No More Learning

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, though 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 own 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, increase them by dissensions 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 down-hill path to perdition, is of itself a greater
exertion of virtue than a hundred acts of justice. "

[Illustration:

_"Ah, madam" cried her mother,
"this is but a poor place you are
come to after so much finery. "_—_p. _ 112.
]




_CHAPTER XXIII. _

_None but the guilty can be long and completely miserable. _


Some assiduity was now required to make our present abode as convenient
as possible, and we were soon again qualified to enjoy our former
serenity. Being disabled myself from assisting my son in our usual
occupations, I read to my family from the few books that were saved, and
particularly from such as, by amusing the imagination, contributed to
ease the heart. Our good neighbours, too, came every day with the
kindest condolence, and fixed a time in which they were all to assist in
repairing my former dwelling. Honest Farmer Williams was not last among
these visitors, but heartily offered his friendship. He would even have
renewed his addresses to my daughter; but she rejected them in such a
manner as totally repressed his future solicitations. Her grief seemed
formed for continuing, and she was the only person in our little society
that a week did not restore to cheerfulness. She now lost that
unblushing innocence which once taught her to respect herself, and to
seek pleasure by pleasing. Anxiety had now taken strong possession of
her mind; her beauty began to be impaired with her constitution, and
neglect still more contributed to diminish it. Every tender epithet
bestowed on her sister 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, so her former guilt, though driven out by repentance, left
jealousy and envy behind. I strove a thousand ways to lessen her care,
and even forgot my own pain in a concern for hers, collecting such
amusing passages of history as a strong memory and some reading could
suggest. "Our happiness, my dear," I would say, "is in the power of One
who can bring it about by a thousand unforeseen ways that mock our
foresight. If example be necessary to prove this, I'll give you a story,
my child, told us by a grave, though sometimes a romancing, historian.

"Matilda was married very young to a Neapolitan nobleman of the first
quality, and found herself a widow and a mother at the age of fifteen.
As she stood one day caressing her infant son in the open window of an
apartment which hung over the river Volturna, the child, with a sudden
spring, leaped from her arms into the flood below, and disappeared in a
moment. The mother, struck with instant surprise, and making an effort
to save him, plunged in after; but, far from being able to assist the
infant, she herself with great difficulty escaped to the opposite shore,
just when some French soldiers were plundering the country on that side,
who immediately made her their prisoner.

"As the war was then carried on between the French and Italians with the
utmost inhumanity, they were going at once to perpetrate those two
extremes suggested by appetite and cruelty. This base resolution,
however, was opposed by a young officer, who, though their retreat
required the utmost expedition, placed her behind him, and brought her
in safety to his native city. Her beauty at first caught his eye: her
merit, soon after, his heart. They were married; he rose to the highest
posts; they lived long together, and were happy. But the felicity of a
soldier can never be called permanent: after an interval of several
years, the troops which he commanded having met with a repulse, he was
obliged to take shelter in the city where he had lived with his wife.
Here they suffered a siege, and the city at length was taken. Few
histories can produce more various instances of cruelty than those which
the French and Italians at that time exercised upon each other. It was
resolved by the victors, upon this occasion, to put all the French
prisoners to death; but particularly the husband of the unfortunate
Matilda, as he was principally instrumental in protracting the siege.
Their determinations were, in general, executed almost as soon as
resolved upon. The captive soldier was led forth, and the executioner
with his sword stood ready, while the spectators, in gloomy silence,
awaited the fatal blow, which was only suspended till the general, who
presided as judge, should give the signal. It was in this interval of
anguish and expectation that Matilda came to take the last farewell of
her husband and deliverer, deploring her wretched situation, and the
cruelty of fate that had saved her from perishing by a premature death
in the river Volturna, to be the spectator of still greater calamities.
The general, who was a young man, was struck with surprise at her beauty
and pity at her distress; but with still stronger emotions when he heard
her mention her former dangers. He was her son, the infant for whom she
had encountered so much danger; he acknowledged her at once as his
mother, and fell at her feet. The rest may be easily supposed; the
captive was set free, and all the happiness that love, friendship, and
duty could confer on earth, were united. "

In this manner I would attempt to amuse my daughter; but she listened
with divided attention; for her own misfortunes engrossed all the pity
she once had for those of another, and nothing gave her ease. In company
she dreaded contempt; and in solitude she only found anxiety. Such was
the colour of her wretchedness, when we received certain information
that Mr. Thornhill was going to be married to Miss Wilmot; for whom I
always suspected he had a real passion, though he took every opportunity
before me to express his contempt both of her person and fortune. This
news served only to increase poor Olivia's affliction; for such a
flagrant breach of fidelity was more than her courage could support. I
was resolved, however, to get more certain information; and to defeat,
if possible, the completion of his designs, by sending my son to old Mr.
Wilmot's, with instructions to know the truth of the report, and to
deliver Miss Wilmot a letter intimating Mr. Thornhill's conduct in my
family. My son went, in pursuance of my directions, and in three days
returned, assuring us of the truth of the account; but that he had found
it impossible to deliver the letter, which he was therefore obliged to
leave, as Mr. Thornhill and Miss Wilmot were visiting round the country.
They were to be married, he said, in a few days, having appeared
together at church, the Sunday before he was there, in great splendour,
the bride attended by six young ladies, and he by as many gentlemen.
Their approaching nuptials filled the whole country with rejoicing, and
they usually rode out together in the grandest equipage that had been
seen in the country for many years. All the friends of both families, he
said, were there, particularly the squire's uncle, Sir William
Thornhill, who bore so good a character. He added, that nothing but
mirth and feasting were going forward; that all the country praised the
young bride's beauty and the bridegroom's fine person, and that they
were immensely fond of each other; concluding that he could not help
thinking Mr. Thornhill one of the most happy men in the world.

