The Vicar of Wakefield | Page 7

no doubt of receiving his
approbation; but not till too late I discovered that he was most violently
attached to the contrary opinion, and with good reason; for he was at
that time actually courting a fourth wife. This, as may be expected,
produced a dispute attended with some acrimony, which threatened to
interrupt our intended alliance: but on the day before that appointed for
the ceremony, we agreed to discuss the subject at large. It was managed
with proper spirit on both sides: he asserted that I was heterodox, I
retorted the charge: he replied, and I rejoined. In the mean time, while
the controversy was hottest, I was called out by one of my relations,
who, with a face of concern, advised me to give up the dispute, at least
till my son's wedding was over. 'How,' cried I, 'relinquish the cause of
truth, and let him be an husband, already driven to the very verge of
absurdity. You might as well advise me to give up my fortune as my
argument.' 'Your fortune,' returned my friend, 'I am now sorry to inform
you, is almost nothing. The merchant in town, in whose hands your

money was lodged, has gone off, to avoid a statute of bankruptcy, and
is thought not to have left a shilling in the pound. I was unwilling to
shock you or the family with the account till after the wedding: but now
it may serve to moderate your warmth in the argument; for, I suppose,
your own prudence will enforce the necessity of dissembling at least till
your son has the young lady's fortune secure.'--'Well,' returned I, 'if
what you tell me be true, and if I am to be a beggar, it shall never make
me a rascal, or induce me to disavow my principles. I'll go this moment
and inform the company of my circumstances; and as for the argument,
I even here retract my former concessions in the old gentleman's favour,
nor will I allow him now to be an husband in any sense of the
expression.'
It would be endless to describe the different sensations of both families
when I divulged the news of our misfortune; but what others felt was
slight to what the lovers appeared to endure. Mr Wilmot, who seemed
before sufficiently inclined to break off the match, was by this blow
soon determined: one virtue he had in perfection, which was prudence,
too often the only one that is left us at seventy-two.
CHAPTER 3
A migration. The fortunate circumstances of our lives are generally
found at last to be of our own procuring
The only hope of our family now was, that the report of our
misfortunes might be malicious or premature: but a letter from my
agent in town soon came with a confirmation of every particular. The
loss of fortune to myself alone would have been trifling; the only
uneasiness I felt was for my family, who were to be humble without an
education to render them callous to contempt.
Near a fortnight had passed before I attempted to restrain their
affliction; for premature consolation is but the remembrancer of sorrow.
During this interval, my thoughts were employed on some future means
of supporting them; and at last a small Cure of fifteen pounds a year
was offered me in a distant neighbourhood, where I could still enjoy

my principles without molestation. With this proposal I joyfully closed,
having determined to encrease my salary by managing a little farm.
Having taken this resolution, my next care was to get together the
wrecks of my fortune; and all debts collected and paid, out of fourteen
thousand pounds we had but four hundred remaining. My chief
attention therefore was now to bring down the pride of my family to
their circumstances; for I well knew that aspiring beggary is
wretchedness itself. 'You cannot be ignorant, my children,' cried I, 'that
no prudence of ours could have prevented our late misfortune; but
prudence may do much in disappointing its effects. We are now poor,
my fondlings, and wisdom bids us conform to our humble situation. Let
us then, without repining, give up those splendours with which
numbers are wretched, and seek in humbler circumstances that peace
with which all may be happy. The poor live pleasantly without our help,
why then should not we learn to live without theirs. No, my children,
let us from this moment give up all pretensions to gentility; we have
still enough left for happiness if we are wise, and let us draw upon
content for the deficiencies of fortune.' As my eldest son was bred a
scholar, I determined to send him to town, where his abilities might
contribute to our support and his own. The separation of friends and
families