No More Learning

Thirty pounds and
twenty-five guineas a year made fifty-six pounds five shillings English
money, all which was in a manner going a-begging, and might easily
be secured in the family. She for a moment studied my looks for
approbation; and, to own a truth, I was of opinion, that two such places
would fit our two daughters exactly. Besides, if the ‘Squire had any
real affection for my eldest daughter, this would be the way to make her
every way qualified for her fortune. My wife therefore was resolved that
we should not be deprived of such advantages for want of assurance,
and undertook to harangue for the family. ‘I hope,’ cried she, ‘your
Ladyships will pardon my present presumption. It is true, we have no
right to pretend to such favours; but yet it is natural for me to wish
putting my children forward in the world. And I will be bold to say my
two girls have had a pretty good education, and capacity, at least the
country can’t shew better. They can read, write, and cast accompts; they
understand their needle, breadstitch, cross and change, and all manner
of plain-work; they can pink, point, and frill; and know something of
music; they can do up small cloaths, work upon catgut; my eldest can cut
paper, and my youngest has a very pretty manner of telling fortunes upon
the cards. ’--‘FUDGE! ’

When she had delivered this pretty piece of eloquence, the two ladies
looked at each other a few minutes in silence, with an air of doubt and
importance. At last, Miss Carolina Wilelmina Amelia Skeggs condescended
to observe, that the young ladies, from the opinion she could form
of them from so slight an acquaintance, seemed very fit for such
employments: ‘But a thing of this kind, Madam,’ cried she, addressing
my spouse, requires a thorough examination into characters, and a more
perfect knowledge of each other. Not, Madam,’ continued she, ‘that I in
the least suspect the young ladies virtue, prudence and discretion; but
there is a form in these things, Madam, there is a form. ’

My wife approved her suspicions very much, observing, that she was very
apt to be suspicious herself; but referred her to all the neighbours
for a character: but this our Peeress declined as unnecessary, alledging
that her cousin Thornhill’s recommendation would be sufficient, and upon
this we rested our petition.



CHAPTER 12

Fortune seems resolved to humble the family of Wakefield.
Mortifications are often more painful than real calamities


When we were returned home, the night was dedicated to schemes of future
conquest. Deborah exerted much sagacity in conjecturing which of the
two girls was likely to have the best place, and most opportunities
of seeing good company. The only obstacle to our preferment was in
obtaining the ‘Squire’s recommendation; but he had already shewn us too
many instances of his friendship to doubt of it now. Even in bed my
wife kept up the usual theme: ‘Well, faith, my dear Charles, between
ourselves, I think we have made an excellent day’s work of it. ’--‘Pretty
well,’ cried I, not knowing what to say. --‘What only pretty well! ’
returned she. ‘I think it is very well. Suppose the girls should come to
make acquaintances of taste in town! This I am assured of, that London
is the only place in the world for all manner of husbands. Besides, my
dear, stranger things happen every day: and as ladies of quality are so
taken with my daughters, what will not men of quality be! Entre nous, I
protest I like my Lady Blarney vastly, so very obliging. However, Miss
Carolina Wilelmina Anielia Skeggs has my warm heart. But yet, when they
came to talk of places in town, you saw at once how I nailed them.
Tell me, my dear, don’t you think I did for my children there? ’--‘Ay,’
returned I, not knowing well what to think of the matter, ‘heaven grant
they may be both the better for it this day three months! ’ This was one
of those observations I usually made to impress my wife with an opinion
of my sagacity; for if the girls succeeded, then it was a pious wish
fulfilled; but if any thing unfortunate ensued, then it might be looked
upon as a prophecy. All this conversation, however, was only preparatory
to another scheme, and indeed I dreaded as much. This was nothing less
than, that as we were now to hold up our heads a little higher in the
world, it would be proper to sell the Colt, which was grown old, at a
neighbouring fair, and buy us an horse that would carry single or double
upon an occasion, and make a pretty appearance at church or upon a
visit. This at first I opposed stoutly; but it was as stoutly defended.
However, as I weakened, my antagonist gained strength, till at last it
was resolved to part with him.

As the fair happened on the following day, I had intentions of going
myself, but my wife persuaded me that I had got a cold, and nothing
could prevail upon her to permit me from home. ‘No, my dear,’ said she,
‘our son Moses is a discreet boy, and can buy and sell to very good
advantage; you know all our great bargains are of his purchasing. He
always stands out and higgles, and actually tires them till he gets a
bargain. ’

As I had some opinion of my son’s prudence, I was willing enough to
entrust him with this commission; and the next morning I perceived his
sisters mighty busy in fitting out Moses for the fair; trimming his
hair, brushing his buckles, and cocking his hat with pins. The business
of the toilet being over, we had at last the satisfaction of seeing
him mounted upon the Colt, with a deal box before him to bring home
groceries in. He had on a coat made of that cloth they call thunder and
lightning, which, though grown too short, was much too good to be thrown
away. His waistcoat was of gosling green, and his sisters had tied his
hair with a broad black ribband. We all followed him several paces, from
the door, bawling after him good luck, good luck, till we could see him
no longer.

He was scarce gone, when Mr Thornhill’s butler came to congratulate
us upon our good fortune, saying, that he overheard his young master
mention our names with great commendation.

Good fortune seemed resolved not to come alone. Another footman from the
same family followed, with a card for my daughters, importing, that the
two ladies had received such pleasing accounts from Mr Thornhill of us
all, that, after a few previous enquiries, they hoped to be perfectly
satisfied. ‘Ay,’ cried my wife, I now see it is no easy matter to get
into the families of the great; but when one once gets in, then, as
Moses says, one may go sleep. ’ To this piece of humour, for she intended
it for wit, my daughters assented with a loud laugh of pleasure. In
short, such was her satisfaction at this message, that she actually put
her hand in her pocket, and gave the messenger seven-pence halfpenny.

