CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XVII.
CHAPTER XVIII.
CHAPTER XIX.
CHAPTER XX.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHAPTER XXII.
CHAPTER XXIII.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHAPTER XXV.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CHAPTER XXVII.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CHAPTER XXIX.
CHAPTER XXX.
CHAPTER XXXI.
CHAPTER XXXII.
ADVERTISEMENT
There are an hundred faults in this Thing, and an hundred things might
be said to prove them beauties. But it is needless. A book may be
amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single
absurdity. The hero of this piece unites in himself the three greatest
characters upon earth; he is a priest, an husbandman, and the father of
a family. He is drawn as ready to teach, and ready to obey, as simple
in affluence, and majestic in adversity. In this age of opulence and
refinement whom can such a character please? Such as are fond of high
life, will turn with disdain from the simplicity of his country
fire-side. Such as mistake ribaldry for humour, will find no wit in his
harmless conversation; and such as have been taught to deride religion,
will laugh at one whose chief stores of comfort are drawn from
futurity.
OLIVER GOLDSMITH.
Detailed contents
Chapter I. The description of the family of Wakefield; in which a
kindred likeness prevails as well of minds as of persons
Chapter II. Family misfortunes. The loss of fortune only serves to
increase the pride of the worthy
Chapter III. A migration. The fortunate circumstances of our lives are
generally found at last to be of our own procuring
Chapter IV. A proof that even the humblest fortune may grant happiness,
which depends not on circumstance, but constitution
Chapter V. A new and great acquaintance introduced. What we place most
hopes upon generally proves most fatal
Chapter VI. The happiness of a country fire-side
Chapter VII. A town wit described. The dullest fellows may learn to be
comical for a night or two
Chapter VIII. An amour, which promises little good fortune, yet may be
productive of much
Chapter IX. Two ladies of great distinction introduced. Superior finery
ever seems to confer superior breeding
Chapter X. The family endeavours to cope with their betters. The
miseries of the poor when they attempt to appear above their
circumstances
Chapter XI. The family still resolve to hold up their heads
Chapter XII. Fortune seems resolved to humble the family of Wakefield.
Mortifications are often more painful than real calamities
Chapter XIII. Mr Burchell is found to be an enemy; for he has the
confidence to give disagreeable advice
Chapter XIV. Fresh mortifications, or a demonstration that seeming
calamities may be real blessings
Chapter XV. All Mr Burchell’s villainy at once detected. The folly of
being-over-wise
Chapter XVI. The Family use art, which is opposed with still greater
Chapter XVII. Scarce any virtue found to resist the power of long and
pleasing temptation
Chapter XVIII. The pursuit of a father to reclaim a lost child to virtue
Chapter XIX. The description of a Person discontented with the present
government, and apprehensive of the loss of our liberties
Chapter XX. The history of a philosophic vagabond, pursuing novelty,
but losing content
Chapter XXI. The short continuance of friendship among the vicious,
which is coeval only with mutual satisfaction
Chapter XXII. Offences are easily pardoned where there is love at bottom
Chapter XXIII. None but the guilty can be long and completely miserable
Chapter XXIV. Fresh calamities
Chapter XXV. No situation, however wretched it seems, but has some sort
of comfort attending it
Chapter XXVI. A reformation in the gaol. To make laws complete, they
should reward as well as punish
Chapter XXVII. The same subject continued
Chapter XXVIII. Happiness and misery rather the result of prudence than
of virtue in this life. Temporal evils or felicities being regarded by
heaven as things merely in themselves trifling and unworthy its care in
the distribution
Chapter XXIX. The equal dealings of providence demonstrated with regard
to the happy and the miserable here below. That from the nature of
pleasure and pain, the wretched must be repaid the balance of their
sufferings in the life hereafter
Chapter XXX. Happier prospects begin to appear. Let us be inflexible,
and fortune will at last change in our favour
Chapter XXXI. Former benevolence now repaid with unexpected interest
Chapter XXXII. The Conclusion
CHAPTER I.
The description of the family of Wakefield; in which a kindred likeness
prevails as well of minds as of persons.
I was ever of opinion, that the honest man who married and brought up a
large family, did more service than he who continued single, and only
talked of population. From this motive, I had scarce taken orders a
year before I began to think seriously of matrimony, and chose my wife
as she did her wedding gown, not for a fine glossy surface, but such
qualities as would wear well. To do her justice, she was a good-natured
notable woman; and as for breeding, there were few country ladies who
could shew more. She could read any English book without much spelling,
but for pickling, preserving, and cookery, none could excel her. She
prided herself also upon being an excellent contriver in house-keeping;
tho’ I could never find that we grew richer with all her contrivances.
