The Vicar of Wakefield (12 page)

By this time the equipage of the strolling company was arrived
at the village, which, it seems, had been apprised of our approach,
and was come out to gaze at us; for my companion observed, that
strollers always have more spectators without doors than within. I
did not consider the impropriety of my being in such company till I
saw a mob gather about me. I therefore took shelter, as fast as
possible, in the first ale-house that offered, and being shewn into
the common room, was accosted by a very well-drest gentleman, who
demanded whether I was the real chaplain of the company, or whether
it was only to be my masquerade character in the play. Upon
informing him of the truth, and that I did not belong in any sort
to the company, he was condescending enough to desire me and the
player to partake in a bowl of punch, over which he discussed
modern politics with great earnestness and interest. I set him down
in my mind for nothing less than a parliament-man at least; but was
almost confirmed in my conjectures, when upon my asking what there
was in the house for supper, he insisted that the Player and I
should sup with him at his house, with which request, after some
entreaties, we were prevailed on to comply.

The description of a person discontented with the present
government, and apprehensive of the loss of our liberties

The house where we were to be entertained, lying at a small
distance from the village, our inviter observed, that as the coach
was not ready, he would conduct us on foot, and we soon arrived at
one of the most magnificent mansions I had seen in that part of the
country. The apartment into which we were shewn was perfectly
elegant and modern; he went to give orders for supper, while the
player, with a wink, observed that we were perfectly in luck. Our
entertainer soon returned, an elegant supper was brought in, two or
three ladies, in an easy deshabille, were introduced, and the
conversation began with some sprightliness. Politics, however, was
the subject on which our entertainer chiefly expatiated; for he
asserted that liberty was at once his boast and his terror. After
the cloth was removed, he asked me if I had seen the last Monitor,
to which replying in the negative, 'What, nor the Auditor, I
suppose?' cried he. 'Neither, Sir,' returned I. 'That's strange,
very strange,' replied my entertainer. 'Now, I read all the
politics that come out. The Daily, the Public, the Ledger, the
Chronicle, the London Evening, the Whitehall Evening, the seventeen
magazines, and the two reviews; and though they hate each other, I
love them all. Liberty, Sir, liberty is the Briton's boast, and by
all my coal mines in Cornwall, I reverence its guardians.' 'Then it
is to be hoped,' cried I, 'you reverence the king.' 'Yes,' returned
my entertainer, 'when he does what we would have him; but if he
goes on as he has done of late, I'll never trouble myself more with
his matters. I say nothing. I think only. I could have directed
some things better. I don't think there has been a sufficient
number of advisers: he should advise with every person willing to
give him advice, and then we should have things done in
anotherguess manner.'

'I wish,' cried I, 'that such intruding advisers were fixed in
the pillory. It should be the duty of honest men to assist the
weaker side of our constitution, that sacred power that has for
some years been every day declining, and losing its due share of
influence in the state. But these ignorants still continue the cry
of liberty, and if they have any weight basely throw it into the
subsiding scale.'

'How,' cried one of the ladies, 'do I live to see one so base,
so sordid, as to be an enemy to liberty, and a defender of tyrants?
Liberty, that sacred gift of heaven, that glorious privilege of
Britons!'

'Can it be possible,' cried our entertainer, 'that there should
be any found at present advocates for slavery? Any who are for
meanly giving up the privileges of Britons? Can any, Sir, be so
abject?'

