Un homme examinoit un dessin représentant la coupe d’un vaisseau construit en Hollande; quelqu’un lui dit, “Est-ce que monsieur entend le Hollandois?”
Un homme de loi disoit qu’on ne pouvait pas faire une stipulation valable avec un muet. Un des écoutans lui dit, “Monsieur le docteur, et avec un boiteux, seroit-elle bonne?”
Un homme se plaignoit que la maison de son voisin lui ôtoit la vue d’une de ses fenêtres; un autre lui dit, “Vous avez un remède; faites murer cette fenêtre.”
Un homme ayarit écrit à sa maitresse, avoit glissé le billet sous la porte, et puis s’avisant que la fille ne pourroit pas s’en appercevoir il en écrivit un autre en ces termes, “J’ai mis un billet sous votre porte; prenez-y garde quand vous sortirez.”
Un homme étant sur le point de marier sa fille unique, se brouille avec le prétendant, et dans sa colere il dit, “Non, monsieur, vous ne serez jamais mon gendre, et quand j’aurois cent filles uniques, je ne vous en donnerois pas une.”
On avoit reçu à la grande poste une lettre avec cette adresse, à Monsieur mon fils, Rue, &c. On alloit la mettre au rebut; un commis s’y oppose, et dit qu’on trouvera à qui la lettre s’adresse. Dix ou douze jours se passent. On voit arriver un grand benêt, qui dit, “Messieurs, je viens savoir si on n’auroit pas garde ici une lettre de mon cher père?” “Oui, monsieur,” lui dit le commis, “la voilà.” On prête ce trait à Bouret, fermier général.
Milord Albemarle étant aux eaux d’Aix-la-Chapelle, et ne voulant pas être connu, ordonna a un negre qui le servoit, si on lui demandoit qui étoit son maitre, de dire qu’il étoit Frangois. On ne manqua pas de faire la question an noir, qui répondit, “Mon maître est Franpois, et mot aussi.”
Un marchand, en finissant d’écrire une lettre à un de ses correspondans, mourut subitement. Son commis ajouta en P.S. “Depuis ma lettre écrite je suis mort ce matin. Mardi an soir 7ème,” &c.
Un petit marchand prétendoit avoir acheté trois sols ce qu’il vendoit pour deux. On lui représente que ce commerce le ruinera—”Ah,” dit-il, “je me sauve sur la quantité.”
Le chevalier de Lorenzi, étant à Florence, étoit allé se promener avec trois de ses amis à quelques lieues de la ville, à pied. Ils revenoient fort las; la nuit approchoit; il veut se reposer: on lui dit qu’il restoit quatres milles à faire—”Oh,” dit-il, “nous sommes quatres; ce n’est qu’un mille chacun.”
On pretend qu’un fermier général voulant s’éviter l’ennui ou s’épargner les frais des lettres dont on l’accabloit au nouvel an, écrivoit au mois de Décembre à tous les employés de son département qu’il les dispensoit du cérémonial, et que ceux-ci lui réponderoient pour l’assurer qu’ils se conformeroient à ses ordres.
Maupertuis faisoit instruire un perroquet par son laquais, et vouloit qu’on lui apprit des mots extraordinaires. Depuis deux ans le laquais, enseignoit à l’animal à dire monomotapa, et le perroquet n’en disoit que des syllabes séparées. Maupertuis faisoit des reproches au laquais; “Oh, monsieur,” dit celui-ci, “cela ne va pas si vîte; je lui ai d’abord appris mo et puis no.” “Vous êtes un bête,” dit Maupertuis, “il faut lui dire le mot entier.” “Monsieur,” reprend le laquais, “il faut lui donner le temps de comprendre.”
Il y a en Italien une lettre pleine de spropositi assez plaisans. Un homme écrit à son ami, “Abbiamo avuto un famosissimo tremoto, che se per la misericordia de Dio avesse durato una mezza hora di piu, saremmo tutti andati al paradiso, che Dio ce ne liberi. Vi mando quatordici pere, e sono tutti boni cristiani. A questa fiéra i porci sono saliti al cielo. O ricevete, o non ricevete questa, datemene aviso.”
