The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 17
CHAPTER VI
"I cannot say I ever had any happiness in my life; for while I was young I was bred up with my father and mother, who, without designing me any harm, were continually teasing me. I loved reading, and had a great desire of attaining knowledge; but, whenever I asked questions of any kind whatsoever, I was always told, such things were not proper for girls of my age to know. If I was pleased with any book above the most silly story or romance, it was taken from me—for miss must not enquire too far into things, it would turn her brain; she had better mind her needle-work, and such things as were useful for women! reading and poring on books would never get me a husband. Thus was I condemned to spend my youth, the time when our imagination is at the highest, and we are capable of most pleasure, without being indulged in any one thing I liked, and obliged to employ myself in what was fancied by my mistaken parents to be for my improvement, although in reality it was nothing more than what any person, a degree above a natural fool, might learn as well in a very small time, as in a thousand ages. And what yet aggravated my misfortunes was, my having a brother who hated reading to such a degree, that he had a perfect aversion to the very sight of a book; and he must be cajoled or whipped into learning, while it was denied me, who had the utmost eagerness for it. Young and unexperienced as I was in the world, I could not help observing the error of this conduct, and the impossibility of ever making him get any learning that could be of use to him, or of preventing my loving it.
"I had two sisters, whose behaviour was more shocking to me than that of my father and mother; because, as we were more of an age, we were more constantly together. I should have loved them with the sincerest affection, if they had behaved to line in a manner I could have borne with patience: they neither of them were to be reckoned amongst the silliest of women, and had both some small glimmering rays of parts and wit. To this was owing all their faults; for they were so partial to themselves, they mistook this faint dawn of day for the sun in its meridian; and from grasping at what they could not attain, obscured and rendered useless all the understanding they really had. From hence they took an inveterate hatred to me, because most of our acquaintances allowed me to have more wit than they had; and when I spoke, I was generally listened to with most attention. I don't speak this from vanity; for I have been so teased and tormented about wit, I really wish there was no such thing in the world. I am very certain the woman who is possessed of it, unless she can be so peculiarly happy as to live with people void of envy, had better be without it. The fate of those persons who have wit, is nowhere so well described, as in those excellent lines in the Essay on Criticism, which are so exactly suited to my present purpose, I cannot forbear repeating them to you.
"Unhappy wit, like most mistaken things.
Atones not for that envy which it brings;
In youth alone its empty praise we boast.
But soon the short-liv'd vanity is lost:
Like some (air flower the early spring supplies,
That gaily blooms, but e'en in blooming dies.
What is this wit which most our cares employ?
The owner's wife that other men enjoy:
The most our trouble still, when most admir'd;
The more we give, the more is still requir'd;
The fame with pains we gain, but lose with ease;
Sure some to vex, but never all to please:
'Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous shun;
By fools 'tis hated, and by knaves undone.
"I never spoke, but I was a wit; if I was silent, it was contempt, I certainly would not deign to converse with such people as they were. Thus whatever I did disobliged them; and it was impossible to be otherwise, as the cause of their displeasure was what I could not remove. I should have been very well pleased with their conversation, if they had been contented to have been what nature designed them; for good-humour, and a desire to please, is all I wish for in a companion; for, in my opinion, being inoffensive goes a great way in rendering any person agreeable; but so little did they show to me, that every word I spoke was misunderstood, and turned to my disadvantage. I remember once, on my saying I would follow my inclinations while they were innocent, and no ill consequences attended them; my eldest sister made me so absurd an answer, I cannot help relating it to you: for she said, she did not at all doubt but I would follow my inclinations; she was really afraid what I should come to, as she saw I fancied it a sign of wit to be a libertine; a word which she chose to thunder often in my ears, as she had heard me frequently express a particular aversion to those of our sex who deserve it. Indeed, she always exulted in saying anything she thought could hurt me: if I dropped an unguarded word or expression they could possibly lay hold on, to turn into what they thought ridicule, the joy it gave them was incredihie; if I took up a book they could not comprehend, they suddenly grew very modest, and did not pretend to know what was only fit for the learned. It is really entertaining to see the shifts people make to conceal from themselves their own want of capacities; for whoever really has sense, will understand whatever is writ in their own language, although they are entirely ignorant of all others, with an exception only of the technical terms of sciences. But I was once acquainted with an old man, who, from a small suspicion that he was not thought by the I world to be extremely wise, was always considering which way he should flatter himself that the fault was not in him, but owing to some accident; till at last he hit on the thought that his folly was caused by his father's neglect of him; for he did not at all seem to doubt but he should have had as much sense as another, if he had but understood Greek and Latin. As if languages had a charm in them which could banish all stupidity and nonsense from those who understood them. But to proceed in my story.