"Why, let him if he can," returned I; "but, my son, observe this bed of
straw and unsheltering roof; those mouldering walls and humid floor; my
wretched body thus disabled by fire, and my children weeping round me
for bread: you have come home, my child, to all this; yet here, even
here, you see a man that would not for a thousand worlds exchange
situations. Oh, my children, if you could but learn to commune with your
own hearts, and know what noble company you can make them, you would
little regard the elegance and splendour of the worthless. Almost all
men have been taught to call life a passage, and themselves the
travellers. The similitude still may be improved, when we observe that
the good are joyful and serene, like travellers that are going towards
home; the wicked but by intervals happy, like travellers that are going
into exile. "

My compassion for my poor daughter, overpowered by this new disaster,
interrupted what I had further to observe. I bade her mother support
her, and after a short time she recovered. She appeared from that time
more calm, and I imagined had gained a new degree of resolution; but
appearances deceived me; for her tranquillity was the languor of
overwrought resentment. A supply of provisions, charitably sent us by my
kind parishioners, seemed to diffuse new cheerfulness among the rest of
my family, nor was I displeased at seeing them once more sprightly and
at ease. It would have been unjust to damp their satisfaction, merely to
condole with resolute melancholy, or to burden them with a sadness they
did not feel. Thus, once more, the tale went round, and a song was
demanded, and cheerfulness condescended to hover round our little
habitation.

[Illustration:

_"Go," cried I, "thou art a wretch; a poor,
pitiful wretch, and every way a liar. "_—_p. _ 118.
]




_CHAPTER XXIV. _

_Fresh calamities. _


The next morning the sun arose with peculiar warmth for the season, so
that we agreed to breakfast together on the honeysuckle bank; where,
while we sat, my youngest daughter, at my request, joined her voice to
the concert on the trees about us. It was in this place my poor Olivia
first met her seducer, and every object served to recall her sadness.
But that melancholy which is excited by objects of pleasure, or inspired
by sounds of harmony, soothes the heart instead of corroding it. Her
mother, too, upon this occasion felt a pleasing distress, and wept, and
loved her daughter as before. "Do, my pretty Olivia," cried she, "let us
have that little melancholy air your papa was so fond of; your sister
Sophy has already obliged us. Do, child; it will please your old
father. " She complied in a manner so exquisitely pathetic, as moved me.

When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds, too late, that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is—to die.

As she was concluding the last stanza, to which an interruption in her
voice, from sorrow, gave peculiar softness, the appearance of Mr.
Thornhill's equipage at a distance alarmed us all, but particularly
increased the uneasiness of my eldest daughter, who, desirous of
shunning her betrayer, returned to the house with her sister. In a few
minutes he was alighted from his chariot, and, making up to the place
where I was still sitting, inquired after my health with his usual air
of familiarity. "Sir," replied I, "your present assurance only serves to
aggravate the baseness of your character; and there was a time when I
would have chastised your insolence for presuming thus to appear before
me. But now you are safe; for age has cooled my passions, and my calling
restrains them. "

"I vow, my dear sir," returned he, "I am amazed at all this; nor can I
understand what it means! I hope you do not think your daughter's late
excursion with me had anything criminal in it. "

"Go," cried I, "thou art a wretch, a poor pitiful wretch, and every way
a liar; but your meanness secures you from my anger. Yet, sir, I am
descended from a family that would not have borne this! And so, thou
vile thing! to gratify a momentary passion thou hast made one poor
creature wretched for life, and polluted a family that had nothing but
honour for their portion. "

"If she, or you," returned he, "are resolved to be miserable, I cannot
help it. But you may still be happy; and whatever opinion you may have
formed of me, you shall ever find me ready to contribute to it. We can
marry her to another in a short time; and, what is more, she may keep
her lover beside; for I protest I shall ever continue to have a true
regard for her. "

I found all my passions alarmed at this new degrading proposal; for
though the mind may often be calm under great injuries, little villainy
can at any time get within the soul, and sting it into rage. "Avoid my
sight, thou reptile! " cried I, "nor continue to insult me with thy
presence. Were my brave son at home, he would not suffer this; but I am
old and disabled, and every way undone. "

"I find," cried he, "you are bent upon obliging me to talk in a harsher
manner than I intended. But, as I have shown you what may be hoped from
my friendship, it may not be improper to represent what may be the
consequences of my resentment. My attorney, to whom your late bond has
been transferred, threatens hard; nor do I know how to prevent the
course of justice, except by paying the money myself; which as I have
been at some expenses lately, previous to my intended marriage, is not
so easy to be done. And then my steward talks of driving for the rent:
it is certain he knows his duty; for I never trouble myself with affairs
of that nature. Yet still I could wish to serve you, and even to have
you and your daughter present at my marriage, which is shortly to be
solemnised, with Miss Wilmot; it is even the request of my charming
Arabella herself, whom I hope you will not refuse. "