AN ESSAY ON THE NOBLE SCIENCE OF SELF-JUSTIFICATION
“For which an eloquence that aims to vex,
With native tropes of anger arms the sex.” — Parnell.
Endowed as the fair sex indisputably are, with a natural genius for the invaluable art of self-justification, it may not be displeasing to them to see its rising perfection evinced by an attempt to reduce it to a science. Possessed, as are all the fair daughters of Eve, of an hereditary propensity, transmitted to them undiminished through succeeding generations, to be “soon moved with slightest touch of blame;” very little precept and practice will confirm them in the habit, and instruct them in all the maxims of self-justification.
Candid pupil, you will readily accede to my first and fundamental axiom — that a lady can do no wrong.
But simple as this maxim may appear, and suited to the level of the meanest capacity, the talent of applying it on all the important, but more especially on all the most trivial, occurrences of domestic life, so as to secure private peace and public dominion, has hitherto been monopolized by the female adepts in the art of self-justification.
Excuse me for insinuating by this expression, that there may yet be amongst you some novices. To these, if any such, I principally address myself.
And now, lest fired by ambition you lose all by aiming at too much, let me explain and limit my first principle, “That you can do no wrong.” You must be aware that real perfection is beyond the reach of mortals, nor would I have you aim at it; indeed it is not in any degree necessary to our purpose. You have heard of the established belief in the infallibility of the sovereign pontiff, which prevailed not many centuries ago: — if man was allowed to be infallible, I see no reason why the same privilege should not be extended to woman; — but times have changed; and since the happy age of credulity is past, leave the opinions of men to their natural perversity — their actions are the best test of their faith. Instead then of a belief in your infallibility, endeavour to enforce implicit submission to your authority. This will give you infinitely less trouble, and will answer your purpose as well.
Right and wrong, if we go to the foundation of things, are, as casuists tell us, really words of very dubious signification, perpetually varying with custom and fashion, and to be adjusted ultimately by no other standards but opinion and force. Obtain power, then, by all means: power is the law of man; make it yours. But to return from a frivolous disquisition about right, let me teach you the art of defending the wrong. After having thus pointed out to you the glorious end of your labours, I must now instruct you in the equally glorious means.
For the advantage of my subject I address myself chiefly to married ladies; but those who have not as yet the good fortune to have that common enemy, a husband, to combat, may in the mean time practise my precepts upon their fathers, brothers, and female friends; with caution, however, lest by discovering their arms too soon, they preclude themselves from the power of using them to the fullest advantage hereafter. I therefore recommend it to them to prefer, with a philosophical moderation, the future to the present.
Timid brides, you have, probably, hitherto been addressed as angels. Prepare for the time when you shall again become mortal. Take the alarm at the first approach of blame; at the first hint of a discovery that you are any thing less than infallible: — contradict, debate, justify, recriminate, rage, weep, swoon, do any thing but yield to conviction.
I take it for granted that you have already acquired sufficient command of voice; you need not study its compass; going beyond its pitch has a peculiarly happy effect upon some occasions. But are you voluble enough to drown all sense in a torrent of words? Can you be loud enough to overpower the voice of all who shall attempt to interrupt or contradict you? Are you mistress of the petulant, the peevish, and the sullen tone? Have you practised the sharpness which provokes retort, and the continual monotony which by setting your adversary to sleep effectually precludes reply? an event which is always to be considered as decisive of the victory, or at least as reducing it to a drawn battle: — you and Somnus divide the prize.
Thus prepared for an engagement, you will next, if you have not already done it, study the weak part of the character of your enemy — your husband, I mean: if he be a man of high spirit, jealous of command and impatient of control, one who decides for himself, and who is little tro
ubled with the insanity of minding what the world says of him, you must proceed with extreme circumspection; you must not dare to provoke the combined forces of the enemy to a regular engagement, but harass him with perpetual petty skirmishes: in these, though you gain little at a time, you will gradually weary the patience, and break the spirit of your opponent. If he be a man of spirit, he must also be generous; and what man of generosity will contend for trifles with a woman who submits to him in all affairs of consequence, who is in his power, who is weak, and who loves him?
