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The Vicar of Wakefield

O >> Oliver Goldsmith >> The Vicar of Wakefield




'I now therefore was left once more upon the world at large, but
then it was a thing I was used to. However my skill in music
could avail me nothing in a country where every peasant was a
better musician than I; but by this time I had acquired another
talent, which answered my purpose as well, and this was a skill
in disputation. In all the foreign universities and convents,
there are upon certain days philosophical theses maintained
against every adventitious disputant; for which, if the champion
opposes with any dexterity, he can claim a gratuity in money, a
dinner, and a bed, for one night. In this manner therefore I
fought my way towards England, walked along from city to city,
examined mankind more nearly, and, if I may so express it, saw
both sides of the picture. My remarks, however, are but few: I
found that monarchy was the best 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 so fond of liberty himself as not to be desirous of
subjecting the will of some individuals in society to his own.

'Upon my arrival in England, I resolved to pay my respects first
to you, and then to enlist as a volunteer in the first expedition
that was going forward; but on my journey down my resolutions
were changed, by meeting an old acquaintance, who I found
belonged to a company of comedians, that were going to make a
summer campaign in the country. The company seemed not much to
disapprove of me for an associate. They all, however, apprized me
of the importance of the task at which I aimed; that the public
was a many headed monster, and that only such as had very good
heads could please it: that acting was not to be learnt in a day;
and that without some traditional shrugs, which had been on the
stage, and only on the stage, these hundred years, I could never
pretend to please. The next difficulty was in fitting me with
parts, as almost every character was in keeping. I was driven for
some time from one character to another, till at last Horatio was
fixed upon, which the presence of the present company has happily
hindered me from acting.'



CHAPTER 21

The short continuance of friendship amongst the vicious, which is
coeval only with mutual satisfaction


My son's account was too long to be delivered at once, the first
part of it was begun that night, and he was concluding the rest
after dinner the next day, when the appearance of Mr Thornhill's
equipage at the door seemed to make a pause in the general
satisfaction. The butler, who was now become my friend in the
family, informed me with a whisper, that the 'Squire had already
made some overtures to Miss Wilmot, and that her aunt and uncle
seemed highly to approve the match. Upon Mr Thornhill's entering,
he seemed, at seeing my son and me, to start back; but I readily
imputed that to surprize, and not displeasure. However, upon our
advancing to salute him, he returned our greeting with the most
apparent candour; and after a short time, his presence served
only to encrease the general good humour.

After tea he called me aside, to enquire after my daughter; but
upon my informing him that my enquiry was unsuccessful, he seemed
greatly surprised; adding, that he had been since frequently at
my house, in order to comfort the rest of my family, whom he left
perfectly well. He then asked if I had communicated her
misfortune to Miss Wilmot, or my son; and upon my replying that I
had not told them as yet, he greatly approved my prudence and
precaution, desiring me by all means to keep it a secret: 'For at
best,' cried he, 'it is but divulging one's own infamy; and
perhaps Miss Livy may not be so guilty as we all imagine.' We
were here interrupted by a servant, who came to ask the 'Squire
in, to stand up at country dances; so that he left me quite
pleased with the interest he seemed to take in my concerns. His
addresses, however, to Miss Wilmot, were too obvious to be
mistaken; and yet she seemed not perfectly pleased, but bore them
rather in compliance to the will of her aunt, than from real
inclination. I had even the satisfaction to see her lavish some
kind looks upon my unfortunate son, which the other could neither
extort by his fortune nor assiduity. Mr Thornhill's seeming
composure, however, not a little surprised me: we had now
continued here a week, at the pressing instances of Mr Arnold;
but each day the more tenderness Miss Wilmot shewed my son, Mr
Thomhill's friendship seemed proportionably to encrease for him.

He had formerly made us the most kind assurances of using his
interest to serve the family; but now his generosity was not
confined to promises alone: the morning I designed for my
departure, Mr Thornhill came to me with looks of real pleasure to
inform me of a piece of service he had done for his friend
George. This was nothing less than his having procured him an
ensign's commission in one of the regiments that was going to the
West Indies, for which he had promised but one hundred pounds,
his interest having been sufficient to get an abatement of the
other two. 'As for this trifling piece of service,' continued the
young gentleman, 'I desire no other reward but the pleasure of
having served my friend; and as for the hundred pound to be paid,
if you are unable to raise it yourselves, I will advance it, and
you shall repay me at your leisure.' This was a favour we wanted
words to express our sense of. I readily therefore gave my bond
for the money, and testified as much gratitude as if I never
intended to pay.