'No, Sir,' replied I, 'I am for liberty, that attribute of Gods!
Glorious liberty! that theme of modern declamation. I would have
all men kings. I would be a king myself. We have all naturally an
equal right to the throne: we are all originally equal. This is my
opinion, and was once the opinion of a set of honest men who were
called Levellers.' They tried to erect themselves into a community,
where all should be equally free. But, alas! it would never answer;
for there were some among them stronger, and some more cunning than
others, and these became masters of the rest; for as sure as your
groom rides your horses, because he is a cunninger animal than
they, so surely will the animal that is cunninger or stronger than
he, sit upon his shoulders in turn. Since then it is entailed upon
humanity to submit, and some are born to command, and others to
obey, the question is, as there must be tyrants, whether it is
better to have them in the same house with us, or in the same
village, or still farther off, in the metropolis. Now, Sir, for my
own part, as I naturally hate the face of a tyrant, the farther off
he is removed from me, the better pleased am I. The generality of
mankind also are of my way of thinking, and have unanimously
created one king, whose election at once diminishes the number of
tyrants, and puts tyranny at the greatest distance from the
greatest number of people. Now the great who were tyrants
themselves before the election of one tyrant, are naturally averse
to a power raised over them, and whose weight must ever lean
heaviest on the subordinate orders. It is the interest of the
great, therefore, to diminish kingly power as much as possible;
because whatever they take from that is naturally restored to
themselves; and all they have to do in the state, is to undermine
the single tyrant, by which they resume their primaeval authority.
Now, the state may be so circumstanced, or its laws may be so
disposed, or its men of opulence so minded, as all to conspire in
carrying on this business of undermining monarchy. For, in the
first place, if the circumstances of our state be such, as to
favour the accumulation of wealth, and make the opulent still more
rich, this will encrease their ambition. An accumulation of wealth,
however, must necessarily be the consequence, when as at present
more riches flow in from external commerce, than arise from
internal industry: for external commerce can only be managed to
advantage by the rich, and they have also at the same time all the
emoluments arising from internal industry: so that the rich, with
us, have two sources of wealth, whereas the poor have but one. For
this reason, wealth in all commercial states is found to
accumulate, and all such have hitherto in time become
aristocratical. Again, the very laws also of this country may
contribute to the accumulation of wealth; as when by their means
the natural ties that bind the rich and poor together are broken,
and it is ordained that the rich shall only marry with the rich; or
when the learned are held unqualified to serve their country as
counsellors merely from a defect of opulence, and wealth is thus
made the object of a wise man's ambition; by these means I say, and
such means as these, riches will accumulate. Now the possessor of
accumulated wealth, when furnished with the necessaries and
pleasures of life, has no other method to employ the superfluity of
his fortune but in purchasing power. That is, differently speaking,
in making dependents, by purchasing the liberty of the needy or the
venal, of men who are willing to bear the mortification of
contiguous tyranny for bread. Thus each very opulent man generally
gathers round him a circle of the poorest of the people; and the
polity abounding in accumulated wealth, may be compared to a
Cartesian system, each orb with a vortex of its own. Those,
however, who are willing to move in a great man's vortex, are only
such as must be slaves, the rabble of mankind, whose souls and
whose education are adapted to servitude, and who know nothing of
liberty except the name. But there must still be a large number of
the people without the sphere of the opulent man's influence,
namely, that order of men which subsists between the very rich and
the very rabble; those men who are possest of too large fortunes to
submit to the neighbouring man in power, and yet are too poor to
set up for tyranny themselves. In this middle order of mankind are
generally to be found all the arts, wisdom, and virtues of society.
This order alone is known to be the true preserver of freedom, and
may be called the People. Now it may happen that this middle order
of mankind may lose all its influence in a state, and its voice be
in a manner drowned in that of the rabble: for if the fortune
sufficient for qualifying a person at present to give his voice in
state affairs, be ten times less than was judged sufficient upon
forming the constitution, it is evident that greater numbers of the
rabble will thus be introduced into the political system, and they
ever moving in the vortex of the great, will follow where greatness
shall direct. In such a state, therefore, all that the middle order
has left, is to preserve the prerogative and privileges of the one
principal governor with the most sacred circumspection. For he
divides the power of the rich, and calls off the great from falling
with tenfold weight on the middle order placed beneath them. The
middle order may be compared to a town of which the opulent are
forming the siege, and which the governor from without is hastening
the relief. While the besiegers are in dread of an enemy over them,
it is but natural to offer the townsmen the most specious terms; to
flatter them with sounds, and amuse them with privileges: but if
they once defeat the governor from behind, the walls of the town
will be but a small defence to its inhabitants. What they may then
expect, may be seen by turning our eyes to Holland, Genoa, or
Venice, where the laws govern the poor, and the rich govern the
law. I am then for, and would die for, monarchy, sacred monarchy;
for if there be any thing sacred amongst men, it must be the
anointed sovereign of his people, and every diminution of his power
in war, or in peace, is an infringement upon the real liberties of
the subject. The sounds of liberty, patriotism, and Britons, have
already done much, it is to be hoped that the true sons of freedom
will prevent their ever doing more. I have known many of those
pretended champions for liberty in my time, yet do I not remember
one that was not in his heart and in his family a tyrant.'

