# The Vicar of Wakefield/Volume 2/Chapter 20

CHAP. I.
The history of a philosophic vagabond, pursuing novelty, but losing content.
After we had supped, Mrs. Arnold politely offered to send a couple of her footmen for my son's baggage, which he at first seemed to decline; but upon her pressing the request, he was obliged to inform her, that a stick and a wallet were all the moveable things upon this earth that he could boast of. "Why, aye my son," cried I, "you left me but poor, and poor I find you are come back; and yet I make no doubt you have seen a great deal of the world."—"Yes, Sir," replied my son, "but travel­ling after fortune, is not the way to se​­cure her; and, indeed, of late, I have desisted from the pursuit."—"I fancy, Sir," cried Mrs. Arnold, "that the ac­count of your adventures would be amu­sing: the first part of them I have often heard from my niece; but could the company prevail for the rest, it would be an additional obligation."—"Madam," replied my son, "I can promise you the pleasure you have in hearing, will not be half so great as my vanity in the recital; and yet in the whole narrative I can scarce promise you one adventure, as my account is not of what I did, but what I saw. The first misfortune of my life, which you all know, was great; but tho' it distrest, it could not sink me. No person ever had a better knack at hoping than I. The less kind I found fortune then, the more I expected from her another time, and being now at the bottom of her wheel, every new revolution might lift, but could not depress me. I proceeded, therefore, towards London in a fine ​morning, no way uneasy about to-mor­row, but chearful as the birds that caroll'd by the road. I comforted myself with various reflections, that London was the true mart where abilities of every kind were sure of meeting distinction and reward.
"Upon my arrival in town, Sir, my first care was to deliver your letter of recom­mendation to our cousin, who was himself in little better circumstances than me. My first scheme, you know, Sir, was to be usher at an academy, and I asked his advice on the affair. Our cousin received the proposal with a true Sardonic grin. Aye, cried he, this is a pretty career, indeed, that has been chalked out for you. I have been once an usher at a boarding school myself; and may I die by an anodyne necklace, but I had rather be an under turnkey in Newgate. I was up early and late: I was brow-beat by the master, hated for my ugly face by the mis​­tress, worried by the boys within, and never permitted to stir out to meet civility abroad. But are you sure you are fit for a school? Let me examine you a little. Have you been bred apprentice to the business? No. Then you won't do for a school. Can you dress the boys hair? No. Then you won't do for a school. Have you had the small-pox? No. Then you won't do for a school. Can you lie three in a bed? No. Then you will never do for a school. Have you got a good stomach? Yes. Then you will by no means do for a school. No, Sir, if you are for a genteel easy profession, bind yourself seven years as an ap­prentice to turn a cutler's wheel; but avoid a school by any means. But come, continued he, I see you are a lad of spi­rit and some learning, what do you think of commencing author, like me? You have read in books, no doubt, of men of genius starving at the trade: but at pre­sent I'll shew you forty very dull fellows ​about town that live by it in opulence. All honest jogg trotmen, who go on smoothly and dully, and write history and politics, and are praised; and who, had they been bred coblers, would all their lives have only mended shoes, but never made them.
"Finding that there was no great degree of gentility affixed to the character of an usher, I resolved to accept his proposal; and having the highest respect for litera­ture, I hailed the antiqua mater of Grub-street with reverence. I thought it my glory to pursue a track which Dry­den and Otway trod before me. In fact, I considered the goddess of this region as the parent of excellence; and how­ever an intercourse with the world might give us good sense, the poverty she grant­ed was the nurse of genius! Big with these reflections, I sate down, and find­ing that the best things remained to be said on the wrong side, I resolved to write ​a book that should be wholly new. I therefore drest up three paradoxes with some ingenuity. They were false, in­deed, but they were new. The jewels of truth have been so often imported by others, that nothing was left for me to import but some splendid things that at a distance looked every bit as well. Wit­ness you powers what fancied importance sate perched upon my quill while I was writing. The whole learned world, I made no doubt, would rise to oppose my systems; but then I was prepared to oppose the whole learned world. Like the porcupine I sate self collected, with a quill pointed against every opposer."
"Well said, my boy," cried I, "and what subject did you treat upon? I hope you did not pass over the importance of Hierardical monogamy. But I inter­rupt, go on; you published your para­doxes; well, and what did the learned world say to your paradoxes?"
​"Sir," replied my son, "the learned world said nothing to my paradoxes; nothing at all, Sir. Every man of them was employed in praising his friends and himself, or condemning his enemies; and unfortunately, as I had neither, I suffered the cruellest mortifi­cation, neglect.
