# The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII
wherein is to be seen the infallibility of men's judgments concerning the virtues or vices of their own wives; a scene taken from very low life, in which only such examples are to be found
As David was one day walking along the Strand, full of these reflections, he met a man with so contented a countenance, he could not forbear having a curiosity to know who he was: he therefore watched him home; and, on enquiry, found he was a carpenter, who worked very hard, brought home all the money he could get to his wife, and that they led a very quiet, peaceable life together. ​He was resolved to take the first opportunity of sending for him, on pretence of employing him in his trade, in order to know, from his own mouth, what it was caused those great signs of happiness which so visibly appeared in his countenance. The man told him, he was indeed the happiest of all mortals; for he certainly had the best wife in the world; to which was owing that cheerfulness he was pleased to take notice of. This still raised his curiosity the more, and made him resolve to go to the man's house to observe his manner of living. He told him he had a desire to see this good woman, whose character pleased him so well, and that he would go home to dinner with him. The carpenter, who thought he never had witnesses enough of his wife's goodness, said he should be very proud of his company. And home they went together.
Mr. Simple expected to have found everything prepared in a neat, though plain way by this extraordinary woman, for the reception and comfort of her husband after his morning's work: but how greatly was he surprised, when he heard by a prentice boy (who was left at home to wait on her, instead of assisting his master in his business) that she in bed, and desired her husband would go and buy the dinner, which the boy dressed for them, but very ill; and when it was ready the lady condescended to sit down at table with them, with the boy waiting behind her chair: and what was still the more amazing, was, that this woman was ugly to such a degree, that it was a wonder any man could think of her at all. The whole dinner passed in the man's praises of her good humour and virtue, and in exultings in the happiness of possessing such a creature.
This scene perplexed David more than anything he had yet seen, and he endeavoured all he could to account for it. He therefore desired to board with ​them a week, in order to find out (if possible) what could be the cause of a man's fondness for such a woman. In all the time he was there he observed she indulged herself in drinking tea and in such expenses as a man in his way could not possibly supply, notwithstanding all his industry; but he thought nothing too much for her. After all the reflections that could be made on this subject, there could be no other reason assigned for this poor man's being such a willing slave, bat her great pride, and high spirit, which imposed on him, and made him afraid to disoblige her, together with a certain self-sufficiency in all she said or did; which, joined to her superiority to him in birth (she having been a lady's waiting-gentlewoman) made him imagine her much more capable than she really was in all respects.
I think it very likely, if she had known her own deserts, and been humble in her behaviour, he would have paid her no other compliment than that of confessing her in the right in the mean thoughts she had of herself. He then would have been master in his own house, and have made a drudge of her; an instance of which David saw while he was there, by a man who came one day to visit his neighbour, and was what is called by those sort of people a jolly companion: the first thing he did was to abuse his wife. He said, he had left her at home out of humour, and would always deal with her after that manner when he found her inclined to be ill-tempered. The carpenter cast a look on his wife, which expressed his satisfaction in having so much the advantage of his acquaintance. The other went on, in saying, for his part, he could never have anything he liked at home, therefore he would stay but little there.
David hearing all this, had a great desire to see if this woman was as much better than her husband ​thought her, as the other was worse; and told the man, if he would let him come and board with him a week, he would give him his own price. The other answered, he should be very welcome, but his wife did things in such an awkward way, he was afraid he would not stay there a day. But he, who was very indifferent as to what he ate and drank, was not frightened at this, and went home with the man. He found the woman hard at work, with two small children, the eldest not four years old, playing round her; they were dressed in coarse things, full of patch-work, but yet whole and clean; everything in the house was neat, and plainly proved the mistress of that family, having no servant, could not be idle. As soon as they came in, she rose from her work, made an humble curtsey to the stranger, and received her husband with a mixture of love and fear. He, in a surly tone, said, "Well, Moll, I hope you are in a better humour than when I left you; here is a gentleman wants to board with us for a week, you had best not be in your airs; none of your crying and whining, for I won't stay an hour in the house, if you don't behave yourself as you ought." The poor woman, who could hardly refrain from tears, said, indeed, she was in very good humour, and would do all she could, in her homely way, to give the gentleman content. She had been very pretty, but her eyes now had a deadness in them, and her countenance was grown pale, which seemed to be occasioned by the sorrow and hard labour she had endured, which produced the effects of old age, even in youth itself.
The husband never spoke for anything but it was done, as if by enchantment; for she flew to obey him the moment be but intimated his inclinations: she watched his very looks to observe what he would have; and if ever he expressed himself mildly, it seemed to give her vast pleasure. Everything was ​ordered in the house in the most frugal and best manner possible; yet she could seldom get a good word from the man she endeavoured to please. Her modest behaviour, love to her husband, and tenderness for her children, in short, everything she did or said, raised a great compassion in David, and a strong desire to know her story, which he took the first opportunity of desiring her to relate. She for a great while excused herself, saying, she could not tell her story without reflecting on the man she was unwilling to blame. But on David's assuring her everything should be a secret, and that he would exert the utmost of his power to serve her, she was at last prevailed on to give the following account of her life.
As you seem, sir, so desirous of knowing my misfortunes, I cannot refuse complying with your request, though the remembrance of most of the scenes of my life brings nothing but melancholy thoughts to my mind, which I endeavour as much as possible to avoid. Indeed, I have so few comforts, that it's well my being continually obliged to employ myself in feeding and covering these my little ones, prevents my having time to think so much as otherwise I should.