This was to be our visiting-day. The next that came was Mr Burchell,
who had been at the fair. He brought my little ones a pennyworth of
gingerbread each, which my wife undertook to keep for them, and give
them by letters at a time. He brought my daughters also a couple of
boxes, in which they might keep wafers, snuff, patches, or even money,
when they got it. My wife was usually fond of a weesel skin purse, as
being the most lucky; but this by the bye. We had still a regard for
Mr Burchell, though his late rude behaviour was in some measure
displeasing; nor could we now avoid communicating our happiness to him,
and asking his advice: although we seldom followed advice, we were all
ready enough to ask it. When he read the note from the two ladies, he
shook his head, and observed, that an affair of this sort demanded the
utmost circumspection. --This air of diffidence highly displeased my
wife. ‘I never doubted, Sir,’ cried she, ‘your readiness to be against
my daughters and me. You have more circumspection than is wanted.
However, I fancy when we come to ask advice, we will apply to persons
who seem to have made use of it themselves. ’--‘Whatever my own conduct
may have been, madam,’ replied he, ‘is not the present question; tho’ as
I have made no use of advice myself, I should in conscience give it to
those that will. ’--As I was apprehensive this answer might draw on
a repartee, making up by abuse what it wanted in wit, I changed the
subject, by seeming to wonder what could keep our son so long at the
fair, as it was now almost nightfall. --‘Never mind our son,’ cried my
wife, ‘depend upon it he knows what he is about. I’ll warrant we’ll
never see him sell his hen of a rainy day. I have seen him buy such
bargains as would amaze one. I’ll tell you a good story about that,
that will make you split your sides with laughing--But as I live, yonder
comes Moses, without an horse, and the box at his back. ’

As she spoke, Moses came slowly on foot, and sweating under the deal
box, which he had strapt round his shoulders like a pedlar. --‘Welcome,
welcome, Moses; well, my boy, what have you brought us from the
fair? ’--‘I have brought you myself,’ cried Moses, with a sly look, and
resting the box on the dresser. --‘Ay, Moses,’ cried my wife, ‘that we
know, but where is the horse? ’ ‘I have sold him,’ cried Moses, ‘for
three pounds five shillings and two-pence. ’--‘Well done, my good boy,’
returned she, ‘I knew you would touch them off. Between ourselves, three
pounds five shillings and two-pence is no bad day’s work. Come, let us
have it then. ’--‘I have brought back no money,’ cried Moses again. ‘I
have laid it all out in a bargain, and here it is,’ pulling out a bundle
from his breast: ‘here they are; a groce of green spectacles, with
silver rims and shagreen cases. ’--‘A groce of green spectacles! ’
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
spectacles! ’--‘Dear mother,’ cried the boy, ‘why won’t you listen to
reason? I had them a dead bargain, or I should not have bought them. The
silver rims alone will sell for double money. ’--‘A fig for the silver
rims,’ cried my wife, in a passion: ‘I dare swear they won’t sell for
above half the money at the rate of broken silver, five shillings an
ounce. ’--‘You need be under no uneasiness,’ cried I, ‘about selling the
rims; for they are not worth six-pence, for I perceive they are only
copper varnished over. ’--‘What,’ cried my wife, ‘not silver, the rims
not silver! ’ ‘No,’ cried I, ‘no more silver than your saucepan,’--‘And
so,’ returned she, ‘we have parted with the Colt, and have only got
a groce of green spectacles, with copper rims and shagreen cases! A
murrain take such trumpery. The blockhead has been imposed upon, and
should have known his company better. ’--‘There, my dear,’ cried I, ‘you
are wrong, he should not have known them at all. ’--‘Marry, hang the
ideot,’ returned she, ‘to bring me such stuff, if I had them, I would
throw them in the fire. ’ ‘There again you are wrong, my dear,’ cried
I; ‘for though they be copper, we will keep them by us, as copper
spectacles, you know, are better than nothing. ’

By this time the unfortunate Moses was undeceived. He now saw that he
had indeed been imposed upon by a prowling sharper, who, observing
his figure, had marked him for an easy prey. I therefore asked the
circumstances of his deception. He sold the horse, it seems, and walked
the fair in search of another. A reverend looking man brought him to a
tent, under pretence of having one to sell. ‘Here,’ continued Moses, ‘we
met another man, very well drest, who desired to borrow twenty pounds
upon these, saying, that he wanted money, and would dispose of them
for a third of the value. The first gentleman, who pretended to be my
friend, whispered me to buy them, and cautioned me not to let so good an
offer pass. I sent for Mr Flamborough, and they talked him up as finely
as they did me, and so at last we were persuaded to buy the two groce
between us. ’



CHAPTER 13

Mr Burchell is found to be an enemy; for he has the
confidence to give disagreeable advice


Our family had now made several attempts to be fine; but some unforeseen
disaster demolished each as soon as projected. I endeavoured to take
the advantage of every disappointment, to improve their good sense in
proportion as they were frustrated in ambition. ‘You see, my children,’
cried I, ‘how little is to be got by attempts to impose upon the world,
in coping with our betters. Such as are poor and will associate with
none but the rich, are hated by those they avoid, and despised by these
they follow. Unequal combinations are always disadvantageous to
the weaker side: the rich having the pleasure, and the poor the
inconveniencies that result from them. But come, Dick, my boy, and
repeat the fable that you were reading to-day, for the good of the
company. ’.

