They’re Not Wednesday’s Children

The child of woe, Wednesday’s child, tosses and turns with life’s storms.  He may be called the unfortunate, different from his more severe cousin, the misfortunate who whips up the storms himself.

Unfortunates are said to be those that are not favored by destiny or fate or fortune, that hypothetical, fickle force that determines events or cause and effect for persons.  The misfortunates are not born to misfortune or unhappiness but attract these to themselves by their own destructiveness and disquieting effect on others.

The human heart, being what it is, will always have a little corner for those who have been brought down by situations beyond their control.  Even the most selfish of hearts can hold what passes for sympathy for the downtrodden.  But we’re supposed to watch out for the misfortunates.

Literature and history give us examples of misfortunates.  “The fault, my dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings,” says Cassius in William Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar.  Historically, or at least in Shakespeare’s characterization of him, Cassius as one of the conspirators against Julius Caesar is one of the most menacing sufferers of unremitting dissatisfaction that comes from deep envy of superior talent, in this case of Caesar.

“Et tu, Brute?”  Caesar was said to have uttered these last words when he realized that Brutus, too, was part of the conspiracy in his assassination.  In the game of power, Cassius in his rancor had eventually won Brutus over with his daily verbal barrage of Caesar’s evils.  Brutus was just too close to the misfortunate Cassius to save himself.  In the end, it wasn’t only Caesar who became the victim of Cassius.  Brutus was, too.  The result was a great historical tragedy.

According to the book The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene, one can suffer with tragic consequences from someone else’s misery.  It’s like helping a drowning man and end up drowning yourself.  Humans are susceptible to the emotional conditions and thoughts of those they spend time with, says the book.  A case in point:  Haven’t we at some time or other been affected by the way we regard a person, a total stranger at most, because of what a friend had incessantly told us?

Misfortunates are not limited by gender or time.  As Cassius was one during Rome’s imperial days, so was Lola Montez of the 19th century whose propensity for being the opposite of Midas (everything that she touched turned to rust) is legendary.

A striking beauty who achieved international notoriety, Marie Dolores Eliza Rosanna Gilbert, born in 1818 in Ireland, passed herself off as Lola Montez, a flamenco dancer.  Her dance career went nowhere, but she managed to attract powerful men with her wiles.  (Could it be that the old song with the line “Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets…” is about her?)

Lola set her eyes and conquered drama critic and owner of France’s largest circulated newspaper, Alexandre Dujarier.  His fortunes and social standing went downhill with his dalliance with Lola.  Utterly drunk during one party, he insulted  another guest for making disparaging remarks about Lola.  The guest, France’s best pistol shot, challenged him to a duel the next morning.  Thus was the life of one of the most promising young men of Paris society ended.

Lola went to Munich in 1846, where she decided to woo and conquer King Ludwig (King Louis I) of Bavaria (southern Germany).  She became the king’s favored mistress, was made a countess with a new palace, and became a force to reckon with in the kingdom.  Then she treated the king’s ministers with disdain and influenced him toward liberalism and anti-Jesuit policies, slashed an elderly man with her riding crop, and whipped a passerby who was attacked by her dog.

Bavarians who once loved their king now rioted.  “Out with Lola!” became the students’ chant everywhere.  By February of 1848 the king had no choice but to order Lola to leave Bavaria immediately, after paying her off.   A month after Ludwig was forced to abdicate the throne.

Lola moved on to England, America and Australia where she set her sights on more men, leading them to tragic ends.  She slashed with a knife one who became her husband, another drowned in a boating accident, still another took to drinking and fell into depression until his death after Lola left him for another man.  Even the man who published Lola’s autobiography went bankrupt.

It is said that the problem with misfortunates is that they present themselves as victims that one fails to see their self-inflicted wretchedness.  They cannot be helped nor do they deserve pity because they will remain unchanged while those close to them become unhinged.  Their inherent instability runs too deep, the force of their character too strong, their ability to manipulate too subtle.  Lola devastates with her potent personality, Cassius schemes with his deep feelings and trusting exterior nature.

Instead of listening to the reasons misfortunates give for their problems, we  should look at the effect they have on the world and the discontent in their eye.  The soundest advice is to flee their presence. Stay at your own peril, or start thinking about biases held against people on the say-so of friends who may be misfortunates in disguise.

But the world will always have people who are a source of pleasure to be with.  Cheerful and buoyant, they attract happiness to themselves and to those around them.  As for misfortune, this definition in the Devil’s Dictionary is worth remembering:  it is “the kind of fortune that never misses.”

(2005)