The Vicar of Wakefield (19 page)

In compliance with his curiosity, I informed him of the whole
train of accidents and follies that had plunged me into my present
troubles, and my utter inability to get free.

After hearing my story, and pausing some minutes, he slapt his
forehead, as if he had hit upon something material, and took his
leave, saying he would try what could be done.

The next morning I communicated to my wife and children the
scheme I had planned of reforming the prisoners, which they
received with universal disapprobation, alledging the impossibility
and impropriety of it; adding, that my endeavours would no way
contribute to their amendment, but might probably disgrace my
calling.

'Excuse me,' returned I, 'these people, however fallen, are
still men, and that is a very good title to my affections. Good
council rejected returns to enrich the giver's bosom; and though
the instruction I communicate may not mend them, yet it will
assuredly mend myself. If these wretches, my children, were
princes, there would be thousands ready to offer their ministry;
but, in my opinion, the heart that is buried in a dungeon is as
precious as that seated upon a throne. Yes, my treasures, if I can
mend them I will; perhaps they will not all despise me. Perhaps I
may catch up even one from the gulph, and, that will be great gain;
for is there upon earth a gem so precious as the human soul?'

Thus saying, I left them, and descended to the common prison,
where I found the prisoners very merry, expecting my arrival; and
each prepared with some gaol trick to play upon the doctor. Thus,
as I was going to begin, one turned my wig awry, as if by accident,
and then asked my pardon. A second, who stood at some distance, had
a knack of spitting through his teeth, which fell in showers upon
my book. A third would cry amen in such an affected tone as gave
the rest great delight. A fourth had slily picked my pocket of my
spectacles. But there was one whose trick gave more universal
pleasure than all the rest; for observing the manner in which I had
disposed my books on the table before me, he very dextrously
displaced one of them, and put an obscene jest-book of his own in
the place. However I took no notice of all that this mischievous
groupe of little beings could do; but went on, perfectly sensible
that what was ridiculous in my attempt, would excite mirth only the
first or second time, while what was serious would be permanent. My
design succeeded, and in less than six days some were penitent, and
all attentive.

It was now that I applauded my perseverance and address, at thus
giving sensibility to wretches divested of every moral feeling, and
now began to think of doing them temporal services also, by
rendering their situation somewhat more comfortable. Their time had
hitherto been divided between famine and excess, tumultous riot and
bitter repining. Their only employment was quarrelling among each
other, playing at cribbage, and cutting tobacco stoppers. From this
last mode of idle industry I took the hint of setting such as chose
to work at cutting pegs for tobacconists and shoemakers, the proper
wood being bought by a general subscription, and when manufactured,
sold by my appointment; so that each earned something every day: a
trifle indeed, but sufficient to maintain him.

I did not stop here, but instituted fines for the punishment of
immorality, and rewards for peculiar industry. Thus in less than a
fortnight I had formed them into something social and humane, and
had the pleasure of regarding myself as a legislator, who had
brought men from their native ferocity into friendship and
obedience.

And it were highly to be wished, that legislative power would
thus direct the law rather to reformation than severity. That it
would seem convinced that the work of eradicating crimes is not by
making punishments familiar, but formidable. Then instead of our
present prisons, which find or make men guilty, which enclose
wretches for the commission of one crime, and return them, if
returned alive, fitted for the perpetration of thousands; we should
see, as in other parts of Europe, places of penitence and solitude,
where the accused might be attended by such as could give them
repentance if guilty, or new motives to virtue if innocent. And
this, but not the increasing punishments, is the way to mend a
state: nor can I avoid even questioning the validity of that right
which social combinations have assumed of capitally punishing
offences of a slight nature. In cases of murder their right is
obvious, as it is the duty of us all, from the law of self-defence,
to cut off that man who has shewn a disregard for the life of
another. Against such, all nature arises in arms; but it is not so
against him who steals my property. Natural law gives me no right
to take away his life, as by that the horse he steals is as much
his property as mine. If then I have any right, it must be from a
compact made between us, that he who deprives the other of his
horse shall die. But this is a false compact; because no man has a
right to barter his life, no more than to take it away, as it is
not his own. And beside, the compact is inadequate, and would be
set aside even in a court of modern equity, as there is a great
penalty for a very trifling convenience, since it is far better
that two men should live, than that one man should ride. But a
compact that is false between two men, is equally so between an
hundred, or an hundred thousand; for as ten millions of circles can
never make a square, so the united voice of myriads cannot lend the
smallest foundation to falsehood. It is thus that reason speaks,
and untutored nature says the same thing. Savages that are directed
by natural law alone are very tender of the lives of each other;
they seldom shed blood but to retaliate former cruelty.

Our Saxon ancestors, fierce as they were in war, had but few
executions in times of peace; and in all commencing governments
that have the print of nature still strong upon them, scarce any
crime is held capital.

It is among the citizens of a refined community that penal laws,
which are in the hands of the rich, are laid upon the poor.
Government, while it grows older, seems to acquire the moroseness
of age; and as if our property were become dearer in proportion as
it increased, as if the more enormous our wealth, the more
extensive our fears, all our possessions are paled up with new
edicts every day, and hung round with gibbets to scare every
invader.

I cannot tell whether it is from the number of our penal laws,
or the licentiousness of our people, that this country should shew
more convicts in a year, than half the dominions of Europe united.
Perhaps it is owing to both; for they mutually produce each other.
When by indiscriminate penal laws a nation beholds the same
punishment affixed to dissimilar degrees of guilt, from perceiving
no distinction in the penalty, the people are led to lose all sense
of distinction in the crime, and this distinction is the bulwark of
all morality: thus the multitude of laws produce new vices, and new
vices call for fresh restraints.

