighbouring village for 
refrefhment, and feemed as if returning to town. He 
had fcarce delivered this news, when the gaoler came 
with looks of hafte and pleafure, to inforn^ me that 
my daughter was found. Mofes came running in a 

moment 



l6o THE VICAR OF \^AKEPIELD- 

moment after, crying out that his lifter Sophy was be- 
low, and coming up with our old friend Mr. Bur-, 
chell. 

Juft as he delivered this news, my deareff girl en- 
tered, and with looks almoft wild with pleafure, ran 
to kifs me in a tranfport of affeftion. Her mother's 
tears and filence alfo Ihewed her pleafure. * Here, 

* papa,' cried the charming girl, * here is the brave 

* man to whom I owe my delivery : to this geritle- 
' man's intrepidity I am indebted for my happinefs 

* and fafety — ^' A kifs from Mr, Burchell, whofe 
pleafure feemed even greater than her's, interrupted 
what fhe was going to add. 

* Ah, Mr. Burchell,' cried I, • this is but a 

* wretched habitation you now find us in ; and we are 

* now very different from what you laft faw us. You 
' were ever our friend : we have long difcovered our 
' errors with regard to you, and repented of our in- 

* gratitude., After the vile ufage you then received 

* at my hands, I am almoft aftiamed to behold your 

* face ; yet I hope, you'll forgive me, as I was de- 

* ceived by a bafe ungenerous wretch, who, under 

* the mafk of friendlhip, has undone me/ 

' It is impoffible,' replied Mr. Burchell, * that I 

* (hould forgive you, as you never deferved my re- 

* fentment. I partly faw your delufion then, and as 
« it was out of my power to reftrain, I eoiild only pity 
'it!' 

* It was ever my conjedure,' cried I, ' that your 
' mind was noble; but now I find it fo. But tell 

* me, my dear child, how haft thou been relieved, or 

* who the ruffians were who carried thee away r' 

' Indeed, Sir,' replied Ihe, ' as to the villain who 
' carried me off, I am yet ignorant. For as my 

* mamma and I were walking out, he came behind 
' us, and almoft before I could call for help, forced 
' me into the poft-chaife, and in an inftant the horfes 
' drove away- I met feveral: on the road, to whom 
' I cried out for affiftance ; but they difregarded my 
^ entreaties. In the mean time the rufian himfelf 

* ufed 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. i6i 

ufed every art to hinder me from- crying out: he 
flattered and threatened by turns, and fwone that if 
I continued but iilent, he intended no harm. In 
the mean time I had broken the canvas that he had 
drawn up, and whom fhould I perceive at fome dif- 
tance but your old friend Mr. Burchell, walking 
along with his ufual fwiftnefs, with the great ftick 
for which we ufed fo much to ridicule him. As 
foon as we came within hearing, I called out to him 
by name, and entreated his help. I repeated my 
exclamations' feveral times, upon which, with a very 
loud voice, he bid the poftillion ftop ; but the boy 
took no notice, but drove on with ftill greater fpeed. 
I now thought he could never overtake us, when in 
lefs than a minute I favv Mr. Burchell come running 
up by the fide of the horfes, and with one blow 
knock the poftillion to the ground. The horfes 
when he was fallen foon ftopt of themfelves, and 
the ruffian ftepping out with oaths and menaces 
drew his fword, and ordered him at his peril to re- 
tire; but Mr. Burchell running up, fhivered his 
fword to pieces, and then purfued him for near a 
quarter of a mile ; but he made his efcape. I was 
.at this time come out myfelf, willing to affift my 
deliverer ; but he foon returned to me in triumph. 
The poftillion, who was recovered, was going to 
make his efcaj)e too ; but Mr. Burchell ordered him 
at his peril to mount again, and drive back to 
town. Finding it impoffible to refift, he reludlantly 
complied, though the wound he had received feem- 
ed, to me at leaft, to be dangerous. He continued 
to complain of the pain as we drove along, fo that 
he at laft excited Mr. Burchell's compamon, who, 
at my requeft, exchanged him for another at an inn 
where we called on our return.' 
' Welcome, then,' cried I, * my child, and thou 
her gallant deliverer, a thoufand welcomes. Though 
our cheer is but wretched, yet our hearts are ready 
to receive you. And novv, Mr. Burchell, as you 
have delivered my girl, if you think her a recom- 

* pence* 



i6i THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 

< pence^ ihe is yours ; if yoa can Hoop to an alliance 

' with a family fo pQ#r as mine* take her, obtain her 

* confenty as I know you have her heart* and yois 
' have mine. And let me tell you, Sir> that I give 
' you no fmall treafure; i)ie has been celebrated for 

* beauty it is true, but that is not my meaning, I 

* give you up a treafure in her mind.' 

^ But I fuppofe. Sir,' cried Mr. Burchell, ' that 
' you are apprized of my circumdances, and of my 

* incapacity to fupport her as (he deferves ?* 

• If your prefent obje£lion,' replied I, * be meant 

* as an evafion of my offer, I de/ifl ; but I know no 

* man fo worthy to deferve her as you ; and if I could 

* give her thoufands, and thoufands fought her from 
' me, yet my honeH brave Burchell mould be my 

* deareft choice.* 

To all this his filence alone feemed to give a mor« 
fifying refufal, and without the leaft reply to my offer ». 
he demanded if he could not be furnilhed with re-» 
freihments' from the next inn ; to whkh bein? anfwered 
in the afHrmative, he ordered them to fend m the beft 
dinner that could be provided upon fuch (hort notice. 
He beQ>eke alfo a dozen of their beft wine, and fome 
cordials for me : adding, with a fmilb, that he would, 
ilretch a little for once, and though in a prifon^ 
aiferted he was never better difpofed to be merry. 
The waiter foon'made his appearance with prepara* 
tions for dinner, a table was lent us by the gaoler* 
who feemed remarkably affiduous, the wine was dif- 
pofed in order, and two very well dreifed diihes were 
brought in. 