"As I was meditating one day in a coffee-house on the fate of my paradoxes, a little man happening to enter the room, placed himself in the box before me, and after some preliminary discourse, finding me to be a scholar, drew out a bundle of proposals, begging me to subscribe to a new edition he was going to give the world of Propertius, with notes. This demand necessarily produced a reply that that I had no money; and that conces­sion led him on to enquire into the na­ture of my expectations. Finding that my expectations were just as great as my purse, I see, cried he, you are unac​­quainted with the town, I'll teach you a part of it. Look at these proposals, upon these very proposals I have sub­sisted very comfortably for twelve years. The moment a nobleman returns from his travels, a Creolian arrives from Jamaica, or a dowager from her country seat, I strike for a subscription. I first besiege their hearts with flattery, and then pour in my proposals at the breach. If they subscribe readily the first time, I renew my request to beg a dedication fee. If they let me have that, I smite them once more for engraving their coat of arms at the top. Thus, continued he, I live by vanity, and laugh at it. But between ourselves, I am now too well known, I should be glad to borrow your face a a bit: a nobleman of distinction has just returned from Italy; my face is familiar to his porter; but if you bring this co­py of verses, my life for it you succeed, and we divide the spoil."
​"Bless us, George," cried I, "and is that the employment of poets now! Do men of their exalted talents thus stoop to beggary! Can they so far disgrace their calling, as to make a vile traffic of praise for bread?"
"O no, Sir," returned he, "a true po­et can never be so base; for wherever there is genius there is pride. The crea­tures I now describe are only beggars in rhyme. The real poet, as he braves every hardship for fame, so he is equally a coward to contempt, and none but those who are unworthy protection con­descend to solicit it.
"Having a mind too proud to stoop to such indignities, and yet a fortune too humble to hazard a second attempt for fame, I was now obliged to take a mid­dle course, and write for bread. But I was unqualified for a profession where mere industry alone could ensure success. ​I could not suppress my lurking passion for applause; but usually consumed that time in efforts after excellence which takes up but little room, when it should have been more advantageously employ­ed in the diffusive productions of fruitful mediocrity. My little piece would come forth in the mist of periodical pub­lication, unnoticed and unknown. The public were more importantly employed, than to observe the easy simplicity of my style, or the harmony of my periods. Sheet after sheet was thrown off to ob­livion. My essays were buried among the essays upon liberty, eastern tales, and cures for the bite of a mad dog; while Philantos, Philalethes, Philelutheros, and Philanthropos, all wrote better, because they wrote faster, than I.
"Now, therefore, I began to associate with none but disappointed authors, like myself, who praised, deplored, and de­spised each other. The satisfaction we ​found in every celebrated writer's at­tempts, was inversely as their merits. I found that no genius in another could please me. My unfortunate paradoxes had entirely dried up that source of com­fort. I could neither read nor write with satisfaction; for excellence in an­other was my aversion, and writing was my trade.
"In the midst of these gloomy reflec­tions, as I was one day sitting on a bench in St. James's park, a young gentleman of distinction, who had been my inti­mate acquaintance at the university, ap­proached me. We saluted each other with some hesitation, he almost ashamed of being known to one who made so shabby an appearance, and I afraid of a repulse. But my suspicions soon va­nished; for Ned Thornhill was at the bottom a very good-natured fellow."
​"What did you say, George?" inter­rupted I. "Thornhill, was not that his name? It can certainly be no other than my landlord."—"Bless me," cried Mrs. Arnold, "is Mr. Thornhill so near a neighbour of yours? He has long been a friend in our family, and we expect a visit from him shortly."
"My friend's first care," continued my son, "was to alter my appearance by a very fine suit of his own cloaths, and then I was admitted to his table upon the footing of half-friend, half-under­ling. My business was to attend him at auctions, to put him in spirits when he sate for his picture, to take the left hand in his chariot when not filled by another, and to assist at tattering a kip, as the phrase was, when we had a mind for a frolic. Beside this, I had twenty other little employments in the family. I was to do many small things without bidding; to carry the cork screw; to stand godfather ​to all the butler's children; to sing when I was bid; to be never out of hu­mour; always to be humble, and, if I could, to be happy.
