# The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI
which contains some strong intimations, that the human mind is not always totally exempt from pride
The next day passed without any occurrence worth mentioning, when in the evening Mr. Orgueil perceiving his friend to be very melancholy, did all he could to make him throw off the thoughts which disturbed him; telling him, it was in vain to sigh for what was impossible for him to remedy. That it was much better to be the laughing than weeping philosopher. That for his part, the follies and vices of mankind were his amusements, and gave him such ridiculous ideas, as were a continual fund of entertainment to him. David replied, he could never think it a matter of jest, to find himself surrounded by beasts of prey; and that it differed little into which of their voracious jaws he fell, as they were all equally desirous of pulling him to pieces. He went on remarking, that if beauty, wit, goodness, or anything which is justly the object of admiration and love, can subject the possessors of them to envy, and consequently hatred of mankind, then nothing but knavery, folly, and deformity can be beloved; or, at least, whoever is remarkable for either of the last mentioned qualities, must be the only people who can pass through the world without anybody's wishing to hurt them, and that only because they are thought low enough already. "What you told me yesterday, together with the ​scenes I was witness to, has made such a deep impression on me, I shall not easily recover it. I was very much surprised to hear you tell that story of the old man and his daughter with dry eyes, and quite unmoved." Mr. Orgueil smiled, and said, "I look upon compassion, sir, to be a very great weakness; I have no superstition to fright me into my duty, but I do what I think just by all the world; for the real love of rectitude is the motive of all ray actions. If I could be moved by compassion in my temper to relieve another, the merit of it would be entirely lost, because it would be done chiefly to please myself; but when I do for any one, what they have a right to demand from me, by the laws of society and right reason, then it becomes real virtue, and sound wisdom." David was amazed at this doctrine, he knew not what to answer; but it being late, took his leave, and went to bed, with a resolution to consider and examine more narrowly into it; for though it appeared to him very absurd, yet, as it was a subject he had never thought of, he would not condemn what he could not hastily refute.
His head was so crowded with ideas, he could sleep but little; he began to be frightened, lest he should have no more reason to esteem Mr. Orgueil than the rest of his acquaintances, when he thoroughly knew him. However, he got up the next morning, with a design of entering into conversation, that might give him more light into his friend's mind and disposition. He found him at breakfast with another gentleman: the moment Mr. Orgueil saw him, he said, he was very sorry an affair had happened, which must oblige them be apart that day; but he told him, that gentleman, whom he before had some small acquaintance with, had promised not to leave him, and he was sure his company would make amends for the loss ​of any other. As soon as breakfast was over, Mr. Orgueil dressed and went out.
David's mind was so full of what had passed the night before, that he could not forbear communicating his thoughts to his present companion, and desiring him to tell him the meaning of what Mr. Orgueil had said to him last night concerning rectitude and compassion. On which the other replied, he had conversed for many years with Mr. Orgueil, and had the greatest veneration for him at first, but by continually observing him, he had at last got into his real character, which if he pleased to hear, he would inform him of. And on David's assuring him he could not oblige him more, he began in the following manner—
"You are to know, sir, there are a set of men in the world, who pass through life with very good reputations, whose actions are in the general justly to be applauded, and yet upon a near examination their principles are all bad, and their hearts hardened - to all tender sensations. Mr Orgueil is exactly one of those sort of men; the greatest sufferings which can happen to his fellow-creatures, have no sort of effect upon him, and yet he very often relieves them; that is, he goes just as far in serving others as will give him new opportunities of flattering himself; for his whole soul is filled with pride, he has made a god of himself, and the attributes he thinks necessary to the dignity of such a being, he endeavours to have. He calls all religion superstition, because he will own no other deity; he thinks obedience to the Divine Will, would be but a mean motive to his actions; he must do good, because it is suitable to the dignity of his nature; and shun evil, because he would not be debased as low as the wretches he every day sees. When he knows any man do a dishonourable action, then he enjoys the height of pleasure in the comparison ​he makes between his own mind, and that of such a mean creature. He mentally worships himself with joy and rapture; and I verily believe, if he lived in a world, where to be vicious was esteemed praiseworthy, the same pride which now makes him take a delight in doing what is right (because for that reason he thinks himself above most of the people he converses with) would then lead him to abandon himself to all manner of vice: for if by taking pains to bridle his passions, he could gain superiority over his companions, all his love of rectitude, as he calls if, would fall to the ground. So that his goodness, like cold fruits, is produced by the dung and nastiness which surround it. He has fixed in his mind, what he ought to do in all cases of life, and is not to be moved to go beyond it. Nothing is more miserable than to have a dependance on him; for he makes no allowance for the smallest frailties, and the moment a person exceeds, in the least degree, the bounds his wisdom has set, he abandons them, as he thinks they have no reasonable claim to anything farther upon him. If he was walking with a friend on the side of a precipice, and that friend was to go a step nearer than he advised him, and by accident should fall down, although he broke his bones, and lay in the utmost misery, he would coolly leave him, without the least thought of anything for his relief; saying, if men would be so mad they must take the consequence of their own folly. Nay, I question, whether he would not have a secret satisfaction in thinking, that from his wisdom, he could walk safely through the most dangerous places, while others fell into them. As polite as you can see he can be when he desires to be so, yet when he converses with any whom he thinks greatly beneath him, or who is forced by circumstances to be any ways obliged to him, he thinks they cannot expect good breeding; and ​therefore can be as rude, though in different terms, as the most vulgar wretch in the world. In short, every action of his is centred in pride; and the only reason he is not perfectly ridiculous, is, because he has sense enough to affect to be quite contrary to what he is. And as you know he has great parts, and his manner is very engaging whenever he pleases, very few people really know him."