‘Once upon a time,’ cried the child, ‘a Giant and a Dwarf were friends,
and kept together. They made a bargain that they would never forsake
each other, but go seek adventures. The first battle they fought was
with two Saracens, and the Dwarf, who was very courageous, dealt one
of the champions a most angry blow. It did the Saracen but very little
injury, who lifting up his sword, fairly struck off the poor Dwarf’s
arm. He was now in a woeful plight; but the Giant coming to his
assistance, in a short time left the two Saracens dead on the plain, and
the Dwarf cut off the dead man’s head out of spite. They then travelled
on to another adventure. This was against three bloody-minded Satyrs,
who were carrying away a damsel in distress. The Dwarf was not quite so
fierce now as before; but for all that, struck the first blow, which was
returned by another, that knocked out his eye: but the Giant was soon up
with them, and had they not fled, would certainly have killed them every
one. They were all very joyful for this victory, and the damsel who
was relieved fell in love with the Giant, and married him. They now
travelled far, and farther than I can tell, till they met with a company
of robbers. The Giant, for the first time, was foremost now; but the
Dwarf was not far behind. The battle was stout and long. Wherever the
Giant came all fell before him; but the Dwarf had like to have been
killed more than once. At last the victory declared for the two
adventurers; but the Dwarf lost his leg. The Dwarf was now without an
arm, a leg, and an eye, while the Giant was without a single wound. Upon
which he cried out to his little companion, My little heroe, this is
glorious sport; let us get one victory more, and then we shall have
honour for ever. No, cries the Dwarf who was by this time grown wiser,
no, I declare off; I’ll fight no more; for I find in every battle that
you get all the honour and rewards, but all the blows fall upon me. ’

I was going to moralize this fable, when our attention was called off
to a warm dispute between my wife and Mr Burchell, upon my daughters
intended expedition to town. My wife very strenuously insisted upon
the advantages that would result from it. Mr Burchell, on the contrary,
dissuaded her with great ardor, and I stood neuter. His present
dissuasions seemed but the second part of those which were received with
so ill a grace in the morning. The dispute grew high while poor Deborah,
instead of reasoning stronger, talked louder, and at last was obliged to
take shelter from a defeat in clamour. The conclusion of her harangue,
however, was highly displeasing to us all: she knew, she said, of some
who had their own secret reasons for what they advised; but, for
her part, she wished such to stay away from her house for the
future. --‘Madam,’ cried Burchell, with looks of great composure, which
tended to enflame her the more, ‘as for secret reasons, you are right:
I have secret reasons, which I forbear to mention, because you are not
able to answer those of which I make no secret: but I find my visits
here are become troublesome; I’ll take my leave therefore now, and
perhaps come once more to take a final farewell when I am quitting the
country. ’ Thus saying, he took up his hat, nor could the attempts of
Sophia, whose looks seemed to upbraid his precipitancy, prevent his
going.

When gone, we all regarded each other for some minutes with confusion.
My wife, who knew herself to be the cause, strove to hide her concern
with a forced smile, and an air of assurance, which I was willing to
reprove: ‘How, woman,’ cried I to her, ‘is it thus we treat strangers?
Is it thus we return their kindness? Be assured, my dear, that these
were the harshest words, and to me the most unpleasing that ever escaped
your lips! ’--‘Why would he provoke me then,’ replied she; ‘but I know
the motives of his advice perfectly well. He would prevent my girls from
going to town, that he may have the pleasure of my youngest daughter’s
company here at home. But whatever happens, she shall chuse better
company than such low-lived fellows as he. ’--‘Low-lived, my dear, do
you call him,’ cried I, ‘it is very possible we may mistake this man’s
character: for he seems upon some occasions the most finished gentleman
I ever knew. --Tell me, Sophia, my girl, has he ever given you any secret
instances of his attachment? ’--‘His conversation with me, sir,’ replied
my daughter, ‘has ever been sensible, modest, and pleasing. As to aught
else, no, never. Once, indeed, I remember to have heard him say he never
knew a woman who could find merit in a man that seemed poor. ’ ‘Such, my
dear,’ cried I, ‘is the common cant of all the unfortunate or idle. But
I hope you have been taught to judge properly of such men, and that it
would be even madness to expect happiness from one who has been so
very bad an oeconomist of his own. Your mother and I have now better
prospects for you. The next winter, which you will probably spend in
town, will give you opportunities of making a more prudent choice. ’
What Sophia’s reflections were upon this occasion, I can’t pretend to
determine; but I was not displeased at the bottom that we were rid of a
guest from whom I had much to fear. Our breach of hospitality went to my
conscience a little: but I quickly silenced that monitor by two or three
specious reasons, which served to satisfy and reconcile me to myself.
The pain which conscience gives the man who has already done wrong,
is soon got over. Conscience is a coward, and those faults it has not
strength enough to prevent, it seldom has justice enough to accuse.



CHAPTER 14

Fresh mortifications, or a demonstration that seeming
calamities may be real blessings


The journey of my daughters to town was now resolved upon, Mr Thornhill
having kindly promised to inspect their conduct himself, and inform us
by letter of their behaviour. But it was thought indispensably necessary
that their appearance should equal the greatness of their expectations,
which could not be done without expence. We debated therefore in
full council what were the easiest methods of raising money, or,
more properly speaking, what we could most conveniently sell. The
deliberation was soon finished, it was found that our remaining horse
was utterly useless for the plow, without his companion, and equally
unfit for the road, as wanting an eye, it was therefore determined
that we should dispose of him for the purposes above-mentioned, at the
neighbouring fair, and, to prevent imposition, that I should go with him
myself. Though this was one of the first mercantile transactions of my
life, yet I had no doubt about acquitting myself with reputation. The
opinion a man forms of his own prudence is measured by that of the
company he keeps, and as mine was mostly in the family way, I had
conceived no unfavourable sentiments of my worldly wisdom. My wife,
however, next morning, at parting, after I had got some paces from the
door, called me back, to advise me, in a whisper, to have all my eyes
about me. I had, in the usual forms, when I came to the fair, put my
horse through all his paces; but for some time had no bidders. At last
a chapman approached, and, after he had for a good while examined the
horse round, finding him blind of one eye, he would have nothing to say
to him: a second came up; but observing he had a spavin, declared he
would not take him for the driving home: a third perceived he had a
windgall, and would bid no money: a fourth knew by his eye that he had
the botts: a fifth, wondered what a plague I could do at the fair with
a blind, spavined, galled hack, that was only fit to be cut up for a
dog kennel. ’ By this time I began to have a most hearty contempt for
the poor animal myself, and was almost ashamed at the approach of every
customer; for though I did not entirely believe all the fellows told me;
yet I reflected that the number of witnesses was a strong presumption
they were right, and St Gregory, upon good works, professes himself to
be of the same opinion.

