

                                Oliver Goldsmith

                             The Vicar of Wakefield

                                     A Tale

 Sperate miseri, cavete fælices.
 

                                 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.
 

                                    Chap. 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
