The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 33
CHAPTER III
The next line day was embraced by David and his companions to execute their purpose of going upon the river; and the water, "ever friend to thought," with the dashing of the oars, and the quick change of prospect from where the houses, at a little distance, seem, by their number and thickness, to be built on each other, to the fields and rural scenes, naturally threw them into a humour to reflect on their past lives; and they fell into a conversation on human miseries, most of which arise from the envy and malignity of mankind; from whence arose a debate amongst them, which had suffered the most. The two gentlemen agreed that Cynthia and Camilla's sufferings had exceeded theirs; but David said he thought Camilla's were infinitely beyond anything he had ever heard. Valentine replied, that indeed he could not but own her afflictions were in some respects more violent than Cynthia's; but then she had enjoyed some pleasures in her life, for, till she was eighteen, she was happy; whilst poor Cynthia had been teased and vexed ever since she was born; and he thought it much worse to live continually on the fret than to meet with one great misfortune; for the mind generally exerts all its force and rises against things of consequence; while it is apt, by the neglect of what we think more trifling, to give way and be overcome. Cynthia and Camilla said that indeed they had always thought their own misfortunes as great as human nature could bear till they had heard poor Isabelle's story.
As they were thus engaged in this discourse, they perceived, at a little distance from them, the river all covered with barges and boats of various sizes; and, on inquiry, found the cause of it was to see six watermen, who were rowing to Putney for a coat and badge. Minds so philosophical as theirs immediately reflected how strong a picture this contention of the six boys is of human life; the eagerness with which each of them strove to attain this great reward is a lively representation of the toils and labours men voluntarily submit to, for the gratification of whatever passion has the predominancy over them. "But these poor fellows," said Cynthia, "have in view what they really want, and justly think of the value of the prize which will be of real use to them; whilst most of the things we see people so eager in the pursuit of have no other good in them but what consists chiefly in fancy.
"Could the ambitious man succeed in all his schemes, if he would seriously consider the many toils and hazards he has gone through to come at this beloved height and grandeur, he certainly must conclude the trouble greatly overweighed the gain; for the top of the pinnacle, to attain which he has spent all his time and watched so many anxious nights, is so narrow, and has so small a footing, that he stands in continual danger and fear of falling; for thousands of others, who are just as wise as himself, and imagine the place he stands in the only one they can be happy in, are daily leaving their own firm footing, climbing and catching to pull him down, in order to place themselves in his tottering and, in my opinion, dreadful situation. Or, when the avaricious man has heaped up more money than an arithmetician can easily count, if he would own his restless state of mind to gain yet more, and the perturbation of his thoughts for fear of losing what he has attained, I believe no poor man in his senses would change his situation with him. But I fear I am growing too serious." On which Valentine replied, it was impossible but that what she said must be pleasing to all the company. And David, with a sigh, said he wished all the world would imitate these watermen, and fairly own when they were rowing against each other's interest, and I not treacherously pretend to have an equal desire I of promoting others' good with their own while they are underhand acting to destroy it.
As they were talking, on a sudden a boat which passed hastily by them splashed them in such a manner, they were obliged to get into a house, in order to refresh and dry themselves; and during their stay there they heard a doleful crying and dismal lamentation in the next chamber; and sometimes they thought they heard the sound of blows. David, according to his usual method, could not be easy without inquiring what could be the cause of this complaint. Valentine and the rest were also desirous to be informed. On which they agreed to go into the room whence the noise came.
There sat at one comer of the room a middle-aged woman, who looked as if she had been very handsome, but her eyes were then swelled with crying. By her stood a man, looking in the utmost rage, clinching his fist at her, as if he was ready every moment to strike her down, Camilla, at David's request, presently went up to her, and desired to know of her what it was that had put the man in such a passion with her. The woman, in the softest voice and mildest tone imaginable replied as follows—
"You are very good, madam, to take so much notice of the miseries of such a poor wretch as I am. I really cannot tell what it is that continually throws my husband (for so that man is) into such violent rages and passions with me. I have been married to him ten years, and, till within this half-year, we always lived together very happily; but now I dare not speak a word, lest he should beat and abuse me; and his only pleasure seems to be the contradicting me in every thing he knows I like.—What this usage proceeds from, or how I have displeased him, I cannot find out, for I make it my whole study to obey him."
