"
"That she is," cried Jenkinson; "and make much of her, for she is your
own honourable child, and as honest a woman as any in the whole room,
let the other be who she will.
"That she is," cried Jenkinson; "and make much of her, for she is your
own honourable child, and as honest a woman as any in the whole room,
let the other be who she will.
Oliver Goldsmith
_
_Former benevolence now repaid with unexpected interest. _
Mr. Thornhill made his entrance with a smile, which he seldom wanted,
and was going to embrace his uncle, which the other repulsed with an air
of disdain. "No fawning, sir, at present," cried the baronet, with a
look of severity; "the only way to my heart is by the road of honour;
but here I only see complicated instances of falsehood, cowardice, and
oppression. How is it, sir, that this poor man, for whom I know you
professed a friendship, is used thus hardly? His daughter vilely seduced
as a recompense for his hospitality, and he himself thrown into prison,
perhaps but for resenting the insult. His son, too, whom you feared to
face as a man——"
"Is it possible, sir," interrupted his nephew, "that my uncle should
object that as a crime which his repeated instructions alone have
persuaded me to avoid? "
"Your rebuke," cried Sir William, "is just: you have acted in this
instance prudently and well, though not quite as your father would have
done: my brother, indeed, was the soul of honour; but thou——yes, you
have acted in this instance perfectly right, and it has my warmest
approbation. "
"And I hope," said his nephew, "that the rest of my conduct will not be
found to deserve censure. I appeared, sir, with this gentleman's
daughter at some places of public amusement; thus, what was levity
scandal called by a harsher name, and it was reported that I had
debauched her. I waited on her father in person, willing to clear the
thing to his satisfaction, and he received me only with insult and
abuse. As for the rest, with regard to his being here, my attorney, and
steward can best inform you, as I commit the management of business
entirely to them. If he has contracted debts, and is unwilling, or even
unable, to pay them, it is their business to proceed in this manner; and
I see no hardship or injustice in pursuing the most legal means of
redress. "
"If this," cried Sir William, "be as you have stated it, there is
nothing unpardonable in your offences; and though your conduct might
have been more generous in not suffering this gentleman to be oppressed
by subordinate tyranny, yet it has been at least equitable. "
[Illustration:
_"And I hope," said his nephew, "that
the rest of my conduct will not be found
to deserve censure. "_—_p. _ 156.
]
"He cannot contradict a singular particular," replied the squire; "I
defy him to do so; and several of my servants are ready to attest what I
say. Thus, sir," continued he, finding that I was silent, for in fact I
could not contradict him: "thus, sir, my own innocence is vindicated:
but though at your entreaty I am ready to forgive this gentleman every
other offence, yet his attempts to lessen me in your esteem excite a
resentment that I cannot govern; and this, too, at a time when his son
was actually preparing to take away my life; this, I say, was such
guilt, that I am determined to let the law take its course. I have here
the challenge that was sent me, and two witnesses to prove it; one of my
servants has been wounded dangerously; and even though my uncle himself
should dissuade me, which I know he will not, yet I will see public
justice done, and he shall suffer for it. "
"Thou monster! " cried my wife, "hast thou not had vengeance enough
already, but must my poor boy feel thy cruelty? I hope that good Sir
William will protect us, for my son is as innocent as a child; I am sure
he is, and never did harm to man. "
"Madam," replied the good man, "your wishes for his safety are not
greater than mine; but I am sorry to find his guilt too plain; and if my
nephew persists——" But the appearance of Jenkinson and the gaolers two
servants now called off our attention, who entered hauling in a tall
man, very genteelly dressed, and answering the description already given
of the ruffian who had carried off my daughter. "Here," cried Jenkinson,
pulling him in, "Here we have him: and, if ever there was a candidate
for Tyburn, this is one. "
The moment Mr. Thornhill perceived the prisoner, and Jenkinson who had
him in custody, he seemed to shrink backward with terror. His face
became pale with conscious guilt, and he would have withdrawn; but
Jenkinson, who perceived his design, stopped him. "What, squire! " cried
he, "are you ashamed of your two old acquaintances, Jenkinson and
Baxter? But this is the way that all great men forget their friends,
though I am resolved we will not forget you. Our prisoner, please your
honour," continued he, turning to Sir William, "has already confessed
all. This is the gentleman reported to be so dangerously wounded; he
declares that it was Mr. Thornhill who first put him upon this affair;
that he gave him the clothes he now wears to appear like a gentleman,
and furnished him with the post-chaise. The plan was laid between them,
that he should carry off the young lady to a place of safety, and that
there he should threaten and terrify her; but Mr. Thornhill was to come
in in the meantime, as if by accident, to her rescue, and that they
should fight awhile, and then he was to run off, by which Mr. Thornhill
would have the better opportunity of gaining her affections himself
under the character of her defender. "
Sir William remembered the coat to have been frequently worn by his
nephew, and all the rest the prisoner himself confirmed by a more
circumstantial account; concluding, that Mr. Thornhill had often
declared to him that he was in love with both sisters at the same time.
"Heavens! " cried Sir William, "what a viper have I been fostering in my
bosom! And so fond of public justice, too, as he seemed to be! But he
shall have it. Secure him, Mr. Gaoler. Yet hold; I fear there is no
legal evidence to detain him. "
Upon this, Mr. Thornhill, with the utmost humility, entreated that two
such abandoned wretches might not be admitted as evidence against him,
but that his servants should be examined. "Your servants! " replied Sir
William; "wretch! call them yours no longer: but come, let us hear what
those fellows have to say: let his butler be called. "
When the butler was introduced, he soon perceived by his former master's
looks that all his power was now over. "Tell me," cried Sir William,
sternly, "have you ever seen your master and that fellow dressed up in
his clothes in company together? " "Yes, please your honour," cried the
butler, "a thousand times: he was the man that always brought him his
ladies. " "How! " interrupted young Mr. Thornhill, "this to my face? "
"Yes," replied the butler; "or to any man's face. To tell you a truth,
Master Thornhill, I never either loved you or liked you, and I don't
care if I tell you now a piece of my mind. " "Now then," cried Jenkinson,
"tell his honour whether you know anything of me. " "I can't say,"
replied the butler, "that I know much good of you. The night that
gentleman's daughter was deluded to our house, you were one of them. "
"So then," cried Sir William, "I find you have brought a very fine
witness to prove your innocence; thou stain to humanity! to associate
with such wretches! But," continuing his examination, "you tell me, Mr.
Butler, that this was the person who brought him this old gentleman's
daughter. " "No, please your honour," replied the butler, "he did not
bring her, for the squire himself undertook that business; but he
brought the priest that pretended to marry them. "
"It is but too true," cried Jenkinson; "I cannot deny it; that was the
employment assigned to me, and I confess it to my confusion. "
"Good Heavens! " exclaimed the worthy baronet, "how every new discovery
of his villainy alarms me! All his guilt is now too plain, and I find
his present prosecution was dictated by tyranny, cowardice, and revenge:
at my request, Mr. Gaoler, set this young officer, now your prisoner,
free, and trust to me for the consequences. I'll make it my business to
set the affair in a proper light to my friend the magistrate who has
committed him. But where is the unfortunate young lady herself? Let her
appear to confront this wretch. I long to know by what arts he has
seduced her. Entreat her to come in. Where is she? "
"Ah, sir! " said I, "that question stings me to the heart. I was once
indeed happy in a daughter, but her miseries——" Another interruption
here prevented me; for who should make her appearance but Miss Arabella
Wilmot, who was the next day to have been married to Mr. Thornhill.
Nothing could equal her surprise at seeing Sir William and his nephew
here before her; for her arrival was quite accidental. It happened that
she and the old gentleman, her father, were passing through the town on
their way to her aunt's, who had insisted that her nuptials with Mr.
Thornhill should be consummated at her house; but, stopping for
refreshment, they put up at an inn at the other end of the town. It was
there, from the window, that the young lady happened to observe one of
my little boys playing in the street, and, instantly sending a footman
to bring the child to her, she learnt from him some account of our
misfortunes, but was still kept ignorant of young Mr. Thornhill's being
the cause. Though her father made several remonstrances on the
impropriety of her going to a prison to visit us, yet they were
ineffectual: she desired the child to conduct her, which he did, and it
was thus she surprised us at a juncture so unexpected.
Nor can I go on without a reflection on those accidental meetings,
which, though they happen every day, seldom excite our surprise but upon
some extraordinary occasion. To what a fortuitous concurrence do we not
owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives! How many seeming
accidents must unite before we can be clothed or fed! The peasant must
be disposed to labour, the shower must fall, the wind fill the
merchant's sail, or numbers must want the usual supply.