"Mr. Thornhill," replied I, "hear me once for all: as to your marriage
with any but my daughter, that I never will consent to; and though your
friendship could raise me to a throne, or your resentment sink me to the
grave, yet would I despise both. Thou hast once woefully, irreparably
deceived me. I reposed my heart upon thine honour, and have found it
baseness. Never more, therefore, expect friendship from me. Go, and
possess what fortune has given thee—beauty, riches, health, and
pleasure. Go, and leave me to want, infamy, disease, and sorrow. Yet,
humbled as I am, shall my heart still vindicate its dignity; and though
thou hast my forgiveness, thou shalt ever have my contempt. "

"If so," returned he, "depend upon it you shall feel the effects of this
insolence, and we shall shortly see which is the fittest object of
scorn, you or me. " Upon which he departed abruptly.

My wife and son, who were present at this interview, seemed terrified
with apprehension. My daughters also, finding that he was gone, came out
to be informed of the result of our conference; which, when known,
alarmed them not less than the rest. But as to myself, I disregarded the
utmost stretch of his malevolence—he had already struck the blow, and I
now stood prepared to repel every new effort, like one of those
instruments used in the act of war, which, however thrown, still present
a point to receive the enemy.

We soon, however, found that he had not threatened in vain; for the very
next morning his steward came to demand my annual rent, which, by the
train of accidents already related, I was unable to pay. The consequence
of my incapacity was, his driving my cattle that evening, and their
being appraised and sold the next day for less than half their value. My
wife and children now, therefore, entreated me to comply upon any terms,
rather than incur certain destruction. They even begged of me to admit
his visits once more, and used all their little eloquence to paint the
calamities I was going to endure—the terrors of a prison in so rigorous
a season as the present, with the danger that threatened my health from
the late accident that happened by the fire. But I continued inflexible.

"Why, my treasures," cried I, "why will you thus attempt to persuade me
to the thing that is not right? My duty has taught me to forgive him,
but my conscience will not permit me to approve. Would you have me
applaud to the world what my heart must internally condemn? Would you
have me tamely sit down and flatter our infamous betrayer; and, to avoid
a prison, continually suffer 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 still retire
to a charming apartment, where we can look round our own hearts with
intrepidity and with pleasure. "

In this manner we spent that evening. Early the next morning, as the
snow had fallen in great abundance in the night, my son was employed in
clearing it away, and opening a passage before the door. He had not been
thus engaged long, when he came running in, with looks all pale, to tell
us that two strangers, whom he knew to be officers of justice, were
making towards the house.

[Illustration:

"_I then turned to my wife and children,
and directed them to get together what few
things were left us, and to prepare immediately
for leaving this place. _"—_p. _ 122.
]


Just as he spoke they came in, and approaching the bed where I lay,
after previously informing me of their employment and business, made me
their prisoner, bidding me prepare to go with them to the county gaol,
which was eleven miles off.

"My friends," said I, "this is severe weather in which you are come to
take me to a prison; and it is particularly unfortunate at this time, as
one of my arms has lately been burnt in a terrible manner, and it has
thrown me into a slight fever, and I want clothes to cover me; and I am
now too weak and old to walk far in such deep snow; but if it must be
so——"

I then turned to my wife and children, and directed them to get together
what few things were left us, and to prepare immediately for leaving
this place. I entreated them to be expeditious; and desired my son to
assist his eldest sister, who, from a consciousness that she was the
cause of all our calamities, was fallen, and had lost anguish in
insensibility. I encouraged my wife, who, pale and trembling, clasped
our affrighted little ones in her arms, that clung to her bosom in
silence, dreading to look round at the strangers. In the meantime my
youngest daughter prepared for our departure, and as she received
several hints to use despatch, in about an hour we were ready to depart.




_CHAPTER XXV. _

_No situation, however wretched it seems,
but has some sort of comfort attending it. _


We set forward from this peaceful neighbourhood, and walked on slowly.
My eldest daughter being enfeebled by a slow fever, which had begun for
some days to undermine her constitution, one of the officers who had a
horse kindly took her behind him; for even these men cannot entirely
divest themselves of humanity. My son led one of the little ones by the
hand, and my wife the other; while I leaned upon my youngest girl, whose
tears fell not for her own but my distresses.

We were now got from my late dwelling about two miles, when we saw a
crowd running and shouting behind us, consisting of about fifty of my
poorest parishioners. These, with dreadful imprecations, soon seized
upon the two officers of justice, and swearing they would never see
their minister go to a gaol while they had a drop of blood to shed in
his defence, were going to use them with great severity. The consequence
might have been fatal had I not immediately interposed, and with some
difficulty rescued the officers from the hands of the enraged multitude.
My children, who looked upon my delivery now as certain, appeared
transported with joy, and were incapable of containing their raptures.
But they were soon undeceived upon hearing me address the poor deluded
people, who came, as they imagined, to do me service.