“Can superior with inferior power contend?” No; the spirit of a lion is not to be roused by the teasing of an insect.
But such a man as I have described, besides being as generous as he is brave, will probably be of an active temper: then you have an inestimable advantage; for he will set a high value upon a thing for which you have none — time; he will acknowledge the force of your arguments merely from a dread of their length; he will yield to you in trifles, particularly in trifles which do not militate against his authority; not out of regard for you, but for his time; for what man can prevail upon himself to debate three hours about what could be as well decided in three minutes?
Lest amongst infinite variety the difficulty of immediate selection should at first perplex you, let me point out, that matters of taste will afford you, of all others, the most ample and incessant subjects of debate. Here you have no criterion to appeal to. Upon the same principle, next to matters of taste, points of opinion will afford the most constant exercise to your talents. Here you will have an opportunity of citing the opinions of all the living and dead you have ever known, besides the dear privilege of repeating continually:—”Nay, you must allow that.” Or, “You can’t deny this, for it’s the universal opinion — every body says so! every body thinks so! I wonder to hear you express such an opinion! Nobody but yourself is of that way of thinking!” with innumerable other phrases, with which a slight attention to polite conversation will furnish you. This mode of opposing authority to argument, and assertion to proof, is of such universal utility, that I pray you to practise it.
If the point in dispute be some opinion relative to your character or disposition, allow in general, that “you are sure you have a great many faults;” but to every specific charge reply, “Well, I am sure I don’t know, but I did not think that was one of my faults! nobody ever accused me of that before! Nay, I was always remarkable for the contrary; at least before I was acquainted with you, sir: in my own family I was always remarkable for the contrary: ask any of my own friends; ask any of them; they must know me best.”
But if, instead of attacking the material parts of your character, your husband should merely presume to advert to your manners, to some slight personal habit which might be made more agreeable to him; prove, in the first place, that it is his fault that it is not agreeable to him; ask which is most to blame, “she who ceases to please, or he who ceases to be pleased”70 — His eyes are changed, or opened. But it may perhaps have been a matter almost of indifference to him, till you undertook its defence: then make it of consequence by rising in eagerness, in proportion to the insignificance of your object; if he can draw consequences, this will be an excellent lesson: if you are so tender of blame in the veriest trifles, how impeachable must you be in matters of importance! As to personal habits, begin by denying that you have any; or in the paradoxical language of Rousseau,71 declare that the only habit you have is the habit of having none: as all personal habits, if they have been of any long standing, must have become involuntary, the unconscious culprit may assert her innocence without hazarding her veracity.
However, if you happen to be detected in the very fact, and a person cries, “Now, now, you are doing it!” submit, but declare at the same moment—”That it is the very first time in your whole life that you were ever known to be guilty of it; and therefore it can be no habit, and of course nowise reprehensible.”
Extend the rage for vindication to all the objects which the most remotely concern you; take even inanimate objects under your protection. Your dress, your furniture, your property, every thing which is or has been yours, defend, and this upon the principles of the soundest philosophy: each of these things all compose a part of your personal merit (Vide Hume); all that connected the most distantly with your idea gives pleasure or pain to others, becomes an object of blame or praise, and consequently claims your support or vindication.
In the course of the management of your house, children, family, and affairs, probably some few errors of omission or commission may strike your husband’s pervading eye; but these errors, admitting them to be errors, you will never, if you please, allow to be charged to any deficiency in memory, judgment, or activity, on your part.
There are surely people enough around you to divide and share the blame; send it from one to another, till at last, by universal rejection, it is proved to belong to nobody. You will say, however, that facts remain unalterable; and that in some unlucky instance, in the changes and chances of human affairs, you may be proved to have been to blame. Some stubborn evidence may appear against you; still you may prove an alibi, or balance the evidence. There is nothing equal to balancing evidence; doubt is, you know, the most philosophic state of the human mind, and it will be kind of you to keep your husband perpetually in this sceptical state.