"My father was a great distiller in the city, and I was bred up with the utmost tenderness and care, till I was ten years old, when he died and left me to the care of an elder brother, to depend on his pleasure for my support. He was a sort of man it is impossible to draw any character of, for I never knew him to do one action in my lifa, that was not too much in the common road to be remarked. He kept me in his house without either abusing or showing the least affection towards me; by which sort of behaviour he neither gained my love nor my hatred, but I lived a dull lifa with very few things to amuse me; for as all the companions I used to ​play with in my father's time had plenty of money, and I now was kept without any, they soon shunned me, and I was as willing to avoid them, having too much pride to be beholden to them for paying my share of the expense. I had now nothing to do but to fly to books for refuge: all the pleasure I had was in reading romances, so that by the time I was fifteen, my head was full of nothing but love. While I was in this disposition, one Sunday, as I came out of church, an old woman followed me, and whispered in my ear, if I had a mind to save a pretty young fellow's life, I should give a kind answer to a note he had sent by her; which she put into my hand, and presently mixed amongst the crowd. I made haste home with the utmost impatience to read my letter, it contained the strongest expressions of love, and was writ so much in the strain of some of my favourite books, that I was overjoyed at the thoughts of such an adventure. However, I would not answer it, thinking some years' service due to me, before such a favour should be granted; for I began now to look on myself as the heroine of a romance. The young man was clerk to an attorney in the neighbourhood, and was none of those lukewarm lovers who require their mistresses to meet them half way, but he followed me with the utmost assiduity. This exactly suited my taste, and I soon found a great inclination for him, yet was resolved to make a long courtship of it; but a very few meetings with him got the better of all my resolutions, and he made me engage myself to him.
"If my brother had treated me with good nature, I certainly should have acquainted him with this affair: but he took so little notice of me, and whenever I spoke to him showed such a contempt for talking with girls, that, he being twice my age, I contracted such an awe of him, I really was afraid to tall him of it. I take shame to myself for giving ​so easily into an affair of this nature: but I was young, and had nobody to advise or instruct me, for my mother died when I was an infant, which I hope may be some excuse for me; but I won't tire you with my foolish remarks.
"My brother happened one day to bring home a young man to dinner with him, who took such a fancy to me, he would have married me. My person then, as I was told, was very agreeable, though now, sir, I am so altered, nobody would know me to be the same woman. This young man was in very good circumstances, which you may be sure made my brother readily agree to it. He therefore told me of it, but was greatly surprised to find me utterly averse to the match; he teased me so much about it, that at last I told him the truth, that I was already engaged, both in honour and inclination, to another.
On hearing this, he fell into the most violent rage imaginable, at my daring to engage myself to any one without his consent. He told me, the man I had pleased to take a fancy to was a pitiful fellow. That his master often said he would never come to any good, for he thought of nothing but his pleasures, and never minded his business. In short, he said, if I would not give him up, he would abandon me, and never see me more. This roughness and brutality made me still fonder of my lover, who was all complaisance and eagerness to please me. I took the first opportunity of informing him of what had happened. He was not at all concerned, as he saw me so resolute, only he pressed me to marry him immediately, which my foolish fondness soon made me consent to. My brother was as good as his word, for be would never see me more. And, indeed, it was not long before I found what he had told me was too true, that my husband would not follow his business; for as soon as he was out of his time he swore be would have no more to do with it. His ​father was a very good man but, unfortunately for me, died soon after we were married; for he would have been kind to me if he had lived. He had more children, and was not very rich, so that he could not leave us a great deal: however, he left me £30 per annum in an annuity; and to his son £500, which he soon spent, and made me sell my annuity: I have never refused him anything since we have been married. You see, sir, by the manner we live, money is not very plenty with us, though I do my household affairs myself, take care of my poor children, and am glad to do plain work besides, when I can get it; that, by all means possible, I may help to support the man, whom yet I love with the greatest fondness, notwithstanding you see he doth not treat me with an equal tenderness.
"He has a brother, who allows him a small matter, so that we make shift to rub on with bread, and I could be content with my lot, if he behaved to me as when we were first married; what has occasioned this alteration I cannot imagine, for I don't find he converses with any other women, and I have always been a very humble wife; I have humoured him in everything he has desired: I have never upbraided him with the misery I have suffered for his sake, nor refused him any of the little money I got. I remember once, when I had but just enough to buy a dinner for the day, and had been hard at work, he had a mind to go out, where he thought he should be merry: I let him have this little, and concealed from him that I had no more; thinking it impossible for him to take it, if he had known the truth. I ate nothing but bread that day. When he came home at night, I received him with great good humour; but had a faintness upon me, which prevented my being cheerful, which he immediately imputed to the badness of my temper. He swore there was no hving with women, for they had such vile humours ​no mortal could bear them. Thus even my tenderness for him is turned against me, and I can do nothing that he does not dislike; yet my fondness still continues for him, and there are no pains I would not take, if he would return it; but he imputes it to a warmth in my inclination, which accident might as well have given to another man."
David, who sat silent all this while, and attended to her discourse, was amazed at her story; he assured her he would do all in his power to serve her, and would leave her some money, which she might produce at times as she thought proper; and try if finding her always able and willing to supply her husband with what he wanted would not make him kinder to her. He said he had great compassion for her, gave her five guineas, being all he had about him, and promised to send her more, which he punctually performed.
When David came to reflect, he was perfectly amazed, how it was possible for one man to be continually rejoicing in his own happiness, and declaring he had the best of wives, although she spent all his substance, and threw the burden of everything upon him; while another was continually complaining of his wife, when her whole time and labour was spent to promote his interest, and support him and his children. However common it may be in the world, the goodness of David's heart could not conceive how it was possible for good usage to make a man despise his wife, instead of returning gratitude and good humour for her fondness. He never once reflected on what is perhaps really the case, that to prevent a husband's surfeit or satiety in the matrimonial feast, a little acid is now and then very prudently thrown into the dish by the wife.