"In this honourable post, however, I was not without a rival. A captain of ma­rines, who seemed formed for the place by nature, opposed me in my patron's affections. His mother had been laundress to a man of quality, and thus he early acquired a taste for pimping and pedi­gree. As this gentleman made it the stu­dy of his life to be acquainted with lords, though he was dismissed from several for his stupidity; yet he found many of them who permitted his assiduities, being as dull as himself. As flattery was his trade, he practised it with the easiest address imaginable; but it came aukward and stiff from me; and as every day my pa­tron's desire of flattery encreased, so eve­ry hour being better acquainted with his defects, I became more unwilling to give ​it. Thus I was once more fairly going to give up the field to the captain, when my friend found occasion for my assis­tance. This was nothing less than to fight a duel for him, with a gentleman whose sister it was pretended he had used ill. I readily complied with his request, and tho' I see you are displeased at my conduct, yet as it was a debt indispensably due to friendship, I could not refuse. I under­took the affair, disarmed my antagonist, and soon after had the pleasure of find­ing that the lady was only a woman of the town, and the fellow her bully and a sharper. This piece of service was re­paid with the warmest professions of gra­titude; but as my friend was to leave town in a few days, he knew no other method to serve me, but by recommend­ing me to his uncle Sir William Thorn­hill, and another nobleman of great dis­tinction, who enjoyed a post under the government. When he was gone, my first care was to carry his recommenda​­tory letter to his uncle, a man whose character for every virtue was universal, yet just. I was received by his servants with the most hospitable smiles; for the looks of the domestics ever transmit their mas­ter's benevolence. Being shewn into a grand apartment, where Sir William soon came to me, I delivered my mes­sage and letter, which he read, and after pausing some minutes, Pray, Sir, cried he, inform me what you have done for my kinsman, to deserve this warm re­commendation? But I suppose, Sir, I guess at your merits, you have fought for him; and so you would expect a reward from me, for being the instrument of his vices. I wish, sincerely wish, that my present refusal may be some punishment for your guilt; but still more, that it may be some inducement to your repen­tance.—The severity of this rebuke I bore patiently, because I knew it was just. My whole expectations now, there­fore, lay in my letter to the great man. ​As the doors of the nobility are almost ever beset with beggars, all ready to thrust in some sly petition, I found it no easy matter to gain admittance. However, after bribing the servants with half my worldly fortune, I was at last shewn into a spacious apartment, my letter being previously sent up for his lordship's inspection. During this anxious interval I had full time to look round me. Every thing was grand, and of happy contrivance: the paintings, the furniture, the gildings, petrified me with awe, and raised my idea of the owner. Ah, thought I to myself, how very great must the possessor of all these things be, who carries in his head the business of the state, and whose house displays half the wealth of a kingdom: sure his genius must be unfathomable! During these awful reflections I heard a step come heavily forward. Ah, this is the great man himself! No, it was only a chambermaid. Another foot was heard soon after. This ​must be He! No, it was only the great man's valet de chambre. At last his lordship actually made his appearance. Are you, cried he, the bearer of this here letter? I answered with a bow. I learn by this, continued he, as how that—But just at that instant a servant delivered him a card, and without taking farther no­tice, he went out of the room, and left me to digest my own happiness at leisure. I saw no more of him, till told by a footman that his lordship was going to his coach at the door. Down I immediately fol­lowed, and joined my voice to that of three or four more, who came, like me, to petition for favours. His lordship, however, went too fast for us, and was gaining his Chariot door with large stri­des, when I hallowed out to know if I was to have any reply. He was by this time got in, and muttered an answer, half of which only I heard, the other half was lost in the rattling of his chariot wheels. I stood for some time with my neck ​stretched out, in the posture of one that was listening to catch the glorious sounds, till looking round me, I found myself alone at his lordship's gate.
"My patience," continued my son, "was now quite exhausted: stung with the thousand indignities I had met with, I was willing to cast myself away, and on­ly wanted the gulph to receive me. I regarded myself as one of those vile things that nature designed should be thrown by into her lumber room, there to perish in unpitied obscurity. I had still, however, half a guinea left, and of that I thought fortune herself should not deprive me: but in order to be sure of this, I was resolved to go instantly and spend it while I had it, and then trust to occur­rences for the rest. As I was going along with this resolution, it happened that Mr. Cripse's office seemed invitingly open to give me a welcome reception. In this office Mr. Cripse kindly offers all his ​majesty's subjects a generous promise of 30 l. a year, for which promise all they give in return is their liberty for life, and permission to let him transport them to America as slaves. I was happy at find­ing a place where I could lose my fears in desperation, and therefore entered this cell; for it had the appearance of one, being dark, damp, and dirty. Here I found a number of poor creatures, all in circumstances like myself, expecting the arrival of Mr. Cripse, presenting a true epitome of English impatience. Each untractable soul at variance with fortune, wreaked her injuries on their own hearts: but Mr. Cripse at last came down, and all our murmurs were hush­ed. He deigned to regard me with an air of peculiar approbation, and indeed he was the first man who for a month past talk­ed to me with smiles. After a few ques­tions, he found I was fit for every thing in the world. He paused a while upon the properest means of providing for me, ​and slapping his forehead, as if he had found it, assured me, that there was at that time an embassy talked of from the synod of Pensylvania to the Chickasaw Indians, and that he would use his inte­rest to get me made secretary. I knew in my own heart that the fellow lied, and yet his promise gave me pleasure, there was something so magnificent in the sound. I fairly, therefore, divided my half guinea, one half of which went to be added to his thirty thousand pound, and with the other half I resolved to go to the next tavern, to be there more happy than he.