My daughter had not yet hear3 of her poor br5- 
ther's melancholy fituation> and we all feemed un- 
willing to damp her cheerfulnefs by the relation. But 
it was in vain that I attempted to appear cheerful, the 
circumftances of my unfortunate fon broke through all 
efforts to difTemble ; fo that I was at laft obliged to 
damp our mirth by relating his misfortunes, and wiih- 
ing that he might be permitted to ihare with us in 
tlus little interval of fatisfadtion. After my gueft^ 

were 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 163 

were recovered from the conflernation my account had 
produced, I requefled alfo that Mr. JcHkinfon, a fel- 
low-prifoner, might be admitted, and the gaoler 
granted my requeft with an unafual air of fubmiffioh. 
The clanking of my fon's irons was no fooner heard 
along the paffage, than his After ran impatiently to 
meet him ; while Mr. Burchell, in the mean time, 
afked me if my fon's name were George ; to which 
replying in the afiirmative, he ftill continued filent. 
As ioon as my boy entered the room, 1 could perceive 
he regarded Mr. Burchell with a look of aftonifhment 
and reverence. ' Come on,' cried I, * my fon, 

* though we are fallen very low, yet Providence has 

* been pleafed to grant us fome fmall relaxation from 

* pain. Thy filler is reftored to us, and there is her 

* deliverer ; to that brave man it is that I am in- 

* debted for yet having a daughter; give him, my 
' boy, the hand of friendlhip, he deferves our warmeft 

* gratitude.' 

My fon feemed all this while regardlefs of what I , 
/aid, and ft ill continued fixed at refpeftful diftance.— 
*^ My dear brother,* cried his iifter, * why don't you 

* thank my good deliverer? the brave (hould ever 

* love each other.' 

He ftill continued his filence and aftoniftimcnt, till 
our gueft at laft perceived himfelf to be known, and 
afluming all his native dignity, defired my fon to come 
forward. Never before had I feen any thing fo truly 
majeftic as the air he adumed upon this occaiion. The 
greateft objedl in the univerfe, fays a certain philofo- 
pher, is a good man ftruggling with adverfity; ycft 
there is a ftill greater, which is the good man that 
comes to relieve it. After he had regarded my fon for 
fome time with a fuperior air, ' I again find,' faid he, 

* unthinking boy, that the fame crime'-^But here he 
was interrupted by one of the gaoler's fervants, who 
came to inform us that a perfon of diftindion, who 
had driven into town with a chariot and feveral attend- 
ants, fent his refpeds to the gentleman that was with 
us, and begged to know when he (Jwuld think proper 

to 



•^ 



164 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD*. 

to ,be waited upon. ' Bid the fellow wait,' crieif 

our gueft, * till I fhall have leifure to receive him ;' 
and then turning to my foft, ' I again find. Sir,* 
proceeded he, * that you are g-uilty of the fame offence 

* for which you once had my reproof, and for which 

* the law is now preparing its jufteft punifhments* 

* You imagine, perhaps, that a contempt for your 

* own life gives you a right to take that of another: 

* but where. Sir, is the difference between a duelliU 

* who hazards a life of no value, and the murderer 

* who afts with greater fecurity ? Is it any -diminution 

* of' the gameftyr's fraud when he alleges "that he has 

* flaked a counter ?' 

' Alas, Sir,* cried I, ' whoever you are, pity the 
' poor mifguided creature ; for what he hai done was 

* in obedience to a deluded mother, who in the bit- 

* ternefs of her refentment required him upon her 
' bleffing to avenge her quarrel. Here, Sir, is the 

* letter, which will ferve to convince you of her im- 
^ * prudence, and diminifh his guilt.' 

He took the lettei;, and haflily read it over. ' This,' 
fays he, ' though not a perfed excufe, is fuck a pal- 
' liation of his fault, as induces me to forgive him. 

* And now' Sir,* continued he, kindly taking siy 

fon by the hand, * I fee you are furprifed at finding 

/ me here; but I have often vifited prifons upon oc- 

* cafions lefs interelling. I am now come to fee juf- 

* tice done a worthy man, for whom I have the mofl 
' iincere efteem. I have long been a difguifed fpec- 

• ' tator of thy father's benevolence. I have at his 

* little dwelling enjoyed refpe^ uncontaminated by 

* flattery, and have received that happinefs that courts 

* could not give, from the amufing fimplicity round 

* his fire-fide. My nephew has been apprized of my 

* intentions of coming here, and I find is arrived ; it 

* Would be wronging him and you to condemn him 

* without examination : if there be injury, there fhall 
' be redrefs ; and this I may fay , without boafling, 

* that none have ever taxed the injuftice of Sir WU- 

^ liam Thornhill.' 

Wc 



THE VICAR OP WAKEFIELD. 165 

We now found the perfonage whom we had (o long 
entertained as an harmlefs amufing companion, was 
no other than the celebrated Sir William Thornhill, 
to whofe virtues , and fingularities fcarcc any were 
ftrangers. The poor Mr. Burchell was in reality i 
man of large fortune and great intereft, to whom fe- 
nates liftened with applaufe, and whom party heard 
with conviftion ; who was the friend of his country, 
but loyal to his king. My poor wife, recoUedling her 
former familiarity, feemed to fhrii^k with apprehen- 
fion j but Sophia, who a few moments before thought 
him h^r own, now perceiving the immenfe diftance to 
which he was removed by fortune, was unable to con- 
ceal her tears, 

* Ah, Sir,' cried my wife, with a piteous afpe£l, 
' how is it poffible that I can ever have your forgive- 
'' nefs? The flights you received from me the laft 

* time I had the honour of feeing you at our houfe, 

* and the jokes which I audacioully threw out, thefc 

* jokes. Sir, I fear can never be forgiven.' 

' My dear good lady,' returned he. with a fmile, 
' if you had your joke, I had my anfwer : I'll leave 

* it to all the company if mine were not as good as 
'* yours. To fay the truth, I know nobody whom I 

* am difpofed to be angry widi at prefent, but the fel- 

* low who fo frighted my little girl here. I had not 

* even time to examine the rafcal's perfon fo as to de- 
' fcribe him in an advertifement. Can you tell me, 
' Sophia, my dear, whether you fhould know him 

* again?* 

* Indeed, Sir,' replied fhe, • I can't be politive; 

* yet now I recoiled he had a large mark over one of 

* his eye-brows.' — • I aik pardon, madam,' interrupt- 
ed Jenkinfon, who was by, * but be fo good as to in- 

* form me if the fellow wore his own red hair/— * Yes, 

* I think fo,' cried Sophia. — ^ And did your honour,* 
continued he, turning to Sir William, * obferve the 
' length of his legs ?' ' 1 can't be fiire of their 

* length,* cried the Baronet, ' but I am convinced of 

* iheir fwiftnefs 5 /or he out-ran me, which is what I 

*' thought 



i66 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

* thought few men in the kingdom could have done.' 
— ' Fleafe your honour^' cried Jenkinfon, • I know 

* the man : it is certainly the famev; the beft runner 
^ in Englancf; he has beaten Pinwire of Newcaftle, 

* Timodiy Baxter is his name, I know him perfedly, 

* and the very place of his' retreat this moment. If 

* your honour will bid Mr. Gaoler let two of his men 

* go with me, I'll engage to produce him to you in 

* an hour at fartheft.* Upon thi$ the gaoler was 
called, who ihftantty appearing. Sir William demanded 
if he knew hiih. * Yes, pledTe your honour^' replied 
the gaoler, ' I know Sir William ThomhiU well, and 

* every hody that knows any thing of him, will defire 

* to know more of him.' ** Well then,' faid the 

Baronet, * my requefl is, that you will permit this 

* man and .two of your fervants to go upon a mejiage 

* by my authority, and as I am in the commiffion of 

* the peace, I undertake to fecure you.'— ^ — * Your 

* promife is fufficient,' replied the oth^r, * and you 
' may at a minute's warning fend them over England 

* whenever your honour thinks fit.' 