We all continued silent for some moments, while my charming pupil, which
was the name I generally gave this young lady, united in her looks
compassion and astonishment, which gave new finishings to her beauty.
"Indeed, my dear Mr. Thornhill," cried she to the squire, who she
supposed was come here to succour and not to oppress us, "I take it a
little unkindly that you should come here without me, or never inform me
of the situation of a family so dear to us both: you know I should take
as much pleasure in contributing to the relief of my reverend old master
here, whom I shall ever esteem, as you can. But I find that, like your
uncle, you take a pleasure in doing good in secret. "
"He find pleasure in doing good! " cried Sir William, interrupting her:
"no, my dear, his pleasures are as base as he is. You see in him, madam,
as complete a villain as ever disgraced humanity. A wretch, who, after
having deluded this poor man's daughter, after plotting against the
innocence of her sister, has thrown the father into prison, and the
eldest son into fetters, because he had the courage to face her
betrayer! And give me leave, madam, now to congratulate you upon an
escape from the embraces of such a monster. "
[Illustration:
"_We had now, therefore, the satisfaction
of seeing them fly into each other's arms
in a transport. _"—_p. _ 164.
]
"O goodness! " cried the lovely girl, "how have I been deceived! Mr.
Thornhill informed me, for certain, that this gentleman's eldest son,
Captain Primrose, was gone off to America with his new-married lady. "
"My sweetest miss," cried my wife, "he has told you nothing but
falsehoods. My son George never left the kingdom, nor ever was married.
Though you have forsaken him, he has always loved you too well to think
of anybody else; and I have heard him say he would die a bachelor for
your sake. " She then proceeded to expatiate upon the sincerity of her
son's passion; she set his duel with Mr. Thornhill in a proper light;
from thence she made a rapid digression to the squire's debaucheries,
his pretended marriages, and ended with a most insulting picture of his
cowardice.
"Good Heaven! " cried Miss Wilmot, "how very near have I been to the
brink of ruin! but how great is my pleasure to have escaped it! Ten
thousand falsehoods has this gentleman told me! He had at last art
enough to persuade me that my promise to the only man I esteemed was no
longer binding, since he had been unfaithful. By his falsehoods I was
taught to detest one equally brave and generous. "
But by this time my son was freed from the incumbrances of justice, as
the person supposed to be wounded was detected to be an impostor. Mr.
Jenkinson also, who had acted as his valet-de-chambre, had dressed up
his hair, and furnished him with whatever was necessary to make a
genteel appearance. He now, therefore, entered, handsomely dressed in
his regimentals, and without vanity (for I am above it) he appeared as
handsome a fellow as ever wore a military dress. As he entered, he made
Miss Wilmot a modest and distant bow, for he was not as yet acquainted
with the change which the eloquence of his mother had wrought in his
favour. But no decorums could restrain the impatience of his blushing
mistress to be forgiven. Her tears, her looks, all contributed to
discover the real sensations of her heart, for having forgotten her
former promise, and having suffered herself to be deluded by an
impostor. My son appeared amazed at her condescension, and could
scarcely believe it real. "Sure, madam," cried he, "this is but
delusion; I can never have merited this! To be blessed thus, is to be
too happy! " "No sir," replied she, "I have been deceived, basely
deceived, else nothing could have ever made me unjust to my promise. You
know my friendship, you have long known it: but forget what I have done;
and, as you once had my warmest vows of constancy, you shall now have
them repeated; and be assured, that if your Arabella cannot be yours,
she shall never be another's. " "And no other's you shall be," cried Sir
William, "if I have any influence with your father. "
This hint was sufficient for my son Moses, who immediately flew to the
inn where the old gentleman was, to inform him of every circumstance
that had happened. But in the meantime the squire, perceiving that he
was on every side undone, now finding that no hopes were left from
flattery or dissimulation, concluded that his wisest way would be to
turn and face his pursuers. Thus, laying aside all shame, he appeared
the open, hardy villain. "I find, then," cried he, "that I am to expect
no justice here; but I am resolved it shall be done me. You shall know,
sir," turning to Sir William, "I am no longer a poor dependant upon your
favours. I scorn them. Nothing can keep Miss Wilmot's fortune from me,
which, I thank her father's assiduity, is pretty large. The articles and
a bond for her fortune are signed, and safe in my possession. It was her
fortune, not her person, that induced me to wish for this match; and,
possessed of the one, let who will take the other. "
This was an alarming blow: Sir William was sensible of the justice of
his claims, for he had been instrumental in drawing up the
marriage-articles himself. Miss Wilmot, therefore, perceiving that her
fortune was irretrievably lost, turning to my son, asked if the loss of
fortune could lessen her value to him. "Though fortune," said she, "is
out of my power, at least I have my hand to give. "
"And that, madam," cried her real lover, "was indeed all that you ever
had to give; at least, all that I ever thought worth the acceptance. And
I now protest, my Arabella, by all that's happy, your want of fortune
this moment increases my pleasure, as it serves to convince my sweet
girl of my sincerity. "
Mr. Wilmot now entering, he seemed not a little pleased at the danger
his daughter had just escaped, and readily consented to a dissolution of
the match. But finding that her fortune, which was secured to Mr.
Thornhill by bond, would not be given up, nothing could exceed his
disappointment. He now saw that his money must all go to enrich one who
had no fortune of his own. He could bear his being a rascal, but to want
an equivalent to his daughter's fortune was wormwood. He sat, therefore,
for some minutes employed in the most mortifying speculations, till Sir
William attempted to lessen his anxiety. "I must confess, sir," cried
he, "that your present disappointment does not entirely displease me.
Your immoderate passion for wealth is now justly punished. But though
the young lady cannot be rich, she has still a competence sufficient to
give content. Here you see an honest young soldier, who is willing to
take her without fortune: they have long loved each other, and for the
friendship I bear his father, my interest shall not be wanting in his
promotion. Leave, then, that ambition which disappoints you, and for
once admit that happiness which courts your acceptance. "
"Sir William," replied the old gentleman, "be assured I never yet forced
her inclinations, nor will I now. If she still continues to love this
young gentleman, let her have him with all my heart. There is still,
thank Heaven, some fortune left, and your promise will make it something
more. Only let my old friend here" (meaning me) "give me a promise of
settling six thousand pounds upon my girl, if ever he should come to his
fortune, and I am ready this night to be the first to join them
together. "
As it now remained with me to make the young couple happy, I readily
gave a promise of making the settlement he required; which, to one who
had such little expectations as I, was no great favour. We had now,
therefore, the satisfaction of seeing them fly into each other's arms in
a transport. "After all my misfortunes," cried my son George, "to be
thus rewarded! Sure this is more than I could ever have presumed to hope
for. To be possessed of all that's good, and after such an interval of
pain! my warmest wishes could never rise so high! " "Yes, my George,"
returned his lovely bride, "now let the wretch take my fortune: since
you are happy without it, so am I. Oh, what an exchange have I made from
the basest of men to the dearest, best! Let him enjoy our fortune; I now
can be happy even in indigence. " "And I promise you," cried the squire,
with a malicious grin, "that I shall be very happy with what you
despise. " "Hold, hold, sir! " cried Jenkinson; "there are two words to
that bargain. As for that lady's fortune, sir, you shall never touch a
single stiver of it. Pray, your honour," continued he to Sir William,
"can the squire have this lady's fortune if he be married to another? "
"How can you make such a simple demand? " replied the baronet:
"undoubtedly he cannot. " "I am sorry for that," cried Jenkinson; "for as
this gentleman and I have been old fellow-sporters, I have a friendship
for him. But I must declare, well as I love him, that his contract is
not worth a tobacco-stopper, for he is married already. " "You lie, like
a rascal! " returned the squire, who seemed roused by this insult; "I
never was legally married to any woman. " "Indeed, begging your honour's
pardon," replied the other, "you were; and I hope you will show a proper
return of friendship to your own honest Jenkinson, who brings you a
wife; and if the company restrain their curiosity a few minutes, they
shall see her. " So saying, he went off with his usual celerity, and left
us all unable to form any probable conjecture as to his design. "Aye,
let him go," cried the squire: "whatever else I may have done, I defy
him there. I am too old now to be frightened with squibs. "
[Illustration:
"_So saying, he put the license into the
baronet's hands, who read it, and found it
perfect in every respect. _"—_p. _ 166.
]
"I am surprised," said the baronet, "what the fellow can intend by this.
