a nurse. "Yes, sir," says she; "and I hope your worship will send
out your warrant to take up the hussy its mother, for she must be
one of the neighbourhood; and I should be glad to see her committed to
Bridewell, and whipt at the cart's tail. Indeed, such wicked sluts
cannot be too severely punished. I'll warrant 'tis not her first, by
her impudence in laying it to your worship." "In laying it to me,
Deborah!" answered Allworthy: "I can't think she hath any such design.
I suppose she hath only taken this method to provide for her child;
and truly I am glad she hath not done worse." "I don't know what is
worse," cries Deborah, "than for such wicked strumpets to lay their
sins at honest men's doors; and though your worship knows your own
innocence, yet the world is censorious; and it hath been many an
honest man's hap to pass for the father of children he never begot;
and if your worship should provide for the child, it may make the
people the apter to believe; besides, why should your worship
provide for what the parish is obliged to maintain? For my own part,
if it was an honest man's child, indeed- but for my own part, it goes
against me to touch these misbegotten wretches, whom I don't look upon
as my fellow-creatures. Faugh! how it stinks! It doth not smell like a
Christian. If I might be so bold to give my advice, I would have it
put in a basket, and sent out and laid at the churchwarden's door.
It is a good night, only a little rainy and windy; and if it was
well wrapt up, and put in a warm basket, it is two to one but it lives
till it found in the morning. But if it should not, we have discharged
our duty in taking proper care of it; and it is, perhaps, better
such creatures to die in a state of innocence, than to grow up and
imitate their mothers; for nothing better can be expected of them."
There were some strokes in this speech which perhaps would have
offended Mr. Allworthy, had he strictly attended to it; but he had now
got one of his fingers into the infant's hand, which, by its gentle
pressure, seeming to implore his assistance, had certainly outpleaded
the eloquence of Mrs. Deborah, had it been ten times greater than it
was. He now gave Mrs. Deborah positive orders to take the child to her
own bed, and to call up a maidservant to provide it pap, and other
things, against it waked. He likewise ordered that proper cloathes
should be procured for it early in the morning, and that it should
be brought to himself as soon as he was stirring.
Such was the discernment of Mrs. Wilkins, and such the respect she
bore her master, under whom she enjoyed a most excellent place, that
her scruples gave way to his peremptory commands; and she took the
child under her arms, without any apparent disgust at the illegality
of its birth; and declaring it was a sweet little infant, walked off
with it to her own chamber.
Allworthy here betook himself to those pleasing slumbers which a
heart that hungers after goodness is apt to enjoy when thoroughly
satisfied. As these are possibly sweeter than what are occasioned by
any other hearty meal, I should take more pains to display them to the
reader, if I knew any air to recommend him to for the procuring such
an appetite.
Chapter 4
The reader's neck brought into danger by a description; his
escape; and the great condescension of Miss Bridget Allworthy
The Gothic stile of building could produce nothing nobler than Mr.
Allworthy's house. There was an air of grandeur in it that struck
you with awe, and rivalled the beauties of the best Grecian
architecture; and it was as commodious within as venerable without.
It stood on the south-east side of a hill, but nearer the bottom
than the top of it, so as to be sheltered from the north-east by a
grove of old oaks which rose above it in a gradual ascent of near half
a mile, and yet high enough to enjoy a most charming prospect of the
valley beneath.
In the midst of the grove was a fine lawn, sloping down towards
the house, near the summit of which rose a plentiful spring, gushing
out of a rock covered with firs, and forming a constant cascade of
about thirty feet, not carried down a regular flight of steps, but
tumbling in a natural fall over the broken and mossy stones till it
came to the bottom of the rock, then running off in a pebly channel,
that with many lesser falls winded along, till it fell into a lake
at the foot of the hill, about a quarter of a mile below the house
on the south side, and which was seen from every room in the front.
Out of this lake, which filled the center of a beautiful plain,
embellished with groups of beeches and elms, and fed with sheep,
issued a river, that for several miles was seen to meander through
an amazing variety of meadows and woods till it emptied itself into
the sea, with a large arm of which, and an island beyond it, the
prospect was closed.
On the right of this valley opened another of less extent, adorned
with several villages, and terminated by one of the towers of an old
ruined abby, grown over with ivy, and part of the front, which
remained still entire.
The left-hand scene presented the view of a very fine park, composed
of very unequal ground, and agreeably varied with all the diversity
that hills, lawns, wood, and water, laid out with admirable taste, but
owing less to art than to nature, could give. Beyond this, the country
gradually rose into a ridge of wild mountains, the tops of which
were above the clouds.
It was now the middle of May, and the morning was remarkably serene,
when Mr. Allworthy walked forth on the terrace, where the dawn
opened every minute that lovely prospect we have before described to
his eye; and now having sent forth streams of light, which ascended
the blue firmament before him, as harbingers preceding his pomp, in
the full blaze of his majesty rose the sun, than which one object
alone in this lower creation could be more glorious, and that Mr.
Allworthy himself presented- a human being replete with benevolence,
meditating in what manner he might render himself most acceptable to
his Creator, by doing most good to his creatures.
Reader, take care. I have unadvisedly led thee to the top of as high
a hill as Mr. Allworthy and how to get thee down without breaking
thy neck, I do not well know. However, let us e'en venture to slide
down together; for Miss Bridget rings her bell, and Mr. Allworthy is
summoned to breakfast, where I must attend, and, if you please,
shall be glad of your company.
The usual compliments having past between Mr. Allworthy and Miss
Bridget, and the tea being poured out, he summoned Mrs. Wilkins, and
told his sister he had a present for her, for which she thanked
him- imagining, I suppose, it had been a gown, or some ornament for
her person. Indeed, he very often made her such presents; and she, in
complacence to him, spent much time in adorning herself. I say in
complacence to him, because she always exprest the greatest contempt
for dress, and for those ladies who made it their study.