In purfuance of fhe gaoler's compliance,' Jenkinfon 
was diupatched in fearch of Timothy Baxter, while we 
were amufed with the affiduity of our youngeft boy 
Bill, who had jufl come in and climbed up to Sir 
William's neck in order to kifs him. His mother was 
immediately going to chaftife his familiarity, but the 
worthy man prevente;d her ; and taking the child, all 
ragged as he was, upon his knee, ' What Bill, you 

* chubby rogue,' cried he, * do you remember your 

* old friend Burchell ? and Dick too, my honeH ve- 

* teran, are you here ? You ihall find I have not forgot 

* you.' So faying, he gave each a large piece of gin- 
ger-br|^d, which tlie poor fellows ate very heartily, as 
they'^fcd got that morning but a very fcanty break- 
faft. ^ ^ 

We now fat down to dinner, which was almoft 
cold ; but previoufly, my arm ilill cpntinuingpainful. 
Sir ' William wrote a prefcription, for he had made 
the iludy of phyiic -his amufement, and was more than 

moderately 



< 



THE VICAR OF WAK«PIELD- 167 

moderately (killed in the. profeffion : this beiAf fent to 
an apothetary who lived in the place, my arm was 
drefled, and I found almoft inftantaneous relief. We 
were waited upon at dinner by the gaoler himfelf, 
who was willing to do our gueft all the honour in his 
power. But before we had well dined> another mef- 
fage was brought from his nephew, deiiring permiflion 
to appear, in order to vindicate his innocence and 
honour ; with which requeft the Baronet complied, and 
defired Mr. ThornhUl to be introduced. 



CHAP. XXXI. 

Former benevolence nmv rtpald 'with unexpe^ed interefi, 

MR. Thornhill made his entrance with a fmile, 
which he feldom wanted, and was going to em- 
brace his uncle, which the other repulfed with an air 
of difdain. * No fawning. Sir, at prefent,' cried th6 
Baronet, with a look of feverity ; * the only way to my 
' heart is by the road of honour ; but here I only fee 

* complicated inHances of falfehbod, cowardice, and 

* opprefiion. How is it. Sir, that this poor man, for 

* whom I know you profefled a friendftiip, is ufed 

* thus hardly ? His daughter vilely feduced, as a re - 
' compenfe for his hofpitality, and he himfelf thrown 

* into prifon, perhaps, but for refenting the intuit? 

* His fon too, whom you feared to face as a man'— 

* Is it poffible, ' Sir,* interrupted his nephew, * that 

* my uncle could objefl that as a crime which his re- 
' peated inftruflions alone have perfuaded me to 

* avoid ?*,-.; 

* Your rebuke,' cried Sir William, * isjuft; you 
' have aded in this inftance prudently and well, 

* though not quite as your father would have done : 

* my brother indeed was the foul of honour ; but thou 
< — ^yes, you have adted in this inftance perfedly right, 
' and it has my warmeft approbation.* 

* And I hope,' faid his nephew, ' that the reft of 

* my condttd will not be Found t* deferve cenfure. I 

• ap- 



i6t . THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD- 

' peared, Sir> with this gentleman's daughter at (bme 

' places of public amufement ; thus 'what was levity» 

' fcandal callpd by a harfher name, and it was re- 

^ ported that I had debauched her. I waited on her 

^ father in perfon, willing to clear the thing to his 

' fatisfadion, and he received me only with infult and 

* abufe. As for the reft, with regard to his being 
' here, my. attorney and fteward can beft inform you« 
' as I commit the management of buiinefs entirely to 
' them. If he has contracted debts, and is unwilling 
' or even unable to pay them, it is their buiinefs to 

* proceed in this manner, and I fee no hardihip or in- 

* juftice in purfuing the moft lejgal means of redrefs.* 

* If this/ cried Sir William, ' be as you have 
' ftated it, th^ere is nothing unpardonable in your of- 
' fence; and though your conduct might have been 
' more generous in not fuffering this gentleman *to be 

* oppre&d by fubordinate tyranny, yet it has been at 
' leaft equitable.' 

' He cannot contradid a fingle particular^* replied 
the 'Squire : ' I defy him to do fo, and feveral of 
*. my fervants are ready to atteft what I fay. Thus, 
' Sir,' continued he, finding that I was filent, for in 
fa6l I could not contradid him, ' thus, Sir, my own 

* innocence h vindicated; but though at your en- 

* treaty I am , ready to forgive this gentleman every 

* other offence, yet his attempts to leffen me in your 

* efteem excite a refentment that I cannot govern.' 
' And this too at^ a time when his fon was actually 

* preparing to take away my life; this, I fay, was 

* fuch guUt, that I am determined to let the law take 

* its courfe. I have here the challenge that was fent 

* me, and two witneffes to prove it ; one of my fer- 
' vants has been wounded dangeroufly, and *«ven 

* though my uncle himfelf (hould difluade me,'*«Whick 

* I know he wHl not, yet I will iiee public juftice 

* done, and he fhall fuffer for it.' 

/ Thou monfter,' cried my wife, ' baft thou not 

* had vengeance enough already, but muft my poor 
- « boy feci thy cruelty ? I hope that good Sir William 

♦ will 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 169 

' will proteft usy for my foil is as innocent as a child ; 
' I am fure he is, and never did harm to man.' 

* Madam*' replied the good man, * your wilhes for 
' his fafety are not greater than mine ; but I am fbny 
< to find his guilt too plain ; and if my nephew^ per- 
' fifts — * But the appearance of Jenkinfon and the 
gaoler's two fervauts now called oiF our attention^ 
who entered hauling in a tall man, very genteelly 
dreft, and anfwering the defcription already given of 
the rufHan who had carried off my daughter. ■ 
' Here,* cried Jenkinfon, pulling him in, ' here we 
' have him ; and if ever there was a candidate for 

* Tyburn, this is one.' 