George was to depart for town the next day to secure his
commission, in pursuance of his generous patron's directions, who
judged it highly expedient to use dispatch, lest in the mean time
another should step in with more advantageous proposals. The next
morning, therefore, our young soldier was early prepared for his
departure, and seemed the only person among us that was not
affected by it. Neither the fatigues and dangers he was going to
encounter, nor the friends and mistress, for Miss Wilmot actually
loved him, he was leaving behind, any way damped his spirits.
After he had taken leave of the rest of the company, I gave him
all I had, my blessing. 'And now, my boy,' cried I, 'thou art
going to fight for thy country, remember how thy brave
grandfather fought for his sacred king, when loyalty among
Britons was a virtue. Go, my boy, and immitate him in all but his
misfortunes, if it was a misfortune to die with Lord Falkland.
Go, my boy, and if you fall, tho' distant, exposed and unwept by
those that love you, the most precious tears are those with which
heaven bedews the unburied head of a soldier.'

The next morning I took leave of the good family, that had been
kind enough to entertain me so long, not without several
expressions of gratitude to Mr Thornhill for his late bounty. I
left them in the enjoyment of all that happiness which affluence
and good breeding procure, and returned towards home, despairing
of ever finding my daughter more, but sending a sigh to heaven to
spare and to forgive her. I was now come within about twenty
miles of home, having hired an horse to carry me, as I was yet
but weak, and comforted myself with the hopes of soon seeing all
I held dearest upon earth. But the night coming on, I put up at a
little public-house by the roadside, and asked for the landlord's
company over a pint of wine. We sate beside his kitchen fire,
which was the best room in the house, and chatted on politics and
the news of the country. We happened, among other topics, to talk
of young 'Squire Thornhill, who the host assured me was hated as
much as his uncle Sir William, who sometimes came down to the
country, was loved. He went on to observe, that he made it his
whole study to betray the daughters of such as received him to
their houses, and after a fortnight or three weeks possession,
turned them out unrewarded and abandoned to the world. As we
continued our discourse in this manner, his wife, who had been
out to get change, returned, and perceiving that her husband was
enjoying a pleasure in which she was not a sharer, she asked him,
in an angry tone, what he did there, to which he only replied in
an ironical way, by drinking her health. 'Mr Symmonds,' cried
she, 'you use me very ill, and I'll bear it no longer. Here three
parts of the business is left for me to do, and the fourth left
unfinished; while you do nothing but soak with the guests all day
long, whereas if a spoonful of liquor were to cure me of a fever,
I never touch a drop.' I now found what she would be at, and
immediately poured her out a glass, which she received with a
curtesy, and drinking towards my good health, 'Sir,' resumed she,
'it is not so much for the value of the liquor I am angry, but
one cannot help it, when the house is going out of the windows.
If the customers or guests are to be dunned, all the burthen lies
upon my back, he'd as lief eat that glass as budge after them
himself.' There now above stairs, we have a young woman who has
come to take up her lodgings here, and I don't believe she has
got any money by her over-civility. I am certain she is very slow
of payment, and I wish she were put in mind of it.'--'What
signifies minding her,' cried the host, 'if she be slow, she is
sure.'--'I don't know that,' replied the wife; 'but I know that I
am sure she has been here a fortnight, and we have not yet seen
the cross of her money.'--'I suppose, my dear,' cried he, 'we
shall have it all in a, lump.'--'In a lump!' cried the other, 'I
hope we may get it any way; and that I am resolved we will this
very night, or out she tramps, bag and baggage.'--'Consider, my
dear,' cried the husband, 'she is a gentlewoman, and deserves
more respect.'--'As for the matter of that,' returned the
hostess, 'gentle or simple, out she shall pack with a sassarara.
Gentry may be good things where they take; but for my part I
never saw much good of them at the sign of the Harrow.'--Thus
saying, she ran up a narrow flight of stairs, that went from the
kitchen to a room over-head, and I soon perceived by the loudness
of her voice, and the bitterness of her reproaches, that no money
was to be had from her lodger. I could hear her remonstrances
very distinctly: 'Out I say, pack out this moment, tramp thou
infamous strumpet, or I'll give thee a mark thou won't be the
better for this three months. What! you trumpery, to come and
take up an honest house, without cross or coin to bless yourself
with; come along I say.'--'O dear madam,' cried the stranger,
'pity me, pity a poor abandoned creature for one night, and death
will soon do the rest.' I instantly knew the voice of my poor
ruined child Olivia. I flew to her rescue, while the woman was
dragging her along by the hair, and I caught the dear forlorn
wretch in my arms.--'Welcome, any way welcome, my dearest lost
one, my treasure, to your poor old father's bosom. Tho' the
vicious forsake thee, there is yet one in the world that will
never forsake thee; tho' thou hadst ten thousand crimes to answer
for, he will forget them all.'--'O my own dear'--for minutes she
could no more--'my own dearest good papa! Could angels be kinder!
How do I deserve so much! The villain, I hate him and myself, to
be a reproach to such goodness. You can't forgive me. I know you
cannot.'--'Yes, my child, from my heart I do forgive thee! Only
repent, and we both shall yet be happy. We shall see many
pleasant days yet, my Olivia!'--'Ah! never, sir, never. The rest
of my wretched life must be infamy abroad and shame at home. But,
alas! papa, you look much paler than you used to do. Could such a
thing as I am give you so much uneasiness? Sure you have too much
wisdom to take the miseries of my guilt upon yourself.'--'Our
wisdom, young woman,' replied I.--'Ah, why so cold a name papa?'
cried she. 'This is the first time you ever called me by so cold
a name.'--'I ask pardon, my darling,' returned I; 'but I was
going to observe, that wisdom makes but a slow defence against
trouble, though at last a sure one.

