No More Learning

I had even the satisfaction to see her
lavish some kind looks upon my unfortunate son, which the other could
neither extort by his fortune nor assiduity. Mr Thornhill’s seeming
composure, however, not a little surprised me: we had now continued here
a week, at the pressing instances of Mr Arnold; but each day the more
tenderness Miss Wilmot shewed my son, Mr Thomhill’s friendship seemed
proportionably to encrease for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER 22

Offences are easily pardoned where there is love at bottom


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

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

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

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

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



CHAPTER 23

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 at
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 represt his future solicitations. Her grief seemed
formed for continuing, and she was the only person of 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 now had 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, tho’ cured, ever plants others where it has been,
so her former guilt, tho’ 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 her’s, 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 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, tho’ 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 surprize, and making all 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, tho’ 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 her 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 surprize 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 encounter’d 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 each, 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, tho’ he took every opportunity
before me to express his contempt both of her person and fortune. This
news only served to encrease poor Olivia’s affliction; 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. O, 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 splendours 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 farther 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 tranquility was the langour of
over-wrought resentment. A supply of provisions, charitably sent us by
my kind parishioners, seemed to diffuse new cheerfulness amongst the
rest of the family, nor was I displeased at seeing them once more
sprightly and at ease. It would have been unjust to damp their
satisfactions, merely to condole with resolute melancholy, or to burthen
them with a sadness they did not feel. Thus, once more, the tale went
round and the song was demanded, and cheerfulness condescended to hover
round our little habitation.



CHAPTER 24

Fresh calamities


The next morning the sun rose with peculiar warmth for the season; so
that we agreed to breakfast together on the honeysuckle bank: where,
while we sate, 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, sooths 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 pappa 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 sooth 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
encreased 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, enquired 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 don’t think your daughter’s late
excursion with me had any thing criminal in it. ’

‘Go,’ cried I, ‘thou art a wretch, a poor pitiful wretch, and every
way a lyar; 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 an harsher
manner than I intended. But as I have shewn 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 expences 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
solemnized 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 wofully, irreparably,
deceived me. I reposed my heart upon thine honour, and have found its
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 the 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 now I stood prepared to repel every new effort. Like one of those
instruments used in the art of war, which, however thrown, still
presents 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, when 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.

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 on which you have 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 cloaths 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 elder 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 mean time
my youngest daughter prepared for our departure, and as she received
several hints to use dispatch, in about an hour we were ready to depart.



CHAPTER 25

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
an 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 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? Shew 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 farther
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 apprized 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 soon was filled
with riot, laughter, and prophaneness.

‘How,’ cried I to myself, ‘shall men so very wicked be chearful, 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 chearful; but chearfulness
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 instruction; 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 here 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-cloaths are heartily at your service. ’

I thanked him, professing my surprize 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 kosman 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 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 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 had prevented his distinguishing my features
before. --‘Yes, Sir,’ returned Mr Jenkinson, ‘I remember you perfectly
well; I bought an 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, shewing his shackles, ‘what my tricks have brought
me to. ’

‘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 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-cloaths 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 learnt 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
cloaths 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 tranquility till morning.



CHAPTER 26

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 bed-side. The gloomy strength of every thing about us, it
seems, had daunted them. I gently rebuked their sorrow, assuring them
I had never slept with greater tranquility, and next enquired after
my eldest daughter, who was not among them. They informed me that
yesterday’s uneasiness and fatigue had encreased 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 the 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 expence, 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 any where 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 declining sister’s
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 full 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 sate 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 prophane; because
they got nothing by it, but 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 greatest, who, after robbing an house, runs to the thieftakers 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 thieftaker 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
hopes 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
had 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.

‘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
great comfort to have 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 ribband 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 not 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.