My warmth I found had lengthened this harangue beyond the rules
of good breeding: but the impatience of my entertainer, who often
strove to interrupt it, could be restrained no longer. 'What,'
cried he, 'then I have been all this while entertaining a Jesuit in
parson's cloaths; but by all the coal mines of Cornwall, out he
shall pack, if my name be Wilkinson.' I now found I had gone too
far, and asked pardon for the warmth with which I had spoken.
'Pardon,' returned he in a fury: 'I think such principles demand
ten thousand pardons. What, give up liberty, property, and, as the
Gazetteer says, lie down to be saddled with wooden shoes! Sir, I
insist upon your marching out of this house immediately, to prevent
worse consequences, Sir, I insist upon it.' I was going to repeat
my rernonstrances; but just then we heard a footman's rap at the
door, and the two ladies cried out, 'As sure as death there is our
master and mistress come home.' It seems my entertainer was all
this while only the butler, who, in his master's absence, had a
mind to cut a figure, and be for a while the gentleman himself;
and, to say the truth, he talked politics as well as most country
gentlemen do. But nothing could now exceed my confusion upon seeing
the gentleman, and his lady, enter, nor was their surprize, at
finding such company and good cheer, less than ours. 'Gentlemen,'
cried the real master of the house, to me and my companion, 'my
wife and I are your most humble servants; but I protest this is so
unexpected a favour, that we almost sink under the obligation.'
However unexpected our company might be to them, theirs, I am sure,
was still more so to us, and I was struck dumb with the
apprehensions of my own absurdity, when whom should I next see
enter the room but my dear miss Arabella Wilmot, who was formerly
designed to be married to my son George; but whose match was broken
off, as already related. As soon as she saw me, she flew to my arms
with the utmost joy. 'My dear sir,' cried she, 'to what happy
accident is it that we owe so unexpected a visit? I am sure my
uncle and aunt will be in raptures when they find they have the
good Dr Primrose for their guest.' Upon hearing my name, the old
gentleman and lady very politely stept up, and welcomed me with
most cordial hospitality. Nor could they forbear smiling upon being
informed of the nature of my present visit: but the unfortunate
butler, whom they at first seemed disposed to turn away, was, at my
intercession, forgiven.

Mr Arnold and his lady, to whom the house belonged, now insisted
upon having the pleasure of my stay for some days, and as their
niece, my charming pupil, whose mind, in some measure, had been
formed under my own instructions, joined in their entreaties. I
complied. That night I was shewn to a magnificent chamber, and the
next morning early Miss Wilmot desired to walk with me in the
garden, which was decorated in the modern manner. After some time
spent in pointing out the beauties of the place, she enquired with
seeming unconcern, when last I had heard from my son George. 'Alas!
Madam,' cried I, 'he has now been near three years absent, without
ever writing to his friends or me. Where he is I know not; perhaps
I shall never see him or happiness more. No, my dear Madam, we
shall never more see such pleasing hours as were once spent by our
fire-side at Wakefield. My little family are now dispersing very
fast, and poverty has brought not only want, but infamy upon us.'
The good-natured girl let fall a tear at this account; but as I saw
her possessed of too much sensibility, I forbore a more minute
detail of our sufferings. It was, however, some consolation to me
to find that time had made no alteration in her affections, and
that she had rejected several matches that had been made her since
our leaving her part of the country. She led me round all the
extensive improvements of the place, pointing to the several walks
and arbours, and at the same time catching from every object a hint
for some new question relative to my son. In this manner we spent
the forenoon, till the bell summoned us in to dinner, where we
found the manager of the strolling company that I mentioned before,
who was come to dispose of tickets for the Fair Penitent, which was
to be acted that evening, the part of Horatio by a young gentleman
who had never appeared on any stage. He seemed to be very warm in
the praises of the new performer, and averred, that he never saw
any who bid so fair for excellence. Acting, he observed, was not
learned in a day; 'But this gentleman,' continued he, 'seems born
to tread the stage. His voice, his figure, and attitudes, are all
admirable. We caught him up accidentally in our journey down.' This
account, in some measure, excited our curiosity, and, at the
entreaty of the ladies, I was prevailed upon to accompany them to
the play-house, which was no other than a barn. As the company with
which I went was incontestably the chief of the place, we were
received with the greatest respect, and placed in the front seat of
the theatre; where we sate for some time with no small impatience
to see Horatio make his appearance. The new performer advanced at
last, and let parents think of my sensations by their own, when I
found it was my unfortunate son. He was going to begin, when,
turning his eyes upon the audience, he perceived Miss Wilmot and
me, and stood at once speechless and immoveable. The actors behind
the scene, who ascribed this pause to his natural timidity,
attempted to encourage him; but instead of going on, he burst into
a flood of tears, and retired off the stage. I don't know what were
my feelings on this occasion; for they succeeded with too much
rapidity for description: but I was soon awaked from this
disagreeable reverie by Miss Wilmot, who, pale and with a trembling
voice, desired me to conduct her back to her uncle's. When got
home, Mr Arnold, who was as yet a stranger to our extraordinary
behaviour, being informed that the new performer was my son, sent
his coach, and an invitation, for him; and as he persisted in his
refusal to appear again upon the stage, the players put another in
his place, and we soon had him with us. Mr Arnold gave him the
kindest reception, and I received him with my usual transport; for
I could never counterfeit false resentment. Miss Wilmot's reception
was mixed with seeming neglect, and yet I could perceive she acted
a studied part. The tumult in her mind seemed not yet abated; she
said twenty giddy things that looked like joy, and then laughed
loud at her own want of meaning. At intervals she would take a sly
peep at the glass, as if happy in the consciousness of unresisting
beauty, and often would ask questions, without giving any manner of
attention to the answers.