The landlady now returned to know if we did not chuse a more
genteel apartment, to which assenting, we were shewn a room,
where we could converse more freely. After we had talked
ourselves into some degree of tranquillity, I could not avoid
desiring some account of the gradations that led to her present
wretched situation. 'That villain, sir,' said she, 'from the
first day of our meeting made me honourable, though private,
proposals.'

'Villain indeed,' cried I; 'and yet it in some measure surprizes
me, how a person of Mr Burchell's good sense and seeming honour
could be guilty of such deliberate baseness, and thus step into a
family to undo it.'

'My dear papa,' returned my daughter, 'you labour under a strange
mistake, Mr Burchell never attempted to deceive me. Instead of
that he took every opportunity of privately admonishing me
against the artifices of Mr Thornhill, who I now find was even
worse than he represented him.'--'Mr Thornhill,' interrupted I,
'can it be?' --'Yes, Sir,' returned she, 'it was Mr Thornhill who
seduced me, who employed the two ladies, as he called them, but
who, in fact, were abandoned women of the town, without breeding
or pity, to decoy us up to London. Their artifices, you may
remember would have certainly succeeded, but for Mr Burchell's
letter, who directed those reproaches at them, which we all
applied to ourselves. How he came to have so much influence as to
defeat their intentions, still remains a secret to me; but I am
convinced he was ever our warmest sincerest friend.'

'You amaze me, my dear,' cried I; 'but now I find my first
suspicions of Mr Thornhill's baseness were too well grounded: but
he can triumph in security; for he is rich and we are poor. But
tell me, my child, sure it was no small temptation that could
thus obliterate all the impressions of such an education, and so
virtuous a disposition as thine.'

'Indeed, Sir,' replied she, 'he owes all his triumph to the
desire I had of making him, and not myself, happy. I knew that
the ceremony of our marriage, which was privately performed by a
popish priest, was no way binding, and that I had nothing to
trust to but his honour.' 'What,' interrupted I, 'and were you
indeed married by a priest, and in orders?'--'Indeed, Sir, we
were,' replied she, 'though we were both sworn to conceal his
name.'-- 'Why then, my child, come to my arms again, and now you
are a thousand times more welcome than before; for you are now
his wife to all intents and purposes; nor can all the laws of
man, tho' written upon tables of adamant, lessen the force of
that sacred connexion.'

'Alas, Papa,' replied she, 'you are but little acquainted with
his villainies: he has been married already, by the same priest,
to six or eight wives more, whom, like me, he has deceived and
abandoned.'