"What, then," says David, "have I been hugging myself all this time in the thoughts, that I had met with a man who really deserved my esteem, and it is all owing to my ignorance of his real character?"
"Yes, sir," answered the gentleman, "I assure you, what I have told you is all true, and if you give yourself the trouble to observe him narrowly, you will soon be convinced of it." David, with a sigh, replied, he wanted no stronger proof of the certainty of it; for what he himself said last night, joined to what he had just now heard, was full conviction enough. "I never was so startled," continued he, "in my life, as at his saying, he looked upon compassion as a weakness. Is it possible that the most amiable quality human nature can be possessed of should be treated with contempt by a man of his understanding! or is it all delusion, and am I as much deceived in his sense as in his goodness? For surely nothing but the greatest folly could make a creature, who must every day, nay, every hour in the day, be conscious of a thousand failings, and feel a thousand infirmities, fancy himself a deity, and contemplate his own perfections!" "As to that," says the gentleman, "when you have seen more of the world, you will find that what is generally called sense, has very little to do with what a man thinks; where self is at all concerned, inclination steps in, and will not give the judgment fair play, but forces it to wrest and torture the meaning of everything to its own purposes. You must know, there ​are two sorts of men who are the direct opposites to each other; the one sort, like Mr. Orgueil, live in a continual war with their passions, subdue their appetites, and act up to whatever they think right; they make it their business in all companies to exalt the dignity of human nature as high as they can; that is, to prove men are capable, if it was not their own fault, of arriving to a great degree of perfection, which they heartily consent every one should believe they themselves have done. The others give way to every temptation, make it their whole business to indulge themselves, without any consideration who are sufferers by it, or what consequences attend it; and as they are resolved to pull others down as low as themselves, they fall to abusing the whole species without any distinction, assert in all their conversation, that human nature is a sink of iniquity; every good action they hear of another, they impute to some bad motive; and the only difference they allow to be in men is, that some have art and hypocrisy enough to hide from undiscerning eyes the blackness that is within. In short, I they know they cannot be esteemed, and therefore cannot bear another should enjoy what they either can't or won't take the pains to attain.
"Thus there is no end of their arguments, which may be all summed up in a very few words: for the one sort only contend, that they themselves may be allowed to be perfect, and therefore that it is possible; and the other, as they know themselves to be good for nothing, modestly desire, that, for their sakes, you will be so kind as to suffer all mankind to appear in the same light; whence you are to conclude, that their faults are owing to nature; they cannot help it. They have, indeed, some little pleasure in reflecting that they have this superiority over others, that while they endeavour to deceive people, and impose on their understandings, they ​claim this merit, that they own themselves as bad as they are; that is, utterly void of every virtue, and possessed of every vice."
David stood amazed at this discourse, and cried out, "I am come to the uttermost despair. If these are the ways of mankind, not to endeavour to be what really deserves esteem, but only by fallacy and arts to impose on others, and flatter themselves, where shall I hope to find what I am in search of?"
"And pray, sir," said the other, "if it is not impertinent to ask, what is it you are seeking?" David answered, it was a person who could be trusted; one who was capable of being a real friend; whose every action proceeded either from obedience to the Divine will, or from the delight he took in doing good; who could not see another's sufferings without pain, nor his pleasures without sharing them. In short, one whose agreeableness swayed his inclination to love him, and whose mind was so good, he could never blame himself for so doing. The gentleman smiled, and said, "I don't doubt, sir, but if you live any time, you will find out the philosopher's stone; for that certainly will be your next search, when you have found what you are now seeking." David thought he was mad, to make a jest of what to him appeared so serious; and told him, notwithstanding his laughing, if ever he did attain to what he was in pursuit of, he should be the happiest creature in the world. Indeed, he must confess he had hitherto met with no great encouragement. However, he had resolved to proceed; and if he was disappointed at last, he could but retire from the world, and live by himself; as he was mistaken in Mr. Orgueil, he would not stay to converse any longer with him, but remove that very day to another lodging.
Mr. Spatter (for that was this gentleman's name) seeing him so obstinate in his purpose, thought it ​would be no ill scheme to accompany him for a little while by way of diversion. He therefore said, if it would be agreeable to him, he might lodge in the same house with him in Pall Mall. David readily agreed to it, and they only stayed till Mr. Orgueil came home, that he might take his leave of him for it was his method, whenever he found out anything he thought despicable in a person he had esteemed, quietly to avoid him as much as possible for the future. He therefore took his leave of Mr. Orgueil, and set out with his new acquaintance to view another scene of life; for the manner of living of the inhabitants of every different part of this great metropolis, varies as much as that of different nations.
END OF THE FIRST BOOK