# The Adventures of David Simple (1904)/Chapter 16

CHAPTER V
David could not sleep that night for reflecting on this conversation. He had never yet found any fault with Spatter, but his railing against others; and as he loved to excuse everybody till he found something very bad in them, he imputed it to his love of virtue and hatred of vice: but what he had just been saying, made him think him a perfect demon, and he had the utmost horror for his principles; he resolved therefore to stay no longer with him. He accordingly got up the next morning, and went out, without taking leave or any notice of him, in order to seek a new lodging.
In his walk he met with Mr. Varnish, who accosted him in the most agreeable manner, and asked him if he would take a turn in the Park with him. The discourse naturally fell on Spatter, as he was the person who introduced them to each other; and Varnish asked David, how he could be so intimate with a man who did nothing but laugh at and ridicule him behind his back. This question a little confounded David, which the other perceiving, continued to assure him, that Spatter had represented him in several publick places as a madman, who had pursued a scheme which was never capable ​of entering the brain of one in his senses; namely, of hunting after a real friend. "This, sir," says Varnish, "he ridiculed with more pleasantry than I can remember; and, in the end, said you were as silly as a little child, who cries for the moon." However difficult it was to raise David's resentment, yet he found an indignation within him at having his favourite scheme made a jest of: for his man of goodness and virtue was, to him, what Dulcinea was to Don Quixote; and to hear it was thought impossible for any such thing to be found, had an equal effect on him as what Sancho had on the knight, when he told him, his great princess was winnowing of wheat and sifting corn. He cried out, "Is there a man on earth who finds so much badness in his own bosom, as to convince him (for from thence he must be convinced) that there is no such thing in the world as goodness? But I should wonder at nothing in a man who professes himself a lover of revenge, and of an inexorable temper." Varnish smiled, and said, if he would please to hear him, he would tell him Spatter's character, which, by what he had said, he found he was wholly mistaken in; for it was so odd a one, that nobody could find it out, unless they had conversed with him a great while; that, for his part, he should never have known it, had he not been told it by a man who had been a long time intimate with him, and who knew the history of his whole life. David said he would be all attention. Then Mr. Varnish went on as follows—
"You are to know, sir, Mr. Spatter's ill-nature dwells nowhere but in his tongue; and the very people whom he so industriously endeavours to abuse, he would do anything in his power to serve. I have known instances of his doing the best-natured actions in the world, and at the same time abusing the very person he was serving. He deals out the ​words 'fool' and 'knave' with such liberality behind people's backs, and finds such a variety of epithets and metaphors to convey those ideas to persons before their faces, that he makes himself many inveterate enemies. He, indeed, soon forgets what he has said, finds no ill-will in himself, and thinks no more of it; but those who hear what be hath said openly against them in their absence, or comprehend his dark abuse in their presence, never forgive him. I myself was once a witness of his doing the most generous thing in the world by a man whom, the moment he was gone out of the room, he fell to pulling to pieces, in a manner as if he had been his greatest enemy. What can be the cause of it, I cannot imagine; whether, as you see, he has a great deal of wit, and it lies chiefly in satire, he does it in order to display his parts; or whether it is owing to a natural spleen in his temper, I cannot determine. But as to his being of a revengeful temper, I can assure you he is quite the contrary; for I have seen him do friendly things to people, who, I am certain, had done him great injuries; but that is his way. And so great is his love of abuse, that when no one else is talked of, to give him an opportunity of displaying his favourite talent, lie falls to abusing himself, and makes his own character much worse than it is; for I have known him say such things of his own principles, as would make any one think him the worst creature in the world, and the next minute act quite the contrary; nay, I verily believe, this humour so strongly possesses him, could he be put into a world by himself, he would walk about abusing himself even to inanimate things; for I think he would die of the spleen, if it was not for that vent. He is like a madman, who, when he finds nothing else to cut and slash, turns his sword on himself."
David's anger at Spatter's turning him into ​ridicule was now quite vanished, for rage never lasted above two minutes with him; and he was glad to hear an account, which did not make Spatter so black as, by his last conversation, he began to suspect him. On the other hand, he was pleased to think all the characters of men he had had from him were not so bad as he had represented them. However, he resolved to leave him; for nothing was more unpleasant to him than continual invectives; nor could he resist an offer Mr. Varnish made him of lodging in the same house with him, for in his company he always found himself pleased.