The moment Mr. Thornhill perceived the pri.foner, 
and Jenkinfon, who had him in cuftody, he feemed to. 
fhrink back with terror. His face became pale with con- 
fcious guilt, and he would have withdrawn ; but Jen- 
kinfon, who perceived his defign, ftogt him.-—' What, 

* 'Squire,' cried he, * are you aftiamed of your two old 
'acquaintances, Jenkinfon and B ax te^r ? But this is 

* the way that all great men forget their 'f^jieniis, 
' though I am refolved we will not forget you. ^Oxii. 

* prifoner, pleafe your honour,* continued he, turning' 
to Sir WUliam, • has already confelfed all. This is 
' the gentleman reported to be fo dangeroufly wound- 

* ed : He declares that it was Mr. Thornhill who firft 
' put him upon this affair, that he gave him the 
' clothes he now wears to appear like a gentleman^ 
' and furniihed him with the poil-chaife. The plan 

* was laid between them that he fhould carry oS the 

* young lady to a place of fafety, a^d that there he 

* ihould threaten and terrify her ; but Mr. Thornhill 

* was to come in in the mean time> as if by accident^ 
' to her refcue, and that they ihould fight awhile, and 
' then i*c was to run off, by which Mr. Thornhill 
^ would have the better opportunity of gaining her 

* affe&ions himfelf under the chsgrader of her de- 
« fender.* 

.Sir William remembered the coat to have been fre- 
quently worn by his nephew^ and all the lefi the pri- 

I foner 



>, 



. tj6 ^tiE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

fcnep hinifelf confirmed by a siore circmn^ntial ac- 
fount ; concluding, that Mr. ThomhUl had often de- 
clared to him that he was in tove with both £ibrs at 
t)ie fame time. 

* Heavens,* cried Sir William, * what a viper have 

* I been fbftering in my bofoBi I And (o fond* of pab- 
^ He justice too as he feemed to be.^ Rut he (hall have 
*- it ; fecure hinv, Mr. Gaoler — yet hold, I fear there 

* is not legal evidence to detain him.' 

Upon this, Mr. Thornhill, with the utinod humi- 
lity, entreated that two fuch abandoned wretches 
might not be .admitted a« evidences againd him, but 
that his fervants (hould be examined.—* Your fer- 
V vants !* replied Sir William ; ♦ wretch, call' them 
tr^yours no longer: but come, -let us hear what thofe 
-^^lellows have to fay ; let- his butler be called.* 
- When the butler was introduced, he foon perceived 
lly his former maker's looks that all his power was 
now over. * Tell me,' cried Sir WUliam fternly, 
•* have you ever feen your mafter and that fellow drelt 
'^ up in his clothes in company together ?' — * Yes, 
- * pleafe your honour,' cried the butkr, ' a thoufand 

* times ; he was the man that always brought him his 

* ladies.' — * How,' interrupted young Mr. Thornhill 

* • this to my face i' — ' Yes,' replied the butler> ' or to 
' any man's face. To tell you a truth, Mafter Thora- 
^ hill, I never either loved you or liked you, and I don't 

* care if I tell you now a piece of my mind.'-« — * Now 

* then,' cried Jcnkinfon, ' tell his honour whether 
' you know any thing of me.' *• I can't fay,' re- 
plied the butler, ' that I know much good of you. 
*' The night that gentleman's daughter was deluded 
-* to our houfe, you were one of them.' — ' So then,' 
cried Sir William, ' I find you have brought a very 

* fine witnefs to prove your innocence : thou ftain to 

* humanityi to' aflbciate with fuch wretches ! But,' 
(continuing his examination) * you 'tell me, Mr. But- 

* ler, that this was the peribn who brought him this 
-• old gentleman's daughter.' — * No, pleafe your ho- 

* nour,' replied the butler, ^ he did not brbg her, for 

» the 



THE VICAfe OF WAiCEFIELD. 171 

the 'Squire himfetf undertook that bafinefs; but he 
brought the prieft that pretended to marry them.*— 
It is btt too true/ Cried Jenkinibn, ' I cannot deny 
it» that was the employment affigned me, and I con- 
fefs it to my confuiion.' 

' Good heavens !' exclaimed the Baronet, ' hem 
every new difcovery of his villany alarms me. All 
his guilt is now too plain, and I find his prefent 
profecution was c&dated by tyranny, cowardice, 4iad 
revenge ; at my requeft, Mr. Gaoler, fet this young 
officer, now your priipner, free, and truft to me for 
the confequences. I'll make it my bufmefs to fet 
the afair in a proper light to my friend the magif- 
trate who has committed him. But where is the un* 
fbrtunate young lady herfelf ? let her appear to con- 
front this wretch ; I long to know by what arts he 
has feduced her. Entreat her to come in. Where 
is (he?* 

' Ah, Sir,* faid I, * that queftion ftings me to the 
heart ; I wa^ once indeed happy in a daughter, but 
her raiferies— * Another interruption here pre- 
vented me; for who (hould make her appearance 
but Mifs Arabella Wilmot, who was next day to 
have been married to Mr. Thornhill. Nothing 
could equal her furprife at feeing Sir William and 
his nephew here before her ; for her arrival was quite 
aceidental. It happened that (he and the old gentle- 
inan h^r father were pafling through the town, on 
their way to^ her aunt's, who had infilled that her 
tHiptials widi Mr. Thornhill ihould be confuihmated 
at her houfe ; but Hopping for refrelhment, they put 
up at an inn at the other end of the town. It wa^ 
there from the window that the young lady happened 
10 obierve one of my little boys playing in the ftp*ef, 
and indantly fending a footman to bring the child to 
her, ihe learnt from him fome account of our misfor- 
tunes ; but was ilill kept ignorant of young Mr. 
Thornhiirs being the cauie. Though her father made 
feveral remonftrances on the impropriety of going to a 
prifon to Viiit us, yet they were meffedual 5 fhe de- 
iired th^ child to^ condud her, which he did, and 

I z it 



i7t THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

it was thus (he furprifed us at a jundure (6 unfex- 
pe6led. 

Nor can I go on, without a f efleftion on thofe ac- 
cidental meetings, which, though they happen every 
day, feldom excite our furprife but upon fome extra- 
, ordinary occafion. To what a fortuitous concurrence 
(do we not owe every pleafure and convenience of our 
. lives ! How many feeming accidents mull unite be- 
fovcyre can be clothed or fed ! The peafant mud be 
difpofed to labour, the (hower muH fall, the wind fill 
the merchant's fail, or numbers muH want the ufual 
fupply. 