'Has he so?' cried I, 'then we must hang the priest, and you
shall inform against him to-morrow.'--'But Sir,' returned she,
'will that be right, when I am sworn to secrecy?'--'My dear,' I
replied, 'if you have made such a promise, I cannot, nor will I
tempt you to break it. Even tho' it may benefit the public, you
must not inform against him. In all human institutions a smaller
evil is allowed to procure a greater good; as in politics, a
province may be given away to secure a kingdom; in medicine, a
limb may be lopt off, to preserve the body. But in religion the
law is written, and inflexible, never to do evil. And this law,
my child, is right: for otherwise, if we commit a smaller evil,
to procure a greater good, certain guilt would be thus incurred,
in expectation of contingent advantage. And though the advantage
should certainly follow, yet the interval between commission and
advantage, which is allowed to be guilty, may be that in which we
are called away to answer for the things we have done, and the
volume of human actions is closed for ever. But I interrupt you,
my dear, go on.'

'The very next morning,' continued she, 'I found what little
expectations I was to have from his sincerity. That very morning
he introduced me to two unhappy women more, whom, like me, he had
deceived, but who lived in contented prostitution. I loved him
too tenderly to bear such rivals in his affections, and strove to
forget my infamy in a tumult of pleasures. With this view, I
danced, dressed, and talked; but still was unhappy. The gentlemen
who visited there told me every moment of the power of my charms,
and this only contributed to encrease my melancholy, as I had
thrown all their power quite away. Thus each day I grew more
pensive, and he more insolent, till at last the monster had the
assurance to offer me to a young Baronet of his acquaintance.
Need I describe, Sir, how his ingratitude stung me. My answer to
this proposal was almost madness. I desired to part. As I was
going he offered me a purse; but I flung it at him with
indignation, and burst from him in a rage, that for a while kept
me insensible of the miseries of my situation. But I soon looked
round me, and saw myself a vile, abject, guilty thing, without
one friend in the world to apply to. Just in that interval, a
stage- coach happening to pass by, I took a place, it being my
only aim to be driven at a distance from a wretch I despised and
detested. I was set down here, where, since my arrival, my own
anxiety, and this woman's unkindness, have been my only
companions. The hours of pleasure that I have passed with my
mamma and sister, now grow painful to me. Their sorrows are much;
but mine is greater than theirs; for mine are mixed with guilt
and infamy.'

'Have patience, my child,' cried I, 'and I hope things will yet
be better. Take some repose to-night, and to-morrow I'll carry
you home to your mother and the rest of the family, from whom you
will receive a kind reception. Poor woman, this has gone to her
heart: but she loves you still, Olivia, and will forget it.



CHAPTER 22

Offences are easily pardoned where there is love at bottom


The next morning I took my daughter behind me, and set out on my
return home. As we travelled along, I strove, by every
persuasion, to calm her sorrows and fears, and to arm her with
resolution to bear the presence of her offended mother. I took
every opportunity, from the prospect of a fine country, through
which we passed, to observe how much kinder heaven was to us,
than we to each other, and that the misfortunes of nature's
making were very few. I assured her, that she should never
perceive any change in my affections, and that during my life,
which yet might be long, she might depend upon a guardian and an
instructor. I armed her against the censures of the world, shewed
her that books were sweet unreproaching companions to the
miserable, and that if they could not bring us to enjoy life,
they would at least teach us to endure it.

The hired horse that we rode was to be put up that night at an
inn by the way, within about five miles from my house, 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 appointed stage: however,
after seeing her provided with a decent apartment, and having
ordered the hostess to prepare proper refreshments, I kissed her,
and proceeded towards home. And now my heart caught new
sensations of pleasure the nearer I approached that peaceful
mansion. As a bird that had been frighted from its nest, my
affections out-went my haste, and hovered round my little
fire-side, with all the rapture of expectation. I called up the
many fond things I had to say, and anticipated the welcome I was
to receive. I already felt my wife's tender embrace, and sniiled
at the joy of my little ones. As I walked but slowly, the night
wained apace. The labourers of the day were all retired to rest;
the lights were out in every cottage; no sounds were heard but of
the shrilling cock, and the deep-mouthed watch-dog, at hollow
distance. I approached my little abode of pleasure, and before I
was within a furlong of the place, our honest mastiff came
running to welcome me.