The next day Varnish told him he would carry him to visit my Lady———, who was just come from abroad, where he believed lie would be very well entertained, as her house was frequented by a great deal of good company. David, who was never out of his way, very willingly accompanied him. There happened that afternoon to be only three ladies (who all appeared, by their manner, to be very intimate in the family) besides the lady of the house, and a young woman who lived with her. Our hero, on whose tenderness the least appearance of grief in others made an immediate impression, could not help observing, in the countenance of this young creature, a fixed melancholy, which made him uneasy.
They had not been long seated before my Lady ——— sent her out of the room for some trifle, saying, with a sneer, she hoped the expectation of being a lady had not turned her head in such a manner that she had forgot to walk across the room. Cynthia (for that was the young woman's name) gave her a look, which at once expressed indignation and shame at being thus treated; with such a mixture of softness, as plainly proved she was sorry she had so much reason to despise the person she wished to love. As soon as she was gone out of the ​room, my lady, without any reserve, began to declare, what an ungrateful creature she was; said, she had taken her into her house from mere compassion, used her as well as if she had been her nearest relation; and the reward she had for all this, was the wretch's endeavouring to draw in her nephew (a boy about seventeen) to marry her. David, who utterly detested all ingratitude, began in his mind to be of my lady's side; but then he could not help reflecting, that insult was not the proper manner of shewing resentment for such usage; if Cynthia was really guilty of such a piece of treachery, he thought it would be better to part with such a wretch, than to keep her only to abuse her.
The other ladies gave several instances of the ingratitude of those low mean animals, who were forced to be dependants, declaring, that, from the experience they had had of the badness of the world, they were almost tempted to swear they would never do anything to serve anybody; at the same time giving very broad hints, what a vast restraint this would be upon their inclinations, which naturally led them to good.
One of the ladies, amongst several others, gave the following instance how ungrateful the world was: that she had bred up a young woman from her childhood, who was, indeed, the daughter of a man of fashion, a very good friend of her's, for which reason she took to her, purely from good-nature; but when she came to be old enough to be capable of being of service, she only desired the wench to keep her house, to take care of her children, to over-look all her servants, to be ready to sit with her when she called her, with many more trifling things; and madam grew out of humour at it, although she never put the creature at all on the footing of a servant, nor paid her any wages as such, but looked on her as her companion. "Indeed," continued she, ​"I soon grew weary of it; for the girl pined cried in such a manner, I could not bear the sight her. I did not dare to speak to the minx, which I never did but in the gentlest terms, only to tell her what a situation she was in, and how unbecoming it was in her to think herself on a footing with people of fortune; for that she was left by her father on the world, without any provision, and was beholden to me for everything she had. And I do assure you, I never talked to her in this manner but she had tears in her eyes for a week afterwards."
All the company, except David, joined with this lady in condemning the poor girl's monstrous ingratitude; but he could not forbear telling her he thought it was a little unkind in her to upbraid so unfortunate a person as the young woman she had been talking of, with any favours she conferred on her. On this ensued a discourse between the four ladies concerning obligation and ingratitude, of which I really cannot remember one word.
When the two gentlemen got home, David said to his companion, he had a great curiosity to hear Cynthia's story; for there was something so good-natured in her countenance, that he was very much inclined to believe my Lady ——— had not represented the case fairly; adding, that he should be obliged to him, if he would carry him the next day to see Cynthia alone; for he had observed by my lady's conversation, that she was to go out of town in the morning, and should leave Cynthia at home. Varnish, who was all complaisance, readily complied with his request, for he had a long time been intimate in the family, and had admittance as often as he pleased; only he told him, he must leave him there some time, being obliged to meet a gentleman at a coffee house. This gave David an opportunity of being alone with Cynthia, which he eagerly embraced, to tell her that he saw by her look and mannier she ​was very unhappy, and begged, if it was any way in his power to serve her, she would let him know it; for nothing in this world was capable of giving him so much pleasure, as relieving the distressed. Cynthia at first replied, that she dared not receive any more obligations; for she had already suffered so much by accepting them, that she heartily wished she had gone through all the miseries poverty could have brought upon her, rather than have endured half what she had done for living in plenty at another's expense.
But, at last, by the innocence of David's looks, and the sincerity which was visible in his manner of expressing himself, she was prevailed on to relate the history of her life; which will be the subject of another chapter.