We all continued filent for feme moments, while 
my charming pupiU which was the name I generally 
gave this young lady, united in her looks compaffioii 
and aftonifhment,' which gave new finilhings to her 
ieauty. * Indeed, my dear Mr. Thornlull,* cried (he 
to thfe 'Squire, who Ihe fuppofed was come here to fuc- 
cour and not to opprefs us, * I take it a little un- 
' kindly that you fhould come here without me, or 

* never inform me of the iituation of a family fo dear 
' to us both ; you know I (hould take as much plea- 
' furein contributing to the relief of my reverend old 

* mafter here, whom I (hall ever efteem, as you can. 

* But I find diat, like yoar uncle, you teke a pleafure 
•^ in doing good in fecret.' 

* He fina pleafure in doing good!' cried Sir Wil- 
liam, interrupting her. ' No, my dear, his pleafures 
■* are as bafe as he is. You fee in him, madam, as 
.' complete a villain as ever difgraced humanity. A 
^ wretch, who, after having deluded this poor man's 
■* daughter, after plotting againft the innocence of 

* her fifter, has thrown the father into prifon, and the 

* .eldeft fon into fetters, becaufe he had courage to 
r* face his betrayer. And give me leave, madam, now 
/ to ' congratulate you upon an efcape from the em- 
« braces of fuch a monfler.' 

' O goodnefs,' cried the lovely girl, * how have I 
' been deceived ! Mr. ThornhiU informed me for 
f certain^ that this 'gentleman's eldeft fon, Captaia 

« Primrofew' 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD; 173 

* Primrofe, was gone off to America with his new- 

* married lady.* 

* My fweeteft mifs,' cried my wife, ' he has told 
« you nothing but falfehoods. My fon George never. 

* left tjie kingdom, nor never was married. Though 

* you have forfaken him, he has always loved you too 

* well tathink of any body elfe ; and I have- heard 
' him fay he would die a bachelor for your fake.' She 
then proceeded to expatiate on the fincerity of her 
ion's paffion, Ihe fet his duel with Mr. Thomhill in a 
proper light, from thence ihe made a rapid digreilion 
to the 'Squire's debaucheries, his pretended nKirriages, 
and ended with a moft infulting pidlure of his cow* 
ardice. 

* Good heavens 1* cried Mifs Wilmot, * how very 
< near have I been to the brink of ruin ! But how 
' great is my pleafure to have cfcaped it ! Ten thou?- 
' land falfehoods has this gentleman told -me! He 
' had at laft art enough to perfuade me, that my pro- 

* mife' to the only man I efteemedwas no longer bmd^ 
' ing, £nce he had been unfaithful. By his falfehoods 

* I was taught to deteft one equally brave and gene* 

* rous !' 

But by this time my fon was freed from the incum*^ 
brances of juflixre, as the perfon fuppofed to be wound^^ 
fid was deteded to be an impoftor. Mr. Jenkinfoa 
alfo, who had aded as his valet de chambre, had 
dreffed up his hair, and fumifhed him with whatever 
was neceffary to make a geftteel appearance. He now 
therefore entered, handfomely drefl in his regimentals, 
and» without vanity (for I am above it), he appeared 
as handfome a fellow as ever wore a military drefa. 
As'hp entered, he made Mifs Wilmot a modeft and 
diilant bow, for he was not as yet acquainted with the 
change which the eloquence of his mother had wrought 
in his favour. But no decorums could reflrain the im- 
patience of his bluftiing miftrefs to be forgiven. Her 
tears, her looks, all contributed to difcover the real 
fenfations of her heart, for having forgotten her for- 
mer prpmife, and having fuffered herfeU" to be de- 

I 3 ^<ied 



174 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

kded by an iinpoflor. My fon appeared amazed at 
her condefcenfion, and could fcarce believe it real. — 

* Sure, madam,' cried he, ' this is but delufion ! I 
^ can never have merited thb ! To be bled thus is to 
' be too happy.* — * No*. Sir/- replied fhe, * I have 

* been deceived, bafsly deceived, elfe nothing could 
' have ever made me unjuH to my promife. Yoa 

* know my friendihip, you have long known it ; but 
"^ £prget what I have done,^ and as you oz^ce had my 

* warmed vows of conftancy, you ihall now have thetft 
' repeated ; and be aflured that if your Arabella can- 

* not be your's, fhe Ihall never be another's/—' And 

* no other's you fliall be,' cried. Sir WiMiam, * if I 

* have any influence with your father.' 

This hint was fufHcient for my km Mofes, who im- 
mediately flew to the inn where the old gentleman was*« 
to inform him of every circumftance that had hap- 
pened. But in the mean time the 'Squire perceiving 
that he was on every fide undone, now toding that 
no hopes were left from flattery or diffimulation> con- 
cluded that his wifeU Way Would be to turn and facfe 
his purfuers. Thus laying, a Ade all fhame, he aj^ared 
the open hardy villain. * I find then,' cried he, • that 
I am to expedi no juflice here ; but I am refolved it 
fhall be done me. You fhall know. Sir,' turning to 
Sir William, ' I am no longer a poor dependant upon 
your favours. I fcorn them. Nothing can keep 
Mifs Wilmot's fortune from me, which, I thank her 
father's affiduity, is pretty large. The articles^ 
and a bond for her fortune, are figned, and fafe ih 
my pofieflion. It was her fortune, not her perfbn, 
that induced me to wifli for this match ; and poA* 
fefled of the one, let who will take the other.* 
This was an alarming blow : Sir William was fen- 
fible. of the juilice of his clainvs, for he had been in- 
ihumental in drawing up the marriage articles himielf. 
Mifs Wilmot therefore perceiving that her fortupe was 
irretrievably loft, turning to my Ton, fhe a&ed if the 
lofs of fortune could leiTen her value to him. ' Though 

- * fortonei' 



v» 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 175- 

* fortune,* faid fhe, ' is out of my power, at kaft I 

* have my hand to give/ 

* And dia*. Madam/ cried hef real loVel*, •^ t«^ar 
*■ iodised aU. that you ever had to give ; at leaft all 

* that I ever thought worth the accieptance. And I 
' nowproteft, my Arabella, by all that's happy, your 

* want of .fortune tkis moment kicreafes my pleafurei 
' a? it ferves to convince my fweet girl of my fiiir 
' cerity/ 