I was in this mortifying situation, when a brother clergyman, an old
acquaintance, who had also business to the fair, came up, and shaking me
by the hand, proposed adjourning to a public-house and taking a glass of
whatever we could get. I readily closed with the offer, and entering an
ale-house, we were shewn into a little back room, where there was only a
venerable old man, who sat wholly intent over a large book, which he
was reading. I never in my life saw a figure that prepossessed me more
favourably. His locks of silver grey venerably shaded his temples, and
his green old age seemed to be the result of health and benevolence.
However, his presence did not interrupt our conversation; my friend and
I discoursed on the various turns of fortune we had met: the Whistonean
controversy, my last pamphlet, the archdeacon’s reply, and the hard
measure that was dealt me. But our attention was in a short time taken
off by the appearance of a youth, who, entering the room, respectfully
said something softly to the old stranger. ‘Make no apologies, my
child,’ said the old man, ‘to do good is a duty we owe to all our fellow
creatures: take this, I wish it were more; but five pounds will relieve
your distress, and you are welcome. ’ The modest youth shed tears of
gratitude, and yet his gratitude was scarce equal to mine. I could have
hugged the good old man in my arms, his benevolence pleased me so. He
continued to read, and we resumed our conversation, until my companion,
after some time, recollecting that he had business to transact in the
fair, promised to be soon back; adding, that he always desired to have
as much of Dr Primrose’s company as possible. The old gentleman, hearing
my name mentioned, seemed to look at me with attention, for some time,
and when my friend was gone, most respectfully demanded if I was any way
related to the great Primrose, that courageous monogamist, who had been
the bulwark of the church. Never did my heart feel sincerer rapture than
at that moment. ‘Sir,’ cried I, ‘the applause of so good a man, as I am
sure you are, adds to that happiness in my breast which your benevolence
has already excited. You behold before you, Sir, that Doctor Primrose,
the monogamist, whom you have been pleased to call great. You here see
that unfortunate Divine, who has so long, and it would ill become me to
say, successfully, fought against the deuterogamy of the age. ’ ‘Sir,’
cried the stranger, struck with awe, ‘I fear I have been too familiar;
but you’ll forgive my curiosity, Sir: I beg pardon. ’ ‘Sir,’ cried
I, grasping his hand, ‘you are so far from displeasing me by your
familiarity, that I must beg you’ll accept my friendship, as you already
have my esteem. ’--‘Then with gratitude I accept the offer,’ cried he,
squeezing me by the hand, ‘thou glorious pillar of unshaken orthodoxy;
and do I behold--’ I here interrupted what he was going to say; for
tho’, as an author, I could digest no small share of flattery, yet now
my modesty would permit no more. However, no lovers in romance ever
cemented a more instantaneous friendship. We talked upon several
subjects: at first I thought he seemed rather devout than learned, and
began to think he despised all human doctrines as dross. Yet this no way
lessened him in my esteem; for I had for some time begun privately to
harbour such an opinion myself. I therefore took occasion to observe,
that the world in general began to be blameably indifferent as to
doctrinal matters, and followed human speculations too much--‘Ay, Sir,’
replied he, as if he had reserved all his learning to that moment, ‘Ay,
Sir, the world is in its dotage, and yet the cosmogony or creation of
the world has puzzled philosophers of all ages. What a medly of opinions
have they not broached upon the creation of the world? Sanconiathon,
Manetho, Berosus, and Ocellus Lucanus, have all attempted it in vain.
The latter has these words, Anarchon ara kai atelutaion to pan, which
imply that all things have neither beginning nor end. Manetho also,
who lived about the time of Nebuchadon-Asser, Asser being a Syriac word
usually applied as a sirname to the kings of that country, as Teglat
Phael-Asser, Nabon-Asser, he, I say, formed a conjecture equally absurd;
for as we usually say ek to biblion kubernetes, which implies that books
will never teach the world; so he attempted to investigate--But, Sir, I
ask pardon, I am straying from the question. ’--That he actually was; nor
could I for my life see how the creation of the world had any thing to
do with the business I was talking of; but it was sufficient to shew me
that he was a man of letters, and I now reverenced him the more. I was
resolved therefore to bring him to the touch-stone; but he was too mild
and too gentle to contend for victory. Whenever I made any observation
that looked like a challenge to controversy, he would smile, shake his
head, and say nothing; by which I understood he could say much, if
he thought proper. The subject therefore insensibly changed from the
business of antiquity to that which brought us both to the fair; mine I
told him was to sell an horse, and very luckily, indeed, his was to buy
one for one of his tenants. My horse was soon produced, and in fine we
struck 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 complying 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
Jackson’s, or any where. ’ While the fellow was gone, he entertained
me with a pathetic harangue on the great scarcity of silver, which I
undertook to improve, by deploring also the great scarcity of gold; so
that by the time Abraham returned, we had both agreed that money was
never so hard to be come at as now. Abraham returned to inform us, that
he had been over the whole fair and could not get change, tho’ he had
offered half a crown for doing it. This was a very great disappointment
to us all; but the old gentleman having paused a little, asked me if I
knew one Solomon Flamborough in my part of the country: upon replying
that he was my next door neighbour, ‘if that be the case then,’ returned
he, ‘I believe we shall deal. You shall have a draught upon him, payable
at sight; and let me tell you he is as warm a man as any within five
miles round him. Honest Solomon and I have been acquainted for many
years together.
I remember I always beat him at threejumps; but he could
hop upon one leg farther than I. ’ A draught upon my neighbour was to me
the same as money; for I was sufficiently convinced of his ability:
the draught was signed and put into my hands, and Mr Jenkinson, the old
gentleman, his man Abraham, and my horse, old Blackberry, trotted off
very well pleased with each other.