Some low piece of humour, I suppose. " "Perhaps, sir," replied I, "he may
have a more serious meaning. For when we reflect on the various schemes
this gentleman has laid to seduce innocence, perhaps some one, more
artful than the rest, has been found able to deceive him. When we
consider what numbers he has ruined, how many parents now feel with
anguish the infamy and the contamination which he has brought into their
families, it would not surprise me if some one of them—Amazement! Do I
see my lost daughter? Do I hold her? It is, it is—my life, my happiness!
I thought thee lost, my Olivia, yet still I hold thee, and still thou
shalt live to bless me. " The warmest transports of the fondest lover
were not greater than mine, when I saw him introduce my child, and held
my daughter in my arms, whose silence only spoke her raptures. "And art
thou returned to me, my darling," cried I, "to be my comfort in age?
"
"That she is," cried Jenkinson; "and make much of her, for she is your
own honourable child, and as honest a woman as any in the whole room,
let the other be who she will. And as for you, squire, as sure as you
stand there, this young lady is your lawful wedded wife: and to convince
you that I speak nothing but the truth, here is the license by which you
were married together. " So saying, he put the license into the baronet's
hands, who read it, and found it perfect in every respect. "And now,
gentlemen," continued he, "I find you are surprised at all this; but a
very few words will explain the difficulty. That there squire of renown,
for whom I have a great friendship (but that's between ourselves) has
often employed me in doing odd little things for him. Among the rest he
commissioned me to procure him a false license, and a false priest, in
order to deceive this young lady. But as I was very much his friend,
what did I do, but went and got a true license and a true priest, and
married them both as fast as the cloth could make them. Perhaps you'll
think it was generosity made me do all this. But no. To my shame I
confess it, my only design was to keep the license, and let the squire
know that I could prove it upon him whenever I thought proper, and so
make him come down whenever I wanted money. " A burst of pleasure now
seemed to fill the whole apartment; our joy even reached the
common-room, where the prisoners themselves sympathised,
And shook their chains
In transport and rude harmony.
Happiness was expanded upon every face, and even Olivia's cheeks seemed
flushed with pleasure. To be thus restored to reputation, to friends,
and fortune at once, was a rapture sufficient to stop the progress of
decay, and restore former health and vivacity. But, perhaps, among all,
there was not one who felt sincerer pleasure than I. Still holding the
dear-loved child in my arms, I asked my heart if these transports were
not delusion. "How could you," cried I, turning to Jenkinson, "how could
you add to my miseries by the story of her death? But it matters not: my
pleasure at finding her again is more than a recompense for the pain. "
"As to your question," replied Jenkinson, "that is easily answered. I
thought the only probable means of freeing you from prison, was by
submitting to the squire, and consenting to his marriage with the other
young lady. But these you had vowed never to grant while your daughter
was living; there was, therefore, no other method to bring things to
bear, but by persuading you that she was dead. I prevailed on your wife
to join in the deceit, and we have not had a fit opportunity of
undeceiving you till now. "
In the whole assembly there now appeared only two faces that did not
glow with transport. Mr. Thornhill's assurance had entirely forsaken
him; he now saw the gulf of infamy and want before him, and trembled to
take the plunge. He therefore fell on his knees before his uncle, and in
a voice of piercing misery implored compassion. Sir William was going to
spurn him away, but at my request he raised him, and after pausing a few
moments, "Thy vices, crimes, and ingratitude," cried he, "deserve no
tenderness; yet thou shalt not be entirely forsaken; a bare competence
shall be supplied to support the wants of life, but not its follies.
This young lady, thy wife, shall be put in possession of a third part of
that fortune which once was thine; and from her tenderness alone thou
art to expect any extraordinary supplies for the future. " He was going
to express his gratitude for such kindness in a set speech; but the
baronet prevented him, by bidding him not aggravate his meanness, which
was already but too apparent. He ordered him at the same time to be
gone, and from all his former domestics to choose one, and such as he
should think proper, which was all that should be granted to attend him.
As soon as he left us, Sir William very politely stepped up to his new
niece with a smile, and wished her joy. His example was followed by Miss
Wilmot and her father; my wife too kissed her daughter with much
affection, as, to use her own expression, she was now made an honest
woman of. Sophia and Moses followed in turn, and even our benefactor
Jenkinson desired to be admitted to that honour. Our satisfaction seemed
scarcely capable of increase. Sir William, whose greatest pleasure was
in doing good, now looked round with a countenance open as the sun, and
saw nothing but joy in the looks of all except that of my daughter
Sophia, who, for some reasons we could not comprehend, did not seem
perfectly satisfied. "I think now," cried he, with a smile, "that all
the company, except one or two, seem perfectly happy. There only remains
an act of justice for me to do. You are sensible, sir," continued he,
turning to me, "of the obligations we both owe to Mr. Jenkinson; and it
is but just we should both reward him for it. Miss Sophia will, I am
sure, make him very happy, and he shall have five hundred pounds as her
fortune; and upon this, I am sure, they can live very comfortably
together. Come, Miss Sophia, what say you to this match of my making?
will you have him? " My poor girl seemed almost sinking into her mother's
arms at the hideous proposal. "Have him, sir! " cried she, faintly; "no,
sir, never! " "What! " cried he again, "not Mr. Jenkinson, your
benefactor; a handsome young fellow, with five-hundred pounds and good
expectations? " "I beg, sir," returned she, scarcely able to speak, "that
you'll desist, and not make me so very wretched. " "Was ever such
obstinacy known? " cried he again, "to refuse the man whom the family has
such infinite obligations to—who has preserved your sister, and who has
five hundred pounds? What! not have him! " "No, sir, never," replied she,
angrily; "I'd sooner die first! " "If that be the case, then," cried he,
"if you will not have him—I think I must have you myself. " And so
saying, he caught her to his breast with ardour. "My loveliest, my most
sensible of girls," cried he, "how could you ever think your own
Burchell could deceive you, or that Sir William Thornhill could ever
cease to admire a mistress that loved him for himself alone? I have for
some years sought for a woman, who, a stranger to my fortune, could
think I had merit as a man. After having tried in vain, even among the
pert and ugly, how great at last must be my rapture, to have made a
conquest over such sense and such heavenly beauty! " Then turning to
Jenkinson, "As I cannot, sir, part with this young lady myself, for she
has taken a fancy to the cut of my face, all the recompense I can make
is, to give you her fortune, and you may call upon my steward to-morrow
for five hundred pounds. " Thus we had all our compliments to repeat, and
Lady Thornhill underwent the same round of ceremony that her sister had
done before. In the meantime Sir William's gentleman appeared to tell us
that the equipages were ready to carry us to the inn, where everything
was prepared for our reception. My wife and I led the van, and left
those gloomy mansions of sorrow. The generous baronet ordered forty
pounds to be distributed among the prisoners, and Mr. Wilmot, induced by
his example, gave half that sum. We were received below by the shouts of
the villagers, and I saw and shook by the hand two or three of my honest
parishioners, who were among the number. They attended us to our inn,
where a sumptuous entertainment was provided, and coarser provisions
were distributed in great quantities among the populace.
[Illustration:
"_Will you have him? _"—_p. _ 168.
]
After supper, as my spirits were exhausted by the alternation of
pleasure and pain which they had sustained during the day, I asked
permission to withdraw; and leaving the company in the midst of their
mirth, as soon as I found myself alone, I poured out my heart in
gratitude to the Giver of joy as well as sorrow, and then slept
undisturbed till morning.
_CHAPTER XXXII. _
_The conclusion. _
The next morning, as soon as I awaked, I found my eldest son sitting by
my bedside, who came to increase my joy with another turn of fortune in
my favour. First having released me from the settlement that I had made
the day before in his favour, he let me know that my merchant, who had
failed in town, was arrested at Antwerp, and there had given up effects
to a much greater amount than what was due to his creditors. My boy's
generosity pleased me almost as much as this unlooked-for good fortune.
But I had some doubts whether I ought in justice to accept his offer.