Mr. 'Wilmot now Entering, he feemed not a little 
pleafed at the danger 4iis ^ughter had juft efcapedi 
and readily consented to a diifolution of the match% 
But finding that her fortune, which was fecured to Mr. 
Thornhill by bond, would not be given up, nothing 
could exceed his difappointment. He now faW that 
his money muft- all go to enrich One who had no for^^ 
tune of his own; He could bear his being a rafcalv 
but to want an equivalent to hid daughter's fortune 
was wormwood. He fat therefore, for fome minutes^ 
employed in the moft mortifying fpeculation, t^ Sir 
William attended to IdGTen his anxiety. — ' I mttft 
*• confefs. Sir,' cried he, * that your prefent difap>>: 

* pointment does not entirely difpleale me. Your 
' immoderate paflion for wealth is now juftly puni(hed% 

* B at though the young lady cafmot be rich, flie has ftiH: 

* a fufficient competence to give content. Here yo« 
» fee an.honeft young foldier, Who is willing to take 

* her without fortune ; they have long loved each 
' other, and for the friendihip I bear his father, my 
' intereft (hall not be wanting in his promotion, 
' Leave then that ambition which difappoints you» 

* and for once admit that happinefs which courts 
' your acceptance.' , 

* Sir WiUkm,' replied the old gentleman, ' be 
' aflured I never yet forced her inclinations, nor WiH 
' I now. If (he ftill continues to love this young geii- 

* tleman, let her haver him with all my heart. There 

* is ftill, thank heaven, fome fortune left, and your 
' promife will make it fomething more. Only let my 
' old &iend^here (meaning me) give me a prbmife of 

I 4 ! fettling 



176 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

^ fettling fix thoufand pounds upon my girl^ if ever 
' he Ihould come to his fortuae, and I am ready 

* this night to be the firft to join them together.* 

As it now remained with me to make the yomig 
couple happy, I readily gave a promife of making the 
fettlement he required> which> to one who had fuch 
little expe£lations as I, was no great favour. .We had 
now therefore the fatisfadion of feeing them fly into 
each other's arms in a tranfport. * After all my mif- 

* fortunes/ cried my Ton George, * to be thus re- 
« warded ! Sure this is more than I could ever have 

* prefumed to hope for. To be poflefTed of all that's 

* good, and after fuch an interval of pain ! My warn\- 

* eft wilhes could never rife fo high !' • Yes, my 

* George,' returned his lovely bride, * now let the 

* wretch take my fortune ; fince you arc happy with- 
' out it, fo am I. O what an exchange have I made 

* from the bafeft of men to the deareft, bcft ! Lei 

f him enjoy our fortune ; I now can be happy even in 

* mdigence.' • And I promife you,' cried the 

*Squire, with a malicious grin, • that I fliall be 

* very happy with what you defpife.* — = ' Hold, 

^ holdj Sir,' cried Jenkinfon, ' there are two words 

* to that bargain. As for that lady's fortune. Sir, 
'« you (hall never touch a fingle flivre of it. Fray, 

* your honour,' continued he to Sir William, * can 

* the 'Squire have this lady's fortune if he be married 

* to another ?' * How can you make fuch a 

* Ample demand ?' replied the Baronet ; * undoub^- 
' edly he cannot.'—' i am forry for that,' cried Jenkin- 
ibn 5 ' for as this gentleman and I have been old fel- 

* low-fporters, I have a friendlhip for him. But I 

* muft declare, well as I love him, that his contra^ 
« is not worth a tobacco-ftopper, for h^ is married 

* already.'—* You lie, like a rafcal,' returned the 
*Squire, who feemed roufed by this infult ; ' I never 
« was legally married to any woman.' * Indeed, 

* Pegging your honour's pardon,* replied the other, 

* you were ; and I hope you will (hew a proper return 
' of friendlhip to your own honelt Jenkinfon, who 

f brings 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 177 

* brings you ^ wife, and if the company rcftrains their 

* curioiity a few minutes, they fliall fee her.* Se 

faying, he went off with his ufual celerity, and left us^ 
all unable to forni any probable conjecture as to hi$ 
defign. ' Ay, let him go,* cried the 'Squire ; 

* whatever elfe I may have done, I defy him there. I 

* am too old now to be frightened withfquibs.* 

' I am furprifed,' faid the Baronet, « what the fel- 

* low can intend by thb« Some low piece of humour 

* I fuppofe.' * Perhaps, Sir,' replied I, * he may 

* have a more ferioiis meaning. For when we reflet 

* on the various fchemes this gentleman has laid to 

* feduce innocence, perhaps fome one more artftil 

* than the reft has been found able to deceive him. 

* When we confider what numbers he has ruined, how 
^ many parents now feel with anguiih the infamy and 

* the contamination which he has brought into their 
' families, it would not furprife me if Xome one of 

* them Amazement ! Do I fee my loft daughter ! 

* Do I hold her I It is, it is my life, my happinefs ! 

* I thought thee loft, my Olivia, yet ftill I hold theei 

* —and ftill thou (hah live to blefs me.' The warm* 
«ft tranfports of the fondeft lover were not greater than 
jnine when I faw.him introduce my child, and held 
my daughter in my arms, whofe filence only fpoke hct' 
rapture6. ' And art thou returned to me, mydar- 

* ling,' cried I, ' to be my comfort in age !*— *That 
' (he is,' cried Jenkinfon, ^ and make much of heri 
' for (he is your own honourable child, and as honell 
' a woman as any in the whole room, let the other 

* be who (he will. And as for you, 'Squire, as fure a$ 

* you ftand there, this young lady is your lawful wed« 
*' dcd wife. And to convince you that I fpeak nothing 

* but truth, here is the licence by which you were 

* married together.'— —So fajring, he put the licence 
into the Baronet's hands, who read it, and found 
it perfeft in every refpedl. 'And now, gentlemen/ 
continued he, * I find you are furprifed at all this ; but 

* a few words will explain the difficulty. ^ That there 
' 'Squire of renown, for whom I have a great friead- 

* ihip. 