"As I was going out with that resolution, I was met at the door by the captain of a ship, with whom I had formerly some little acquaintance, and he agreed to be my companion over a bowl of punch. As I never chose to make a secret of my circumstances, he assured me that I was upon the very point of ruin, in listening ​to the office-keeper's promises; for that he only designed to sell me to the plan­tations. But, continued he, I fancy you might, by a much shorter voyage, be ve­ry easily put into a genteel way of bread. Take my advice. My ship sails to-mor­row for Amsterdam; What if you go in her as a passenger? The moment you land all you have to do is to teach the Dutchmen English, and I'll warrant you'll get pupils and money enough. I suppose you understand English, added he, by this time, or the deuce is in it. I confidently assured him of that; but ex­pressed a doubt whether the Dutch would be willing to learn English. He affirmed with an oath that they were fond of it to distraction; and upon that affirmation I agreed with his proposal, and embarked the next day to teach the Dutch English in Holland. The wind was fair, our voyage short, and after having paid my passage with half my moveables, I found myself, fallen as if from the skies, a ​stranger in one of the principal streets of Amsterdam. In this situation I was un­willing to let any time pass unemployed in teaching. I addressed myself there­fore to two or three of those I met, whose appearance seemed most promising; but it was impossible to make ourselves mu­tually understood. It was not till this very moment I recollected, that in order to teach Dutchmen English, it was neces­sary that they should first teach me Dutch. How I came to overlook so obvious an objection, is to me amazing; but certain it is I overlooked it.
"This scheme thus blown up, I had some thoughts of fairly shipping back to England again; but happening into company with an Irish student, who was returning from Louvain, our conversation turning upon topics of literature, (for by the way it may be observed, that I always forgot the meanness of my cir­cumstances when I could converse upon ​such subjects) from him I learned that there were not two men in his whole uni­versity who understood Greek. This amazed me. I instantly resolved to tra­vel to Louvain, and there live by teach­ing Greek; and in this design I was hear­tened by my brother student, who threw out some hints that a fortune might be got by it.
"I set boldly forward the next morning. Every day lessened the burthen of my moveables, like Æsop and his basket of bread; for I paid them for my lodgings to the Dutch as I travelled on. When I came to Louvain, I was resolved not to go sneaking to the lower professors, but o­penly tendered my talents to the prin­cipal himself. I went, had admittance, and offered him my service as a master of the Greek language, which I had been told was a desideratum in his university. The principal seemed at first to doubt of my abilities; but of these I offered to ​convince him, by turning a part of any Greek author he should fix upon into La­tin. Finding me perfectly earnest in my proposal, he addressed me thus: You see me, young man, continued he, I never learned Greek, and I don't find that I ever missed it. I have had a doctor's cap and gown without Greek: I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek; and I eat heartily without Greek. In short, continued he, I don't know Greek, and I do not believe there is any use in it.
"I was now too far from home to think of returning; so I resolved to go for­ward. I had some knowledge of music, with a tolerable voice, and now turned what was once my amusement into a pre­sent means of bare subsistence. I passed among the harmless peasants of Flanders, and among such of the French as were poor enough to be very merry; for I ​ever found them sprightly in proportion to their wants. Whenever I approached a peasant's house towards night-fall, I played one of my most merry tunes, and that procured me not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day. I once or twice attempted to play for people of fashion; but they still thought my per­formance odious, and never rewarded me even with a trifle. This was to me the more extraordinary, as whenever I used formerly to play for company, when playing was my amusement, my music never failed to throw them into raptures, and the ladies especially; but as it was now my only means, it was received with contempt: a proof how ready the world is to under rate those talents which a man lives by.