While I was pondering upon this, Sir William entered the room, to whom I
communicated my doubts. His opinion was, that as my son was already
possessed of a very affluent fortune by his marriage, I might accept his
offer without hesitation. His business, however, was to inform me that,
as he had the night before sent for the licenses, and expected them
every hour, he hoped that I would not refuse my assistance in making all
the company happy that morning. A footman entered while we were
speaking, to tell us that the messenger was returned; and as I was by
this time ready, I went down, where I found the whole company as merry
as affluence and innocence could make them. However, as they were now
preparing for a very solemn ceremony, their laughter entirely displeased
me. I told them of the grave, becoming, and sublime deportment they
should assume upon this mystical occasion, and read them two homilies
and a thesis of my own composing, in order to prepare them. Yet they
still seemed perfectly refractory and ungovernable. Even as we were
going along to church, to which I led the way, all gravity had quite
forsaken them, and I was often tempted to turn back in indignation. In
church a new dilemma arose, which promised no easy solution. This was,
which couple should be married first: my son's bride warmly insisted
that Lady Thornhill (that was to be) should take the lead; but this the
other refused with equal ardour, protesting she would not be guilty of
such rudeness for the world. The argument was supported for some time
between both with equal obstinacy and good breeding. But as I stood all
this time with my book ready, I was at last quite tired of the contest,
and shutting it, "I perceive," cried I, "that none of you have a mind to
be married, and I think we had as good go back again; for I suppose
there will be no business done here to-day. " This is once reduced them
to reason. The baronet and his lady were first married, and then my son
and his lovely partner.
I had previously that morning given orders that a coach should be sent
for my honest neighbour Flamborough and his family, by which means, upon
our return to the inn, we had the pleasure of finding the two Miss
Flamboroughs alighted before us. Mr. Jenkinson gave his hand to the
eldest, and my son Moses led up the other; and I have since found that
he has taken a real liking to the girl, and my consent and bounty he
shall have, whenever he thinks proper to demand them. We were no sooner
returned to the inn, but numbers of my parishioners, hearing of my
success, came to congratulate me; but among the rest were those who rose
to rescue me, and whom I formerly rebuked with such sharpness. I told
the story to Sir William, my son-in-law, who went out and reproved them
with great severity; but, finding them quite disheartened by his harsh
reproof, he gave them half-a-guinea a-piece to drink his health and
raise their dejected spirits.
Soon after this we were called to a very genteel entertainment, which
was dressed by Mr. Thornhill's cook. And it may not be improper to
observe, with respect to that gentleman, that he now resides in quality
of companion at a relation's house, being very well liked, and seldom
sitting at the side-table, except when there is no room at the other,
for they make no stranger of him. His time is pretty much taken up in
keeping his relation, who is a little melancholy, in spirits, and in
learning to blow the French horn. My eldest daughter, however, still
remembers him with regret; and she has even told me, though I make a
great secret of it, that when he reforms she may be brought to relent.
But to return, for I am not apt to digress thus: when we were to sit
down to dinner our ceremonies were going to be renewed. The question
was, whether my eldest daughter, as being a matron, should not sit above
the two young brides; but the debate was cut short by my son George, who
proposed that the company should sit indiscriminately, every gentleman
by his lady. This was received with great approbation by all, excepting
my wife, who, I could perceive, was not perfectly satisfied, as she
expected to have had the pleasure of sitting at the head of the table,
and carving all the meat for all the company. But, notwithstanding this,
it is impossible to describe our good-humour. I can't say whether we had
more wit among us now than usual, but I am certain we had more laughing,
which answered the end as well. One jest I particularly remember: old
Mr. Wilmot drinking to Moses, whose head was turned another way, my son
replied, "Madam, I thank you;" upon which the old gentleman, winking
upon the rest of the company, observed that he was thinking of his
mistress. At which jest I thought the two Miss Flamboroughs would have
died with laughing. As soon as dinner was over, according to my old
custom, I requested that the table might be taken away, to have the
pleasure of seeing all my family assembled once more by a cheerful
fireside. My two little ones sat upon each knee, the rest of the company
by their partners. I had nothing now on this side of the grave to wish
for—all my cares were over: my pleasure was unspeakable. It now only
remained that my gratitude in good fortune should exceed my former
submission in adversity.
THE
POEMS AND PLAYS
OF
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
CONTENTS.
POEMS.
THE TRAVELLER; OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.
THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARE.
THE CAPTIVITY. AN ORATORIO.
RETALIATION. —— POSTSCRIPT.
THE HERMIT. A BALLAD.
THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION. A TALE.
THE GIFT: TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT.
ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING.
A NEW SIMILE, IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT.
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.
THE CLOWN'S REPLY.
STANZAS ON WOMAN.
DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER.
SONG, INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF "SHE STOOPS TO
CONQUER. "
STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC.
EPITAPH ON DR. PARNELL.
EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.
AN ELEGY ON MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
STANZAS.
SONGS.
A PROLOGUE BY THE POET LABERIUS, WHOM CÆSAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE.
PROLOGUE TO "ZOBEIDE," A TRAGEDY.
EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWIS.
EPILOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF "THE SISTERS. "
THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE
PRINCESS OF WALES.
EPILOGUE TO THE "GOOD-NATURED MAN. "
EPILOGUE TO "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. "
AN EPILOGUE, INTENDED FOR MRS. BULKLEY.
EPILOGUE TO "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER:" INTENDED TO BE SPOKEN BY MRS.
BULKLEY
AND MISS CATLEY.
PLAYS.
THE GOOD-NATURED MAN.
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.
THE TRAVELLER;
OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.
DEDICATION.
TO THE REV. HENRY GOLDSMITH
DEAR SIR,
I am sensible that the friendship between us can acquire no new force
from the ceremonies of a dedication; and perhaps it demands an excuse
thus to prefix your name to my attempts, which you decline giving with
your own. But as a part of this poem was formerly written to you from
Switzerland, the whole can now, with propriety, be only inscribed to
you. It will also throw a light upon many parts of it, when the reader
understands that it is addressed to a man who, despising fame and
fortune, has retired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income of
forty pounds a-year.
I now perceive, my dear brother, the wisdom of your humble choice. You
have entered upon a sacred office, where the harvest is great, and the
labourers are but few; while you have left the field of ambition, where
the labourers are many, and the harvest not worth carrying away. But of
all kinds of ambition—what from the refinement of the times, from
different systems of criticism, and from the divisions of party—that
which pursues poetical fame is the wildest.
Poetry makes a principal amusement among unpolished nations; but in a
country verging to the extremes of refinement, painting and music come
in for a share. As these offer the feeble mind a less laborious
entertainment, they at first rival poetry, and at length supplant her:
they engross all that favour once shown to her, and, though but younger
sisters, seize upon the elder's birthright.
Yet, however this art may be neglected by the powerful, it is still in
greater danger from the mistaken efforts of the learned to improve it.
What criticisms have we not heard of late in favour of blank verse and
Pindaric odes, choruses, anapests and iambics, alliterative care and
happy negligence! Every absurdity has now a champion to defend it; and
as he is generally much in the wrong, so he has always much to say; for
error is ever talkative.
But there is an enemy to this art still more dangerous,—I mean Party.
Party entirely distorts the judgment and destroys the taste. When the
mind is once infected with this disease, it can only find pleasure in
what contributes to increase the distemper. Like the tiger, that seldom
desists from pursuing man after having once preyed upon human flesh, the
reader who has once gratified his appetite with calumny, makes, ever
after, the most agreeable feast upon murdered reputation. Such readers
generally admire some half-witted thing, who wants to be thought a bold
man, having lost the character of a wise one. Him they dignify with the
name of poet: his tawdry lampoons are called satires; his turbulence is
said to be force, and his frenzy fire.
What reception a poem may find which has neither abuse, party, nor blank
verse to support it, I cannot tell, nor am I solicitous to know. My aims
are right. Without espousing the cause of any party, I have endeavoured
to moderate the rage of all. I have attempted to show, that there may be
equal happiness in states that are differently governed from our own;
that every state has a particular principle of happiness, and that this
principle in each may be carried to a mischievous excess. There are few
can judge better than yourself how far these positions are illustrated
in this poem.
I am, dear Sir,
Your most affectionate brother,
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
[Illustration:
"_Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or
by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po. _"—_p. _ 176.
]
THE TRAVELLER;
OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door;
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,
A weary waste expanding to the skies;
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee:
Still to my Brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian saints attend!
Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Blest that abode, where want and pain repair,
And every stranger finds a ready chair;
[Illustration:
"_Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale. _"—_p. _ 177.
]
Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale;
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.
But me, not destined such delights to share,
My prime of life in wandering spent and care;
Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own.
Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,
I sit me down a pensive hour to spend;
And, placed on high above the storm's career,
Look downward where a hundred realms appear;
Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide,
The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride.
When thus Creation's charms around combine,
Amidst the store should thankless pride repine?
Say, should the philosophic mind disdain
That good which makes each humbler bosom vain?
Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can,
These little things are great to little man;
And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind
Exults in all the good of all mankind.