David immediately turned to the man, and begged him not to abuse his wife in such a manner. If he had taken anything ill of her, it would be better to let her know it, and then he did not doubt but she would behave otherwise. But he could get no other answer from the man than that he was resolved not to be made such a fool of as neighbour Such-a-one was by his wife; for though, perhaps, he had not so much sense as he in some respects, yet he was not so great a fool as to give way to a silly woman's humours neither, but could tell how to govern his wife. Cynthia and the rest of the company joined in entreating the man to use his wife better; but as they found all endeavours vain, for that the man abused her only because he would not be made a fool of, they left them.
As they were going home, David could not help talking of this last scene, and trying if any of the company could find out any reason for this fellow's behaviour. Camilla said, she fancied she guessed the cause of it; for she remembered, when she lived at home with her father, a gentleman who used to come often to their house, and who made a very good husband; but from the time he saw her father's extravagant passion for his wife, he rejoiced in the thought that he had found out a weakness in him, and therefore took a resolution to have a superiority over him, at least in one point; and hence grew so morose, so sour to his wife, that he contradicted her in everything she said or did; saying she should not make such a fool of him as Livia did of her husband, "Now," continued she, "I think this instance something like this fellow's behaviour. On the other hand, I knew several others who imitated my father, and, by awkward pretences to a passion they were not susceptible of, made the most ridiculous figures imaginable. I never shall forget one man, who was but in a middling station in lifa; but, however, in the country, he and his wife often dined and supped at our house: they lived together without any quarrels or disputes, and each performed their separate business with cheerfulness and good humour, and they were what the world calls a happy couple. But after my father brought Livia home, and behaved to her in the manner before related, this man took it into his bead that he also must be the fond husband, and consequently humoured his wife in everything, till he made her perfectly miserable; for she grew too delicate to be happy; and was so whimsical, it was impossible to please her. For I have always observed it requires a very good understanding to bear great indulgence, or great prosperity, without behaving ill and being ridiculous; for grown-up people, as well as children, when they are too much humoured, cry and are miserable because they don't know what they would have."
Cynthia smiled at Camilla's account of this fond husband; and said, she could easily believe that a strong affectation of sense, and a desire to be thought wise, might lead people into the most preposterous actions in the world; "for" continued she, "I once knew a woman whose understanding was full good enough to conduct her through all the parts she had to act in life, and who was naturally of so calma disposition that, while she was young, I thought her formed to be the happiest creature in the world. And yet this woman was continually unhappy; for she accidentally met with those two lines of Congreve's in the Double Dealer—
If happiness in self-content is plac'd,
The wise are wretched, and fools only bless'd;
and from that moment took up a resolution of never being contented with anything; and I have really known her, when any trifling thing has gone otherwise than she would have it, strut about the room like a heroine in a tragedy, repeating the forementioned lines; and then set herself down perfectly satisfied with her own parts, because she found she could with art raise an uneasiness and vexation in her own mind. For as people who really have sense employ their time in lowering all sensations which they find give them pain; so persons who are so wise as to think all happiness depends on the reputation of having an understanding, often pay even the price of continual fretting, in order to obtain this their imaginary good. And the human mind is so framed, that I believe no person is so void of passion, or so perfectly exempt from being subject to be uneasy at disappointments, but by frequently giving way to being discomposed at trifles, they may at last bring themselves to such a habitude of teasing and vexing themselves as will in the end appear perfectly natural."
Valentine hearkened with the utmost joy and attention to every word Cynthia uttered; Camilla perfectly agreed with her in her sentiments; and David could not forbear expressing a great uneasiness that mankind should think anything worthy their serious regard but real goodness. Nothing more worth remarking happened to them that day; they spent the evening in a conversation on Isabelle's misfortunes, which dwelt strongly on poor David's mind; and the next, being very wet weather, they resolved to stay at home.
Cynthia, who always employed her thoughts in what manner she could best amuse her company, proposed the telling them a story she knew of two young ladies while she was abroad. And as every person of this party delighted in hearing her talk, and expressed their great desire she would relate it, she, without any ceremony, began what will be seen in the next chapter.