"If youth and liveliness sometimes led me into any action, which they, in their riper judgments, (for the youngest of them was five years older than myself) termed indiscretions, they immediately thanked God, though they had no wit, they had common sense, and knew how to conduct themselves in life, which they thought much more valuable; but these wits had never any judgment. This is a mistake which prevails generally in the world; and, I believe, arises from the strong desire most men have to be thought witty; but when they find it is impossible, they would willingly be thought to have a contempt for it; and perhaps they sometimes have the art of flattering themselves to such a degree, as really to believe they do despise it: for men often impose so much on their own understandings, as to triumph in those very things they would be ashamed of, if their self-love would but permit them for a moment, to see things clearly as they are; they go beyond the jackdaw in the fable, who never went farther than to strut about in the peacock's feathers, with a design of imposing on others. For they endeavour so long to blind other men's eyes, that at last they quite darken their own; and although in their nature they are certainly daws, yet they find a method of persuading themselves that they are peacocks. But notwithstanding all the industry people may make use of to blind themselves, if wit consists, as Mr. Locke says, in the assemblage of ideas, and judgment in the separating them; I really believe the person who can join them with the most propriety, will separate them with the greatest nicety. A metaphor from mechanism, I think, will very plainly illustrate my thoughts on this subject: for let a machine, of any kind, be joined together by an ingenious artist, and I dare say, he will be best able to take it apart again: a bungler, or an ignorant person, perhaps, may pull it asunder, or break it to pieces; but to separate it nicely, and know how to divide it in the right places, will certainly be the best performed by the man who had skill enough to set it together. But with strong passions, and lively imaginations, people may sometimes be led into errors, although their judgments are ever so good; and when persons, who are esteemed by the world to have wit, are guilty of any failing, all the envious (and I am afraid they are too great a part of the human species) set up a general outcry against them."
David, into whose head not one envious thought ever entered, could easily comprehend the reasonableness of what Cynthia said, though he was at a loss for examples of such behaviour, but was too well pleased with her manner of talking to interrupt her: and she thus continued her story.
"We had a young cousin lived with us, who was the daughter of my father's brother, she was the oddest character I ever knew; for she certainly could not be said to have any understanding, and yet she had one of the strongest signs of sense that could be: for she was so conscious of her defect that way, that it made her so bashful she never spoke but with fear and trembling, lest she should make herself ridiculous. This poor creature would have been made a perfect mope had it not been for me; for she was the only person I ever submitted to flatter. I always approved whatever she said, and never failed asking her opinion, whenever I could contrive to do it without appearing to make a jest of her. This was the highest joy to my sisters, who thought that in this instance, at least, they could prove my want of sense, and their own superiority; for their delight was in making a butt of this poor girl, by rallying, as they pleased to term it, and putting her out of countenance."
"Pray, madam," said David, "what is the meaning of making a butt of any one?" Cynthia replied, "It is setting up a person as a mark to be scorned and pointed at for some defect of body or mind, and this without any offence comitted, to provoke such treatment: nay, on the contrary, it generally falls on the bashfill and innocent; and when a poor creature is thus undeservedly put to the torment of feeling the uneasy sensation of shame, the raillers exult in the thoughts of their own wit. To be witty without either blasphemy, obscenity, or ill-nature, requires a great deal more than every person, who heartily desires the reputation of being so, can come up to; but I have made it my observation, in all the families I have ever seen, that if any one person in it is more remarkably silly than the rest, those who approach in the next degree to them, always despise them the most; they are as glad to find any one below them, whom they may triumph over and laugh at, as they are envious and angry to see any one above them; as cowards kick and abuse the person who is known to be a degree more timorous than themselves, as much as they tremble at the frown of any one who has more courage. Thus my sisters always treated my cousin as a fool, while they upbraided me with being a wit; little knowing, that if the term had any meaning at all, when it is used by way of contempt, they were the very people who deserved to be called so. For if I understand it, it is then used to signify a person with but a very moderate share of understanding, who from affectation, and an insatiable desire of being thought witty, grows impertinent, and says all the ill-natured things he can think of. For my part, I conceive all manner of raillery to be the most disagreeable conversation in the world, unless it be amongst those people who have politeness and delicacy enough to rally in the manner La Bruyere speaks of; that is, to fall only on such frailties as people of sense voluntarily give up to censure: these are the best subjects to display humour, as it turns into a compliment to the person rallied, being a sort of insinuation that they have no greater faults to be fallen upon.