_Former benevolence now repaid with unexpected interest. _
Mr. Thornhill made his entrance with a smile, which he seldom wanted,
and was going to embrace his uncle, which the other repulsed with an air
of disdain. "No fawning, sir, at present," cried the baronet, with a
look of severity; "the only way to my heart is by the road of honour;
but here I only see complicated instances of falsehood, cowardice, and
oppression. How is it, sir, that this poor man, for whom I know you
professed a friendship, is used thus hardly? His daughter vilely seduced
as a recompense for his hospitality, and he himself thrown into prison,
perhaps but for resenting the insult. His son, too, whom you feared to
face as a man——"
"Is it possible, sir," interrupted his nephew, "that my uncle should
object that as a crime which his repeated instructions alone have
persuaded me to avoid? "
"Your rebuke," cried Sir William, "is just: you have acted in this
instance prudently and well, though not quite as your father would have
done: my brother, indeed, was the soul of honour; but thou——yes, you
have acted in this instance perfectly right, and it has my warmest
approbation. "
"And I hope," said his nephew, "that the rest of my conduct will not be
found to deserve censure. I appeared, sir, with this gentleman's
daughter at some places of public amusement; thus, what was levity
scandal called by a harsher name, and it was reported that I had
debauched her. I waited on her father in person, willing to clear the
thing to his satisfaction, and he received me only with insult and
abuse. As for the rest, with regard to his being here, my attorney, and
steward can best inform you, as I commit the management of business
entirely to them. If he has contracted debts, and is unwilling, or even
unable, to pay them, it is their business to proceed in this manner; and
I see no hardship or injustice in pursuing the most legal means of
redress. "
"If this," cried Sir William, "be as you have stated it, there is
nothing unpardonable in your offences; and though your conduct might
have been more generous in not suffering this gentleman to be oppressed
by subordinate tyranny, yet it has been at least equitable. "
[Illustration:
_"And I hope," said his nephew, "that
the rest of my conduct will not be found
to deserve censure. "_—_p. _ 156.
]
"He cannot contradict a singular particular," replied the squire; "I
defy him to do so; and several of my servants are ready to attest what I
say. Thus, sir," continued he, finding that I was silent, for in fact I
could not contradict him: "thus, sir, my own innocence is vindicated:
but though at your entreaty I am ready to forgive this gentleman every
other offence, yet his attempts to lessen me in your esteem excite a
resentment that I cannot govern; and this, too, at a time when his son
was actually preparing to take away my life; this, I say, was such
guilt, that I am determined to let the law take its course. I have here
the challenge that was sent me, and two witnesses to prove it; one of my
servants has been wounded dangerously; and even though my uncle himself
should dissuade me, which I know he will not, yet I will see public
justice done, and he shall suffer for it. "
"Thou monster! " cried my wife, "hast thou not had vengeance enough
already, but must my poor boy feel thy cruelty? I hope that good Sir
William will protect us, for my son is as innocent as a child; I am sure
he is, and never did harm to man. "
"Madam," replied the good man, "your wishes for his safety are not
greater than mine; but I am sorry to find his guilt too plain; and if my
nephew persists——" But the appearance of Jenkinson and the gaolers two
servants now called off our attention, who entered hauling in a tall
man, very genteelly dressed, and answering the description already given
of the ruffian who had carried off my daughter. "Here," cried Jenkinson,
pulling him in, "Here we have him: and, if ever there was a candidate
for Tyburn, this is one. "
The moment Mr. Thornhill perceived the prisoner, and Jenkinson who had
him in custody, he seemed to shrink backward with terror. His face
became pale with conscious guilt, and he would have withdrawn; but
Jenkinson, who perceived his design, stopped him. "What, squire! " cried
he, "are you ashamed of your two old acquaintances, Jenkinson and
Baxter? But this is the way that all great men forget their friends,
though I am resolved we will not forget you. Our prisoner, please your
honour," continued he, turning to Sir William, "has already confessed
all. This is the gentleman reported to be so dangerously wounded; he
declares that it was Mr. Thornhill who first put him upon this affair;
that he gave him the clothes he now wears to appear like a gentleman,
and furnished him with the post-chaise. The plan was laid between them,
that he should carry off the young lady to a place of safety, and that
there he should threaten and terrify her; but Mr. Thornhill was to come
in in the meantime, as if by accident, to her rescue, and that they
should fight awhile, and then he was to run off, by which Mr. Thornhill
would have the better opportunity of gaining her affections himself
under the character of her defender. "
Sir William remembered the coat to have been frequently worn by his
nephew, and all the rest the prisoner himself confirmed by a more
circumstantial account; concluding, that Mr. Thornhill had often
declared to him that he was in love with both sisters at the same time.
"Heavens! " cried Sir William, "what a viper have I been fostering in my
bosom! And so fond of public justice, too, as he seemed to be! But he
shall have it. Secure him, Mr. Gaoler. Yet hold; I fear there is no
legal evidence to detain him. "
Upon this, Mr. Thornhill, with the utmost humility, entreated that two
such abandoned wretches might not be admitted as evidence against him,
but that his servants should be examined. "Your servants! " replied Sir
William; "wretch! call them yours no longer: but come, let us hear what
those fellows have to say: let his butler be called. "
When the butler was introduced, he soon perceived by his former master's
looks that all his power was now over. "Tell me," cried Sir William,
sternly, "have you ever seen your master and that fellow dressed up in
his clothes in company together? " "Yes, please your honour," cried the
butler, "a thousand times: he was the man that always brought him his
ladies. " "How! " interrupted young Mr. Thornhill, "this to my face? "
"Yes," replied the butler; "or to any man's face. To tell you a truth,
Master Thornhill, I never either loved you or liked you, and I don't
care if I tell you now a piece of my mind. " "Now then," cried Jenkinson,
"tell his honour whether you know anything of me. " "I can't say,"
replied the butler, "that I know much good of you. The night that
gentleman's daughter was deluded to our house, you were one of them. "
"So then," cried Sir William, "I find you have brought a very fine
witness to prove your innocence; thou stain to humanity! to associate
with such wretches! But," continuing his examination, "you tell me, Mr.
Butler, that this was the person who brought him this old gentleman's
daughter. " "No, please your honour," replied the butler, "he did not
bring her, for the squire himself undertook that business; but he
brought the priest that pretended to marry them. "
"It is but too true," cried Jenkinson; "I cannot deny it; that was the
employment assigned to me, and I confess it to my confusion. "
"Good Heavens! " exclaimed the worthy baronet, "how every new discovery
of his villainy alarms me! All his guilt is now too plain, and I find
his present prosecution was dictated by tyranny, cowardice, and revenge:
at my request, Mr. Gaoler, set this young officer, now your prisoner,
free, and trust to me for the consequences. I'll make it my business to
set the affair in a proper light to my friend the magistrate who has
committed him. But where is the unfortunate young lady herself? Let her
appear to confront this wretch. I long to know by what arts he has
seduced her. Entreat her to come in. Where is she? "
"Ah, sir! " said I, "that question stings me to the heart. I was once
indeed happy in a daughter, but her miseries——" Another interruption
here prevented me; for who should make her appearance but Miss Arabella
Wilmot, who was the next day to have been married to Mr. Thornhill.
Nothing could equal her surprise at seeing Sir William and his nephew
here before her; for her arrival was quite accidental. It happened that
she and the old gentleman, her father, were passing through the town on
their way to her aunt's, who had insisted that her nuptials with Mr.
Thornhill should be consummated at her house; but, stopping for
refreshment, they put up at an inn at the other end of the town. It was
there, from the window, that the young lady happened to observe one of
my little boys playing in the street, and, instantly sending a footman
to bring the child to her, she learnt from him some account of our
misfortunes, but was still kept ignorant of young Mr. Thornhill's being
the cause. Though her father made several remonstrances on the
impropriety of her going to a prison to visit us, yet they were
ineffectual: she desired the child to conduct her, which he did, and it
was thus she surprised us at a juncture so unexpected.
Nor can I go on without a reflection on those accidental meetings,
which, though they happen every day, seldom excite our surprise but upon
some extraordinary occasion. To what a fortuitous concurrence do we not
owe every pleasure and convenience of our lives! How many seeming
accidents must unite before we can be clothed or fed! The peasant must
be disposed to labour, the shower must fall, the wind fill the
merchant's sail, or numbers must want the usual supply.
We all continued silent for some moments, while my charming pupil, which
was the name I generally gave this young lady, united in her looks
compassion and astonishment, which gave new finishings to her beauty.