After a short interval being left to reflection, I began to recollect
that I had done wrong in taking a draught from a stranger, and so
prudently resolved upon following the purchaser, and having back my
horse. But this was now too late: I therefore made directly homewards,
resolving to get the draught changed into money at my friend’s as fast
as possible. I found my honest neighbour smoking his pipe at his own
door, and informing him that I had a small bill upon him, he read
it twice over. ‘You can read the name, I suppose,’ cried I, ‘Ephraim
Jenkinson. ’ ‘Yes,’ returned he, ‘the name is written plain enough, and I
know the gentleman too, the greatest rascal under the canopy of heaven.
This is the very same rogue who sold us the spectacles. Was he not a
venerable looking man, with grey hair, and no flaps to his pocket-holes?
And did he not talk a long string of learning about Greek and cosmogony,
and the world? ’ To this I replied with a groan. ‘Aye,’ continued he, ‘he
has but that one piece of learning in the world, and he always talks it
away whenever he finds a scholar in company; but I know the rogue, and
will catch him yet. ’ Though I was already sufficiently mortified, my
greatest struggle was to come, in facing my wife and daughters. No
truant was ever more afraid of returning to school, there to behold the
master’s visage, than I was of going home. I was determined, however, to
anticipate their fury, by first falling into a passion myself.

But, alas! upon entering, I found the family no way disposed for battle.
My wife and girls were all in tears, Mr Thornhill 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 some malicious person about
us, were that day set out for London. He could neither discover the
tendency, nor the author of these, but whatever they might be, or
whoever might have broached them, he continued to assure our family of
his friendship and protection. I found, therefore, that they bore
my disappointment with great resignation, as it was eclipsed in the
greatness of their own. But what perplexed us most was to think who
could be so base as to asperse the character of a family so harmless as
ours, too humble to excite envy, and too inoffensive to create disgust.



CHAPTER 15

All, Mr Burchell’s villainy at once detected. The folly of
being over-wise


That evening and a part of the following day was employed in fruitless
attempts to discover our enemies: scarce a family in the neighbourhood
but incurred our suspicions, and each of us had reasons for our opinion
best known to ourselves. As we were in this perplexity, one of our
little boys, who had been playing abroad, brought in a letter-case,
which he found on the green. It was quickly known to belong to Mr
Burchell, with whom it had been seen, and, upon examination, contained
some hints upon different subjects; but what particularly engaged our
attention was a sealed note, superscribed, ‘The copy of a letter to be
sent to the two ladies at Thornhill-castle. ’ It instantly occurred that
he was the base informer, and we deliberated whether the note should not
be broke open. I was against it; but Sophia, who said she was sure
that of all men he would be the last to be guilty of so much baseness,
insisted upon its being read, In this she was seconded by the rest of
the family, and, at their joint solicitation, I read as follows:--

‘Ladies,--The bearer will sufficiently satisfy you as to the person
from whom this comes: one at least the friend of innocence, and ready to
prevent its being seduced. I am informed for a truth, that you have
some intention of bringing two young ladies to town, whom I have some
knowledge of, under the character of companions. As I would neither have
simplicity imposed upon, nor virtue contaminated, I must offer it as
my opinion, that the impropriety of such a step will be attended with
dangerous consequences. It has never been my way to treat the infamous
or the lewd with severity; nor should I now have taken this method of
explaining myself, or reproving folly, did it not aim at guilt. Take
therefore the admonition of a friend, and seriously reflect on the
consequences of introducing infamy and vice into retreats where peace
and innocence have hitherto resided. ’ Our doubts were now at an end.
There seemed indeed something applicable to both sides in this letter,
and its censures might as well be referred to those to whom it was
written, as to us; but the malicious meaning was obvious, and we went no
farther. My wife had scarce patience to hear me to the end, but railed
at the writer with unrestrained resentment. Olivia was equally severe,
and Sophia seemed perfectly amazed at his baseness. As for my part, it
appeared to me one of the vilest instances of unprovoked ingratitude
I had met with. Nor could I account for it in any other manner than
by imputing it to his desire of detaining my youngest daughter in the
country, to have the more frequent opportunities of an interview. In
this manner we all sate ruminating upon schemes 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 easier to conceive than
describe the complicated sensations which are felt from the pain of
a recent injury, and the pleasure of approaching vengeance. Tho’ our
intentions were only to upbraid him with his ingratitude; yet it was
resolved to do it in a manner that would be perfectly cutting. For this
purpose we agreed to meet him with our usual smiles, to chat in the
beginning with more than ordinary kindness, to amuse him a little;
and then in the midst of the flattering calm to burst upon him like an
earthquake, and overwhelm him with the sense of his own baseness. This
being resolved upon, my wife undertook to manage the business herself,
as she really had some talents for such an undertaking. We saw him
approach, he entered, drew a chair, and sate down. --‘A fine day, Mr
Burchell. ’--‘A very fine day, Doctor; though I fancy we shall have some
rain by the shooting of my corns. ’--‘The shooting of your horns,’ cried
my wife, in a loud fit of laughter, and then asked pardon for being fond
of a joke. --‘Dear madam,’ replied he, ‘I pardon you with all my heart;
for I protest I should not have thought it a joke had you not told
me. ’--‘Perhaps not, Sir,’ cried my wife, winking at us, ‘and yet I dare
say you can tell us how many jokes go to an ounce. ’--‘I fancy, madam,’
returned Burchell, ‘you have been reading a jest book this morning, that
ounce of jokes is so very good a conceit; and yet, madam, I had rather
see half an ounce of understanding. ’--‘I believe you might,’ cried my
wife, still smiling at us, though the laugh was against her; ‘and yet
I have seen some men pretend to understanding that have very
little. ’--‘And no doubt,’ replied her antagonist, ‘you have known ladies
set up for wit that had none. ’--I quickly began to find that my wife was
likely to gain but little at this business; so I resolved to treat him
in a stile of more severity myself. ‘Both wit and understanding,’ cried
I, ‘are trifles, without integrity: it is that which gives value to
every character. The ignorant peasant, without fault, is greater than
the philosopher with many; for what is genius or courage without an
heart? An honest man is the noblest work of God.