It were to be wished then that power, instead a contriving new
laws to punish vice, instead of drawing hard the cards of society
till a convulsion come to burst them, instead of cutting away
wretches as useless, before we have tried their utility, instead of
converting correction into vengeance, it were to be wished that we
tried the restrictive arts of government, and made law the
protector, but not the tyrant of the people. We should then find
that creatures, whose souls are held as dross, only wanted the hand
of a refiner; we should then find that wretches, now stuck up for
long tortures, lest luxury should feel a momentary pang, might, if
properly treated, serve to sinew the state in times of danger;
that, as their faces are like ours, their hearts are so too; that
few minds are so base as that perseverance cannot amend; that a man
may see his last crime without dying for it; and that very little
blood will serve to cement our security.

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

I had now been confined more than a fortnight, but had not since
my arrival been visited by my dear Olivia, and I greatly longed to
see her. Having communicated my wishes to my wife, the next morning
the poor girl entered my apartment, leaning on her sister's arm.
The change which I saw in her countenance struck me. The numberless
graces that once resided there were now fled, and the hand of death
seemed to have molded every feature to alarm me. Her temples were
sunk, her forehead was tense, and a fatal paleness sate upon her
cheek.

'I am glad to see thee, my dear,' cried I; 'but why this
dejection Livy? I hope, my love, you have too great a regard for
me, to permit disappointment thus to undermine a life which I prize
as my own. Be chearful child, and we yet may see happier days.'

'You have ever, sir,' replied she, 'been kind to me, and it adds
to my pain that I shall never have an opportunity of sharing that
happiness you promise. Happiness, I fear, is no longer reserved for
me here; and I long to be rid of a place where I have only found
distress. Indeed, sir, I wish you would make a proper submission to
Mr Thornhill; it may, in some measure, induce him to pity you, and
it will give me relief in dying.'

'Never, child,' replied I, 'never will I be brought to
acknowledge my daughter a prostitute; for tho' the world may look
upon your offence with scorn, let it be mine to regard it as a mark
of credulity, not of guilt. My dear, I am no way miserable in this
place, however dismal it may seem, and be assured that while you
continue to bless me by living, he shall never have my consent to
make you more wretched by marrying another.'

After the departure of my daughter, my fellow prisoner, who was
by at this interview, sensibly enough expostulated upon my
obstinacy, in refusing a submission, which promised to give me
freedom. He observed, that the rest of my family was not to be
sacrificed to the peace of one child alone, and she the only one
who had offended me. 'Beside,' added he, 'I don't know if it be
just thus to obstruct the union of man and wife, which you do at
present, by refusing to consent to a match which you cannot hinder,
but may render unhappy.'

'Sir,' replied I, 'you are unacquainted with the man that
oppresses us. I am very sensible that no submission I can make
could procure me liberty even for an hour. I am told that even in
this very room a debtor of his, no later than last year, died for
want. But though my submission and approbation could transfer me
from hence, to the most beautiful apartment he is possessed of; yet
I would grant neither, as something whispers me that it would be
giving a sanction to adultery. While my daughter lives, no other
marriage of his shall ever be legal in my eye. Were she removed,
indeed, I should be the basest of men, from any resentment of my
own, to attempt putting asunder those who wish for an union. No,
villain as he is, I should then wish him married, to prevent the
consequences of his future debaucheries. But now should I not be
the most cruel of all fathers, to sign an Instrument which must
send my child to the grave, merely to avoid a prison myself; and
thus to escape one pang, break my child's heart with a
thousand?'

He acquiesced in the justice of this answer, but could not avoid
observing, that he feared my daughter's life was already too much
wasted to keep me long a prisoner. 'However,' continued he, 'though
you refuse to submit to the nephew, I hope you have no objections
to laying your case before the uncle, who has the first character
in the kingdom for every thing that is just and good. I would
advise you to send him a letter by the post, intimating all his
nephew's ill usage, and my life for it that in three days you shall
have an answer.' I thank'd him for the hint, and instantly set
about complying; but I wanted paper, and unluckily all our money
had been laid out that morning in provisions, however he supplied
me.

For the three ensuing days I was in a state of anxiety, to know
what reception my letter might meet with; but in the mean time was
frequently solicited by my wife to submit to any conditions rather
than remain here, and every hour received repeated accounts of the
decline of my daughter's health. The third day and the fourth
arrived, but I received no answer to my letter: the complaints of a
stranger against a favourite nephew, were no way likely to succeed;
so that these hopes soon vanished like all my former. My mind,
however, still supported itself though confinement and bad air
began to make a visible alteration in my health, and my arm that
had suffered in the fire, grew worse. My children however sate by
me, and while I was stretched on my straw, read to me by turns, or
listened and wept at my instructions. But my daughter's health
declined faster than mine; every message from her contributed to
encrease my apprehensions and pain. The fifth morning after I had
written the letter which was sent to sit William Thornhill, I was
alarmed with an account that she was speechless. Now it was, that
confinement was truly painful to me; my soul was bursting from its
prison to be near the pillow of my child, to comfort, to strengthen
her, to receive her last wishes, and teach her soul the way to
heaven! Another account came. She was expiring, and yet I was
debarred the small comfort of weeping by her. My fellow prisoner,
some time after, came with the last account. He bade me be patient.
She was dead!—The next morning he returned, and found me with my
two little ones, now my only companions, who were using all their
innocent efforts to comfort me. They entreated to read to me, and
bade me not to cry, for I was now too old to weep. 'And is not my
sister an angel, now, pappa,' cried the eldest, 'and why then are
you sorry for her? I wish I were an angel out of this frightful
place, if my pappa were with me.' 'Yes,' added my youngest darling,
'Heaven, where my sister is, is a finer place than this, and there
are none but good people there, and the people here are very
bad.'