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 neighborhood, where I could still enjoymy
principles without molestation. With this proposal I joyfully closed,
having determined to increase 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
splendors 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 we not 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 is, perhaps, one of the most
distressful circumstances attendant on penury. The day soon arrived on
which we were to disperse for the first time. My son, after taking leave
of his mother and the rest, who mingled their tears with their kisses,
came to ask a blessing from me. This I gave him from
my heart, and which, added to five guineas, was all the patrimony I had
now to bestow. "You are going, my boy," cried I, "to London on foot,
in the manner Hooker, your great ancestor, travelled there before you.
Take f rom me the same horse that was given him by the good bishop
jewel, this staff ; and take this book too, it will be your comfort on the
way: these two lines in it are worth a million: 'I have been young, and
now am old; yet never saw I the righteous man forsaken, or his seed
begging their bread.' Let this be your consolation as you travel on. Go,
my boy; whatever be thy fortune, let me see thee once a year; still keep
a good heart, and farewell." As he was possessed of integrity and honor,
I was under no apprehensions f rom throwing him naked into the
amphitheatre of life; f or I knew he would act a good part, whether van
quished or victorious.
His departure only prepared the way for our own, which arrived a
few days afterwards. The leaving a neighborhood in which we had
enjoyed so many hours of tranquillity was not without a tear, which
scarcely fortitude itself could suppress. Besides, a journey of seventy
miles, to a family that had hitherto never been above ten miles from
home, filled us with apprehension; and the cries of the poor, who
followed us for some miles, contributed to increase it. The first day's
journey brought us in safety within thirty miles
of our future retreat, and we put up for the night at an
obscure inn in a village by the way. When we were
shown a room, I desired the landlord, in my usual way, to let us have
his company, with which he complied, as what he drank would increase
the bill the next morning. He knew, however, the whole neighborhood
to which I was removing, particularly 'Squire Thorn
hill, who was to be my landlord, and who lived within a few miles of the
place. This gentleman he described as one who desired to know little
more of the world than its pleasures, being particularly remarkable for
his attachment to the fair sex. He observed that no virtue was able to
resist his arts and assiduity, and that scarcely a farmer's daughters within
ten miles round, but what had found him successful and faithless.
Though this account gave me some pain, it had a very different effect
upon my daughters, whose features seemed to brighten with the
expectation of an approaching triumph; nor was my wife less pleased and
confident of their allurements and virtue. While our thoughts were thus
employed, the hostess entered the room to inform her husband that the
strange gentleman, who had been two days in the house, wanted
money, and could not satisfy them for his reckoning. "Want money!"
replied the host, "that must be impossible; for it was no later than
yesterday he paid three guineas to our beadle to spare an old broken
soldier that was to be whippedthrough the town for dogstealing." The
hostess, however, still persisting in her first assertion, he was preparing
to leave the room, swearing that he would be satisfied one way or an
other, when I begged the landlord would introduce me to a stranger of so
much charity as he described. With this he complied, showing in a
gentleman who
seemed to be about thirty, dressed in clothes that once
were laced. His person was well formed, and his face marked with the
lines of thinking. He had something short and dry in his address, and
seemed not to understand ceremony, or to despise it. Upon the
landlord's leaving the room, I could not avoid expressing my concern
to the stranger at seeing a gentleman in such circumstances, and offered
him my purse to satisfy the present demand. "I take it with all my heart,
sir," replied he, "and am glad that a late oversight in giving what
money I had about me, has shown me that there are still some men like
you. I must, however, previously entreat being informed of the name
and residence of my benefactor, in order to repay him as soon as possi
ble." In this I satisfied him fully, not only mentioning my name and late
misfortunes, but the place to which I was going to remove. "This,"
cried he, "happens still more luckily than I hoped for, as I am going the
same way myself, having been detained here two days by the floods,
which I hope by tomorrow will be found passable."' I testified the
pleasure I should have in his company, and my wife and daughters
joining in entreaty, he was prevailed upon to stay to supper. The
stranger's conversation, which was at once pleasing and instructive,
induced me to wish for a continuance of it; but it was now high time to
retire and take refreshment against the fatigues of the following
day.