‘I always held that hackney’d maxim of Pope,’ returned Mr Burchell,
‘as very unworthy a man of genius, and a base desertion of his own
superiority. As the reputation of books is raised not by their freedom
from defect, but the greatness of their beauties; so should that of
men be prized not for their exemption from fault, but the size of
those virtues they are possessed of. The scholar may want prudence, the
statesman may have pride, and the champion ferocity; but shall we
prefer to these the low mechanic, who laboriously plods on through life,
without censure or applause? We might as well prefer the tame correct
paintings of the Flemish school to the erroneous, but sublime animations
of the Roman pencil. ’

‘Sir,’ replied I, ‘your present observation is just, when there are
shining virtues and minute defects; but when it appears that great
vices are opposed in the same mind to as extraordinary virtues, such a
character deserves contempt. ’ ‘Perhaps,’ cried he, ‘there may be some
such monsters as you describe, of great vices joined to great virtues;
yet in my progress through life, I never yet found one instance of their
existence: on the contrary, I have ever perceived, that where the mind
was capacious, the affections were good. And indeed Providence
seems kindly our friend in this particular, thus to debilitate the
understanding where the heart is corrupt, and diminish the power where
there is the will to do mischief. This rule seems to extend even to
other animals: the little vermin race are ever treacherous, cruel, and
cowardly, whilst those endowed with strength and power are generous,
brave, and gentle. ’

‘These observations sound well,’ returned I, ‘and yet it would be easy
this moment to point out a man,’ and I fixed my eye stedfastly upon
him, ‘whose head and heart form a most detestable contrast. Ay, Sir,’
continued I, raising my voice, ‘and I am glad to have this opportunity
of detecting him in the midst of his fancied security. Do you know
this, Sir, this pocket-book? ’--‘Yes, Sir,’ returned he, with a face of
impenetrable assurance, ‘that pocket-book is mine, and I am glad you
have found it. ’--‘And do you know,’ cried I, ‘this letter? Nay, never
falter man; but look me full in the face: I say, do you know this
letter? ’--‘That letter,’ returned he, ‘yes, it was I that wrote that
letter. ’--‘And how could you,’ said I, ‘so basely, so ungratefully
presume to write this letter? ’--‘And how came you,’ replied he, with
looks of unparallelled effrontery, ‘so basely to presume 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 swear at the next justice’s, that you have been
guilty of breaking open the lock of my pocket-book, and so hang you all
up at his door. ’ This piece of unexpected insolence raised me to such a
pitch, that I could scare govern my passion. ‘Ungrateful wretch, begone,
and no longer pollute my dwelling with thy baseness. Begone, and never
let me see thee again: go from my doors, and the only punishment I wish
thee is an allarmed conscience, which will be a sufficient tormentor! ’
So saying, I threw him his pocket-book, which he took up with a smile,
and shutting the clasps with the utmost composure, left us, quite
astonished at the serenity of his assurance. My wife was particularly
enraged that nothing could make him angry, or make him seem ashamed of
his villainies. ‘My dear,’ cried I, willing to calm those passions that
had been raised too high among us, ‘we are not to be surprised that bad
men want shame; they only blush at being detected in doing good, but
glory in their vices.

‘Guilt and shame, says the allegory, were at first companions, and in
the beginning of their journey inseparably kept together. But their
union was soon found to be disagreeable and inconvenient to both; guilt
gave shame frequent uneasiness, and shame often betrayed the secret
conspiracies of guilt. After long disagreeement, therefore, they at
length consented to part for ever. Guilt boldly walked forward alone,
to overtake fate, that went before in the shape of an executioner:
but shame being naturally timorous, returned back to keep company with
virtue, which, in the beginning of their journey, they had left behind.
Thus, my children, after men have travelled through a few stages in
vice, shame forsakes them, and returns back to wait upon the few virtues
they have still remaining. ’



CHAPTER 16

Family use art, which is opposed with, still greater


Whatever might have been Sophia’s sensations, the rest of the family
was easily consoled, for Mr Burchell’s absence by the company of our
landlord, whose visits now became more frequent and longer. Though he
had been disappointed in procuring my daughters the amusements of the
town, as he designed, he took every opportunity of supplying them with
those little recreations which our retirement would admit of. He usually
came in the morning, and while my son and I followed our occupations
abroad, he sat with the family at home, and amused them by describing
the town, with every part of which he was particularly acquainted. He
could repeat all the observations that were retailed in the atmosphere
of the playhouses, and had all the good things of the high wits by rote
long before they made way into the jest-books. The intervals between
conversation were employed in teaching my daughters piquet, or sometimes
in setting my two little ones to box to make them sharp, as he called
it: but the hopes of having him for a son-in-law, in some measure
blinded us to all his imperfections. It must be owned that my wife laid
a thousand schemes to entrap him, or, to speak it more tenderly, used
every art to magnify the merit of her daughter. If the cakes at tea eat
short and crisp, they were made by Olivia: if the gooseberry wine was
well knit, the gooseberries were of her gathering: it was her fingers
which gave the pickles their peculiar green; and in the composition of
a pudding, it was her judgment that mix’d the ingredients. Then the poor
woman would sometimes tell the ‘Squire, that she thought him and Olivia
extremely of a size, and would bid both stand up to see which was
tallest. These instances of cunning, which she thought impenetrable, yet
which every body saw through, were very pleasing to our benefactor, who
gave every day some new proofs of his passion, which though they had not
arisen to proposals of marriage, yet we thought fell but little short of
it; and his slowness was attributed sometimes to native bashfulness, and
sometimes to his fear of offending his uncle. An occurrence, however,
which happened soon after, put it beyond a doubt that he designed
to become one of our family, my wife even regarded it as an absolute
promise.