"What! my friends," cried, I, "and is this the way you love me? Is this
the manner you obey the instructions I have given you from the pulpit?
thus to fly in the face of justice, and bring down ruin on yourselves
and me? Which is your ringleader? Show me the man that has thus seduced
you. As sure as he lives he shall feel my resentment. Alas! my dear
deluded flock, return back to the duty you owe to God, to your country,
and to me. I shall yet, perhaps, one day see you in greater felicity
here, and contribute to make your lives more happy. But let it at least
be my comfort, when I pen my fold for immortality, that not one here
shall be wanting. "

They now seemed all repentance, and melting into tears, came, one after
the other, to bid me farewell. I shook each tenderly by the hand, and
leaving them my blessing, proceeded forward without meeting any further
interruption. Some hours before night we reached the town, or rather
village, for it consisted but of a few mean houses, having lost all its
former opulence, and retaining no marks of its ancient superiority but
the gaol.

Upon entering we put up at an inn, where we had such refreshments as
could most readily be procured, and I supped with my family with my
usual cheerfulness. After seeing them properly accommodated for that
night, I next attended the sheriff's officers to the prison, which had
formerly been built for the purposes of war, and consisted of one large
apartment, strongly grated, and paved with stone, common to both felons
and debtors at certain hours in the four-and-twenty. Besides this, every
prisoner had a separate cell, where he was locked in for the night.

I expected upon my entrance to find nothing but lamentations and various
sounds of misery; but it was very different. The prisoners seemed all
employed in one common design, that of forgetting thought in merriment
or clamour. I was apprised of the usual perquisite required upon these
occasions; and immediately complied with the demand, though the little
money I had was very near being all exhausted. This was immediately sent
away for liquor, and the whole prison was soon filled with riot,
laughter, and profaneness.

"How! " cried I to myself, "shall men so very wicked be cheerful, and
shall I be melancholy? I feel only the same confinement with them, and I
think I have more reason to be happy. "

With such reflections I laboured to become more cheerful: but
cheerfulness was never yet produced by effort, which is itself painful.
As I was sitting, therefore, in a corner of the gaol, in a pensive
posture, one of my fellow-prisoners came up, and sitting by me, entered
into conversation. It was my constant rule in life never to avoid the
conversation of any man who seemed to desire it; for if good, I might
profit by his instructions; if bad, he might be assisted by mine. I
found this to be a knowing man, of strong unlettered sense, but a
thorough knowledge of the world, as it is called; or, more properly
speaking, of human nature on the wrong side. He asked me if I had taken
care to provide myself with a bed, which was a circumstance I had never
once attended to.

"That's unfortunate," cried he, "as you are allowed nothing but straw,
and your apartment is very large and cold. However, you seem to be
something of a gentleman, and as I have been one myself in my time, part
of my bed-clothes are heartily at your service. "

I thanked him, professing my surprise at finding such humanity in a gaol
in misfortunes; adding, to let him see that I was a scholar, "that the
sage ancient seemed to understand the value of company in affliction,
when he said, _ton kosmon aire, ei dos ton etairon_; and, in fact,"
continued I, "what is the world if it affords only solitude? "

"You talk of the world, sir," returned my fellow-prisoner: "the world is
in its dotage, and yet the cosmogony, or creation of the world, has
puzzled the philosophers of every age. What a medley of opinions have
they not broached upon the creation of the world! Sanchoniathon,
Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus, have all attempted it in vain.
The latter has these words: _Anarchon ara kai atelutaion to pan_, which
implies—" "I ask pardon, sir," cried I, "for interrupting so much
learning; but I think I have heard all this before. Have I not had the
pleasure of once seeing you at Welbridge fair, and is not your name
Ephraim Jenkinson? " At this demand he only sighed. "I suppose you must
recollect," resumed I, "one Doctor Primrose, from whom you bought a
horse? "

He now at once recollected me, for the gloominess of the place and the
approaching night prevented his distinguishing my features before. "Yes,
sir," returned Mr. Jenkinson, "I remember you perfectly well; I bought a
horse, but forgot to pay for him. Your neighbour Flamborough is the only
prosecutor I am any way afraid of at the next assizes; for he intends to
swear positively against me as a coiner. I am heartily sorry, sir, I
ever deceived you, or indeed any man: for you see," continued he,
pointing to his shackles, "what my tricks have brought me to. "

[Illustration:

"_The execrations, lewdness, and brutality
that invaded me on every side, drove me back
to my apartment again. _"—_p. _ 127.
]


"Well, sir," replied I, "your kindness in offering me assistance, when
you could expect no return, shall be repaid with my endeavours to soften
or totally suppress Mr.
Flamborough's evidence, and I will send my son
to him for that purpose the first opportunity: nor do I in the least
doubt but he will comply with my request: and as to my own evidence, you
need be under no uneasiness about that. "

"Well, sir," cried he, "all the return I can make shall be yours. You
shall have more than half my bed-clothes to-night, and I'll take care to
stand your friend in the prison, where I think I have some influence. "

I thanked him, and could not avoid being surprised at the present
youthful change in his aspect; for at the time I had seen him before he
appeared at least sixty. "Sir," answered he, "you are little acquainted
with the world. I had at that time false hair, and have learned the art
of counterfeiting every age from seventeen to seventy. Ah, sir! had I
but bestowed half the pains in learning a trade that I have in learning
to be a scoundrel, I might have been a rich man at this day. But, rogue
as I am, still I may be your friend, and that, perhaps, when you least
expect it. "

We were now prevented from further conversation by the arrival of the
gaoler's servants, who came to call over the prisoners' names, and lock
up for the night. A fellow also with a bundle of straw for my bed
attended, who led me along a dark narrow passage into a room paved like
the common prison, and in one corner of this I spread my bed, and the
clothes given me by my fellow-prisoner; which done, my conductor, who
was civil enough, bade me a good night. After my usual meditations, and
having praised my Heavenly Corrector, I laid myself down, and slept with
the utmost tranquillity until morning.