It was now near mid-night that I came to knock at my door: all
was still and silent: my heart dilated with unutterable
happiness, when, to my amazement, I saw the house bursting out in
a blaze of fire, and every apperture red with conflagration! I
gave a loud convulsive outcry, and fell upon the pavement
insensible. This alarmed my son, who had till this been asleep,
and he perceiving the flames, instantly waked my wife and
daughter, and all running out, naked, and wild with apprehension,
recalled me to life with their anguish. But it was only to
objects of new terror; for the flames had, by this time, caught
the roof of our dwelling, part after part continuing to fall in,
while the family stood, with silent 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 little ones; but they were not to
be seen. O misery! 'Where,' cried I, 'where are my little ones?'-
-'They are burnt to death in the flames,' says my wife calmly,
'and I will die with them.'--That moment I heard the cry of the
babes within, who were just awaked by the fire, and nothing could
have stopped me. 'Where, where, are my children?' cried I,
rushing through the flames, and bursting the door of the chamber
in which they were confined, 'Where are my little ones?'--'Here,
dear papa, here we are,' cried they together, while the flames
were just catching the bed where they lay. I caught them both in
my arms, and snatched them through the fire as fast as possible,
while just as I was got out, the roof sunk in. 'Now,' cried I,
holding up my children, 'now let the flames burn on, and all my
possessions perish. Here they are, I have saved my, treasure.
Here, my dearest, here are our treasures, and we shall yet be
happy.' We kissed our little darlings a thousand times, they
clasped us round the neck, and seemed to share our transports,
while their mother laughed and wept by turns.

I now stood a calm spectator of the flames, and after some time,
began to perceive that my arm to the shoulder was scorched in a
terrible manner. It was therefore out of my power to give my son
any assistance, either in attempting to save our goods, or
preventing the flames spreading to our corn. By this time, the
neighbours were alarmed, and came running to our assistance; but
all they could do was to stand, like us, spectators of the
calamity. My goods, among which were the notes I had reserved for
my daughters' fortunes, were entirely consumed, except a box,
with some papers that stood in the kitchen, and two or three
things more of little consequence, which my son brought away in
the beginning. The neighbours contributed, however, what they
could to lighten our distress. They brought us cloaths, and
furnished one of our out-houses with kitchen utensils; so that by
day-light we had another, tho' a wretched, dwelling to retire to.
My honest next neighbour, and his children, were not the least
assiduous in providing us with every thing necessary, and
offering what ever consolation untutored benevolence could
suggest.

When the fears of my family had subsided, curiosity to know the
cause of my long stay began to take place; having therefore
informed them of every particular, I proceeded to prepare them
for the reception of our lost one, and tho' we had nothing but
wretchedness now to impart, I was willing to procure her a
welcome to what we had. This task would have been more difficult
but for our recent calamity, which had humbled my wife's pride,
and blunted it by more poignant afflictions. Being unable to go
for my poor child myself, as my arm grew very painful, I sent my
son and daughter, who soon returned, supporting the wretched
delinquent, who had not the courage to look up at her mother,
whom no instructions of mine could persuade to a perfect
reconciliation; for women have a much stronger sense of female
error than men. 'Ah, madam,' cried her mother, 'this is but a
poor place you are come to after so much finery. My daughter
Sophy and I can afford but little entertainment to persons who
have kept company only with people of distinction. Yes, Miss
Livy, your poor father and I have suffered very much of late; but
I hope heaven will forgive you.'--During this reception, the
unhappy victim stood pale and trembling, unable to weep or to
reply; but I could not continue a silent spectator of her
distress, wherefore assuming a degree of severity in my voice and
manner, which was ever followed with instant submission, 'I
entreat, 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 tenderness. The real hardships of
life are now coming fast upon us, let us not therefore encrease
them by dissention among each other. If we live harmoniously
together, we may yet be contented, as there are enough of us to
shut out the censuring world, and keep each other in countenance.
The kindness of heaven is promised to the penitent, and let ours
be directed by the example. Heaven, we are assured, is much more
pleased to view a repentant sinner, than ninety nine persons who
have supported a course of undeviating rectitude. And this is
right; for that single effort by which we stop short in the
downhill path to perdition, is itself a greater exertion of
virtue, than an hundred acts of justice.'

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