"Indeed, my dear Mr. Thornhill," cried she to the squire, who she
supposed was come here to succour and not to oppress us, "I take it a
little unkindly that you should come here without me, or never inform me
of the situation of a family so dear to us both: you know I should take
as much pleasure in contributing to the relief of my reverend old master
here, whom I shall ever esteem, as you can. But I find that, like your
uncle, you take a pleasure in doing good in secret. "
"He find pleasure in doing good! " cried Sir William, interrupting her:
"no, my dear, his pleasures are as base as he is. You see in him, madam,
as complete a villain as ever disgraced humanity. A wretch, who, after
having deluded this poor man's daughter, after plotting against the
innocence of her sister, has thrown the father into prison, and the
eldest son into fetters, because he had the courage to face her
betrayer! And give me leave, madam, now to congratulate you upon an
escape from the embraces of such a monster. "
[Illustration:
"_We had now, therefore, the satisfaction
of seeing them fly into each other's arms
in a transport. _"—_p. _ 164.
]
"O goodness! " cried the lovely girl, "how have I been deceived! Mr.
Thornhill informed me, for certain, that this gentleman's eldest son,
Captain Primrose, was gone off to America with his new-married lady. "
"My sweetest miss," cried my wife, "he has told you nothing but
falsehoods. My son George never left the kingdom, nor ever was married.
Though you have forsaken him, he has always loved you too well to think
of anybody else; and I have heard him say he would die a bachelor for
your sake. " She then proceeded to expatiate upon the sincerity of her
son's passion; she set his duel with Mr. Thornhill in a proper light;
from thence she made a rapid digression to the squire's debaucheries,
his pretended marriages, and ended with a most insulting picture of his
cowardice.
"Good Heaven! " cried Miss Wilmot, "how very near have I been to the
brink of ruin! but how great is my pleasure to have escaped it! Ten
thousand falsehoods has this gentleman told me! He had at last art
enough to persuade me that my promise to the only man I esteemed was no
longer binding, since he had been unfaithful. By his falsehoods I was
taught to detest one equally brave and generous. "
But by this time my son was freed from the incumbrances of justice, as
the person supposed to be wounded was detected to be an impostor. Mr.
Jenkinson also, who had acted as his valet-de-chambre, had dressed up
his hair, and furnished him with whatever was necessary to make a
genteel appearance. He now, therefore, entered, handsomely dressed in
his regimentals, and without vanity (for I am above it) he appeared as
handsome a fellow as ever wore a military dress. As he entered, he made
Miss Wilmot a modest and distant bow, for he was not as yet acquainted
with the change which the eloquence of his mother had wrought in his
favour. But no decorums could restrain the impatience of his blushing
mistress to be forgiven. Her tears, her looks, all contributed to
discover the real sensations of her heart, for having forgotten her
former promise, and having suffered herself to be deluded by an
impostor. My son appeared amazed at her condescension, and could
scarcely believe it real. "Sure, madam," cried he, "this is but
delusion; I can never have merited this! To be blessed thus, is to be
too happy! " "No sir," replied she, "I have been deceived, basely
deceived, else nothing could have ever made me unjust to my promise. You
know my friendship, you have long known it: but forget what I have done;
and, as you once had my warmest vows of constancy, you shall now have
them repeated; and be assured, that if your Arabella cannot be yours,
she shall never be another's. " "And no other's you shall be," cried Sir
William, "if I have any influence with your father. "
This hint was sufficient for my son Moses, who immediately flew to the
inn where the old gentleman was, to inform him of every circumstance
that had happened. But in the meantime the squire, perceiving that he
was on every side undone, now finding that no hopes were left from
flattery or dissimulation, concluded that his wisest way would be to
turn and face his pursuers. Thus, laying aside all shame, he appeared
the open, hardy villain. "I find, then," cried he, "that I am to expect
no justice here; but I am resolved it shall be done me. You shall know,
sir," turning to Sir William, "I am no longer a poor dependant upon your
favours. I scorn them. Nothing can keep Miss Wilmot's fortune from me,
which, I thank her father's assiduity, is pretty large. The articles and
a bond for her fortune are signed, and safe in my possession. It was her
fortune, not her person, that induced me to wish for this match; and,
possessed of the one, let who will take the other. "
This was an alarming blow: Sir William was sensible of the justice of
his claims, for he had been instrumental in drawing up the
marriage-articles himself. Miss Wilmot, therefore, perceiving that her
fortune was irretrievably lost, turning to my son, asked if the loss of
fortune could lessen her value to him. "Though fortune," said she, "is
out of my power, at least I have my hand to give. "
"And that, madam," cried her real lover, "was indeed all that you ever
had to give; at least, all that I ever thought worth the acceptance. And
I now protest, my Arabella, by all that's happy, your want of fortune
this moment increases my pleasure, as it serves to convince my sweet
girl of my sincerity. "
Mr. Wilmot now entering, he seemed not a little pleased at the danger
his daughter had just escaped, and readily consented to a dissolution of
the match. But finding that her fortune, which was secured to Mr.
Thornhill by bond, would not be given up, nothing could exceed his
disappointment. He now saw that his money must all go to enrich one who
had no fortune of his own. He could bear his being a rascal, but to want
an equivalent to his daughter's fortune was wormwood. He sat, therefore,
for some minutes employed in the most mortifying speculations, till Sir
William attempted to lessen his anxiety. "I must confess, sir," cried
he, "that your present disappointment does not entirely displease me.
Your immoderate passion for wealth is now justly punished. But though
the young lady cannot be rich, she has still a competence sufficient to
give content. Here you see an honest young soldier, who is willing to
take her without fortune: they have long loved each other, and for the
friendship I bear his father, my interest shall not be wanting in his
promotion. Leave, then, that ambition which disappoints you, and for
once admit that happiness which courts your acceptance. "
"Sir William," replied the old gentleman, "be assured I never yet forced
her inclinations, nor will I now. If she still continues to love this
young gentleman, let her have him with all my heart. There is still,
thank Heaven, some fortune left, and your promise will make it something
more. Only let my old friend here" (meaning me) "give me a promise of
settling six thousand pounds upon my girl, if ever he should come to his
fortune, and I am ready this night to be the first to join them
together. "
As it now remained with me to make the young couple happy, I readily
gave a promise of making the settlement he required; which, to one who
had such little expectations as I, was no great favour. We had now,
therefore, the satisfaction of seeing them fly into each other's arms in
a transport. "After all my misfortunes," cried my son George, "to be
thus rewarded! Sure this is more than I could ever have presumed to hope
for. To be possessed of all that's good, and after such an interval of
pain! my warmest wishes could never rise so high! " "Yes, my George,"
returned his lovely bride, "now let the wretch take my fortune: since
you are happy without it, so am I. Oh, what an exchange have I made from
the basest of men to the dearest, best! Let him enjoy our fortune; I now
can be happy even in indigence. " "And I promise you," cried the squire,
with a malicious grin, "that I shall be very happy with what you
despise. " "Hold, hold, sir! " cried Jenkinson; "there are two words to
that bargain. As for that lady's fortune, sir, you shall never touch a
single stiver of it. Pray, your honour," continued he to Sir William,
"can the squire have this lady's fortune if he be married to another? "
"How can you make such a simple demand? " replied the baronet:
"undoubtedly he cannot. " "I am sorry for that," cried Jenkinson; "for as
this gentleman and I have been old fellow-sporters, I have a friendship
for him. But I must declare, well as I love him, that his contract is
not worth a tobacco-stopper, for he is married already. " "You lie, like
a rascal! " returned the squire, who seemed roused by this insult; "I
never was legally married to any woman. " "Indeed, begging your honour's
pardon," replied the other, "you were; and I hope you will show a proper
return of friendship to your own honest Jenkinson, who brings you a
wife; and if the company restrain their curiosity a few minutes, they
shall see her. " So saying, he went off with his usual celerity, and left
us all unable to form any probable conjecture as to his design. "Aye,
let him go," cried the squire: "whatever else I may have done, I defy
him there. I am too old now to be frightened with squibs. "
[Illustration:
"_So saying, he put the license into the
baronet's hands, who read it, and found it
perfect in every respect. _"—_p. _ 166.
]
"I am surprised," said the baronet, "what the fellow can intend by this.
Some low piece of humour, I suppose. " "Perhaps, sir," replied I, "he may
have a more serious meaning. For when we reflect on the various schemes
this gentleman has laid to seduce innocence, perhaps some one, more
artful than the rest, has been found able to deceive him. When we
consider what numbers he has ruined, how many parents now feel with
anguish the infamy and the contamination which he has brought into their
families, it would not surprise me if some one of them—Amazement! Do I
see my lost daughter? Do I hold her? It is, it is—my life, my happiness!