"In this manner I proceeded to Paris, with no design but just to look about me, and then to go forward. The people of ​Paris are much fonder of strangers that have money, than of those that have wit. You may imagine then, as I could not boast much of either, that I was no great favourite. After I had walked about the town four or five days, and seen the outsides of the best houses, I was preparing to leave this retreat of've­nal hospitality, when passing through one of the principal streets, whom should I meet but our cousin, to whom you first recommended me. This meeting was very agreeable to me, and I believe not displeasing to him. He enquired into the nature of my journey to Paris, and informed me of his business there, which was to collect pictures, medals, in­taglios, and antiques of all kinds, for a gentleman in London, who had just stept into taste and a large fortune. I was still more surprised at seeing our cousin pitch­ed upon for this office, as himself had often assured me he knew nothing of the ​matter. Upon my asking how he had been taught the art of a connoscento so very suddenly, he assured me that no­thing was more easy. The whole secret consisted in a strict adherence to two rules: the one always to observe, that the pic­ture might have been better if the pain­ter had taken more pains; and the other, to praise the works of Pietro Perugino. But, says he, as I once taught you how to be an author in London, I'll now undertake to instruct you in the art of picture buying at Paris.
"With this proposal I very readily closed, as it was a living, and now all my ambition was to live. I went there­fore to his lodgings, improved my dress by his assistance, and after some time, accompanied him to auctions of pictures, where the English gentry were expected to be purchasers. I was not a little sur­prised at his intimacy with people of the ​best fashion, who referred themselves to his judgment upon every picture or me­dal, as to an unerring standard of taste. He made very good use of my assistance upon these occasions; for when asked his opinion, he would gravely take me a­side, and ask mine, shrug, look wise, re­turn, and assure the company, that he could give no opinion upon an affair of so much importance. Yet there was sometimes an occasion for a more sup­ported assurance. I remember to have seen him, after giving his opinion that the colouring of a picture was not mel­low enough, very deliberately take a brush with brown varnish, that was acci­dentally lying in the place, and rub it over the piece with great composure be­fore all the company, and then ask if he had not improved the tints.
"When he had finished his commission in Paris, he left me strongly recommend​­ed to several men of distinction, as a person very proper for a travelling tutor; and I was after some time employed in that capa­city by a gentleman who brought his ward to Paris, in order to set him forward on his tour through Europe. I was to be the young gentleman's governor, with this injunction, that he should always be permitted to direct himself. My pupil in fact understood the art of guiding in money concerns much better than me. He was heir to a fortune of about two hundred thousand pounds, left him by an uncle in the West Indies; and his guardians, to qualify him for the ma­nagement of it, had bound him appren­tice to an attorney. Thus avarice was his prevailing passion: all his questions on the road were how money might be saved, which was the least expensive course of travel; whether any thing could be bought that would turn to account when disposed of again in London. ​Such curiosities on the way as could be seen for nothing he was ready enough to look at; but if the sight was to be paid for, he usually asserted that he had been told it was not worth seeing. He never paid a bill, that he would not observe, how amazingly expensive travelling was, and all this though he was not yet come to the age of twenty-one. When arrived at Leghorn, as we took a walk to look at the port and shipping, he enquired the expence of the passage by sea home to England. This he was informed was but a trifle, compared to his returning by land, he was therefore unable to withstand the temptation; so paying me the small part of my salary that was then due, he took leave, and embark­ed with only one attendant for Lon­don.
"I now therefore was left once more up­on the world at large; but then it was ​a thing I was used to. However my skill in music could avail me nothing in a country where every peasant was a bet­ter musician than I; but by this time I had acquired another talent, which an­swered my purpose as well, and this was a skill in disputation. In all the fo­reign universities and convents, there are upon certain days philosophical theses maintained against every adventitious dis­putant; for which, if the champion op­poses with any dexterity, he can claim a gratuity in money, a dinner, and a bed for one night. In this manner therefore I fought my way towards England, walk­ed along from city to city, examined mankind more nearly, and, if I may so express it, saw both sides of the picture. My remarks, however, were few: I found that monarchy was the best government for the poor to live in, and common­wealths for the rich. I found that riches in general were in every country another ​name for freedom; and that no man is so fond of freedom himself that he would not chuse to subject the will of some in­dividuals of society to his own.
"Upon my arrival in England, I resolv­ed to pay my respects first to you, and then to enlist as a volunteer in the first expedition that was sent out; but on my journey down my resolutions were changed, by meeting an old acquaintace, who I found belonged to a company of comedians, that were going to make a summer campaign in the country. The company seemed not much to disapprove of me for an associate. They all, how­ever, apprized me of the importance of the task at which I aimed; that the pub­lic was a many headed monster, and that only such as had very good heads could please it: that acting was not to be learnt in a day; and that without some traditi­onal shrugs, which had been on the ​stage, and only on the stage, these hun­dred years, I could never pretend to please. The next difficulty was in fit­ting me with parts, as almost every cha­racter was in keeping. I was driven for some time from one character to another, till at last Horatio was fixed upon, which the presence of the present company happily hindered me from acting."