_CHAPTER XXVI. _

_A reformation in the gaol. —To make laws complete,
they should reward as well as punish. _


The next morning early I was awakened by my family, whom I found in
tears at my bedside. The gloomy appearance of everything about us, it
seems, had daunted them. I gently rebuked their sorrow, assuring them I
had never slept with greater tranquillity, and next inquired after my
eldest daughter, who was not among them. They informed me that
yesterday's uneasiness and fatigue had increased her fever, and it was
judged proper to leave her behind. My next care was to send my son to
procure a room or two to lodge my family in, as near the prison as
conveniently could be found. He obeyed, but could only find one
apartment, which was hired at a small expense for his mother and
sisters, the gaoler with humanity consenting to let him and his two
little brothers lie in the prison with me. A bed was therefore prepared
for them in a corner of the room, which I thought answered very
conveniently. I was willing, however, previously to know whether my
little children chose to lie in a place which seemed to fright them upon
entrance.

"Well," cried I, "my good boys, how do you like your bed? I hope you are
not afraid to lie in this room, dark as it appears. "

"No, papa," says Dick, "I am not afraid to lie anywhere where you are. "

"And I," says Bill, who was yet but four years old, "love every place
best that my papa is in. "

After this I allotted to each of the family what they were to do. My
daughter was particularly directed to watch her sister's declining
health; my wife was to attend me; my little boys were to read to me.
"And as for you, my son," continued I, "it is by the labour of your
hands we must all hope to be supported. Your wages as a day-labourer
will be fully sufficient, with proper frugality, to maintain us all, and
comfortably too. Thou art now sixteen years old, and hast strength, and
it was given thee, my son, for very useful purposes; for it must save
from famine your helpless parents and family. Prepare then this evening
to look out for work against to-morrow, and bring home every night what
money you earn for our support. "

Having thus instructed him, and settled the rest, I walked down to the
common prison, where I could enjoy more air and room. But I was not long
there when the execrations, lewdness, and brutality that invaded me on
every side, drove me back to my apartment again. Here I sat for some
time pondering upon the strange infatuation of wretches who, finding all
mankind in open arms against them, were labouring to make themselves a
future and a tremendous enemy.

Their insensibility excited my highest compassion, and blotted my own
uneasiness from my mind. It even appeared a duty incumbent upon me to
attempt to reclaim them. I resolved, therefore, once more to return,
and, in spite of their contempt, to give them my advice, and conquer
them by perseverance. Going therefore among them again, I informed Mr.
Jenkinson of my design, at which he laughed heartily, but communicated
it to the rest. The proposal was received with the greatest good humour,
as it promised to afford a new fund of entertainment to persons who had
now no other resource for mirth but what could be derived from ridicule
or debauchery.

I therefore read them a portion of the service, with a loud, unaffected
voice, and found my audience perfectly merry upon the occasion. Lewd
whispers, groans of contrition burlesqued, winking, and coughing,
alternately excited laughter. However, I continued with my natural
solemnity to read on, sensible that what I did might amend some, but
could itself receive no contamination from any.

After reading, I entered upon my exhortation, which was rather
calculated at first to amuse them than to reprove. I previously observed
that no other motive but their welfare could induce me to this; that I
was their fellow-prisoner, and now got nothing by preaching. I was
sorry, I said, to hear them so very profane; because they got nothing by
it, and might lose a great deal. "For be assured, my friends," cried I,
("for you are my friends, however the world may disclaim your
friendship,) though you swore twelve thousand oaths in a day, it would
not put one penny in your purse. Then what signifies calling every
moment upon the devil, and courting his friendship, since you find how
scurvily he uses you? He has given you nothing here, you find, but a
mouthful of oaths and an empty belly; and, by the best accounts I have
of him, he will give you nothing that's good hereafter.

"If used ill in our dealings with one man, we naturally go elsewhere.
Were it not worth your while, then, just to try how you may like the
usage of another Master, who gives you fair promises, at least, to come
to Him? Surely, my friends, of all stupidity in the world, his must be
the greatest, who, after robbing a house, runs to the thief-takers for
protection. And yet how are you more wise? You are all seeking comfort
from one that has already betrayed you, applying to a more malicious
being than any thief-taker of them all; for they only decoy and then
hang you; but he decoys and hangs, and, what is worst of all, will not
let you loose after the hangman has done. "

When I had concluded, I received the compliments of my audience, some of
whom came and shook me by the hand, swearing that I was a very honest
fellow, and that they desired my further acquaintance. I therefore
promised to repeat my lecture next day, and actually conceived some hope
of making a reformation here; for it had ever been my opinion, that no
man was past the hour of amendment, every heart lying open to the shafts
of reproof, if the archer could but take a proper aim. When I had thus
satisfied my mind, I went back to my apartment, where my wife prepared a
frugal meal, while Mr. Jenkinson begged leave to add his dinner to ours,
and partake of the pleasure, as he was kind enough to express it, of my
conversation. He had not yet seen my family, for as they came to my
apartment by a door in the narrow passage already described, by this
means they avoided the common prison. Jenkinson at the first interview,
therefore, seemed not a little struck with the beauty of my youngest
daughter, which her pensive air contributed to heighten, and my little
ones did not pass unnoticed.