My wife and daughters happening to return a visit to neighbour
Flamborough’s, found that family had lately got their pictures drawn
by a limner, who travelled the country, and took likenesses for fifteen
shillings a head. As this family and ours had long a sort of rivalry in
point of taste, our spirit took the alarm at this stolen march upon us,
and notwithstanding all I could say, and I said much, it was resolved
that we should have our pictures done too. Having, therefore, engaged
the limner, for what could I do? our next deliberation was to shew
the superiority of our taste in the attitudes. As for our neighbour’s
family, there were seven of them, and they were drawn with seven
oranges, a thing quite out of taste, no variety in life, no composition
in the world. We desired to have something in a brighter style, and,
after many debates, at length came to an unanimous resolution of being
drawn together, in one large historical family piece. This would be
cheaper, since one frame would serve for all, and it would be infinitely
more genteel; for all families of any taste were now drawn in the same
manner. As we did not immediately recollect an historical subject to hit
us, we were contented each with being drawn as independent historical
figures. My wife desired to be represented as Venus, and the painter was
desired not to be too frugal of his diamonds in her stomacher and hair.
Her two little ones were to be as Cupids by her side, while I, in
my gown and band, was to present her with my books on the Whistonian
controversy. Olivia would be drawn as an Amazon, sitting upon a bank of
flowers, drest in a green joseph, richly laced with gold, and a whip
in her hand. Sophia was to be a shepherdess, with as many sheep as the
painter could put in for nothing; and Moses was to be drest out with an
hat and white feather. Our taste so much pleased the ‘Squire, that
he insisted on being put in as one of the family in the character of
Alexander the great, at Olivia’s feet. This was considered by us all as
an indication of his desire to be introduced into the family, nor could
we refuse his request. The painter was therefore set to work, and as he
wrought with assiduity and expedition, in less than four days the whole
was compleated. The piece was large, and it must be owned he did not
spare his colours; for which my wife gave him great encomiums. We
were all perfectly satisfied with his performance; but an unfortunate
circumstance had not occurred till the picture was finished, which now
struck us with dismay. It was so very large that we had no place in the
house to fix it. How we all came to disregard so material a point is
inconceivable; but certain it is, we had been all greatly remiss. The
picture, therefore, instead of gratifying our vanity, as we hoped,
leaned, in a most mortifying manner, against the kitchen wall, where the
canvas was stretched and painted, much too large to be got through any
of the doors, and the jest of all our neighhours. One compared it to
Robinson Crusoe’s long-boat, too large to be removed; another thought
it more resembled a reel in a bottle; some wondered how it could be got
out, but still more were amazed how it ever got in.

But though it excited the ridicule of some, it effectually raised more
malicious suggestions in many. The ‘Squire’s portrait being found united
with ours, was an honour too great to escape envy. Scandalous whispers
began to circulate at our expence, and our tranquility was continually
disturbed by persons who came as friends to tell us what was said of us
by enemies. These reports we always resented with becoming spirit; but
scandal ever improves by opposition.

We once again therefore entered into a consultation upon obviating the
malice of our enemies, and at last came to a resolution which had
too much cunning to give me entire satisfaction. It was this: as our
principal object was to discover the honour of Mr Thornhill’s addresses,
my wife undertook to sound him, by pretending to ask his advice in the
choice of an husband for her eldest daughter. If this was not found
sufficient to induce him to a declaration, it was then resolved to
terrify him with a rival. To this last step, however, I would by no
means give my consent, till Olivia gave me the most solemn assurances
that she would marry the person provided to rival him upon this
occasion, if he did not prevent it, by taking her himself. Such was
the scheme laid, which though I did not strenuously oppose, I did not
entirely approve.

The next time, therefore, that Mr Thornhill came to see us, my girls
took care to be out of the way, in order to give their mamma an
opportunity of putting her scheme in execution; but they only retired to
the next room, from whence they could over-hear the whole conversation:
My wife artfully introduced it, by observing, that one of the Miss
Flamboroughs was like to have a very good match of it in Mr Spanker. To
this the ‘Squire assenting, she proceeded to remark, that they who had
warm fortunes were always sure of getting good husbands: ‘But heaven
help,’ continued she, ‘the girls that have none. What signifies
beauty, Mr Thornhill? or what signifies all the virtue, and all the
qualifications in the world, in this age of self-interest? It is not,
what is she? but what has she? is all the cry. ’

‘Madam,’ returned he, ‘I highly approve the justice, as well as the
novelty, of your remarks, and if I were a king, it should be otherwise.
It should then, indeed, be fine times with the girls without fortunes:
our two young ladies should be the first for whom I would provide. ’ ‘Ah,
Sir! ’ returned my wife, ‘you are pleased to be facetious: but I wish I
were a queen, and then I know where my eldest daughter should look for
an husband. But now, that you have put it into my head, seriously Mr
Thornhill, can’t you recommend me a proper husband for her? She is now
nineteen years old, well grown and well educated, and, in my humble
opinion, does not want for parts. ’ ‘Madam,’ replied he, ‘if I were to
chuse, I would find out a person possessed of every accomplishment
that can make an angel happy. One with prudence, fortune, taste, and
sincerity, such, madam, would be, in my opinion, the proper husband. ’
‘Ay, Sir,’ said she, ‘but do you know of any such person? ’--‘No, madam,’
returned he, ‘it is impossible to know any person that deserves to be
her husband: she’s too great a treasure for one man’s possession: she’s
a goddess. Upon my soul, I speak what I think, she’s an angel. ’--‘Ah, Mr
Thornhill, you only flatter my poor girl: but we have been thinking of
marrying her to one of your tenants, whose mother is lately dead, and
who wants a manager: you know whom I mean, farmer Williams; a warm man,
Mr Thornhill, able to give her good bread; and who has several times
made her proposals: (which was actually the case) but, Sir,’ concluded
she, ‘I should be glad to have your approbation of our choice. ’--‘How,
madam,’ replied he, ‘my approbation! My approbation of such a choice!
Never. What! Sacrifice so much beauty, and sense, and goodness, to a
creature insensible of the blessing! Excuse me, I can never approve of
such a piece of injustice And I have my reasons! ’--‘Indeed, Sir,’ cried
Deborah, ‘if you have your reasons, that’s another affair; but I should
be glad to know those reasons. ’--‘Excuse me, madam,’ returned he, ‘they
lie too deep for discovery: (laying his hand upon his bosom) they remain
buried, rivetted here. ’

After he was gone, upon general consultation, we could not tell what to
make of these fine sentiments. Olivia considered them as instances of
the most exalted passion; but I was not quite so sanguine: it seemed to
me pretty plain, that they had more of love than matrimony in them: yet,
whatever they might portend, it was resolved to prosecute the scheme
of farmer Williams, who, from my daughter’s first appearance in the
country, had paid her his addresses.