178 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

(hip* but that's between ourfelvcs, has often em- 
ployed me in doing odd. Utl^e things ^r him. 
Among the red he commiffioned me to procure 
him a falfe licence and a Ifalie prieft, in order 
to deceive this young lady* But as I was very 
much his frkndy what did i do but went and ^ot 
a true licence and a true prieK^ and married them 
both as fait as the cloth could make them. Perhaps 
you'll think k was generofity that made me do all 
this. But IK). To my fhame I confefs it, my only 
defign was tOQ keep the licence, and let the 'Squtre 
know that I coi^ prove it upon him whenever I 
thought proper, and To make kim come down whei^- 
ever I wanted money.' A burft of pleafure now 
ieemed to fill the whole apartment; our joy reached' 
even to the common room* wh^ere the prifoners them'- 
&lvcs fympathized, 

Andjhodk their chmns. 
In tr^mfpcrt and rudi hdWrnouy. 
Happinefs was expanded upon every face^ andeve& 
Olivia's cheek feemed fiufiied with pleafure. To be 
thus redored to reputation, to friends and fortune Bte 
once^ was a rapture fufficient to ftop the progrefs of 
decay* and reflore former health axui vivacity. "BjH 
per hapfl among all there was not one who felt fincerer. 
pleafure thui I. Still holding the dear-loved chM* 
ifi 91V arms, I afked my heart if thefe tranfports were 
lK>t aelufive^ ' How could you/ cried J, turning to- 
Mr. Jenkinfbn, * how could you add to my miseries 
' by the ftory of her death ? But it matters not ; my 
' pteafure at finding her again, is more than a recom^ 
' pence for the pain.* 

' As to your queftion,' replied Jenkinfon, * that is 
' eaiily anfwered. 1 thought the only probable means 

* of freeing you from prifon, was by fubmitting to 

* the 'Squire, and confenting to his marfiage with. 

* the other young lady. But thefe you had vowed 

* nevertogrant while your daughter was living; there 

* was therefore no other method to bfin^ things to 
^ bear but by pejfuadipg you. that ihe w:^ deadit C 

* prevailed 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 179 

* prevailed on your wife to join in tiie deceits and we 

* have not had a fit opportunity of undeceiving yon 
« till now.' 

In the whole aiTembly now ^ere only appeared two 
faces that did not glow with tranfport. Mr. Thorns- 
hill's aflurance had entirely fbriaken him : he now 
faw the gulph of infamy and want before him, and 
trembled to take the plunge. He therefore fell on 
his knees before his uncle, and in a voice of piercing 
mifery implored compaffion. Sir William was going 
to fpurn him away, but at my requeft he raifed hmt, 
and after paufing a few moments, * Thy vioes, crimes', 

* and ingratitude,* cried he, * deicrve no tendemefs 5 

* yet thou fhalt not be entirely forfaken ; a bare'com^ 
' petence fhall be fapjdied, to fupport the wants of 
' life, but not its follies. This young lady, thy wife» 

* {hall be put in poiTeffion of a third part of that' for- 
' tune which once was thine, and from her tendemefs 

* alone thou art to expe£i any extraordinary fupplids 

* for the future.* He was going to cxprcfs his grati- 
tude for fuch kindnefs in a &t fpeech ; but die Barch 
net prevented him by bidding him not aggravate hb 
meaiinefs, which was already but too apparent. His 
ordered him at the fame time to be gone, and from all 
his former domeftics to choofe one fuch as he fhould 
think proper, which was all that (hould be granted to 
attend him. 

As foon as he left us. Sir WUliam very politely ftept 
up to his new niece with a fmile, and wiihed her joy. 
His example was followed by Mifs Wilmot and her 
father; my wife too kiffed her daughter with much 
affedion, as» to ufe her own expreffion, (he was now 
made an honeft woman of. Sophia and Mofes fbl^ 
low^ in turn, and even our benefadlor Jenkinfon de^ 
itrpi to be admitted to that honour. Our fatisfadUoti 
feemed fcarce capable of increafe. Sir William, whofe 
greateft pleafure was in doing good, now looked round 
with a countenance open as the fun, and faw nothing 
but joy in the looks of all, except that of my daughter 
Sophia, who, for fome reafons we ^ould not compre*- 

heud. 



leo THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD". 

iiei^dy did not feem perfe£^ly fatisfied^ * I think now/ 
cried he with a fmiley < that all the company^ except 

* one or two, feem perfedly happy. There only re«- 

< mains an a£l of jumce for me to do. You. are fen- 

* fible. Sir,' continued he, turning ta me, ' of the 

* obliffations we both owe Mr. Jenkinfon* And it is 

* but juil we ihoukl both reward him for it. Mifs So* 

* phia willy I am fure, make him very happy, and 

* he (hall have from me five hundred pounds as her 

* fortune^ and upon this I am fure they can live very 

* comfortably together. Come, Mifs Sophia, what 

* fay yott to this match of my making ? Will you have 

* him ?'— — My poor girl feemed almoft _ finking into 
her mother's arms at the hideous propofal. — * Have 

* him. Sir!* cried ihe faintly. * No, Sir, never.' — 

* What,' cried he again, * not have Mr. Jenkinfon, 
'.your benefador, a handibnve young fellow, with. 
' five hundred pounds and good expectations !'•«-** I 
' beg. Sir,' returned ihe, ftarce able to fpeak, * that 

* you'll defift, and npt make me fo very wretched.'-— 

* Was ever fuch obftinacy known,' cried he again^ 
' to refufe a man whom the family has fuch infinite 
' obligations to, who has preferved your fifler. and 
' who has five hundred pounds I What not have himl' 

.' -*-No, Sir, never,' replied flie, angrily ; * I'd (boner 

f die firfl.' ' If that be the cafe then,' cried he, 

' if you will not have him-— I think I muft have yon 
■* myfeif.' And fo faying, he caught her to his breaft 
with ardour. .' My lovelieft, my moft fenfible of girls/ 
cried he, * how could you ever think your own Burchell 

* could deceive you, or that Sir William ThornhiU 

* could ever ceafe to admire a millrefs that loved hina. 

* for himfelf alone ? I have for fome years fought for 

< a woman, who a ftranger to my fortune could think 

* that I had merit as a man. After having tried ux 

* vain, even among the pert and the ugly, how great 
•^ at laft ' muft be my rapture to have made a conquefl 

* jover fuch fenfe and .fuch heavenly beauty!' Then 
fuming to Jenkinfon, * As I cannot. Sir, part with 

< tbk young lady myfelf, for ihe has uken a fancy 

5 to 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. i8i 

^ to the cut of my face^ all the recompenfe I (ran 
^ make is to give you her fortune^ and you may call 
* upon my fteward to-morrow for five hundred pounds/ 
Thus we had all our compliments to repeat, and Lady 
Thomhill underwent the fame round of ceremony that 
her lifter had done before. In the mean time Sir William's 
gentleman appeared to tell us that the equipages were 
ready to carry us to the inn, where every thing was 
prepared for our reception. My wife and I led the 
van, and left thofe ^gloomy maniions of forrow. The 
generous Baronet ordered forty pounds to be diilributed 
among the prifoners, and' Mr. Wiimot, induced by 
his example, gave half that fum. We were received 
below by the fhouts of the villagers, and I faw and 
ihook by the hand two or three of my honeft pariihion- 
ers, who were among the number. They attended 
us to our inn, where a fumptuous entertainment was 
provided, and coarfer proviiions diftributed in great 
quantities among the populace. 