"When I was about sixteen, I became acquainted with a young lady, in whose conversation I had the utmost pleasure; but I had not often an opportunity of seeing her: for as she was too fond of reading, my mother was frightened out of her wits, to think what would become of us, if we were much together. I verily believe, she thought we should draw circles, and turn conjurers. Every new acquaintance we had increased my sisters' aversion to me; for as I was generally liked best, they were in a continual rage at seeing I was taken so much notice of. But the only proof of their sense they ever gave me, was the being irritated more than usual, at the fondness which was shewn me by this young woman: for since they could be so low as to be envious, there was more understanding in being so at my attaining what was really valuable, than at what was of no consequence, and gave me no other pleasure but finding it was in my power to give it; which was the case with most of the people I convened with.
"When I was seventeen, my mother died, and after that I got with more freedom to my companion; for my father did not trouble himself much about me. He had given way to my mother's method of educating me, as indeed he always complied with her in everything; not that he had any extraordinary affection for her, but she was one of those sort of women, who, if they once take anything in their heads, will never be quiet till they have attained it; and as he was of a disposition which naturally loved quietness, he would sooner consent to anything than hear a noise.
"One day at dinner, my father told me, if I would be a good girl, I should be married very soon. I laughed, and said, I hoped I should see the man who was to be my husband, at least an hour beforehand. 'Yes, yes,' replied he, 'you shall see him time enough; but it suffices I have an offer for you, which I think to your advantage, and I expect your obedience; you know, your mother always obeyed me, and I will be master of my own family.' I really could hardly forbear laughing in his face; but as I thought that would be very unbecoming in me to my father, I turned the discourse as fast as possible. My sisters both fell out a-laughing; one cried, 'Oh! now we shall have fine diversion, Cynthia will be a charming mistress of a family. I wonder which of her books will teach her to be a housewife.'—'Yes,' says the other, 'undoubtedly her husband will be mightily pleased, when he wants his dinner, to find she has been all the morning diverting herself with reading, and forgot to order any; which I dare say will be the case,' I had now been so long used to them, that what they said, gave me no manner of concern, and I was seldom at the trouble of answering them.
"The next day my father brought a country gentleman home to dinner with him, who was a perfect stranger to me: I did not take much notice of him, for he had nothing remarkable in him; he was neither handsome nor ugly, tall nor short, old nor young; he had something, indeed, of a rusticity in his person; what he said, had nothing entertaining in it, either in a serious or merry way, and yet it was neither silly nor ridiculous. In short, I might be in company with a thousand such sort of men, and quite forget I had ever seen them: but I was greatly surprised after dinner, at my father's calling me out of the room, and telling me, that was the gentleman he designed for my husband; that he expected me to receive him as such, and he would take the first opportunity to leave us together, that my lover might explain himself. Which, as soon as he could contrive it, he did, by sending my sisters and cousin, one after another, out of the room, and then withdrawing himself. I had so ridiculous an idea of being thus shut up with a stranger, in order to be made love to, that I could not resist the temptation of making a little diversion with a person who appeared to me in so despicable a light. The gentleman took three or four strides across the room, looked out of the window once or twice, and then turned to me, with an awkward bow, and an irresistible air (as I fancy he thought it) and made me the polite compliment, of telling me, that he supposed my father had informed me that they two were agreed on a bargain. I replied, 'I did not know my father was of any trade, or had any goods to dispose of; but if he had, and they could agree on their terms, he should have my consent, for I never interfered with any business of my father's': and went on rattling a good while, till he was quite out in his catechism, and knew not what to say. But he soon recollected himself, for he had all the assurance of a man, who from knowing he has a good fortune, thinks he does every woman an honour he condescends to speak to; and assured me, I must interfere in this business as it more particularly concerned me. 'In short, madam,' continued he, 'I have seen you two or three times, although you did not know it; I like your person, hear you have had a sober education, think it time to have an heir to my estate, and am willing, if you consent to it, to make you my wife; notwithstanding your father tells me, he can't lay you down above two thousand pounds, I am none of those nonsensical fools that can whine and make romantic love, I leave that to younger brothers, let my estate speak for me; I shall expect nothing from you but that you will retire into the country with me, and take care of my family. I must inform you, I shall desire to have everything in order; for I love good eating and drinking, and have been used to have my own humour from my youth, which, if you will observe and comply with, I shall be very kind to you, and take care of the main chance for you and your children.' I made him a low curtsey, and thanked him for the honour he intended me; but told him, I had no kind of ambition to be his upper servant; though, indeed, I could not help wondering how it was possible for me to escape being charmed with his genteel manner of addressing me. I then asked him how many offices he had allotted for me to perform, for those great advantages he had offered me, of suffering me to humour him in all his whims, and to receive meat, drink, and lodging at his hands; but hoped he would allow me some small wages, that I might now and then recreate myself with my fellow-servants. In short, my youth led me into indulging myself in a foolish ridicule, for which I now condemn myself. He grew angry at my laughing at him, and left me, saying, he should let my father know in what manner I had used him; that I might very likely repent the refusing him, for such estates as his were not to be met with every day.
