3302703The Adventures of David Simple — Book I, Chapter XSarah Fielding

CHAPTER X

which teacheth mankind a true and easy method of serving their friends

After dinner, Mr. Orgueil proposed going to the new play, which he heard had made a great noise in the town. David said, he would accompany him wherever he went, but it was what he had hitherto avoided; from hearing that those who either approved or disapproved the performance, generally made such a noise that it was impossible not to lose great part of the play. "That is very true," replied Mr. Urgueil, "but I go on purpose to make I observations on the humours of mankind; for as r all the criticks commonly go from taverns, nature breaks out, and shews herself, without the disguise which people put on in their cooler hours."

On these considerations they agreed to go, and at half an hour past four they were placed in the pit; the uproar was began, and they were surrounded every way with such a variety of noises, that it seemed as if the whole audience was met by way of emulation, to try who could make the greatest. David asked his friend what could be the meaning of all this, for he supposed they could be neither condemning, nor applauding the play, before it was began. Mr. Orgueil told him, the author's friends and enemies were now shewing what parties they had gathered together, in order to intimidate each other.

David could not forbear enquiring what could induce so many people to shew such an eagerness against a man or his performance, before they knew what it was; and, on being told by Orgueil it was chiefly owing to envy and anger at another's superiority of parts, for that every man who is talked of in the world for any perfection, must have numberless enemies, whom he does not suspect; he could refrain no longer, but burst into the most pathetick lamentation on the miseries of mankind, that people could rise to that height of malignity as to bring spite and envy with them into their very diversions. He thought when men were met together, to relax their minds, and unbend their cares, all was calm within, and every one endeavoured to raise his pleasures as high as possible, by a benevolent consideration, that all present were enjoying the same delights with himself. He told his friend, he now should have one enjoyment less than ever he had; for he used to love public assemblies, because there people generally put on their most cheerful countenances, and seemed as if they were free from every malicious and uneasy thought; but if what he had told him was true, he could consider them as nothing but painted oatsides, while within they were full of rancorous poison.

Mr. Orgueil said, there were yet another sort of people who contributed to the damning of plays, which were a set of idle young fellows, who came there on purpose to make a noise, without any dislike to the author, for few of them knew him; and as to the play, they never hearkened to it, but only out of wantonness they happened to have said it should not be acted a second night, and as fools are generally stubborn, they are resolved not to be overcome. Just as he had spoke these words the curtain drew up, and the play began.

The first act went on very quietly; at which David expressed his satisfaction, hoping to hear it out without any disturbance. But his friend knew to the contrary, and informed him, the more silent the damners were now, the more noise they would soon make; for that was only their cunning, that they might not appear to have come there on purpose to condemn the play. The second act passed also with only a few contentions between claps and hisses; but in the third the tumult grew much louder, and the noise increased; whistles, cat-calls, groans, hallooing, beating with sticks, and, clapping with hands, made such a hideous din, and confusion of sounds, as no one can have any idea of, who has not had the happiness to hear it. In short, the third act was with great difficulty got through; but in the fourth the noise began again, and continued with heroic resolution for some time on both sides; but, as enemies generally stick longer by people than friends, the latter were first worn out, and forced to yield to their antagonists. The words, "Horrid stuff! Was ever such nonsense! Bad plot," etc. were re-echoed throughout the house, for a considerable time; and thus the play was condemned to eternal oblivion, without having been heard; and the author was forced to go without his benefit, which, it is more than probable, would have been of great use to him, as well as many others, who had not failed in their attendance on him once a week for a long time.

As soon as the hurry was a little over, a gentleman who had sat near them the whole time, began to talk to them about the play. He said, he was sorry, that it was impossible for any body of common sense to appear in the imposing such horrid nonsense on the town; for he was the author's friend, and would have been glad if he could have got anything by it; as, at this time he knew it would have been very acceptable to him. David could not forbear saying, "Indeed, sir, I took you rather for a great enemy of his; for I observed you making use of all the methods possible that it might not be heard." "Yes, sir," answered the other, "that was, because, as I am his friend, and found it was very bad, I was unwilling he should be exposed; besides, I looped, by the mortification this would give him, to prevent his ever attempting to appear again in this manner; for he is a very good-natured fellow, a good companion, and a friend of mine; but, between you and I, he cannot write at all."

As soon as this friendly creature left them, Mr. Orgueil observed to David, how strong a proof this was of the truth of what he had told him before; for he himself had been a witness once, though he found he had forgot him, of this gentleman's attempting to rally the author before a room full of company; but his getting the better of him, and having always the laugh on his side, had made him envious of him ever since. On this subject Mr. Orgueil and Daid discoursed all the way home; where, when they arrived, being worn out with hurry and noise, they retired immediately to bed, where I will leave them to take their repose.