However, we loved each other tenderly, and our fondness encreased as we
grew old. There was in fact nothing that could make us angry with the
world or each other. We had an elegant house, situated in a fine
country, and a good neighbourhood. The year was spent in moral or rural
amusements; in visiting our rich neighbours, and relieving such as were
poor. We had no revolutions to fear, nor fatigues to undergo; all our
adventures were by the fire-side, and all our migrations from the blue
bed to the brown.
As we lived near the road, we often had the traveller or stranger visit
us to taste our gooseberry wine, for which we had great reputation; and
I profess with the veracity of an historian, that I never knew one of
them find fault with it. Our cousins too, even to the fortieth remove,
all remembered their affinity, without any help from the Herald’s
office, and came very frequently to see us. Some of them did us no
great honour by these claims of kindred; as we had the blind, the
maimed, and the halt amongst the number. However, my wife always
insisted that as they were the same _flesh and blood_, they should sit
with us at the same table. So that if we had not, very rich, we
generally had very happy friends about us; for this remark will hold
good thro’ life, that the poorer the guest, the better pleased he ever
is with being treated: and as some men gaze with admiration at the
colours of a tulip, or the wing of a butterfly, so I was by nature an
admirer of happy human faces. However, when any one of our relations
was found to be a person of very bad character, a troublesome guest, or
one we desired to get rid of, upon his leaving my house, I ever took
care to lend him a riding coat, or a pair of boots, or sometimes an
horse of small value, and I always had the satisfaction of finding he
never came back to return them. By this the house was cleared of such
as we did not like; but never was the family of Wakefield known to turn
the traveller or the poor dependent out of doors.
Thus we lived several years in a state of much happiness, not but that
we sometimes had those little rubs which Providence sends to enhance
the value of its favours. My orchard was often robbed by school-boys,
and my wife’s custards plundered by the cats or the children. The
’Squire would sometimes fall asleep in the most pathetic parts of my
sermon, or his lady return my wife’s civilities at church with a
mutilated curtesy. But we soon got over the uneasiness caused by such
accidents, and usually in three or four days began to wonder how they
vext us.
My children, the offspring of temperance, as they were educated without
softness, so they were at once well formed and healthy; my sons hardy
and active, my daughters beautiful and blooming. When I stood in the
midst of the little circle, which promised to be the supports of my
declining age, I could not avoid repeating the famous story of Count
Abensberg, who, in Henry II’s progress through Germany, while other
courtiers came with their treasures, brought his thirty-two children,
and presented them to his sovereign as the most valuable offering he
had to bestow. In this manner, though I had but six, I considered them
as a very valuable present made to my country, and consequently looked
upon it as my debtor. Our eldest son was named George, after his uncle,
who left us ten thousand pounds. Our second child, a girl, I intended
to call after her aunt Grissel; but my wife, who during her pregnancy
had been reading romances, insisted upon her being called Olivia. In
less than another year we had another daughter, and now I was
determined that Grissel should be her name; but a rich relation taking
a fancy to stand godmother, the girl was, by her directions, called
Sophia; so that we had two romantic names in the family; but I solemnly
protest I had no hand in it. Moses was our next, and after an interval
of twelve years, we had two sons more.
It would be fruitless to deny my exultation when I saw my little ones
about me; but the vanity and the satisfaction of my wife were even
greater than mine. When our visitors would say, ‘Well, upon my word,
Mrs Primrose, you have the finest children in the whole country.’—‘Ay,
neighbour,’ she would answer, ‘they are as heaven made them, handsome
enough, if they be good enough; for handsome is that handsome does.’
And then she would bid the girls hold up their heads; who, to conceal
nothing, were certainly very handsome. Mere outside is so very trifling
a circumstance with me, that I should scarce have remembered to mention
it, had it not been a general topic of conversation in the country.
Olivia, now about eighteen, had that luxuriancy of beauty with which
painters generally draw Hebe; open, sprightly, and commanding. Sophia’s
features were not so striking at first; but often did more certain
execution; for they were soft, modest, and alluring. The one vanquished
by a single blow, the other by efforts successfully repeated.
The temper of a woman is generally formed from the turn of her
features, at least it was so with my daughters. Olivia wished for many
lovers, Sophia to secure one. Olivia was often affected from too great
a desire to please. Sophia even represt excellence from her fears to
offend. The one entertained me with her vivacity when I was gay, the
other with her sense when I was serious. But these qualities were never
carried to excess in either, and I have often seen them exchange
characters for a whole day together. A suit of mourning has transformed
my coquet into a prude, and a new set of ribbands has given her younger
sister more than natural vivacity. My eldest son George was bred at
Oxford, as I intended him for one of the learned professions. My second
boy Moses, whom I designed for business, received a sort of a
miscellaneous education at home. But it is needless to attempt
describing the particular characters of young people that had seen but
very little of the world. In short, a family likeness prevailed through
all, and properly speaking, they had but one character, that of being
all equally generous, credulous, simple, and inoffensive.