"I could not help reflecting on the folly of those women who prostitute themselves (for I shall always call it prostitution, for a woman who has sense, and has been tolerably educated, to marry a clown and a fool) and give up that enjoyment, which every one who has taste enough to know how to employ their time, can procure for themselves, though they should be obliged to live ever so retired, only to know they have married a man who has an estate; for they very often have no more command of it, than if they were perfect strangers. Some men, indeed, delight in seeing their wives finer than their neighbours; which, to those women whose whole thoughts are fixed on fine clothes, may be a pleasure; but for my part, I should in that case think myself just in the situation of the horse who wears gaudy trappings only to gratify his master's vanity, whilst he himself is not at all considered in them. I was certain I could live much more to my satisfaction on the interest of my own little fortune, than I could do with subjecting myself to the humours of a man I must have always disliked and despised.
"I don't know how it was brought about, but this man married my second sister, and she took the other away with her, so that I was happily rid of them both. My father was very angry with me for the present; but I thought that would be I soon over, and did not at all doubt his being reconciled to me again. I now began to flatter myself, that I should lead a hfe perfectly suitable to my taste; my cousin was very fond of me, for I was the only woman she had ever met with, who had not shown a contempt for her. I carried her with me wherever I went, and had the pleasure of seeing I was the cause of her being happy. I conversed as much as I pleased with my beloved companion, and books and friendship shared my peaceful hours. But this lasted but a very short time; for my father, in the heat of his anger against me, made a will, in which he left me nothing; and before his rage abated enough for him to alter it, he died of an apoplexy. As soon as my sisters heard of his death, they hurried to town, when the will was opened, and they found I was excluded from having any share in my father's fortune: they triumphed over me with all the insolence imaginable, and vented all their usual reproaches; saying, it was impossible but that a person of my great wit and genius must be able to provide for myself, and did not doubt but 1 could shift very well without money. Thus this unpardonable crime of being thought to have more sense than they had, was never to be forgiven; they stayed no longer in town, than while they were settling their affairs, and left me with but five guineas, which I happened to have saved out of my pocket-money, while my father was alive. The young woman I have so often mentioned to you, was so generous as to let me have all the little money she was mistress of. I wish nothing so much as to see her again; but while I was abroad, she and her brother went from their father's house, on his bringing home a mother-in-law, and I cannot hear what is become of them. Whilst I was in this situation, my Lady ———, with whom I had had a small acquaintance for some time, took such a fancy to me, she invited me to come and live with her; she seemed as if she loved me, and I was ignorant enough of the world to think she did so. She was going abroad; and as I had a great desire to see more countries than my own, I proposed to myself a great deal of pleasure in going with her; the only regret I had was in leaving my dear companion, but I was not in circumstances to refuse my Lady ———'s offer.
"And now I am come to the conclusion of my history, whilst I went under the denomination of a wit, and am really quite tired of talking; but if you have a curiosity to know the rest of my history, and will favour me with your company to-morrow, I will resume it."
David assured her, nothing could oblige him more, and in a little while took his leave of her for that night.