But if such was her expectation, how was she disappointed when
Mrs. Wilkins, according to the order she had received from her master,
produced the little infant? Great surprizes, as hath been observed,
are apt to be silent; and so was Miss Bridget, till her brother began,
and told her the whole story, which, as the reader knows it already,
we shall not repeat.
Miss Bridget had always exprest so great a regard for what the
ladies are pleased to call virtue, and had herself maintained such a
severity of character, that it was expected, especially by Wilkins,
that she would have vented much bitterness on this occasion, and would
have voted for sending the child, as a kind of noxious animal,
immediately out of the house; but, on the contrary, she rather took
the good-natured side of the question, intimated some compassion for
the helpless little creature, and commended her brother's charity in
what he had done.
Perhaps the reader may account for this behaviour from her
condescension to Mr. Allworthy, when we have informed him that the
good man had ended his narrative with owning a resolution to take care
of the child, and to breed him up as his own; for, to acknowledge
the truth, she was always ready to oblige her brother, and very
seldom, if ever, contradicted his sentiments. She would, indeed,
sometimes make a few observations, as that men were headstrong, and
must have their own way, and would wish she had been blest with an
independent fortune; but these were always vented in a low voice,
and at the most amounted only to what is called muttering.
However, what she withheld from the infant, she bestowed with the
utmost profuseness on the poor unknown mother, whom she called an
impudent slut, a wanton hussy, an audacious harlot, a wicked jade, a
vile strumpet, with every other appellation with which the tongue of
virtue never fails to lash those who bring a disgrace on the sex.
A consultation was now entered into how to proceed in order to
discover the mother. A scrutiny was first made into the characters
of the female servants of the house, who were all acquitted by Mrs.
Wilkins, and with apparent merit; for she had collected them
herself, and perhaps it would be difficult to find such another set of
scarecrows.
The next step was to examine among the inhabitants of the parish;
and this was referred to Mrs. Wilkins, who was to enquire with all
imaginable diligence, and to make her report in the afternoon.
Matters being thus settled, Mr. Allworthy withdrew to his study,
as was his custom, and left the child to his sister, who, at his
desire, had undertaken the care of it.
Chapter 5
Containing a few common matters, with a very uncommon observation
upon them
When her master was departed, Mrs. Deborah stood silent, expecting
her cue from Miss Bridget; for as to what had past before her
master, the prudent housekeeper by no means relied upon it, as she had
often known the sentiments of the lady in her brother's absence to
differ greatly from those which she had expressed in his presence.
Miss Bridget did not, however, suffer her to continue long in this
doubtful situation; for having looked some time earnestly at the
child, as it lay asleep in the lap of Mrs. Deborah, the good lady
could not forbear giving it a hearty kiss, at the same time
declaring herself wonderfully pleased with its beauty and innocence.
Mrs. Deborah no sooner observed this than she fell to squeezing and
kissing, with as great raptures as sometimes inspire the sage dame
of forty and five towards a youthful and vigorous bridegroom, crying
out, in a shrill voice, "O, the dear little creature!- The dear,
sweet, pretty creature! Well, I vow it is as fine a boy as ever was
seen!"
These exclamations continued till they were interrupted by the lady,
who now proceeded to execute the commission given her by her
brother, and gave orders for providing all necessaries for the
child, appointing a very good room in the house for his nursery. Her
orders were indeed so liberal, that, had it been a child of her own,
she could not have exceeded them; but, lest the virtuous reader may
condemn her for showing too great regard to a base-born infant, to
which all charity is condemned by law as irreligious, we think
proper to observe that she concluded the whole with saying, "Since
it was her brother's whim to adopt the little brat, she supposed
little master must be treated with great tenderness. For her part, she
could not help thinking it was an encouragement to vice; but that
she knew too much of the obstinacy of mankind to oppose any of their
ridiculous humours."
With reflections of this nature she usually, as has been hinted,
accompanied every act of compliance with her brother's inclinations;
and surely nothing could more contribute to heighten the merit of this
compliance than a declaration that she knew, at the same time, the
folly and unreasonableness of those inclinations to which she
submitted. Tacit obedience implies no force upon the will, and
consequently may be easily, and without any pains, preserved; but when
a wife, a child, a relation, or a friend, performs what we desire,
with grumbling and reluctance, with expressions of dislike and
dissatisfaction, the manifest difficulty which they undergo must
greatly enhance the obligation.
As this is one of those deep observations which very few readers can
be supposed capable of making themselves, I have thought proper to
lend them my assistance; but this is a favour rarely to be expected in
the course of my work; Indeed, I shall seldom or never so indulge him,
unless in such instances as this, where nothing but the inspiration
with which we writers are gifted, can possibly enable any one to
make the discovery.
Chapter 6
Mrs. Deborah is introduced into the parish with a simile. A short
account of Jenny Jones, with the difficulties and discouragements
which may attend young women in the pursuit of learning
Mrs. Deborah, having disposed of the child according to the will
of her master, now prepared to visit those habitations which were
supposed to conceal its mother.
Not otherwise than when a kite, tremendous bird, is beheld by the
feathered generation soaring aloft, and hovering over their heads, the
amorous dove, and every innocent little bird, spread wide the alarm,
and fly trembling to their hiding-places. He proudly beats the air,
conscious of his dignity, and meditates intended mischief.
So when the approach of Mrs. Deborah was proclaimed through the
street, all the inhabitants ran trembling into their houses, each
matron dreading lest the visit should fall to her lot. She with
stately steps proudly advances over the field: aloft she bears her
towering head, filled with conceit of her own preeminence, and schemes