I thought thee lost, my Olivia, yet still I hold thee, and still thou
shalt live to bless me. " The warmest transports of the fondest lover
were not greater than mine, when I saw him introduce my child, and held
my daughter in my arms, whose silence only spoke her raptures. "And art
thou returned to me, my darling," cried I, "to be my comfort in age?
"
"That she is," cried Jenkinson; "and make much of her, for she is your
own honourable child, and as honest a woman as any in the whole room,
let the other be who she will. And as for you, squire, as sure as you
stand there, this young lady is your lawful wedded wife: and to convince
you that I speak nothing but the truth, here is the license by which you
were married together. " So saying, he put the license into the baronet's
hands, who read it, and found it perfect in every respect. "And now,
gentlemen," continued he, "I find you are surprised at all this; but a
very few words will explain the difficulty. That there squire of renown,
for whom I have a great friendship (but that's between ourselves) has
often employed me in doing odd little things for him. Among the rest he
commissioned me to procure him a false license, and a false priest, in
order to deceive this young lady. But as I was very much his friend,
what did I do, but went and got a true license and a true priest, and
married them both as fast as the cloth could make them. Perhaps you'll
think it was generosity made me do all this. But no. To my shame I
confess it, my only design was to keep the license, and let the squire
know that I could prove it upon him whenever I thought proper, and so
make him come down whenever I wanted money. " A burst of pleasure now
seemed to fill the whole apartment; our joy even reached the
common-room, where the prisoners themselves sympathised,
And shook their chains
In transport and rude harmony.
Happiness was expanded upon every face, and even Olivia's cheeks seemed
flushed with pleasure. To be thus restored to reputation, to friends,
and fortune at once, was a rapture sufficient to stop the progress of
decay, and restore former health and vivacity. But, perhaps, among all,
there was not one who felt sincerer pleasure than I. Still holding the
dear-loved child in my arms, I asked my heart if these transports were
not delusion. "How could you," cried I, turning to Jenkinson, "how could
you add to my miseries by the story of her death? But it matters not: my
pleasure at finding her again is more than a recompense for the pain. "
"As to your question," replied Jenkinson, "that is easily answered. I
thought the only probable means of freeing you from prison, was by
submitting to the squire, and consenting to his marriage with the other
young lady. But these you had vowed never to grant while your daughter
was living; there was, therefore, no other method to bring things to
bear, but by persuading you that she was dead. I prevailed on your wife
to join in the deceit, and we have not had a fit opportunity of
undeceiving you till now. "
In the whole assembly there now appeared only two faces that did not
glow with transport. Mr. Thornhill's assurance had entirely forsaken
him; he now saw the gulf of infamy and want before him, and trembled to
take the plunge. He therefore fell on his knees before his uncle, and in
a voice of piercing misery implored compassion. Sir William was going to
spurn him away, but at my request he raised him, and after pausing a few
moments, "Thy vices, crimes, and ingratitude," cried he, "deserve no
tenderness; yet thou shalt not be entirely forsaken; a bare competence
shall be supplied to support the wants of life, but not its follies.
This young lady, thy wife, shall be put in possession of a third part of
that fortune which once was thine; and from her tenderness alone thou
art to expect any extraordinary supplies for the future. " He was going
to express his gratitude for such kindness in a set speech; but the
baronet prevented him, by bidding him not aggravate his meanness, which
was already but too apparent. He ordered him at the same time to be
gone, and from all his former domestics to choose one, and such as he
should think proper, which was all that should be granted to attend him.
As soon as he left us, Sir William very politely stepped up to his new
niece with a smile, and wished her joy. His example was followed by Miss
Wilmot and her father; my wife too kissed her daughter with much
affection, as, to use her own expression, she was now made an honest
woman of. Sophia and Moses followed in turn, and even our benefactor
Jenkinson desired to be admitted to that honour. Our satisfaction seemed
scarcely capable of increase. Sir William, whose greatest pleasure was
in doing good, now looked round with a countenance open as the sun, and
saw nothing but joy in the looks of all except that of my daughter
Sophia, who, for some reasons we could not comprehend, did not seem
perfectly satisfied. "I think now," cried he, with a smile, "that all
the company, except one or two, seem perfectly happy. There only remains
an act of justice for me to do. You are sensible, sir," continued he,
turning to me, "of the obligations we both owe to Mr. Jenkinson; and it
is but just we should both reward him for it. Miss Sophia will, I am
sure, make him very happy, and he shall have five hundred pounds as her
fortune; and upon this, I am sure, they can live very comfortably
together. Come, Miss Sophia, what say you to this match of my making?
will you have him? " My poor girl seemed almost sinking into her mother's
arms at the hideous proposal. "Have him, sir! " cried she, faintly; "no,
sir, never! " "What! " cried he again, "not Mr. Jenkinson, your
benefactor; a handsome young fellow, with five-hundred pounds and good
expectations? " "I beg, sir," returned she, scarcely able to speak, "that
you'll desist, and not make me so very wretched. " "Was ever such
obstinacy known? " cried he again, "to refuse the man whom the family has
such infinite obligations to—who has preserved your sister, and who has
five hundred pounds? What! not have him! " "No, sir, never," replied she,
angrily; "I'd sooner die first! " "If that be the case, then," cried he,
"if you will not have him—I think I must have you myself. " And so
saying, he caught her to his breast with ardour. "My loveliest, my most
sensible of girls," cried he, "how could you ever think your own
Burchell could deceive you, or that Sir William Thornhill could ever
cease to admire a mistress that loved him for himself alone? I have for
some years sought for a woman, who, a stranger to my fortune, could
think I had merit as a man. After having tried in vain, even among the
pert and ugly, how great at last must be my rapture, to have made a
conquest over such sense and such heavenly beauty! " Then turning to
Jenkinson, "As I cannot, sir, part with this young lady myself, for she
has taken a fancy to the cut of my face, all the recompense I can make
is, to give you her fortune, and you may call upon my steward to-morrow
for five hundred pounds. " Thus we had all our compliments to repeat, and
Lady Thornhill underwent the same round of ceremony that her sister had
done before. In the meantime Sir William's gentleman appeared to tell us
that the equipages were ready to carry us to the inn, where everything
was prepared for our reception. My wife and I led the van, and left
those gloomy mansions of sorrow. The generous baronet ordered forty
pounds to be distributed among the prisoners, and Mr. Wilmot, induced by
his example, gave half that sum. We were received below by the shouts of
the villagers, and I saw and shook by the hand two or three of my honest
parishioners, who were among the number. They attended us to our inn,
where a sumptuous entertainment was provided, and coarser provisions
were distributed in great quantities among the populace.
[Illustration:
"_Will you have him? _"—_p. _ 168.
]
After supper, as my spirits were exhausted by the alternation of
pleasure and pain which they had sustained during the day, I asked
permission to withdraw; and leaving the company in the midst of their
mirth, as soon as I found myself alone, I poured out my heart in
gratitude to the Giver of joy as well as sorrow, and then slept
undisturbed till morning.
_CHAPTER XXXII. _
_The conclusion. _
The next morning, as soon as I awaked, I found my eldest son sitting by
my bedside, who came to increase my joy with another turn of fortune in
my favour. First having released me from the settlement that I had made
the day before in his favour, he let me know that my merchant, who had
failed in town, was arrested at Antwerp, and there had given up effects
to a much greater amount than what was due to his creditors. My boy's
generosity pleased me almost as much as this unlooked-for good fortune.
But I had some doubts whether I ought in justice to accept his offer.
While I was pondering upon this, Sir William entered the room, to whom I
communicated my doubts. His opinion was, that as my son was already
possessed of a very affluent fortune by his marriage, I might accept his
offer without hesitation. His business, however, was to inform me that,
as he had the night before sent for the licenses, and expected them
every hour, he hoped that I would not refuse my assistance in making all
the company happy that morning. A footman entered while we were
speaking, to tell us that the messenger was returned; and as I was by
this time ready, I went down, where I found the whole company as merry
as affluence and innocence could make them. However, as they were now
preparing for a very solemn ceremony, their laughter entirely displeased
me. I told them of the grave, becoming, and sublime deportment they
should assume upon this mystical occasion, and read them two homilies
and a thesis of my own composing, in order to prepare them. Yet they
still seemed perfectly refractory and ungovernable. Even as we were
going along to church, to which I led the way, all gravity had quite
forsaken them, and I was often tempted to turn back in indignation. In
church a new dilemma arose, which promised no easy solution. This was,
which couple should be married first: my son's bride warmly insisted
that Lady Thornhill (that was to be) should take the lead; but this the
other refused with equal ardour, protesting she would not be guilty of
such rudeness for the world. The argument was supported for some time
between both with equal obstinacy and good breeding. But as I stood all
this time with my book ready, I was at last quite tired of the contest,
and shutting it, "I perceive," cried I, "that none of you have a mind to
be married, and I think we had as good go back again; for I suppose
there will be no business done here to-day. " This is once reduced them
to reason. The baronet and his lady were first married, and then my son
and his lovely partner.