The next morning we all set forward together; my
family on horseback, while Mr. Burchell, our new
companion, walked along the footpath by the roadside, observing with
a smile, that as we were illmounted, he would be too generous to
attempt to leave us behind. As the floods were not yet subsided, we
were obliged to hire a guide, who trotted on before, Mr. Burchell and I
bringing up the rear. We lightened the fatigues of the road with
philosophical disputes, which he seemed to understand perfectly. But
what surprised me most was, that though he was a moneyborrower, he
defended his opinions with as much obstinacy as if he had been my
patron. He now and then also informed me to whom the different seats
belonged that lay in our view as we travelled the road. "That," cried he,
pointing to a very magnificent house which stood at some distance,
"belongs to Mr. Thornhill, a young gentleman who enjoys a large
fortune, though entirely dependent on the will of his uncle, Sir William
Thornhill, a gentleman who, content with a little himself, permits his
nephew to enjoy the rest, and chiefly resides in town." "What!" cried I,
"is my young landlord, then, the nephew of a man whose virtues,
generosity, and singularities are so universally known? I have heard Sir
William Thornhill represented as one of the most generous, yet
whimsical men in the kingdom; a man of consummate benevolence."
"Something, perhaps, too much so," replied Mr. Burchell, "at least he
carried benevolence to an excess
when young; for his passions were then strong, and as
they were all upon the side of virtue, they led it up to a romantic
extreme. He early began to aim at the qualifications of the soldier and
scholar; was soon distinguished in the army, and had some reputation
among men of learning. Adulation ever follows the ambitious; for such
alone receive most pleasure from flattery. He was surrounded with
crowds, who showed him only one side of their character; so that he
began to lose a regard for private interest in universal sympathy. He
loved all mankind; for fortune prevented him from knowing that there
were rascals. Physicians tell us of a disorder, in which the whole body
is so exquisitely sensible, that the slightest touch gives pain: what some
have thus suffered in their persons, this gentleman felt in his mind.
The slightest distress, whether real or fictitious, touched him to the
quick, and his soul labored under a sickly sensibility of the miseries of
others. Thus disposed to relieve, it will be easily conjectured, he
found numbers disposed to solicit; his profusions began to impair his
fortune, but not his good-nature, that indeed, was seen to increase as the
other seemed to decay; he grew improvident as he grew poor; and
though he talked like a man of sense his actions were those of a fool.
Still, however, being surrounded with importunity, and no longer able
to satisfy every request that was made him, instead of money he gave
promises. They were all he had to bestow, and
he had not resolution enough to give any man pain by a
denial. By this he drew round him crowds of dependents whom he was
sure to disappoint, yet wished to relieve. These hung upon him for a
time, and left him with merited reproaches and contempt. But in
proportion as he became contemptible to others, he became despicable to
himself.His mind had leaned upon their adulation, and that support
taken away, he could find no pleasure in the applause of his heart, which
he had never learnt to reverence. The world now began to wear a
different aspect; the flattery of his friends began to dwindle into simple
approbation. Approbation soon took the more friendly form of advice,
and advice when rejected produced their reproaches. He now therefore
found that such friends as benefits had gathered round him, were little
estimable; he now found that a man's own heart must be ever given to
gain that of another. I now found, thatthat-I forget what I was going to
observe; in short, sir, he resolved to respect himself, and laid down a
plan of restoring his fallen fortune. For this purpose, in his own
whimsical manner, he travelled through Europe on foot, and now,
though he has scarcely attained the age of thirty, his circumstances are
more affluent than ever. At present his bounties are more rational and
moderate than before; but still he preserves the character of a humorist,
and finds most pleasure in eccentric virtues."
My attention was so taken up by Mr. Burchell's account, that I
scarcely looked forward as we went along, till we were alarmed by the
cries of my family; when turning, I perceived my youngest daughter in
the midst of a rapid stream, thrown from her horse, and struggling with
the torrent. She had sunk twice, nor was it in my power to disengage
myself in time to bring her relief. My sensations were even too violent
to permit my attempting her rescue; she must have certainly perished had
not my companion, perceiving her danger, instantly plunged in to her
relief, and, with some difficulty, brought her in safety to the opposite
shore. By taking the current a little farther up, the rest of the family got
safely over, where we had an opportunity of joining our
acknowledgments to hers. Her gratitude may be more readily imagined
than described; she thanked her deliverer more with looks than words,
and continued to lean upon his arm, as if still willing to receive
assistance. My wife also hoped one day to have the pleasure of
returning his kindness at her own house. Thus, after we were refreshed
at the next inn, and had dined together, as Mr. Burchell was going to a
different part of the country, he took leave; and we pursued our
journey, my wife observing, as we went, that she liked him extremely,
and protesting, that if he had birth and fortune to entitle him to match
in such a family as ours, she knew no man she would sooner fix upon. I
could
not but smile to hear her talk in this lofty strain; but I
was never much displeased with those harmless delusions that tend to
make us more happy.