[Illustration:

_"Alas! doctor," cried he, "these children
are too handsome and too good for such a
place as this. "_—_p. _ 130.
]

"Alas! doctor," cried he, "these children are too handsome and too good
for such a place as this. "

"Why, Mr. Jenkinson," replied I, "thank Heaven, my children are pretty
tolerable in morals; and if they be good, it matters little for the
rest. "

"I fancy, sir," returned my fellow-prisoner, "that it must give you a
great comfort to have all this little family about you. "

"A comfort, Mr. Jenkinson! " replied I, "yes, it is indeed a comfort, and
I would not be without them for all the world; for they can make a
dungeon seem a palace. There is but one way in this life of wounding my
happiness, and that is by injuring them. "

"I am afraid then, sir," cried he, "that I am in some measure culpable;
for I think I see here (looking at my son Moses) one that I have
injured, and by whom I wish to be forgiven. "

My son immediately recollected his voice and features, though he had
before seen him in disguise, and taking him by the hand, with a smile
forgave him. "Yet," continued he, "I can't help wondering at what you
could see in my face to think me a proper mark for deception. "

"My dear sir," returned the other, "it was not your face, but your white
stockings and the black riband in your hair, that allured me. But, no
disparagement to your parts, I have deceived wiser men than you in my
time; and yet with all my tricks the blockheads have been too many for
me at last. "

"I suppose," cried my son, "that the narrative of such a life as yours
must be extremely instructive and amusing. "

"Not much of either," returned Mr. Jenkinson. "Those relations which
describe the tricks and vices only of mankind, by increasing our
suspicion in life, retard our success. The traveller that distrusts
every person he meets, and turns back upon the appearance of every man
that looks like a robber, seldom arrives in time at his journey's end.

"Indeed, I think, from my own experience, that the knowing one is the
silliest fellow under the sun. I was thought cunning from my very
childhood; when but seven years old the ladies would say that I was a
perfect little man; at fourteen I knew the world, cocked my hat, and
loved the ladies; at twenty, though I was perfectly honest, yet every
one thought me so cunning, that no one would trust me. Thus, I was at
last obliged to turn sharper in my own defence, and have lived ever
since, my head throbbing with schemes to deceive, and my heart
palpitating with fears of detection. I used often to laugh at your
honest simple neighbour Flamborough, and one way or another generally
cheated him once a year. Yet still the honest man went forward without
suspicion, and grew rich, while I still continued tricksy and cunning,
and was poor without the consolation of being honest. However,"
continued he, "let me know your case, and what has brought you here;
perhaps, though I have not skill to avoid a gaol myself, I may extricate
my friends. "

In compliance with his curiosity, I informed him of the whole train of
accidents and follies that had plunged me into my present troubles, and
my utter inability to get free.

After hearing my story, and pausing some minutes, he slapped his
forehead, as if he had hit upon something material, and took his leave,
saying he would try what could be done.




_CHAPTER XXVII. _

_The same subject continued. _


The next morning I communicated to my wife and children the schemes I
had planned of reforming the prisoners, which they received with
universal disapprobation, alleging the impossibility and impropriety of
it; adding that my endeavours would no way contribute to their
amendment, but might probably disgrace my calling.

"Excuse me," returned I, "these people, however fallen, are still men;
and that is a very good title to my affections. Good counsel rejected
returns to enrich the giver's bosom; and though the instruction I
communicate may not mend them, yet it will assuredly mend myself. If
these wretches, my children, were princes, there would be thousands
ready to offer their ministry; but in my opinion, the heart that is
buried in a dungeon is as precious as that seated upon a throne. Yes, my
treasures, if I can mend them, I will; perhaps they will not all despise
me: perhaps I may catch up even one from the gulf, and that will be
great gain; for is there upon earth a gem so precious as the human
soul? "

Thus saying, I left them and descended to the common prison, where I
found the prisoners very merry, expecting my arrival; and each prepared
with some gaol-trick to play upon the doctor. Thus, as I was going to
begin, one turned my wig awry, as if by accident, and then asked my
pardon. A second, who stood at some distance, had a knack of spitting
through his teeth, which fell in showers upon my book. A third would cry
"Amen! " in such an affected tone as gave the rest great delight. A
fourth had slily picked my pocket of my spectacles. But there was one
whose trick gave more universal pleasure than all the rest; for
observing the manner in which I had disposed my books on the table
before me, he very dexterously displaced one of them, and put an obscene
jest-book of his own in the place. However, I took no notice of all that
this mischievous group of little beings could do, but went on, perfectly
sensible that what was ridiculous in my attempt would excite mirth only
the first or second time, while what was serious would be permanent. My
design succeeded, and in less than six days some were penitent, and all
were attentive.