CHAPTER 17

Scarce any virtue found to resist the power of long and
pleasing temptation

As I only studied my child’s real happiness, the assiduity of Mr
Williams pleased me, as he was in easy circumstances, prudent, and
sincere. It required but very little encouragement to revive his former
passion; so that in an evening or two he and Mr Thornhill met at our
house, and surveyed each other for some time with looks of anger: but
Williams owed his landlord no rent, and little regarded his indignation.
Olivia, on her side, acted the coquet to perfection, if that might be
called acting which was her real character, pretending to lavish all
her tenderness on her new lover. Mr Thornhill appeared quite dejected
at this preference, and with a pensive air took leave, though I own it
puzzled me to find him so much in pain as he appeared to be, when he
had it in his power so easily to remove the cause, by declaring an
honourable passion. But whatever uneasiness he seemed to endure, it
could easily be perceived that Olivia’s anguish was still greater. After
any of these interviews between her lovers, of which there were several,
she usually retired to solitude, and there indulged her grief. It was
in such a situation I found her one evening, after she had been for some
time supporting a fictitious gayety. --‘You now see, my child,’ said
I, ‘that your confidence in Mr Thornhill’s passion was all a dream: he
permits the rivalry of another, every way his inferior, though he
knows it lies in his power to secure you to himself by a candid
declaration. ’--‘Yes, pappa,’ returned she, ‘but he has his reasons for
this delay: I know he has. The sincerity of his looks and words
convince me of his real esteem. A short time, I hope, will discover the
generosity of his sentiments, and convince you that my opinion of him
has been more just than yours. ’--‘Olivia, my darling,’ returned
I, ‘every scheme that has been hitherto pursued to compel him to a
declaration, has been proposed and planned by yourself, nor can you in
the least say that I have constrained you. But you must not suppose, my
dear, that I will ever be instrumental in suffering his honest rival
to be the dupe of your ill-placed passion. Whatever time you require to
bring your fancied admirer to an explanation shall be granted; but
at the expiration of that term, if he is still regardless, I must
absolutely insist that honest Mr Williams shall be rewarded for his
fidelity. The character which I have hitherto supported in life demands
this from me, and my tenderness, as a parent, shall never influence
my integrity as a man. Name then your day, let it be as distant as you
think proper, and in the mean time take care to let Mr Thornhill know
the exact time on which I design delivering you up to another. If he
really loves you, his own good sense will readily suggest that there is
but one method alone to prevent his losing you forever. ’--This proposal,
which she could not avoid considering as perfectly just, was readily
agreed to. She again renewed her most positive promise of marrying
Mr Williams, in case of the other’s insensibility; and at the next
opportunity, in Mr Thornhill’s presence, that day month was fixed upon
for her nuptials with his rival.

Such vigorous proceedings seemed to redouble Mr Thornhill’s anxiety:
but what Olivia really felt gave me some uneasiness. In this struggle
between prudence and passion, her vivacity quite forsook her, and every
opportunity of solitude was sought, and spent in tears. One week passed
away; but Mr Thornhill made no efforts to restrain her nuptials. The
succeeding week he was still assiduous; but not more open. On the
third he discontinued his visits entirely, and instead of my daughter
testifying any impatience, as I expected, she seemed to retain a pensive
tranquillity, which I looked upon as resignation. For my own part, I
was now sincerely pleased with thinking that my child was going to
be secured in a continuance of competence and peace, and frequently
applauded her resolution, in preferring happiness to ostentation.

It was within about four days of her intended nuptials, that my little
family at night were gathered round a charming fire, telling stories
of the past, and laying schemes for the future. Busied in forming a
thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly came uppermost, ‘Well,
Moses,’ cried I, ‘we shall soon, my boy, have a wedding in the family,
what is your opinion of matters and things in general? ’--‘My opinion,
father, is, that all things go on very well; and I was just now
thinking, that when sister Livy is married to farmer Williams, we
shall then have the loan of his cyder-press and brewing tubs for
nothing. ’--‘That we shall, Moses,’ cried I, ‘and he will sing us Death
and the Lady, to raise our spirits into the bargain. ’--‘He has taught
that song to our Dick,’ cried Moses; ‘and I think he goes thro’ it very
prettily. ’--‘Does he so,’ cried I, then let us have it: where’s little
Dick? let him up with it boldly. ’--‘My brother Dick,’ cried Bill my
youngest, ‘is just gone out with sister Livy; but Mr Williams has taught
me two songs, and I’ll sing them for you, pappa. Which song do you
chuse, the Dying Swan, or the Elegy on the death of a mad dog? ’ ‘The
elegy, child, by all means,’ said I, ‘I never heard that yet; and
Deborah, my life, grief you know is dry, let us have a bottle of the
best gooseberry wine, to keep up our spirits. I have wept so much at
all sorts of elegies of late, that without an enlivening glass I am sure
this will overcome me; and Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in
with the boy a little. ’

An Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog.

Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find
it wond’rous short, It cannot hold you long.

In Isling town there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still
a godly race he ran, Whene’er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked
every day he clad, When he put on his cloaths.

And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mungrel,
puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends; But when a pique began, The dog,
to gain some private ends, Went mad and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets, The wondering neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost his wits, To bite so good a man.

The wound it seem’d both sore and sad, To every Christian eye; And while
they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light, That shew’d the rogues they lied, The
man recovered of the bite, The dog it was that dy’d.

‘A very good boy, Bill, upon my word, and an elegy that may truly be
called tragical.