I had previously that morning given orders that a coach should be sent
for my honest neighbour Flamborough and his family, by which means, upon
our return to the inn, we had the pleasure of finding the two Miss
Flamboroughs alighted before us. Mr. Jenkinson gave his hand to the
eldest, and my son Moses led up the other; and I have since found that
he has taken a real liking to the girl, and my consent and bounty he
shall have, whenever he thinks proper to demand them. We were no sooner
returned to the inn, but numbers of my parishioners, hearing of my
success, came to congratulate me; but among the rest were those who rose
to rescue me, and whom I formerly rebuked with such sharpness. I told
the story to Sir William, my son-in-law, who went out and reproved them
with great severity; but, finding them quite disheartened by his harsh
reproof, he gave them half-a-guinea a-piece to drink his health and
raise their dejected spirits.
Soon after this we were called to a very genteel entertainment, which
was dressed by Mr. Thornhill's cook. And it may not be improper to
observe, with respect to that gentleman, that he now resides in quality
of companion at a relation's house, being very well liked, and seldom
sitting at the side-table, except when there is no room at the other,
for they make no stranger of him. His time is pretty much taken up in
keeping his relation, who is a little melancholy, in spirits, and in
learning to blow the French horn. My eldest daughter, however, still
remembers him with regret; and she has even told me, though I make a
great secret of it, that when he reforms she may be brought to relent.
But to return, for I am not apt to digress thus: when we were to sit
down to dinner our ceremonies were going to be renewed. The question
was, whether my eldest daughter, as being a matron, should not sit above
the two young brides; but the debate was cut short by my son George, who
proposed that the company should sit indiscriminately, every gentleman
by his lady. This was received with great approbation by all, excepting
my wife, who, I could perceive, was not perfectly satisfied, as she
expected to have had the pleasure of sitting at the head of the table,
and carving all the meat for all the company. But, notwithstanding this,
it is impossible to describe our good-humour. I can't say whether we had
more wit among us now than usual, but I am certain we had more laughing,
which answered the end as well. One jest I particularly remember: old
Mr. Wilmot drinking to Moses, whose head was turned another way, my son
replied, "Madam, I thank you;" upon which the old gentleman, winking
upon the rest of the company, observed that he was thinking of his
mistress. At which jest I thought the two Miss Flamboroughs would have
died with laughing. As soon as dinner was over, according to my old
custom, I requested that the table might be taken away, to have the
pleasure of seeing all my family assembled once more by a cheerful
fireside. My two little ones sat upon each knee, the rest of the company
by their partners. I had nothing now on this side of the grave to wish
for—all my cares were over: my pleasure was unspeakable. It now only
remained that my gratitude in good fortune should exceed my former
submission in adversity.
THE
POEMS AND PLAYS
OF
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
CONTENTS.
POEMS.
THE TRAVELLER; OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.
THE DESERTED VILLAGE.
THE HAUNCH OF VENISON. A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARE.
THE CAPTIVITY. AN ORATORIO.
RETALIATION. —— POSTSCRIPT.
THE HERMIT. A BALLAD.
THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION. A TALE.
THE GIFT: TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, COVENT GARDEN.
THE LOGICIANS REFUTED. IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT.
ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING.
A NEW SIMILE, IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT.
AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.
THE CLOWN'S REPLY.
STANZAS ON WOMAN.
DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER.
SONG, INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF "SHE STOOPS TO
CONQUER. "
STANZAS ON THE TAKING OF QUEBEC.
EPITAPH ON DR. PARNELL.
EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON.
AN ELEGY ON MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
STANZAS.
SONGS.
A PROLOGUE BY THE POET LABERIUS, WHOM CÆSAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE.
PROLOGUE TO "ZOBEIDE," A TRAGEDY.
EPILOGUE, SPOKEN BY MR. LEE LEWIS.
EPILOGUE TO THE COMEDY OF "THE SISTERS. "
THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE
PRINCESS OF WALES.
EPILOGUE TO THE "GOOD-NATURED MAN. "
EPILOGUE TO "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER. "
AN EPILOGUE, INTENDED FOR MRS. BULKLEY.
EPILOGUE TO "SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER:" INTENDED TO BE SPOKEN BY MRS.
BULKLEY
AND MISS CATLEY.
PLAYS.
THE GOOD-NATURED MAN.
SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.
THE TRAVELLER;
OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.
DEDICATION.
TO THE REV. HENRY GOLDSMITH
DEAR SIR,
I am sensible that the friendship between us can acquire no new force
from the ceremonies of a dedication; and perhaps it demands an excuse
thus to prefix your name to my attempts, which you decline giving with
your own. But as a part of this poem was formerly written to you from
Switzerland, the whole can now, with propriety, be only inscribed to
you. It will also throw a light upon many parts of it, when the reader
understands that it is addressed to a man who, despising fame and
fortune, has retired early to happiness and obscurity, with an income of
forty pounds a-year.
I now perceive, my dear brother, the wisdom of your humble choice. You
have entered upon a sacred office, where the harvest is great, and the
labourers are but few; while you have left the field of ambition, where
the labourers are many, and the harvest not worth carrying away. But of
all kinds of ambition—what from the refinement of the times, from
different systems of criticism, and from the divisions of party—that
which pursues poetical fame is the wildest.
Poetry makes a principal amusement among unpolished nations; but in a
country verging to the extremes of refinement, painting and music come
in for a share. As these offer the feeble mind a less laborious
entertainment, they at first rival poetry, and at length supplant her:
they engross all that favour once shown to her, and, though but younger
sisters, seize upon the elder's birthright.
Yet, however this art may be neglected by the powerful, it is still in
greater danger from the mistaken efforts of the learned to improve it.
What criticisms have we not heard of late in favour of blank verse and
Pindaric odes, choruses, anapests and iambics, alliterative care and
happy negligence! Every absurdity has now a champion to defend it; and
as he is generally much in the wrong, so he has always much to say; for
error is ever talkative.
But there is an enemy to this art still more dangerous,—I mean Party.
Party entirely distorts the judgment and destroys the taste. When the
mind is once infected with this disease, it can only find pleasure in
what contributes to increase the distemper. Like the tiger, that seldom
desists from pursuing man after having once preyed upon human flesh, the
reader who has once gratified his appetite with calumny, makes, ever
after, the most agreeable feast upon murdered reputation. Such readers
generally admire some half-witted thing, who wants to be thought a bold
man, having lost the character of a wise one. Him they dignify with the
name of poet: his tawdry lampoons are called satires; his turbulence is
said to be force, and his frenzy fire.
What reception a poem may find which has neither abuse, party, nor blank
verse to support it, I cannot tell, nor am I solicitous to know. My aims
are right. Without espousing the cause of any party, I have endeavoured
to moderate the rage of all. I have attempted to show, that there may be
equal happiness in states that are differently governed from our own;
that every state has a particular principle of happiness, and that this
principle in each may be carried to a mischievous excess. There are few
can judge better than yourself how far these positions are illustrated
in this poem.
I am, dear Sir,
Your most affectionate brother,
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
[Illustration:
"_Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow, Or
by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po. _"—_p. _ 176.
]
THE TRAVELLER;
OR, A PROSPECT OF SOCIETY.
Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door;
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,
A weary waste expanding to the skies;
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravell'd fondly turns to thee:
Still to my Brother turns, with ceaseless pain,
And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian saints attend!
Blest be that spot, where cheerful guests retire
To pause from toil, and trim their evening fire;
Blest that abode, where want and pain repair,
And every stranger finds a ready chair;
[Illustration:
"_Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale. _"—_p. _ 177.
]
Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale;
Or press the bashful stranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.
But me, not destined such delights to share,
My prime of life in wandering spent and care;
Impell'd, with steps unceasing, to pursue
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies,
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no spot of all the world my own.
Even now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,
I sit me down a pensive hour to spend;
And, placed on high above the storm's career,
Look downward where a hundred realms appear;
Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide,
The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humbler pride.
When thus Creation's charms around combine,
Amidst the store should thankless pride repine?
Say, should the philosophic mind disdain
That good which makes each humbler bosom vain?
Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can,
These little things are great to little man;
And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind
Exults in all the good of all mankind.