It was now that I applauded my perseverance and address at thus giving
sensibility to wretches divested of every moral feeling, and now began
to think of doing them temporal services also, by rendering their
situation somewhat more comfortable. Their time had hitherto been
divided between famine and excess, tumultuous riot and bitter repining.
Their only employment was quarrelling among each other, playing at
cribbage, and cutting tobacco-stoppers. From this last mode of idle
industry I took the hint of setting such as chose to work at cutting
pegs for tobacconists and shoemakers, the proper wood being bought by a
general subscription, and, when manufactured, sold by my appointment; so
that each earned something every day: a trifle, indeed, but sufficient
to maintain him.

I did not stop here, but instituted fines for the punishment of
immorality, and rewards for peculiar industry. Thus in less than a
fortnight I had formed them into something social and humane, and had
the pleasure of regarding myself as a legislator, who had brought men
from their native ferocity into friendship and obedience.

[Illustration:

_Olivia and Sophia leaving the Prison. _
]


And it were highly to be wished, that legislative power would thus
direct the law rather to reformation than severity; that it would seem
convinced that the work of eradicating crimes is not by making
punishments familiar, but formidable. Then, instead of our present
prisons, which find or make men guilty, which enclose wretches for the
commission of one crime, and return them, if returned alive, fitted for
the perpetration of thousands, we should see, as in other parts of
Europe, places of penitence and solitude, where the accused might be
attended by such as could give them repentance if guilty, or new motives
to virtue if innocent. And this, but not the increasing punishments, is
the way to mend a state: nor can I avoid even questioning the validity
of that right which social combinations have assumed of capitally
punishing offences of a slight nature. In cases of murder their right is
obvious, as it is the duty of us all, from the law of self-defence, to
cut off that man who has shown a disregard for the life of another.
Against such, all nature rises in arms; but it is not so against him who
steals my property. Natural law gives me no right to take away his life,
as by that the horse he steals is as much his property as mine. If,
then, I have any right, it must be from a compact made between us, that
he who deprives the other of his horse shall die. But this is a false
compact; because no man has a right to barter his life any more than to
take it away, as it is not his own. And besides, the compact is
inadequate, and would be set aside even in a court of modern equity, as
there is a great penalty for a trifling inconvenience, since it is far
better that two men should live than that one man should ride. But a
compact that is false between two men is equally so between a hundred
and a hundred thousand; for as ten millions of circles can never make a
square, so the united voice of myriads cannot lend the smallest
foundation to falsehood. It is thus that reason speaks, and untutored
nature says the same thing. Savages that are directed by natural law
alone are very tender of the lives of each other; they seldom shed blood
but to retaliate former cruelty.

Our Saxon ancestors, fierce as they were in war, had but few executions
in times of peace; and in all commencing governments, that have the
print of nature still strong upon them, scarcely any crime is held
capital.

It is among the citizens of a refined community that penal laws, which
are in the hands of the rich, are laid upon the poor. Government, while
it grows older, seems to acquire the moroseness of age; and as if our
property were become dearer in proportion as it increased—as if the more
enormous our wealth, the more extensive our fears—all our possessions
are paled up with new edicts every day, and hung round with gibbets to
scare every invader.

I cannot tell whether it is from the number of our penal laws, or the
licentiousness of our people, that this country should show more
convicts in a year than half the dominions of Europe united. Perhaps it
is owing to both; for they mutually produce each other. When by
indiscriminate penal laws a nation beholds the same punishment affixed
to dissimilar degrees of guilt, from perceiving no distinction in the
penalty, the people are led to lose all sense of distinction in the
crime, and this distinction is the bulwark of all morality. Thus the
multitude of laws produce new vices, and new vices call for fresh
restraints.

It were to be wished, then, that power, instead of contriving new laws
to punish vice, instead of drawing hard the cords of society till a
convulsion come to burst them, instead of cutting away wretches as
useless before we have tried their utility, instead of converting
correction into vengeance—it were to be wished that we tried the
restrictive arts of government, and made law the protector, but not the
tyrant, of the people. We should then find that creatures whose souls
are held as dross, only wanted the hand of a refiner; we should then
find that wretches, now stuck up for long tortures, lest luxury should
feel a momentary pang, might, if properly treated, serve to sinew the
state in times of danger; that as their faces are like ours, their
hearts are so too; that few minds are so base as that perseverance
cannot amend; that a man may see his last crime without dying for it;
and that very little blood will serve to cement our security.




_CHAPTER XXVIII. _

_Happiness and misery rather the result of prudence than of virtue
in this life; temporal evils or felicities being regarded
by Heaven as things merely in themselves trifling,
and unworthy its care in the distribution. _


I had now been confined more than a fortnight, but had not since my
arrival been visited by my dear Olivia, and I greatly longed to see her.
Having communicated my wishes to my wife, the next morning the poor girl
entered my apartment leaning on her sister's arm. The change which I saw
in her countenance struck me. The numberless graces that once resided
there were now fled, and the hand of death seemed to have moulded every
feature to alarm me. Her temples were sunk, her forehead was tense, and
a fatal paleness sat upon her cheek.

