Courtesy and Contempt

Chapter 5

Chapter 5No one who had ever seen Catherine Fenmore in her childhood would have thought of her as a heroine. Her life situation, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition were equally against her. Her father was a clergyman without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, even though his name was Richard – and he had never been handsome. Apart from two good incomes, he had considerable independence – and he was not in the least addicted to imprisoning his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful intellect, good humor and, more remarkably, of good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying by giving birth to the latter, as anyone might expect, she lived on – living to have six more children – to see how they grew up around her and enjoy herself in good health. A family with ten children will always be called a fine family, where heads and arms and legs have enough for the number; but the Fenmores had little other right to the word, for they were generally very simple and Catherine as simple as everyone else for many years of their lives. She had a thin, awkward figure, pale skin without color, dark straight hair and strong features - so much for her person; and no less unsuitable for heroic deeds seemed their opinion. She loved all boy games and preferred cricket not only dolls, but the more heroic pleasures of childhood, breastfeeding a dormice, feeding a canary or watering a rose bush. In fact, she had no taste for a garden; and if she picked flowers at all, it was mainly for the pleasure of mischief - at least it was so suspected that she always preferred those that were f*******n to her. These were their inclinations – their abilities were just as extraordinary. She could never learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, because she was often inattentive and occasionally stupid. Her mother only taught her for three months to repeat the "beggar's request"; and finally, her next sister, Sally, could say it better than she did. Not that Catherine has always been stupid – no way; she learns the fable "The Rabbit and Many Friends" as quickly as any girl in England. Her mother wanted her to learn music; and Catherine was sure that she would like it, because she loved to clink with the keys of the old abandoned spinnette; So she started at the age of eight. She studied for a year and couldn't stand it; and Mrs. Fenmore, who, despite inability or dislike, did not insist that her daughters be completed, allowed her to quit. The day the music master was dismissed was one of the happiest in Katharina's life. Her taste in drawing was not superior; However, whenever she could get hold of the outside of a letter from her mother or another strange piece of paper, she did what she could by drawing houses and trees, chickens and chickens, all of which were very similar. She was taught writing and accounting by her father; French from her mother: Her knowledge of both was not remarkable, and she shied away from classes in both whenever she could. What a strange, inexplicable character! – for with all these symptoms of waste at the age of ten, she had neither a bad heart nor a bad mood, was rarely stubborn, hardly ever quarrelsome and very friendly to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny; besides, she was loud and wild, hated tightness and cleanliness, and loved nothing in the world so much as rolling down the green slope behind the house.

So Catherine Fenmore was at ten. At the age of fifteen, the apparitions improved; she began to curl her hair and long for balls; Her complexion improved, her facial features became softer due to fullness and color, her eyes gained liveliness and her figure became more consistent. Her love of dirt gave way to a penchant for plaster, and she became cleaner as she became smart; she now had the pleasure of sometimes hearing her father and mother talk about her personal improvement. "Catherine is developing into a pretty handsome girl – she's almost pretty today," were words she heard from time to time; and how welcome the sounds were! Looking almost pretty is a greater joy for a girl who looked inconspicuous for the first fifteen years of her life than a beauty from her cradle can ever receive.

Mrs. Fenmore was a very good woman and wanted to see her children as they should be; but their time was so busy sleeping and teaching the little ones that their older daughters were inevitably left to their own devices; and it was not very surprising that Catherine, who by nature had nothing heroic about her, cricket, baseball, horseback riding and walked around at the age of fourteen, preferred books – or at least information books – provided they could not be gained from them as useful knowledge, provided they were exclusively stories and not reflections, she had no objection to books at all. But from fifteen to seventeen she was in training to be a heroine;

From Pope, she learns to rebuke those who do

this "endure the ridicule of pain."

From Gray, the

"Many flowers are born to blush unseen,

"And waste its scent on the desert air."

From Thompson, the –

"This is an attractive task

"To teach the young idea to shoot."

And from Shakespeare she received a great treasure trove of information – among other things –

"Little things light as air,

"Are for the zealots confirmation strong,

"As evidence of the Holy Scriptures."

That

"The poor bug we step on, "In physical toleration,

a pain feels so great

," As if a giant dies."

And that a young woman in love always looks –

"like patience on a monument

"Smiling at the grief."

So far, its improvement has been sufficient — and on many other points it has made extremely good progress; for although she could not write sonnets, she brought herself to read them; and although it seemed impossible to enrapture an entire society with a self-composed prelude on the pianoforte, it could listen to other people's performance with very little fatigue. Her biggest flaw was the pencil – she had no idea about drawing – not even enough to try a sketch of her lover's profile so that she could be recognized in the design. There she remained miserably behind the true hero's height. At present, she did not know her own poverty, because she had no lover to portray. She had reached the age of seventeen without having seen a amiable boy who could evoke her sensitivity, without having sparked a real passion, and without even arousing admiration, but which was very moderate and very ephemeral. That was indeed strange! But strange things can generally be explained if their cause is closely investigated. There was not a single lord in the neighborhood; no – not even a baronet. Among her acquaintances, there was not a single family that had raised and supported a boy found by chance at her door – not a young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward and the squire of the church had no children. Among her acquaintances, there was not a single family that had raised and supported a boy found by chance at her door – not a young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward and the squire of the church had no children. Among her acquaintances, there was not a single family that had raised and supported a boy found by chance at her door – not a young man whose origin was unknown. Her father had no ward and the squire of the church had no children.

But if a young lady is to become a heroine, the perversity of forty surrounding families cannot prevent her from doing so. Something must and will happen to put a hero in her way.

Mr. Allen, who owned the chief of the possession of Fullerton, the village in Wiltshire where the Fenmores lived, was ordered to Bath because of a gout-sick condition – and his lady, a good-humoured woman who loved Miss Fenmore, and probably aware that if adventures did not happen to a young lady in her own village, she would have to seek them abroad, invited them to go with them. Mr. and Mrs. Fenmore were all docile and Catherine quite happy.