Indeed the short method of denying absolutely all blameable facts, I should recommend to pupils as the best; and if in the beginning of their career they may startle at this mode, let them depend upon it that in their future practice it must become perfectly familiar. The nice distinction of simulation and dissimulation depends but on the trick of a syllable; palliation and extenuation are universally allowable in self-defence; prevarication inevitably follows, and falsehood “is but in the next degree.”
Yet I would not destroy this nicety of conscience too soon. It may be of use in your first setting out, because you must establish credit; in proportion to your credit will be the value of your future asseverations.
In the mean time, however, argument and debate are allowed to the most rigid moralist. You can never perjure yourself by swearing to a false opinion.
I come now to the art of reasoning: don’t be alarmed at the name of reasoning, fair pupils; I will explain to you my meaning.
If, instead of the fiery-tempered being I formerly described, you should fortunately be connected with a man, who, having formed a justly high opinion of your sex, should propose to treat you as his equal, and who in any little dispute which might arise between you, should desire no other arbiter than reason; triumph in his mistaken candour, regularly appeal to the decision of reason at the beginning of every contest, and deny its jurisdiction at the conclusion. I take it for granted that you will be on the wrong side of every question, and indeed, in general, I advise you to choose the wrong side of an argument to defend; whilst you are young in the science, it will afford the best exercise, and, as you improve, the best display of your talents.
If, then, reasonable pupils, you would succeed in argument, attend to the following instructions.
Begin by preventing, if possible, the specific statement of any position, or if reduced to it, use the most general terms, and take advantage of the ambiguity which all languages and which most philosophers allow. Above all things, shun definitions; they will prove fatal to you; for two persons of sense and candour, who define their terms, cannot argue long without either convincing, or being convinced, or parting in equal good-humour; to prevent which, go over and over the same ground, wander as wide as possible from the point, but always with a view to return at last precisely to the same spot from which you set out. I should remark to you, that the choice of your weapons is a circumstance much to be attended to: choose always those which your adversary cannot use. If your husband is a man of wit, you will of course undervalue a talent which is never connected with judgment: “for your part, you do not presume to contend with him in wit.”
But if he be a sober-minded man, who
will go link by link along the chain of an argument, follow him at first, till he grows so intent that he does not perceive whether you follow him or not; then slide back to your own station; and when with perverse patience he has at last reached the last link of the chain, with one electric shock of wit make him quit his hold, and strike him to the ground in an instant. Depend upon the sympathy of the spectators, for to one who can understand reason, you will find ten who admire wit.
But if you should not be blessed with “a ready wit,” if demonstration should in the mean time stare you in the face, do not be in the least alarmed — anticipate the blow. Whilst you have it yet in your power, rise with becoming magnanimity, and cry, “I give it up! I give it up! La! let us say no more about it; I do so hate disputing about trifles. I give it up!” Before an explanation on the word trifle can take place, quit the room with flying colours.
If you are a woman of sentiment and eloquence, you have advantages of which I scarcely need apprize you. From the understanding of a man, you have always an appeal to his heart, or, if not, to his affection, to his weakness. If you have the good fortune to be married to a weak man, always choose the moment to argue with him when you have a full audience. Trust to the sublime power of numbers; it will be of use even to excite your own enthusiasm in debate; then as the scene advances, talk of his cruelty, and your sensibility, and sink with “becoming woe” into the pathos of injured innocence.
Besides the heart and the weakness of your opponent, you have still another chance, in ruffling his temper; which, in the course of a long conversation, you will have a fair opportunity of trying; and if — for philosophers will sometimes grow warm in the defence of truth — if he should grow absolutely angry, you will in the same proportion grow calm, and wonder at his rage, though you well know it has been created by your own provocation. The by-standers, seeing anger without any adequate cause, will all be of your side.
Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth Page 765