"I am glad to see thee, my dear," cried I; "but why this dejection,
Livy? I hope, my love, you have too great a regard for me to permit
disappointment thus to undermine a life which I prize as my own. Be
cheerful, child, and we may yet see happier days"

"You have ever, sir," replied she, "been kind to me, and it adds to my
pain that I shall never have an opportunity of sharing that happiness
you promise. Happiness, I fear, is no longer reserved for me here, and I
long to be rid of a place where I have only found distress. Indeed, sir,
I wish you would make a proper submission to Mr. Thornhill: it may in
some measure 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 prostitute; for though the world may look upon your offence
with scorn, let it be mine to regard it as a mark of credulity, not of
guilt. My dear, I am no way miserable in this place, however dismal it
may seem; and be assured that, while you continue to bless me by living,
he shall never have my consent to make you more wretched by marrying
another. "

After the departure of my daughter, my fellow-prisoner, who was by at
this interview, sensibly enough expostulated upon my obstinacy in
refusing a submission which promised to give me freedom. He observed
that the rest of my family were not to be sacrificed to the peace of one
child alone, and she the only one who had offended me. "Besides," added
he, "I don't know if it be just thus to obstruct the union of man and
wife, which you do at present, by refusing to consent to a match which
you cannot hinder, but may render unhappy. "

"Sir," replied I, "you are unacquainted with the man that oppresses us.
I am very sensible that no submission I can make could procure me
liberty even for an hour. I am told that even in this very room a debtor
of his, no later than last year, died for want. But though my submission
and approbation could transfer me from hence to the most beautiful
apartment he is possessed of, yet I would grant neither, as something
whispers me that it would be giving a sanction to adultery. While my
daughter lives, no other marriage of his shall ever be legal in my eye.
Were she removed, indeed, I should be the basest of men, from any
resentment of my own, to attempt putting asunder those who wish for a
union. No; villain as he is, I should then wish him married, to prevent
the consequences of his future debaucheries. But now should I not be the
most cruel of all fathers to sign an instrument which must send my child
to the grave, merely to avoid a prison myself; and thus, to escape one
pang, break my child's heart with a thousand? "

He acquiesced in the justice of this answer, but could not avoid
observing that he feared my daughter's life was already too much wasted
to keep me long a prisoner. "However," continued he, "though you refuse
to submit to the nephew, I hope you have no objection to laying your
case before the uncle, who has the first character in the kingdom for
everything that is just and good. I would advise you to send him a
letter by the post, intimating all his nephew's ill-usage, and, my life
for it, that in three days you shall have an answer. " I thanked him for
the hint, and instantly set about complying; but I wanted paper, and,
unluckily, all our money had been laid out that morning in provisions:
however, he supplied me.

[Illustration:

"_My children, however, sat by me, and, while
I was stretched on my straw, read to me by turns,
or listened and wept at my instructions. _"—_p. _ 137.
]


For the three ensuing days I was in a state of anxiety to know what
reception my letter might meet with; but in the meantime was frequently
solicited by my wife to submit to any conditions rather than remain
here, and every hour received repeated accounts of the decline of my
daughter's health. The third day and the fourth arrived, but I received
no answer to my letter: the complaints of a stranger against a favourite
nephew were no way likely to succeed; so that these hopes soon vanished
like all my former. My mind, however, still supported itself, though
confinement and bad air began to make a visible alteration in my health,
and my arm that had suffered in the fire grew worse. My children,
however, sat by me, and, while I was stretched on my straw, read to me
by turns, or listened and wept at my instructions. But my daughter's
health declined faster than mine; every message from her contributed to
increase my apprehensions and pain. The fifth morning after I had
written the letter which was sent to Sir William Thornhill, I was
alarmed with an account that she was speechless. Now it was that
confinement was truly painful to me; my soul was bursting from its
prison to be near the pillow of my child, to comfort, to strengthen her,
to receive her last wishes, and teach her soul the way to heaven!
Another account came—she was expiring, and yet I was debarred the small
comfort of weeping by her. My fellow-prisoner, some time after, came
with the last account. He bade me be patient—she was dead! The next
morning he returned, and found me with my two little ones, now my only
companions, who were using all their innocent efforts to comfort 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 sister an angel now, papa? " cried the
eldest, "and why then are you sorry for her? I wish I were an angel, out
of this frightful place, if my papa were with me. " "Yes," added my
youngest darling, "heaven, where my sister is, is a finer place than
this, and there are none but good people there, and the people here are
very bad. "

Mr. Jenkinson interrupted their harmless prattle, by observing that, now
my daughter was no more, I should seriously think of the rest of my
family, and attempt to save my own life, which was every day declining
for want of necessaries and wholesome air. He added that it was now
incumbent on me to sacrifice any pride or resentment of my own to the
welfare of those who depended on me for support; and that I was now,
both by reason and justice, obliged to try to reconcile my landlord.

"Heaven be praised! " replied I, "there is no pride left me now. I should
detest my own heart if I saw either pride or resentment lurking there.
On the contrary, as my oppressor has been once my parishioner, I hope
one day to present him up an unpolluted soul at the eternal tribunal.
No, sir, I have no resentment now; and though he has taken from me what
I held dearer than all his treasures, though he has wrung my heart—for I
am sick almost to fainting, very sick, my fellow-prisoner—yet that shall
never inspire me with vengeance. I am now willing to approve his
marriage; and if this submission can do him any pleasure, let him know
that if I have done him any injury I am sorry for it. " Mr. Jenkinson
took pen and ink, and wrote down my submission nearly as I have
expressed it, to which I signed my name. My son was employed to carry
the letter to Mr. Thornhill, who was then at his seat in the country. He
went, and in about six hours returned with a verbal answer.