After fupper, as my fpirits were exhaufted by the 
alternation of pleafure and pain which they had fuf- 
' tained during tne day, I afked permifiion to withdraw, 
and leaving the company in the midft of their mirth, 
as foon as I found myfelf alone, I poured oat my heart 
in gratitude to the Giver of joy as well as of forrow, 
and then flept undifturbed till morning* 

CHAP. XXXIL 
72^ Conclufiou^ 

THE next morning, as foon as I awaked, I ibund 
my eldeft fon fitting at my bed- fide, whp came 
to increafe my joy with another turn of fortune in my 
favour. Firft having relcafed me from the fettlement 
that I had made the day before in his favour, he let me 
know that my merchant who had failed in town was 
arrefted at Antwerp, and there had given up eiFe6ls 
to a much greater amount than what was due to his 
Creditors. My boy's generofity pleafed me almoft as 

much 



itz THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

much as this ttdooked-for good fortune. But I had 
feme doubts whether i ought in juftice to accept his 
offer. While I was pondenng upon this. Sir William 
entered the room, to whom I communicated my doubts. 
His qpinton was> that as my fon was already pofTefied 
of a Tery affluent fbrtime by his marriage, I might ac- 
cept his oScx withoat aixy hefttation. His biiitoe»> how- 
ever, was to inform »£» id&at as he had the night be- 
fore {lent for the licences, and expeded them every 
hour, he hoped diat I would not refiife my a&flance 
SI making all die company happy that morning. A 
£)Otman entered while we were fpeaking, to tell us 
diat die mefienger was returned, and as I was by this 
time seady, I went down, where I found the whole 
company as merry as affluence and innocence could 
make them. However, as they were now preparing 
ibr a very folemn ceremony, dieir laughter entirely 
diipleafed me. I told diem of the grave, becoming, 
and fublime deportment they fhould afiume upon this 
myilical occafion^ and read them two homilies and a 
theiis of my own compo;^g, in order to prepare them. 
Yetithcy ftill feemed perfefitly refradory and ungovem- 
aibie. Even as we were going along to church, to 
which I led the way, all gravity had quite forfakea 
them, and I was often tempted to turn back in indig- 
nation. In church a new dilemma arofe, which pro- 
mifed no eafy folution. This was, which- couple 
fhould be married firft ; my fon's bride warmly infift- 
ed that Lady Thornhill (that was tp be) fhould take 
the lead ; but this the other refufed with equal ardour, 
protefting fhe would not be guilty -of fuch rudenefs for 
the world. The argumcniT was fupported for fome 
time between both with equal obftmafi^ and good 
breeding. But as I Hood all this time with my book 
ready, I was at laft quite tired of- the conteft^ and 
fliuttingit, ' I perceive,' cried I, * jthat none of you 
'■* ' have a mind to be married, and I think we had as 

* good go back again ; for I fuppofe there wiH'be no bu- 

* finefs done here to-day.'— This at once reduced them 

to 



THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 1 83 

t0> realbn. The Saronet and M« Lady were firll mar- 
riedy and then my ion and his lovely partner. 

I had previouily that morning given orders that 2 
coach ihould be knt for mj honeft neighbour Fkmbo^. 
rough -and his family^ by which means> upon our re- 
turn to^ the inn^ we had the pleafure of finding the 
two Mifs Flamfeoroughs flighted before us. Mr. Jen- 
kinfon gave his hand to the eldeft, and my fon Mofod 
led up the other .(and I have iince found that he has 
taken a real likitlg ta the girl^ and my cooftnt and 
bounty he fh^U have whenever he thinks proper to de- 
mand them). We were no fooner returned to the inn* 
liut numbers of my parifhioners, hearing of my fuccefs, 
came to congratulate me, but among the reft were 
thofe who rofe to refcue me, and whom I formerly 
tebttked with fuch fharpnefe. I told the ftory to Sir 
William, my fon-in-'law, who went out and reproved 
them with great feverity ; but finding them quite dif- 
heartened by his harfh reproof, he gaye dtem half a 
guinea a-piece to drink his health and! raife their de- 
jcded fpirits. 

Soon- after diis we were called to a very genteel en- 
tertainment, which was dreft by Mr. Thomhill's 
cook. And it may not be improper to obferve with 
refpefl to that gentleman, that he now reiidcs in qua- 
lity of companion at a relation's houfe, being very well 
liked and feldom fitting at the fide-table, except when 
there is no room at the other ; for they make no ftranger 
of him. His time is pretty much taken up in keep- 
ing his relation, who is a little melancholy, in fpirits, 
and in learning to blow the French-horn. My eldeil 
daughter, however, flill remembers him with regret ; 
and (he has even told me, though I make a great focret 
of it, that when he refornis fhe may be brought to 
relent. But to "^ return, for I am not apt to digrefs 
thus ; when we were to fit down to dinner, our cere- 
monies were going to be renewed. .The queftion was, 
whether my eldeft daughter, as being a matron, ihould 
not fit above the two young brides ; but the debate 
was cut fhort by my fon George, who propofed that 

the 



»84 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. 

the company fhould fit indifcriminately, every gen- 
tleman by his lady. This was received with great 
approbation by all, excepting my wife, who I could 

terceive was not perfectly fatisfied, as fhe expedled to 
ave had the pleafure of fitting at the head of the ta- 
ble and carving all the meat for all the company. But 
notwithftanding this, it is impoilible to defciibe our 
good humour. I can't fay whether we had more wit 
amongil us now than ufual ; but I am certain we had 
more laughing, which anfwered the end as well. One 
jell I particularly remember : Old Mr. Wilmot drink- 
ing to Mofesy whofe head was turned another way, 
my Ton replied, ' Madam, I thank you.' Upon which 
the old gentleman, winking upon the reft of the com- 
pany, (»>ferved that he was thinking of his miftrefs. 
At which jell I thought the two Mifs Flamboroughs 
would have died with laughing. As.foon as dinner 
was over, according to my old cuflom, I requefted 
that the table might be taken away, to have the plea- 
fure of feeing all my family afTembled once more by 
a cheerful fire-iide. My two little ones fat upon each 
knee, the reft of the company by their partners* I had 
nothhig now on this iide of the grave to wifh for, all 
my cares were over, my pleafure was unfpeakable. It 
now only remained, that my gratitude in good fortune 
ihould exceed my former fubmiftion in adveriity. 



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